CHAPTER XVI
AGAIN ON THE ROUND-UP
It was good to hear again the bawling of the bulls and the shouts of thecowboys, and to see the swirling herd and the flying, guarding, checkinghorsemen. Mose, wearied, weather-beaten, and somber-visaged, looked downupon the scene with musing eyes. The action was quite like that on theArickaree; the setting alone was different. Here the valley was a wide,deliciously green bowl, with knobby hills, pine-covered and abrupt,rising on all sides. Farther back great snow-covered peaks rose toenormous heights. In the center of this superb basin the camps werepitched, and the roping and branding went on like the action of aprodigious drama. The sun, setting in orange-colored clouds, brought outthe velvet green of the sward with marvelous radiance. The tents gleamedin the midst of the valley like flakes of pearl.
The heart of the wanderer warmed within him, and with a feeling that hewas almost home he called to his pack horse "Hy-ak-boy!" and starteddown the hill. As he drew near the herd he noted the great changes whichhad come over the cattle. They were now nearly all grades of Hereford orHolstein. They were larger of body, heavier of limb, and less activethan the range cattle of the plains, but were sufficiently speedy tomake handling them a fine art.
As he drew near the camp a musical shout arose, and Reynolds spurred hishorse out to meet him. "It's Mose!" he shouted. "Boy, I'm glad to seeye, I certainly am. Shake hearty. Where ye from?"
"The Wind River."
"What have you been doing up there?"
"Oh, knocking around with some Shoshones on a hunting trip."
"Well, by mighty, I certainly am glad to see ye. You look thin as aspring steer."
"My looks don't deceive me then. My two sides are rubbin' together. Howare the folks?"
"They ah very well, thank you. Cora and Pink will certainly go plumbcrazy when they see you a-comin'."
"Where's your house?"
"Just over that divide--but slip your packs off. Old Kintuck looks well;I knew him when you topped the hill."
"Yes, he's still with me, and considerable of a horse yet."
They drew up to the door of one of the main tents and slipped thesaddles from the weary horses.
"Do ye hobble?"
"No--they stay with me," said Mose, slapping Kintuck. "Go on, boy,here's grass worth while for ye."
"By mighty, Mose!" said Reynolds, looking at the trailer tenderly, "itcertainly is good for sore eyes to see ye. I didn't know but you'd gotmixed up an' done for in some of them squabbles. I heard the Stateauthorities had gone out to round up that band of reds you was with."
"We did have one brush with the sheriff and some game wardens, but Istood him off while my friends made tracks for the reservation. Thesheriff was for fight, but I argued him out of it. It looked like hotweather for a while."
While they were talking the cook set up a couple of precarious benchesand laid a wide board thereon. Mose remarked it.
"A table! Seems to me that's a little hifalutin'."
"So it is, but times are changing."
"I reckon the range on the Arickaree is about wiped out."
"Yes. We had a couple of years with rain a-plenty, and that brought aboom in settlement; everything along the river was homesteaded, and so Iretreated--the range was overstocked anyhow. This time I climbed high. Ireckon I'm all right now while I live. They can't raise co'n in thishigh country, and not much of anything but grass. They won't bother usno mo'. It's a good cattle country, but a mighty tough range to ride, asyou'll find. I thought I knew what rough riding was, but when it comesto racin' over these granite knobs, I'm jest a little too old. I'mgetting heavy, too, you notice."
"_Grub-pile! All down for grub!_" yelled the cook, and the boys cametrooping in. They were all strangers, but not strange to Mose. Theyconformed to types he already knew. Some were young lads, and the wordhaving passed around that "Black Mose" was in camp, they approached withawe. The man whose sinister fame had spread throughout three States wasa very great personage to them.
"Did you come by way of Wagon Wheel?" inquired a tall youth whom theothers called "Brindle Bill."
"Yes; camped there one night."
"Ain't it a caution to yaller snakes? Must be nigh onto fifteen thousandpeople there now. The hills is plumb measly with prospect holes, andyou can't look at a rock f'r less'n a thousand dollars. It shore is thecraziest town that ever went anywhere."
"Bill's got the fever," said another. "He just about wears hisself outa-pickin' up and a-totein' 'round likely lookin' rocks. Seems like hewas lookin' fer gold mines 'stid o' cattle most of the time."
"You're just in time for the turnament, Mose."
"For the how-many?"
"The turnament and bullfight. Joe Grassie has been gettin' up abullfight and a kind of a show. He 'lows to bring up some regularfighters from Mexico and have a real, sure-'nough bullfight. Then he'soffered a prize of fifty dollars for the best roper, and fifty dollarsfor the best shooter."
"I didn't happen to hear of it, but I'm due to take that fifty; I needit," said Mose.
"He 'lows to have some races--pony races and broncho busting."
"When does it come off?" asked Mose with interest.
"On the fourth."
"I'll be there."
After supper was over Reynolds said: "Are you too tired to ride over tothe ranch?"
"Oh, no! I'm all right now."
"Well, I'll just naturally throw the saddles on a couple of bronchos andwe'll go see the folks."
Mose felt a warm glow around his heart as he trotted away besideReynolds across the smooth sod. His affection for the Reynolds familywas scarcely second to his boyish love for Mr. and Mrs. Burns.
It was dark before they came in sight of the light in the narrow valleyof the Mink. "There's the camp," said Reynolds. "No, I didn't build it;it's an old ranch; in fact, I bought the whole outfit."
Mrs. Reynolds had not changed at all in the three years, but Cora hadgrown handsomer and seemed much less timid, though she blushed vividlyas Mose shook her hand.
"I'm glad to see you back," she said.
Moved by an unusual emotion, Mose replied: "You haven't pined away any."
"Pined!" exclaimed her mother. "Well, I should say not. You should seeher when Jim Haynes----"
"Mother!" called the girl sharply, and Pink, now a beautiful child ofeight, came opportunely into the room and drew the conversation toherself.
As Mose, with Pink at his knee, sat watching the two women moving aboutthe table, a half-formed resolution arose in his brain. He was weary ofwandering, weary of loneliness. This comfortable, homely room, thistender little form in his arms, made an appeal to him which was aspowerful as it was unexpected. He had lived so long in his blanket, withonly Kintuck for company, that at this moment it seemed as if these werethe best things to do--to stay with Reynolds, to make Cora happy, and torest. He had seen all phases of wild life and had carried out his plansto see the wonders of America. He had crossed the Painted Desert andcamped beside the Colorado in the greatest canon in the world. He hadwatched the Mokis while they danced with live rattlesnakes held betweentheir lips. He had explored the cliff-dwellings of the Navajo countryand had looked upon the sea of peaks which tumbles away in measurelessmajesty from Uncompahgre's eagle-crested dome. He had peered into theboiling springs of the Yellowstone, and had lifted his eyes to the whiteTetons whose feet are set in a mystic lake, around which the loons laughall the summer long. He knew the chiefs of a dozen tribes and was awelcome guest among them. In his own mind he was no longer young--hisyouth was passing, perhaps the time had come to settle down.
Cora turned suddenly from the table, where she stood arranging theplates and knives and forks with a pleasant bustle, and said:
"O Mose! we've got two or three letters for you. We've had 'em ever solong--I don't suppose they will be of much good to you now. I'll getthem for you."
"They look old," he said as he took them from her hand. "They look as ifthey'd been through the war." The first was from
his father, the secondfrom Jack, and the third in a woman's hand--could only be Mary's. Hestared at it--almost afraid to open it in the presence of the family. Heread the one from his father first, because he conceived it lessimportant, and because he feared the other.
"MY DEAR SON: I am writing to you through Jack, although he does not feel sure we can reach you. I want to let you know of the death of Mrs. Excell. She died very suddenly of acute pneumonia. She was always careless of her footwear and went out in the snow to hang out some linen without her rubber shoes. We did everything that could be done but she only lived six days after the exposure. Life is very hard for me now. I write also to say that as I am now alone and in bad health I shall accept a call to Sweetwater Springs, Colorado, for two reasons. One is that my health may be regained, and for the reason, also, my dear son, that I may be nearer you. If this reaches you and you can come to see me I hope you will do so. I am lonely now and I long for you. The parish is small and the pay meager, but that will not matter if I can see you occasionally. Maud and her little family are well. I go to my new church in April.
"Your father, "SAMUEL EXCELL."
For a moment this letter made Mose feel his father's loneliness, and hadhe not held in his hand two other and more important letters he wouldhave replied with greater tenderness than ever before in his life.
"Well, Mose, set up," said Mrs. Reynolds; "letters'll keep."
He was distracted all through the meal in spite of the incessantquestioning of his good friends. They were determined to uncover everyact of his long years of wandering.
"Yes," he said, "I've been hungry and cold, but I always looked after myhorse, and so, when I struck a cow country I could whirl in and earnsome money. It don't take much to keep me when I'm on the trail."
"What's the good of seein' so much?" asked Mrs. Reynolds.
He smiled a slow, musing smile. "Oh, I don't know. The more you see themore you want to see. Just now I feel like taking a little rest."
Cora smiled at him. "I wish you would. You look like a starved cat--youought'o let us feed you up for a while."
"Spoil me for the trail," he said, but his eyes conveyed a message ofgratitude for her sympathy, and she flushed again.
After supper Mrs. Reynolds said: "Now if you want to read your lettersby yourself, you can." She opened a door and he looked in.
"A bed! I haven't slept in a bed for two years."
"Well, it won't kill ye, not for one night, I reckon," she said.
He looked around the little room, at the dainty lace curtains tied withlittle bows of ribbon, at the pictures and lambrequins, and it filledhis heart with a sudden stress of longing. It made him remember thepretty parlor in which Mary had received him four years before, and heopened her letter with a tremor in his hands. It was dated the Christmasday of the year of his visit; it was more than three years belated, buthe read it as if it were written the day before, and it moved him quiteas powerfully.
"MY DEAR FRIEND: The impulse to write to you has grown stronger day by day since you left. Your wonderful life and your words appealed to my imagination with such power that I have been unable to put them out of my mind. Without intending to do so you have filled me with a great desire to see the West which is able to make you forget your family and friends and calls you on long journeys. I have sung for you every Sunday as I promised to do. Your friend Jack called to see me last night and we had a long talk about you. He is to write you also and gave me your probable address. You said you were not a good writer but I wish you would let me know where you are and what you are doing, for I feel a deep interest in you, although I can not make myself believe that you are not the Harold Excell I saw in Rock River. In reality you are not he, any more than I am the little prig who sang those songs to save your soul! However, I was not so bad as I seemed even then, for I wanted you to admire my voice.
"I hope this Christmas day finds you in a warm and sheltered place. It would be a great comfort to me if I could know you were not cold and hungry. Jack brought me a beautiful present--a set of George Eliot. I ought not to have accepted it but he seemed so sure it would please me I had not the heart to refuse. I would send something to you only I can't feel sure of reaching you, and neither does Jack.
"It may be of interest to you to know that Mr. King the pastor, in whose church I sang, has resigned his pastorate to go abroad for a year. His successor is a man with a family--I don't see how he will manage to live on the salary. Mr. King had independent means and was a bachelor."
Right there the youth stopped. Something told him that he had reachedthe heart of the woman's message. King had resigned to go abroad. Why?The tone of the letter was studiedly cold. Why? There were a few morelines to say that Jack was coming in to eat Christmas dinner with herand that she would sing If I Were a Voice. He was not super-subtle andyet something in this letter made his throat fill and his head a little_dizzy_. If it did not mean that she had broken with King, then truthcould not be conveyed in lines of black ink.
He tore open Jack's letter. It was short and to the point.
"DEAR HARRY: If you can get away come back to Marmion and see Mary again. She wants to see you _bad_. I don't know what has happened but I _think_ she has given King his walking papers--and all on account of you. _I know it._ It can't be anybody else. She talked of you the entire evening. O man! but she was beautiful. She sang for me but her mind was away in the mountains. I could see that. It was her interest in you made her so nice to me. Now that's the God's truth. Come back and get her.
"Yours in haste, "JACK."
Mose tingled with the sudden joy of it. Jack's letter, so unlike hisusual calm, was convincing. He sprang up, a smile on his face, his eyesshining with happiness, his blood surging through his heart, and then heremembered the letters were three years old! The gray cloud settled downupon him--his limbs grew cold, and the light went out of his eyes.
Three years! While he was camping in the Grand Canon with the lizardsand skunks she was waiting to hear from him. While he sat in the shadeof the walls of Walpi, surrounded by hungry dogs and pot-belliedchildren, she was singing for him and wondering whether her letter hadever reached him. Three years! A thousand things could happen in threeyears. She may have died!--a cold shudder touched him--she might tire ofwaiting and marry some one else--or she might have gone away to theEast, that unknown and dangerous jungle of cities.
He sprang up again. "I will go to see her!" he said to himself. Then heremembered. His horse was worn, he had no money and no suitableclothing. Then he thought: "I will write." It did not occur to him totelegraph, for he had never done such a thing in his life.
He walked out into the sitting-room, his letters in his hands.
"How far do you call it to Wagon Wheel?"
"About thirty miles, and all up hill."
"Will you loan me one of your bronchos?"
"Certain sure, my boy."
"I want to ride up there and send a couple of letters."
"Better wait till morning," said Reynolds. "Your letters have waitedthree years--I reckon they'll keep over night."
"That's so," said Mose with a smile.
Sleep came to him swiftly, in spite of his letters, for he was verytired, but he found the room close and oppressive when he arose in themorning. The women were already preparing breakfast and Reynolds sat bythe fire pulling on his boots.
As they were walking out to the barn Reynolds plucked him by the sleeveand said:
"I reckon I've lost my chance to kill Craig."
"Why?"
"A Mexican took the job off my hands." His face expressed a sort ofgloomy dissatisfaction. Then without looking at Mose he went on: "That'sone reason daughter
looks so pert. She's free of that skunk's clutchesnow--and can hold up her head. She's free to marry a decent man."
Mose was silent. Mary's letter had thrust itself between his lips andCora's shapely head, and all thought of marriage with her was gone.
As they galloped up to the camp the boys were at work finishing the lastbunch of calves. The camp wagon was packed and ready to start across thedivide, but the cook flourished a newspaper and came running up.
"Here you are, posted like a circus."
Mose took the paper, and on the front page read in big letters:
BLACK MOSE! Mysterious as Ever. The Celebrated Dead Shot. Visits Wagon Wheel, and Swiftly Disappears.
"Damn 'em!" said Mose, "can't they let me alone? Seems like they can'trest till they crowd me into trouble."