The Ranch on the Beaver
by Andy Adams
Keeping the Powder Dry
'Is that Wild Horse?' inquired Joel, as the mirages lifted near evening and revealed distant objects in the valley of the Big Sandy.
'That's her,' replied his guide. 'We'll make it within an hour after sunset.'
With a brief respite at noon, the two had been in the saddle all day. The regular man had often been over the trail from the ranch to the station, with beeves, and knew every camp on the route. The different waters were pointed out, measuring the daily drives of beef cattle, and at one of these the horses were unsaddled for an hour and allowed to roll and graze.
'It takes us a week to make the round trip with beef,' said the guide during the noon halt. 'Ten days would be better; it would admit of grazing the beeves all the way down. It depends on the rush.'
No detail of the route was overlooked by Joel Wells. On reaching the station after dark, he visited the shipping pens, noted their capacity, made inquiry as to their approach, their length of wings, until he had a complete mental map of the cattle yards and their surroundings. Wild Horse was a duplicate of Grinnell, shipping station for the Beaver Ranch, bleak, sunburnt, and uninviting. A night train stopped for water, and, taking his saddle on board, the young cowman continued on to his destination.
On reaching the city, a surprise awaited him. He had wired his coming, and the train arriving late in the day after office hours, he was met at the depot by Major Hunt and Mr. Stoddard. The latter took Joel to his hotel, and after the two had gone over the situation on the Arickaree, the old cowman breathed easier.'
'You think it's an honest failure, then,' said Mr. Stoddard. 'You believe the cattle were there last fall.'
'I have every reason to think so,' replied Joel. 'The books on the ranch--'
'The books may have been tampered with, may show cattle that never existed,' interrupted the old Texan.
'The accounts I'm speaking about were kept by the foreman for his own information,' insisted the boy. 'He's an old man, no longer foreman, a cripple, and if you met him you wouldn't question his accounts. It's as simple as a primer. He has been with the company ever since it began operations, and he's heartbroken over its failure. The office books mean nothing to us.'
'Just so you're satisfied. Remember there are tricks in all trades but ours. You boys must take no chances. If any one must lose, let it be the creditors.'
'Any chance we're taking is an inviting one. First, we're just home from the round-up. The drift was heavy. Again, we know that the strays of this company were left adrift; that it was poorly represented at the spring round-up. We know where the missing cattle are. Our boys saw them. And lastly, we have counted and classified the cattle on the Arickaree, and are satisfied that the assets, in sight, will pay every dollar of the indebtedness. That's all we ask.'
'Very well, then,' said the old cowman approvingly. 'Just so you feel safe. I'm willing to lose my share, but no one must saddle a dead horse on you boys.'
'We're not buying dead cattle. That range on the Arickaree is worth something to us. It's shipped seventy-dollar beeves in the past. It's a big chance. Our foreman is simply wild to gather the cattle adrift. And our classification shows that they are nearly all double-wintered beeves. Think of that. Ready money!'
'You're the doctor,' nodded Mr. Stoddard, with emphasis.
It developed that the latter, when advised of the pending sale to Wells Brothers, had come on to protect his own interests. He looked upon the brothers as his customers to whom he had extended a credit, and, in the absence of Manly, he felt that his presence might be of some advantage to the boys. To take over a ranch, the holdings of which were credited in excess of ten thousand cattle, was in no sense a task for amateurs. The old cowman was justified in feeling a concern for his proteges.
'There is no occasion for alarm,' said Major Hunt to Mr. Stoddard the next morning at the office. 'Up to the beginning of last winter we have had a line on the company's holdings. Our solicitors have visited the range every summer for years. We controlled the sale of the purchased cattle two years ago; our men passed on them, saw them run into the ranch brands before starting for the home range. We were justified in advancing the funds to buy the cattle. Our clients will not lose a dollar. I'm banking on the boys setting the ranch on its feet.'
'It's no small undertaking,' protested the old Texan. 'I wouldn't touch it with sugar on it. And here these boys jump in and tackle a bankrupt cattle company.'
'Not blindly,' countered the Major. 'These boys and their foreman have gone over the assets, and now are willing to take the chance. They're not buying a pig in the woods. They know the situation better than we do. All we need to do is to stand behind them and they'll come out on top.'
'It looks like we'll have to,' admitted Mr Stoddard. 'Small choice, however. It's stand behind them or hold the sack.'
'Are you still willing to take over the affairs of this company on the terms and conditions given you last week?' inquired Major Hunt of Joel.
'Perfectly willing. In fact, anxious for the chance. I even left our foreman on the ranch.'
The old factor laughed loudly. 'There's your answer,' said he to Mr. Stoddard. 'You long horn Texans never take a chance except on your cows calving. These boys have the Western spirit. They'll make cattle kings yet.'
Dudley Stoddard bowed to Major Hunt. There was a note of irony in his politeness. 'Command me,' said he, lifting his hat. 'No one has stood behind these boys longer or is more willing to go farther. They established their first credit with me, and have always protected it. Understand me clearly; I challenge any one to say they are unworthy of confidence.'
'That's the reason I want them to have this chance. They're workers. I know that the cattle are in existence, and that these boys can gather them. I'm willing to risk my eggs in their basket.'
'You're not talking to me. I'm years ahead of you. My cattle have been in their hands for some time past.'
Major Hunt beckoned Joel aside. 'I'll have all the necessary papers ready for you this afternoon,' said he. 'Now, is there anything else?'
'We could use anywhere from thirty to fifty saddle horses. Have you any idea where they might be bought?'
The old factor hesitated, and Mr. Stoddard turned back from a window. 'Horses?' said he, catching the boy's inquiry. 'You lack saddle stock?'
'The remuda on the Arickaree is the only weak point in the outfit. It needs bracing up with more horses.'
'One by one the reasons of this failure crop out,' snorted the grizzled cowman. 'Strange your firm's solicitors, at the ranch yearly, didn't notice this weak link in the chain. Small wonder the cattle are adrift. Were they trying to run a ranch with one horse to the man, like cavalry?'
'The present remuda might answer for ordinary ranch needs,' said Joel. 'But we expect to send out an outfit to be gone three months. To gather in the cattle astray, we must mount our men.'
'Of course,' murmured Mr. Stoddard, meditating. 'Of course you must have more horses. In cattle work, men don't ride broomsticks like we did when we were little boys. You must mount your men. Horses? More horses? Certainly; you must keep the powder dry.'
'There's quite a drive of odds and ends at Trail City this season,' suggested Major Hunt.
'There you are,' agreed the old cowman.
'We prefer wintered ones,' urged Joel. 'At steady, hard work, these through horses haven't any more bottom than a sheep.'
'You'll find wintered ones at Trail City,' said the Texan. 'Every fall speculators buy up the remnants of saddle stock on trail markets, expecting to sell them to ranchmen in the spring. If I needed horses. I'd go to Trail City.'
'I'll go to-night,' said the eager boy, nodding to Mr. Stoddard; then, turning to the old factor, 'Give me a letter of credit for our balance and get me a pass. I have my saddle with me.'
'Make it two passes,' nodded the old cowman, 'and I'll go along. I have the time, and I like to travel with wealthy men.'
'Now you're talking sense,' said the old factor, bustling about; 'now we're getting into the collar. By all means, go along.' Turning to the boy, he continued: 'Don't hesitate to overdraw on your letter of credit. Mount your men and gather those beeves, and the expense will take care of itself.'
'Gathering the cattle adrift isn't worrying us a particle,' simply said Joel. 'The important thing is to cover every beef round-up this fall where a single animal might be astray. We may have to split the outfit up at times, ship in less than trainloads, and send home all the she stuff unfit for market. The idea is not to leave anything adrift for rustlers.'
'Do you think I picked the wrong outfit to set this defunct ranch on its feet?' politely inquired Major Hunt of his elderly client. 'Honest Injun, did I?'
'There's a world of difference between theory and practice,' retorted the old cowman. 'You and I are holding the sack, bogged to the saddle skirts, and we're hoping that these boys will throw us a rope and pull us out. I hope you're right. But your theory and my experience will never bring the cattle home. We'll have to send out young blood, real range men.'
The two old men sparred along in give-and-take repartee. The one was a practical cowman, somewhat provincial in his views, while the other, from a wider contact with men, took a more hopeful survey of the general outlook. Each filled a necessary niche in a common industry, while with them stood a boy, alert, ambitious, absorbing into his fiber every element which made and marked him apart in their respective callings. The apparent roughness of the Texan was fully understood by Joel Wells, as a rough exterior, in his experience, was the token of a generous nature.
'Who are you sending out with this independent wagon?' inquired the old cowman, addressing the boy.
'Our foreman on the Beaver. And I'm going with him. At the end of the shipping season, we'll know if we bought a lost mine. You may laugh at us then, or we may all laugh together. Anyhow, we're gladly taking the chance.'
'Good luck to you,' said the old ranchman, smiling his approval. 'Young blood will tell. Hitch your wagon to a star.'
Man and boy strolled out of the office. On their return, during the afternoon, everything was in readiness to complete the sale to the brothers. The letter of credit showed a healthy balance, sufficient for all needs, passes had been secured, and at the final parting, Joel said to the old factor:
'Suppose we are pushed for time, at the close of the beef harvest, could we ship our last consignment from the Arickaree to Omaha?'
'Certainly. We have a branch office there. Take your choice.'
'That's all. It's a question of saving time. We may have to take advantage of the shortest route to the railroad.'
The two caught an early train, and a day later arrived at Trail City. It was the same shanty town, half-deserted, canvas whipping in the breeze, and the windows missing from many houses. The most gratifying change was a matter of the moment, Mr. Stoddard swinging, on the general look, from one extreme to the other. Joel had seen a similar instance before, in the case of Don Lovell, the drover, almost ranting in holding his trail outfits up to a high tension of alertness.
'You have to keep tapping them on the shoulder,' explained the ranchman. 'Let them know that some one is keeping tabs on them, otherwise they might fall asleep at the switch. Major Hunt is one of the most trusty men I ever knew; but I couldn't let this chance pass unnoticed. His firm handles any surplus funds of mine, and I expect him to keep awake. A good man, but long on theory. Start the old Major out with a trail herd and he wouldn't get through with the wagon and half the remuda. But he can sit in an office and figure it all out. I'm not uneasy but that you boys will come out on top. Now you know why I differed so with Major Hunt. I simply had to rowel him to keep his tension up.'
Mr. Stoddard was well known in Trail City. General inquiry was made for saddle stock, resulting in liberal offers of through horses, while several wintered bands were located. The latter were some distance away, both above and below the town, and short trips were necessary. Several days were wasted in looking over the available supply of horses, the wintered ones being priced at excessive figures, while the through ones were offered at reasonable prices.
Joel was worried. He wanted the wintered horses, but the price was prohibitive. The old Texan came to the rescue with a timely suggestion. 'Begin buying through ones,' said he. 'They'll do for night-herding. One of these unacclimated horses will stand a two hours' guard every night and keep strong. At least that's my experience on the trail. Use them in both your outfits this fall. The owners of these wintered ones will hardly let you get away.'
The suggestion was carried out. Ten horses were picked from one remuda and fifteen from another, a man was hired, a pack-saddle secured, and other preparations for leaving were in evidence. In the meantime the owners of the wintered horses hung around Mr. Stoddard, who made it a rule to have a pleasant word with each, but throwing a wet blanket over their hopes of selling any horses.
'There's no question but young Wells wants your saddle stock,' said he observantly, when the opportune moment had arrived. 'But when he can buy two through ones for the price of a wintered horse, there is no chance of you selling yours. He might allow you ten dollars difference, but I wouldn't. Anyhow, it's almost too late, as the young fellow will fill his needs to-day. We have the horses in sight, and he wants to start home in the morning. This is your last chance, and if you want me to. I'll talk to the boy.'
'It's shoot, Luke, or give up the gun,' said the old Texan to Joel, a few minutes later. 'Those speculators must come to us, or say they don't want your money. You'll get the wintered horses, or I'm a poor trader. Within an hour they'll come up and eat sugar out of your hand.'
His words proved the old man's aptness in barter and trade. The owners of the wintered horses reopened bargaining, and by easy stages closed a deal on thirty head.
'It isn't exactly stealing them,' ruefully said one of the sellers; 'not if we take the money.'
'Now, don't bleed to death on this boy's hands,' said Mr. Stoddard to the speculators; 'don't muss up things and give the coroner any trouble. You didn't exactly steal them last fall from some poor, homesick Texas drover, did you? I've had to sell horses at the end of a drive, or at the close of the season, and I've met your kind of folks. Your game is about over.'
Joel was inwardly gloating. He saw a remuda for the Arickaree, second to no ranch in the country.
Given an outfit of men, they could throw out a drag-net that would bring in any wandering cattle. The necessary horses were the only item lacking, and now they were his in abundance.
The two wintered bands were widely distant, but having looked them over together, the old cowman volunteered to select and accept in one direction while Joel went in the other. They returned the next day with the horses in hand, and hasty preparations were made for starting home. A second man was picked up, and, throwing all purchases together, the boy started, accompanied several miles by the old ranchman.
Aside from their present errand, the two had not overlooked the trail offerings of cattle. They were besought by drovers and agents, but until the beef harvest was over, nothing definite could be done. The drive of the year was light, badly mixed, running from straight brands of ranch stock to she stuff, and including a few herds of straight steers. Several of the latter were in the hands of assignees, while the former were the remnants of bankrupt cattle companies. It was plainly evident that the glory of the long trail had passed, not a herd having ventured north to Ogalalla or the Platte country.
'You'll find cattle here this fall,' said the old cowman, at parting. 'Better stock up to the limit of your ranges, for it's your last chance at trail herds. Come down into my country next winter, and get acquainted with the breeding ranges. If you are going to run a beef ranch, hereafter you'll have to ship in young stock.'
The grizzled ranchman and his protégé struck hands. 'I may come down,' said the latter. 'It all depends on the winter. I want to come down to the Pease River and see the country that bred our Lazy H beeves.'
The two turned away again and again, some suggestion recalling each other, as lovers linger at a gate.
'Now, is there anything further?' finally insisted Mr. Stoddard.
'Yes,' said Joel. 'Send us Manly. He's just the man to handle our outfit on the Beaver this fall. He knows the range and the run of the shipping. Send him on at once.'
'I'll wire him this afternoon,' nodded the Texan, reining away. 'Joe's had his little tear around home, and it's high time he was getting back in the saddle again. S'long.'