Rhodes Eugene Manlove - Bransford of Rainbow Range стр 2.

Hark! said Pringle.

A weird sound reached them the night wrangler, beguiling his lonely vigil with song.

What do you spose that night-hawk thinks about the majesty of the law? he said. There was a ringing note in his voice. Smith and Headlight nodded gravely; their lean, brown faces hardened.

You havent heard of it? Old John Taylor, daddy to yonder warbler, drifted here from the East. Wife and little girl both puny. Taylor takes up a homestead on the Feliz. He wasnt affluent none. I let him have my old paint pony, Freckles him being knee-sprung and not up to cow-work. To make out an unparalleled team, he got Ed Poes Billy Bowlegs, née Gambler, him havin won a new name by a misunderstanding with a prairie-dog hole. Taylor paid Poe for him in work. He was a willin old rooster, Taylor, but futile and left-handed all over.

John, Junior, he was only thirteen. Him and the old man moseyed around like two drunk ants, fixin up a little log house with rock chimbleys, a horse-pen and shelter, rail-fencin of the little vegas to put to crops, and so on.

Done you good to drop in and hear em plan and figger. They was one happy family. How Sis Emly bragged about their hens layin! In the spring we all held a bee and made their cequias for em. Baker, he loaned em a plow. They dragged big branches over the ground for a harrow. They could milk anybodys cows they was a mind to tame, and the boys took to carryin over motherless calves for Mis Taylor to raise. Taylor, he done odd jobs, and they got along real well with their crops. They went into the second winter peart as squirrels.

But, come spring, Sis wasnt doin well. They had the Agency doctor. Too high up and too damp, he said. So the missus and Emly they went to Cruces, where Emly could go to school.

That meant right smart of expense rentin a house and all. So the Johns they hires out. John, Junior, made his dayboo as wrangler for the Steam Pitchfork, acquirin the obvious name of Felix.

The old man he got a job muckin in Organ mines. Kept his hawses in Jeff Isaacks pasture, and Saturday nights hed get one and slip down them eighteen miles to Cruces for Sunday with the folks.

Well, you know, a homesteader cant be off his claim moren six months at a time.

I reckon if there was ever a homestead taken up in good faith twas the Butterbowl. They knew the land laws from A to Izzard. Even named their hound pup Boney Fido!

But the old man waited at Organ till the last bell rang, sos to draw down his wages, payday. Then he bundles the folks into his little old wagon and lights out. Campin at Casimiros Well, half-way cross, that ornery Freckles hawse has a fit of malignant nostolgy and projects off for Butterbowl, afoot, in his hobbles. Next day, Taylor dont overtake him till the middle of the evenin, and what with going back and what with Freckles being hobble-sore, hes two days late in reachin home. For Lake, of Agua Chiquite, that prosperous person, had been keeping cases. He entered contest on the Butterbowl, allegin abandonment.

Now, if it was me but, then, if twas me I could stay away six years and two months without no remonstrances from Lake or his likes. Im somewhat abandoned myself.

But poor old Taylor, hes been drug up where they hold biped life unaccountable high. He sits him down resignedly beneath the sky, as the poet says, meek and legal. We all dont abnormally like to precipitate in another mans business, but we makes it up to sorter saunter in on Lake, spontaneous, and evince our disfavor with a rope. But Taylor says, No. He allows the Land Office wont hold him morally responsible for the sinful idiocy of a homesick spotted hawse thats otherwise reliable.

Hes got one more guess comin. There aint no sympathies to machinery. Your intentions may be strictly honorable, but if you get your hand caught in the cogs, off it goes, regardless of how handy it is for flankin calves, holdin nails, and such things. Absent over six months. Entry canceled. Contestant is allowed thirty days prior right to file. Next.

Thats the way that decisionll read. It aint come yet, but its due soon.

This here Felix looks at it just like the old man, only different though he aint makin no statements for publication. He come here young, and having acquired the fixed habit of riskin his neck, regular, for one dollar per each and every diem, shooin in the reluctant steer, or a fool hawse pirouettin across the pinnacles with a nosebag on or, mebbee, just for fun why, natural, he dont see why life is so sweet or peace so dear as to put up with any damn foolishness, as Pat Henry used to say when the boys called on him for a few remarks. Hes a some serious-minded boy, that night-hawk, and if signs is any indications, hes fixin to take an appeal under the Winchester Act. I aint no seventh son of a son-of-a-gun, but my prognostications are that he presently removes Lake to another and, we trust, a better world.

Good thing, too, grunted Headlight. This Lake person is sure-lee a muddy pool.

Shet your fool head, said Pringle amiably. You may be on the jury. Im going to seek my virtuous couch. Glad we dont have to bed no cattle, viva voce, this night.

Aint he the Latin scholar? said Headlight admiringly. They blow about that wire Julius Cæsar sent the Associated Press, but old man Pringle done him up for levity and precision when he wrote us the account of his visit to the Denver carnival. Ever hear about it, Sagittarius?

No, said Leo. What did he say?

Hic hock hike!

II

Escondido, half-way of the desert, is designed on simple lines. The railroad hauls water in tank-cars from Dog Cañon. There is one depot, one section-house, and one combination post-office-hotel-store-saloon-stage-station, kept by Ma Sanders and Pappy Sanders, in about the order mentioned. Also, one glorious green cottonwood, one pampered rosebush, jointly the pride and delight of Escondido, ownerless, but cherished by loving care and toted tribute of waste water.

Hither came Jeff and Leo, white with the dust of twenty starlit leagues, for accumulated mail of Rainbow South. Horse-feeding, breakfast, gossip with jolly, motherly Ma Sanders, reading and answering of mail then their beauty nap; so missing the days event, the passing of the Flyer. When they woke Escondido basked drowsily in the low, westering sun. The far sunset ranges had put off their workaday homespun brown and gray for chameleon hues of purple and amethyst; their deep, cool shadows, edged with trembling rose, reached out across the desert; the velvet air stirred faintly to the promise of the night.

The agent was putting up his switch-lights; from the kitchen came a cheerful clatter of tinware.

Now we buy some dry goods and wet, said Leo. They went into the store.

That decisions come! shrilled Pappy in tremulous excitement. Its too durn bad! Registered letters from Land Office for Taylor and Lake, besides another for Lake, not registered.

That one from the Land Office, too? said Jeff.

Didnt I jest tell ye? Say, its a shame! Why dont some of you fellers Gosh! If I was only young!

Its a travesty on justice! exclaimed Leo indignantly. Theres really no doubt but that they decided for Lake, I suppose?