The Cattle-Baron's Daughter

Flora Schuyler laughed a little breathless laugh, for though she also felt the confidence her companion evinced, the strain had told on her.

“Of course,” she said, “he knew you wanted him. There are men like that.”

It was a simple tribute, but Hetty thrilled with pride. Larry was at least consistent, and now, as it had been in the days both looked back upon, he had come when she needed him. She also recognized even then that the fact that he is generally to be found where he is wanted implies a good deal in the favour of any man.

And now half-seen objects moved out from behind barn and stable, and the horseman turned towards them. His voice rose sharply and commandingly.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

There was no answer for several moments, and then a man stepped forward gesticulating fiercely as he commenced a tirade that was less than half intelligible. Larry checked him with a lifted hand.

“There’s a good deal of that I can’t quite understand, and the rest doesn’t seem to fit this case,” he said, with a laugh that had more effect upon some of those who heard it than a flow of eloquence would have had. “Boys, we have no use for worrying about the meanness of European kings and folks of that kind. If you have brought any along I’d sooner listen to sensible Americans.”

Another man stepped forward, and there was no doubt about his accent, though his tone was deprecatory.

“Well, it just comes to this,” he said. “Torrance and the cattle-men have done their best to starve us and freeze us out, and, since he has made it plain that there’s no room for both of us, somebody has got to go. Now, we have come a long way and we mean to stay. We’re not looking for trouble, but we want our rights.”

There was a murmur of encouragement from the rest, but again Larry’s laugh had its effect. “Then you’re taking a kind of curious way of getting them,” he said. “I don’t know that trying to burn folks’ houses ever did anybody much good, and it’s quite likely to bring a regiment of United States cavalry down on you. Mr. Torrance, I fancied I heard firing. Have you anybody hurt inside?”

“One of your men,” said Torrance drily. “We hope to pull him round, and let the Sheriff have him.”

It was not a conciliatory answer, and came near undoing what Grant had accomplished; but the grim old cattle-baron was not the man to propitiate an enemy. A murmur followed it, and somebody said, “Boys, you hear him! Bring along that wagon. We’re going in.”

The form of speech was Western, but the voice was guttural, and when there was a rattle of wheels Grant suddenly changed his tone.

“Stop right there,” he said. “Throw every truss of hay down. The man who holds off when I tell him what to do is going to have trouble with the executive.”

It was a bold venture, and any sign of effort or unevenness of inflection would have rendered it futile, but the voice was sharp and ringing, and the fashion in which the horseman flung up his arm commanding. It was, also, tactful, for some of those who heard it had been drilled into unreflecting obedience, and there is in the native American the respect for a duly accredited leader, which discipline has further impressed upon the Teuton. Still, those who watched from the window felt that this was the crisis, and tightened their numbed fingers on the rifles, knowing that if the horseman failed they would shortly need them again. None of them, however, made any other movement, and Miss Schuyler, who, grasping Hetty’s hand, saw the dim figures standing rigid and intent, could only hear the snapping of the stove.

“Hetty,” she gasped, “I shall do something silly in another moment.”

The tension only lasted a moment or two. A man sprang up on the pole of the wagon, and a truss of hay went down. Another followed, and then, men who had also felt the strain and now felt it a relief to do anything, clustered about the wagon. In a few minutes it was empty, and the men who had been a mob turned to the one who had changed them into an organized body.

“What do you want now?” asked one of them.

“Run that wagon back where you got it from,” said Larry.

It was done, and when the clustering figures vanished amidst a rattle of wheels Torrance laid aside his rifle and sat down on the table.

“I guess there’ll be no more trouble, boys. That’s a thing there’s not many men could have done,” he added.

His daughter also sat down in the nearest chair, with Flora Schuyler’s hand still within her own. She had been very still while the suspense lasted, but she was trembling now, and her voice had a little quiver in it as she said, “Wasn’t he splendid, Flo?”

It was some minutes before Grant and the other men came back again, and fragments of what he said were audible. “Then, you can pick out four men, and we’ll hear them at the committee. I have two or three questions to ask you by and by. Half a dozen of you keep a look-out. The rest can get into the stable out of the frost.”

The men dispersed, and Grant turned towards the house. “I don’t think you need have any further anxiety, and you can shut that window if you want to, Mr. Torrance.”

Torrance laughed. “I don’t know that I’ve shown any yet.”

“I hope you haven’t felt it,” said Grant. “It is cold out here, and I’m willing to come in and talk to you.”

Somebody had moved the box away from the lamp, and Clavering’s face showed up against the wavering shadow as he turned towards his leader. Flora Schuyler saw a little unpleasant smile on his lips as he pointed suggestively to the men with rifles he had sent towards the door.

“That would suit us, sir,” he said.

Torrance understood him, for he shook his head impatiently. “It wouldn’t pay. There would be too many of his friends wondering what had become of him. Get the door open and tell him to come in. Light the big lamps, somebody.”

The door was opened, and, as if in confirmation of Torrance’s warning, a voice rose up outside. “We have let him go, but if you try any meanness, or he isn’t ready when we want him, we’ll pull the place down,” it said.

Larry walked out of the darkness into the blaze of light, and only smiled a little when the great door swung to behind him and somebody brought the window banging down. Two men with rifles stepped between him and the former; but if Torrance had intended to impress him, he had apparently failed, for he moved forward with quiet confidence. The fur cap he held in his hand was white, and the great fur coat stood out from his body stiff with frost, while Hetty winced when she saw the pallor of his face. It was evident that it was not without a strenuous effort he had made the mob subservient to him.

But his eyes were grave and steady, in spite of the weariness in them, and as he passed the girls he made a little formal inclination with his head. He stopped in front of Torrance, who rose from his seat on the table, and for a moment the two men looked at one another. Both stood very straight, one lean, and dark, and commanding, with half-contemptuous anger in his black eyes; the other of heavier frame and brown of skin and hair save where what he had done had left its stamp of pallor. Yet, different as they were in complexion and feature, it seemed to Miss Schuyler, who watched them intently, that there was a curious, indefinite resemblance between them. They were of the same stock and equally resolute, each ready, it seemed, to stake all he had on what he held the right.

Flora Schuyler, who had trained her observation, also read what they felt in their faces, and saw in that of Torrance grudging approval tempered by scorn of the man who had trampled on the traditions of those he sprang from. She fancied that Larry recognized this and that it stung him, though he would not show that it did, and his attitude pleased her most. It was unyielding, but there was a deference that became him in it.

“I am sorry I did not arrive soon enough to save you this inconvenience, sir,” he said.

Torrance smiled grimly, and there was a hardness in his voice. “You have been here a good many times, Larry, and we did our best for you. None of us fancied that you would repay us by coming back with a mob of rabble to pull the place down.”

Grant winced perceptibly. “Nobody is more sorry than I am, sir.”

“Aren’t you a trifle late?”

“I came as soon as I got word.”

Torrance made a little gesture of impatience. “That’s not what I mean. There is very little use in being sorry now. Before the other fools you joined started there talking there was quietness and prosperity in this country. The men who had made it what it is got all, but nothing more than they were entitled to, and one could enjoy what he had worked for and sleep at night. This was not good enough for you – and this is what you have made of it.”

He stretched out his arm with a forceful gesture, pointing to the men with rifles, the two white-faced girls, and the splinters on the wall, then dropped his hand, and Larry’s eyes rested on the huddled figure lying by the stove. He moved towards it, and bent down without a word, and it was at least five minutes before he came back again, his face dark and stern.

“You have done nothing for him?” he said.

“No,” said Torrance, “we have not. I guess nature knows what’s best for him, and I didn’t see anything to be gained by rousing him with brandy to start the bleeding.”

“Well, first of all, I want that man.”

“You can have him. We had meant him for the Sheriff, but what you did just now lays me in your debt, and I would not like to feel I owed you anything.”

Grant made a little gesture. “I don’t think I have quite deserved that, sir. I owe you a good deal, and it makes what I have to do harder still. Can’t you remember that there was a time when you were kind to me?”

“No,” said Torrance drily. “I don’t want to be reminded when I have done foolish things. I tried to warn you, but you would not listen to me, that the trail you have started on will take you a good deal farther than you meant to go. If you have anything to tell me, I would sooner talk business. Are you going to bring your friends round here at night again?”

“They came without me, and, if I can help it, will not come back. This thing will be gone into, and the leaders punished by our committee. Now, are you willing to stop the intimidation of the storekeepers, which has brought about this trouble, and let us get provisions in the town? I can offer you something in exchange.”

“No,” said Torrance. “Do what suits you best. I can make no terms with you. If it hadn’t been for my foolishness in sending the boys off with the cattle, very few of your friends would have got away from Cedar Range to-night.”

“I’ll take my man away. I can thank you for that at least,” was Grant’s answer.

He moved to the door and opened it, and three men came in. They did his bidding, and all made way for them when they tramped out unsteadily with their burden. Then, he turned once more to Torrance with his fur cap in his hand.