CHAPTER XV. Oleson
"Say, ain't that Andy and Mig following along behind?" Cal asked after aminute of watching the approach. "Sure, it is. Now what--"
"They're drivin' 'em, by cripes!" Big Medicine, under the stress of themoment, returned to his usual bellowing tone. "Who's that tall, lankyfeller in the lead? I don't call to mind ever seem him before. Them fourherders I'd know a mile off."
"That?" Weary shaded his eyes with his hat-brim, against the slant raysof the westering sun. "That's Oleson, Dunk's partner."
"His mother'd be a-weepin'," Big Medicine observed bodefully, "if sheknowed what was due to happen to her son right away quick. Must be himthat done the shootin'."
They came on steadily, the four herders and Oleson walking reluctantlyahead, with Andy Green and the Native Son riding relentlessly in therear, their guns held unwaveringly in a line with the backs of theircaptives. Andy was carrying a rifle, evidently taken from one of themen--Oleson, they judged for the guilty one. Half the distance wascovered when Andy was seen to turn his head and speak briefly with theNative Son, after which he lunged past the captives and galloped up tothe waiting group. His quick eye sought first the face of Happy Jackin anxious questioning; then, miserably, he searched the faces of hisfriends.
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed mechanically, dismounted and bent over thefigure on the ground. For a long minute he knelt there; he laid his earclose to Happy Jack's mouth, took off his glove and laid his hand overHappy's heart; reached up, twitched off his neckerchief, shook out thecreases and spread it reverently over Happy Jack's face. He stood upthen and spoke slowly, his eyes fixed upon the stumbling approach of thecaptives.
"Pink told us Happy had been shot, so we rode around and come up behind'em. It was a cinch. And--say, boys, we've got the Dots in a pocket.They've got to eat outa our hands, now. So don't think about--our ownfeelings, or about--" he stopped abruptly and let a downward glancefinish the sentence. "We've got to keep our own hands clean, and--nowdon't let your fingers get the itch, Bud!" This, because of certainmanifestations of a murderous intent on the part of Big Medicine.
"Oh, it's all right to talk, if yuh feel like talking," Big Medicineretorted savagely. "I don't." He made a catlike spring at the foremostman, who happened to be Oleson, and got a merciless grip with hisfingers on his throat, snarling like a predatory animal over its kill.From behind, Andy, with Weary to help, pulled him off.
"I didn't mean to--to kill anybody," gasped Oleson, pasty white. "Iheard a lot of shooting, and so I ran up the hill--and the herders camerunning toward me, and I thought I was defending my property and men. Ihad a right to defend--"
"Defend hell!" Big Medicine writhed in the restraining grasp of thosewho held him. "Look at that there! As good hearted a boy as ever turneda cow! Never harmed a soul in 'is life. Is all your dirty, stinkin'sheep, an' all your lousy herders, worth that boy's life? Yuh shot 'imdown like a dog--lemme go, boys." His voice was husky. "Lemme tromp thelife outa him."
"I thought you were killing my men, or I never--I never meant to--tokill--" Oleson, shaking till he could scarcely stand, broke down andwept; wept pitiably, hysterically, as men of a certain fiber will weepwhen black tragedy confronts them all unawares. He cowered miserablybefore the Happy Family, his face hidden behind his two hands.
"Boys, I want to say a word or two. Come over here." Andy's voice, quietas ever, contrasted strangely with the man's sobbing. He led them backa few paces--Weary, Cal, Big Medicine and Slim, and spoke hurriedly. TheNative Son eyed them sidelong from his horse, but he was careful to keepOleson covered with his gun--and the herders too, although they wereunarmed. Once or twice he glanced at that long, ungainly figure in thegrass with the handkerchief of Andy Green hiding the face except wherea corner, fluttering in the faint breeze which came creeping out of thewest, lifted now and then and gave a glimpse of sunbrowned throat and aquiet chin and mouth.
"Quit that blubbering, Oleson, and listen here." Andys voice brokerelentlessly upon the other's woe. "All these boys want to hang yuhwithout any red tape; far as I'm concerned, I'm dead willing. But we'regoing to give yuh a chance. Your partner, as we told yuh coming over,we've got the dead immortal cinch on, right now. And--well you can seewhat you're up against. But we'll give yuh a chance. Have you got anyfamily?"
Oleson, trying to pull himself together, shook his head.
"Well, then, you can get rid of them sheep, can't yuh? Sell 'em, ship'em outa here--we don't give a darn what yuh do, only so yuh get 'em offthe range."
"Y-yes, I'll do that." Oleson's consent was reluctant, but it was fairlyprompt. "I'll get rid of the sheep," he said, as if he was minded toclinch the promise. "I'll do it at once."
"That's nice." Andy spoke with grim irony. "And you'll get rid of theranch, too. You'll sell it to the Flying U--cheap."
"But my partner--Whittaker might object--"
"Look here, old-timer. You'll fix that part up; you'll find a wayof fixing it. Look here--at what you're up against." He waited, withpointing finger, for one terrible minute. "Will you sell to the FlyingU?"
"Y-yes!" The word was really a gulp. He tried to avoid looking whereAndy pointed; failed, and shuddered at what he saw.
"I thought you would. We'll get that in writing. And we're going to waitjust exactly twenty-four hours before we make a move. It'll take somefine work, but we'll do it. Our boss, here, will fix up the business endwith you. He'll go with yuh right now, and stay with yuh till youmake good. And the first crooked move you make--" Andy, in unconsciousimitation of the Native Son, shrugged a shoulder expressively and urgedWeary by a glance to take the leadership.
"Irish, you come with me. The rest of you fellows know about what todo. Andy, I guess you'll have to ride point till I get back." Wearyhesitated, looked from Happy Jack to Oleson and the herders, and backto the sober faces of his fellows. "Do what you can for him, boys--and Iwish one of you would ride over, after Pink gets back, and--let me knowhow things stack up, will you?"
Incredible as was the situation on the face of it, nevertheless it wasextremely matter-of-fact in the handling; which is the way sometimeswith incredible situations; as if, since we know instinctively that wecannot rise unprepared to the bigness of its possibilities, we keep ourfeet planted steadfastly on the ground and refuse to rise at all. Andafterward, perhaps, we look back and wonder how it all came about.
At the last moment Weary turned back and exchanged guns with Andy Green,because his own was empty and he realized the possible need of one--orat least the need of having the sheep-men perfectly aware that he hadone ready for use. The Native Son, without a word of comment, handed hisown silver-trimmed weapon over to Irish, and rolled a cigarette deftlywith one hand while he watched them ride away.
"Does this strike anybody else as being pretty raw?" he inquired calmly,dismounting among them. "I'd do a good deal for the outfit, myself;but letting that man get off--Say, you fellows up this way don't thinkkilling a man amounts to much, do you?" He looked from one to the otherwith a queer, contemptuous hostility in his eyes.
Andy Green took a forward step and laid a hand familiarly on his rigidshoulder. "Quit it, Mig. We would do a lot for the outfit; that's theGod's truth. And I played the game right up to the hilt, I admit. Butnobody's killed. I told Happy to play dead. By gracious, I caught himjust in the nick uh time; he'd been setting up, in another minute." Toprove it, he bent and twitched the handkerchief from the face of HappyJack, and Happy opened his eyes and made shift to growl.
"Yuh purty near-smothered me t'death, darn yuh."
"Dios!" breathed the Native Son, for once since they knew him jolted outof his eternal calm. "God, but I'm glad!"
"I guess the rest of us ain't," insinuated Andy softly, and lifted hishat to wipe the sweat off his forehead. "I will say that--" Afterall, he did not. Instead, he knelt beside Happy Jack and painstakinglyadjusted the crumpled hat a hair's breadth differently.
"How do yuh feel, old-timer?" he asked with a very thin disguise ofcheerfulness upon the
anxiety of his tone.
"Well, I could feel a lot--better, without hurtin' nothin," Happy Jackresponded somberly. "I hope you fellers--feel better, now. Yuh got'em--tryin' to murder--the hull outfit; jes' like I--told yuhthey would--" Gunshot wounds, contrary to the tales of certainsentimentalists, do not appreciably sweeten, or even change, a man'sdisposition. Happy Jack with a bullet hole through one side of him wasstill Happy Jack.
"Aw, quit your beefin'," Big Medicine advised gruffly. "A feller witha hole in his lung yuh could throw a calf through sideways ain't got nobusiness statin' his views on nothin', by cripes!"
"Aw gwan. I thought you said--it didn't amount t' nothin'," Happyreminded him, anxiety stealing into his face.
"Well, it don't. May lay yuh up a day or two; wouldn't be su'prised ifyuh had to stay on the bed-ground two or three meals. But look at Slim,here. Shot through the leg--shattered a bone, by cripes!--las' night,only; and here he's makin' a hand and ridin' and cussin' same as any ofus t'day. We ain't goin' to let yuh grouch around, that's all. We claimwe got a vacation comm' to us; you're shot up, now, and that's funenough for one man, without throwin' it into the whole bunch. Why, alittle nick like that ain't nothin'; nothin' a-tall. Why, I've beenshot right through here, by cripes"--Big Medicine laid an impressivefinger-tip on the top button of his trousers--"and it come out backhere"--he whirled and showed his thumb against the small of hisback--"and I never laid off but that day and part uh the next. I wassore," he admitted, goggling Happy Jack earnestly, "but I kep' a-goin'.I was right in fall roundup, an' I had to. A man can't lay down an' cry,by cripes, jes' because he gets pinked a little--"
"Aw, that's jest because--it ain't you. I betche you'd lay 'emdown--jest like other folks, if yuh got shot--through the lungs. Thatain't no--joke, lemme tell yuh!" Happy Jack was beginning to showconsiderable spirit for a wounded man. So much spirit that Andy Green,who had seen men stricken down with various ills, read fever signs inthe countenance and in the voice of Happy, and led Big Medicine somewhatperemptorily out of ear-shot.
"Ain't you got any sense?" he inquired with fine candor. "What do youwant to throw it into him like that, for? You may not think so, but he'spretty bad off--if you ask me."
Big Medicine's pale eyes turned commiseratingly toward Happy Jack. "Iknow he is; I ain't no fool. I was jest tryin' to cheer 'im up a little.He was beginnin' to look like he was gittin' scared about it; I reckonmaybe I made a break, sayin' what I did about it, so I jest wanted totake the cuss off. Honest to gran'ma--"
"If you know anything at all about such things, you must know what fevermeans in such a case. And, recollect, it's going to be quite a whilebefore a doctor can get here."
"Oh, I'll be careful. Maybe I did throw it purty strong; I won't, nomore." Big Medicine s meekness was not the least amazing incident ofthe day. He was a big-hearted soul under his bellow and bluff, and hissympathy for Happy Jack struck deep. He went back walking on his toes,and he stood so that his sturdy body shaded Happy Jack's face from thesun, and he did not open his mouth for another word until Irish and JackBates came rattling up with the spring wagon hurriedly transformed withmattress, pillows and blankets into an ambulance.
They had been thoughtful to a degree. They brought with them a jug ofwater and a tin cup, and they gave Happy Jack a long, cooling drink ofit and bathed his face before they lifted him into the wagon. And of allthe hands that ministered to his needs, the hands of Big Medicine werethe eagerest and gentlest, and his voice was the most vibrant withsympathy; which was saying a good deal.