Judith of Blue Lake Ranch
JUDITH OF BLUE LAKE RANCH
by
JACKSON GREGORY
Author ofThe Joyous Trouble Maker, Six Feet-Four, Etc.
Illustrated by W. Herbert Dunton
[Frontispiece: Judith's spurs answered him, and the bit . . . broughthim about, whirling . . . bucking as only . . . a devil-hearted horseknows how to buck.]
New YorkGrosset & DunlapPublishersCopyright, 1919, byCharles Scribner's SonsPublished March, 1919Reprinted April, 1920Copyright, 1917, 1918, by the Ridgeway Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. BUD LEE WANTS TO KNOW II. JUDITH TAKES A HAND III. AND RIDES AN OUTLAW IV. JUDITH PUTS IT STRAIGHT V. THE BIGNESS OF THE VENTURE VI. YOUNG HAMPTON REGISTERS A PROTEST VII. THE HAPPENING IN SQUAW CREEK CANON VIII. RIFLE SHOTS FROM THE CLIFFS IX. THE OLD TRAIL X. UNDER FIRE XI. IN THE OLD CABIN XII. PARDNERS XIII. THE CAPTURE OF SHORTY XIV. SPRINGTIME AND A VISION XV. JUST A GIRL, AFTER ALL XVI. POKER FACE AND A WHITE PIGEON XVII. "ONCE A FOOL--ALWAYS A FOOL" XVIII. JUDITH TRIUMPHANT XIX. BUD LEE SEEKS CROOKED CHRIS QUINNION XX. THE FIGHT AT THE JAILBIRD XXI. BURNING MEMORY XXII. PLAYING THE GAME XXIII. THE WRATH OF POLLOCK HAMPTON XXIV. A SIGNAL-FIRE? XXV. THE TOOLS WHICH TREVORS USED XXVI. JUDITH'S PERIL XXVII. ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS XXVIII. BACON, KISSES, AND A CONFESSION XXIX. LEE AND OLD MAN CARSON RIDE TOGETHER XXX. THE FIGHT XXXI. YES, JUDITH WAS WAITING
ILLUSTRATIONS
Judith's spurs answered him, and the bit . . . brought him about,whirling . . . bucking as only . . . a devil-hearted horse knows how tobuck . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
A lean, muscular hand fell lightly upon his shoulder and he was jerkedback promptly
Quinnion was down and shooting, with but ten steps . . . between himand the man whom he sought to kill
"You'll find your work cut out for you."
Judith of Blue Lake Ranch
I
BUD LEE WANTS TO KNOW
Bud Lee, horse foreman of the Blue Lake Ranch, sat upon the gate of thehome corral, builded a cigarette with slow brown fingers, and staredacross the broken fields of the upper valley to the rosy glow above thepine-timbered ridge where the sun was coming up. His customary gravitywas unusually pronounced.
"If a man's got the hunch an egg is bad," he mused, "is that a realgood and sufficient reason why he should go poking his finger insidethe shell? I want to know!"
Tommy Burkitt, the youngest wage-earner of the outfit and a profoundadmirer of all that taciturnity, good-humor, and quick capability whichwent into the make-up of Bud Lee, approached from the ranch-house onthe knoll. "Hi, Bud!" he called. "Trevors wants you. On the jump."
Lee watched Tommy coming on with that wide, rocking gait of a man usedto much riding and little walking. The deep gravity in the foreman'seyes was touched with a little twinkle by way of greeting.
Burkitt stopped at the gate, looking up at Lee. "On the jump, Trevorssaid," he repeated.
"The hell he did," said Lee pleasantly. "How old are you this morning,Tommy?"
Burkitt blushed. "Aw, quit it, Bud," he grinned. Involuntarily theboy's big square hand rose to the tender growth upon lip and chinwhich, like the flush in the eastern sky, was but a vague promise of agreater glory to be.
"A hair for each year," continued the quiet-voiced man. "Ten on oneside, nine on the other."
"Ain't you going to do what Trevors says?" demanded Tommy.
For a moment Lee sat still, his cigarette unlighted, his broad blackhat far back upon his close-cropped hair, his eyes serenelycontemplative upon the pink of the sky above the pines. Then heslipped from his place and, though each single movement gave animpression of great leisureliness, it was but a flash of time until hestood beside Burkitt.
"Stick around a wee bit, laddie," he said gently, a lean brown handresting lightly on the boy's square shoulder. "A man can't see what ison the cards until they're tipped, but it's always a fair gamble thatbetween dawn and dusk I'll gather up my string of colts and crowd on.If I do, you'll want to come along?"
He smiled at young Burkitt's eagerness and turned away toward theranch-house and Bayne Trevors, thus putting an early end to anenthusiastic acquiescence. Tommy watched the tall man moving swiftlyaway through the brightening dawn.
"They ain't no more men ever foaled like him," meditated Tommy, in anapproval so profound as to be little less than out-and-out devotion.
And, indeed, one might ride up and down the world for many a day andnot find a man who was Bud Lee's superior in "the things that count."As tall as most, with sufficient shoulders, a slender body,narrow-hipped, he carried himself as perhaps his forebears walked in aday when open forests or sheltered caverns housed them, with a lithegracefulness born of the perfect play of superb physical development.His muscles, even in the slightest movement, flowed liquidly; he hadslipped from his place on the corral gate less like a man than likesome great, splendid cat. The skin of hands, face, throat, was verydark, whether by inheritance or because of long exposure to sun andwind, it would have been difficult to say. The eyes were dark, verykeen, and yet reminiscently grave. From under their black brows theyhad the habit of appearing to be reluctantly withdrawn from some greatdistance to come to rest, steady and calm, upon the man with whom hechanced to be speaking. Such are the serene, dispassionate eyes of onewho for many months of the year goes companionless, save for whatcommunion he may find in the silent passes of the mountains, in thewide sweep of the meadow-lands or in the soul of his horse.
The gaunt, sure-footed form was lost to Tommy's eyes; Lee had passedbeyond the clump of wild lilacs whose glistening, heart-shaped leavesscreened the open court about which the ranch-house was built. Astrangely elaborate ranch-house, this one, set here so far apart fromthe world of rich residences. There was a score of rooms in the great,one-story, rambling edifice of rudely squared timbers set infield-stone and cement, rooms now closed and locked; there wereflower-gardens still cultivated daily by Jose, the half-breed; a prettycourt with a fountain and many roses, out upon which a dozen doorwayslooked; wide verandas with glimpses beyond of fireplaces and longexpanses of polished floor. For, until recently, this had been notonly the headquarters of Blue Lake Ranch, but the home as well of thechief of its several owners. Luke Sanford, whose own efforts alone hadmade him at forty-five a man to be reckoned with, had followed hisfancy here extensively and expensively, allowing himself this oneluxury of his many lean, hard years. Then, six months ago, just as hisambitions were stepping to fresh heights, just as his hands werefilling with newer, greater endeavor, there had come the mishap in themountains and Sanford's tragic death.
Lee passed silently through the courtyard, by the fountain which in thebrightening air was like a chain of silver run through invisible hands,down the veranda bathed in the perfume of full-blown roses, and so cameto the door at the far end. The door stood open; within was the officeof Bayne Trevors, general manager. Lee entered, his hat still far backupon his head. The sound of his boots upon the bare floor causedTrevors to look up quickly.
"Hello, Lee," he said quietly. "Wait a minute, will you?"
Quite a different type from Lee, Bayne Trevors was heavy and square andhard. His eyes were the glinting gray eyes of a man who is forceful,dynamic, the sort of man who is a better captain than lieutenant, whosehands are strong to grasp life by the throat and demand that she standand deliver. Only because of his wide and successful experience, ofhis initiative, of his way of quick, decisive action mated to a markedexecutive ability, had Luke Sanford chosen Bayne Trevors as hisright-hand man in so colossal a venture as the Blue Lake Ranch. Onlybecause of the same pushing, vigorous personality was he this morninggeneral
manager, with the unlimited authority of a dictator over apetty principality.
In a moment Trevors lifted his frowning eyes from the table, turning inhis chair to confront Lee, who stood lounging in leisurely manneragainst the door-jamb.
"That young idiot wants money again," he growled, his voice as sharpand quick as his eyes. "As if I didn't have enough to contend withalready!"
"Meaning young Hampton, I take it?" said Lee quietly.
Trevors nodded savagely.
"Telegram. Caught it over the line the last thing last night. We'llhave to sell some horses this time, Lee."
Lee's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "I didn't plan to do any sellingfor six months yet," he said, not in expostulation but merely inexplanation. "They're not ready."
"How many three-year-olds have you got in your string in Big Meadow?"asked Trevors crisply.
"Counting those eleven Red Duke colts?"
"Counting everything. How many?"
"Seventy-three."
The general manager's pencil wrote upon the pad in front of him "73,"then swiftly multiplied it by 50. Lee saw the result, 3,650 set downwith the dollar sign in front of it. He said nothing.
"What would you say to fifty dollars a head for them?" asked Trevors,whirling again in his swivel chair. "Three thousand six fifty for thebunch?"
"I'd say the same," answered Lee deliberately, "that I'd say to a manthat offered me two bits for Daylight or Ladybird. I just naturallywouldn't say anything at all."
"Who are Daylight and Ladybird?" demanded Trevors.
"They're two of _my_ little horses," said Lee gently, "that no man'sgot the money to buy."
Trevors smiled cynically. "What are the seventy-three colts worththen?"
"Right now, when I'm just ready to break 'em in," said Bud Leethoughtfully, "the worst of that string is worth fifty dollars. I'dsay twenty of the herd ought to bring fifty dollars a head; twenty moreought to bring sixty; ten are worth seventy-five; ten are worth an evenhundred; seven of the Red Duke stock are good for a hundred and aquarter; the other four Red Dukes and the three Robert the Devils areworth a hundred and fifty a head. The whole bunch, an easy fifty-sevenhundred little iron men. Which," he continued dryly, "is considerablemore than the thirty-six hundred you're talking about. And, give mesix months, and I'll boost that fifty-seven hundred. Lord, man, thatchestnut out of Black Babe by Hazard, is a real horse! Fiftydollars----"
He stared hard at Trevors a moment. And then, partially voicing thethought with which he had grappled upon the corral gate, he addedmeditatively: "There's something almighty peculiar about an outfitthat will listen to a man offer fifty bucks on a string like that."
His eyes, cool and steady, met Trevors's in a long look which waslittle short of a challenge.
"Just how far does that go, Lee?" asked the manager curtly.
"As far as you like," replied the horse foreman coolly. "Are you goingto sell those three-year-olds for thirty-six hundred?"
"Yes," answered Trevors bluntly, "I am. What are you going to do aboutit?"
"Ask for my time, I guess," and although his voice was gentle and evenpleasant, his eyes were hard. "I'll take my own little string and moveon.
"Curse it!" cried Trevors heatedly. "What difference does it make toyou? What business is it of yours how I sell? You draw down yourmonthly pay, don't you? I raised you a notch last month without yourasking for it, didn't I?"
"That's so," agreed the foreman equably. "It's a cinch none of theboys have any kick coming at the wages."
For a moment Trevors sat frowning up at Lee's inscrutable face. Thenhe laughed shortly. "Look here, Bud," he said good-humoredly, anobvious seriousness of purpose under the light tone. "I want to talkwith you before you do anything rash. Sit down." But Lee remainedstanding, merely saying, "Shoot."
"I wonder," explained Trevors, "if the boys understand just the size ofthe job I've got in my hands? You know that the ranch is amillion-dollar outfit; you know that you can ride fifteen miles withoutgetting off the home-range; you know that we are doing a dozendifferent kinds of farming and stock-raising. But you don't know justhow short the money is! There's that young idiot now, Hampton. Heholds a third interest and I've got to consider what he says, even ifhe is a weak-minded, inbred pup that can't do anything but spend aninheritance like the born fool he is. His share is mortgaged; I'vetried to pay the mortgage off. I've got to keep the interest up.Interest alone amounts, to three thousand dollars a year. Think ofthat! Then there's Luke Sanford dead and his one-third interest leftto another young fool, a girl!"
Trevors's fist came smashing down upon his table. "A girl!" herepeated savagely. "Worse than young Hampton, by Heaven! Every twoweeks she's writing for a report, eternally butting in, makingsuggestions, hampering me until I'm sick of the job."
"That would be Luke's girl, Judith?"
"Yes. Two of the three owners' kids, writing me at every turn. Andthe third owner, Timothy Gray, the only sensible one of the lot, hasjust up and sold out his share, and I suppose I'll be hearing next thatsome superannuated female in an old lady's home has inherited a fortuneand bought him out. Why, do you think I'd hold on to my job here forten minutes if it wasn't that my reputation is in making a go of thething? And now you, the best man I've got, throw me down!"
"I don't see," said Lee slowly, after a brief pause, "just what good itdoes to sell a string of real horses like they were sheep. Half ofthat herd is real horse-flesh, I tell you."
"Hampton wants money. And besides, a horse is a horse."
"Is it?" A hard smile touched Lee's lips. "That's just where a manmakes a mistake. Some horses are cows, some are clean spirit. You canstake your boots on that, Trevors."
"Well," snapped Trevors, "suppose you are right. I've got to raisethree thousand dollars in a hurry. Where will I get it?"
"Who is offering fifty dollars a head for those horses?" asked Leeabruptly. "It might be the Big Western Lumber Company?"
"Yes."
"Uh-huh. Well, you can kill the rats in your own barn, Trevors. I'llgo look for a job somewhere else."
Bayne Trevors, his lips tightly compressed, his eyes steady, a faint,angry flush in his cheeks, checked what words were flowing to histongue and looked keenly at his foreman. Lee met his regard with coolunconcern. Then, just as Trevors was about to speak, there came aninterruption.