Judith of Blue Lake Ranch
J >> Jackson Gregory >> Judith of Blue Lake Ranch"It's a gamble, with us bucking the long odds. Dad left me a third
interest, clear, valued, counting stock, at a good deal more than four
hundred thousand dollars. He left me no cash. Dad never had any cash.
Just so soon as he got his hands on it he put it to work. I knew he
had planned taking over another one-third interest, and I went on with
his plans. I mortgaged my share for two hundred thousand dollars,
which I got at five per cent. That means I have to dig up each year,
just interest, ten thousand dollars. That's a pretty big lump, you
know."
"Yes," he admitted slowly. "That's big; mighty big."
"With the money I raised," Judith continued, "I bought out the third
owner, Timothy Gray. He let his holding go for three hundred and fifty
thousand. It was a bargain for me--if I can make a go of it. I still
owe, on the principal, one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I owe
on my mortgage two hundred thousand. Total of my indebtedness, three
hundred and fifty thousand dollars. And that's bigger, Bud Lee."
"Yes. That's bigger figures than I can quite get the hang of."
No wonder she had been crying. Even if everything went smooth on the
Blue Lake she, too, had her work cut out for her.
"Now," she ran on, her voice stirring him with the ringing note in it,
"I can make a go of it--if they will just let me alone! I am playing
close to the table, Lee, close! I have a little money in the bank,
enough to run along for two or three months, that's all. I said that
dad left no cash. I didn't mention his insurance." Her eyes grew
suddenly wet but she did not avert them from Lee's face, going on
quietly: "That was ten thousand dollars. Close to seven thousand had
to go for his current obligations. I have about two thousand to run
on."
"Close hauled," grunted Lee. And to himself, he remarked as he had
remarked once before: "She's got her sand."
Quite naturally Bud Lee thought swiftly of his horses. He had told
Trevors that he wanted to make no sale for at least six months. Given
until then--if Judith could make a go of it without forcing a
sale--he'd show her the way to at least seven or eight thousand, with a
good percentage of clear profit.
"To begin with," Judith's voice interrupted his musings, "I am going to
have trouble with Carson. I admit that he's an exceptionally good
cattle foreman; I admit, too, that he has his limitations. He is of
the old school, and has got to learn something! Already he has his
weather-eye cocked for the lean season; he'll be coming to me in August
or September, telling me I've got to begin selling. That's the way
they all do! And the result is that beef cattle drop and the market
clogs with them. What I am going to do is make Carson start in buying
then. Oh, he'll buck like one of his own red bay steers but he'll buy!"
"We're pretty well stocked up," Lee offered gently. "Turning the hills
over to the hogs makes a difference, too. We're going to be short of
feed long before September is over."
"Short of range feed, yes," she retorted warmly. "But we're going to
put our trust in our silos, Lee, and make them do such work for us as
they have never done before. Then, when other folks are forced to sell
off for what they can get, we'll hold on and buy. We won't sell before
December or January, when the market is up."
He shook his head. Though not of the old school which had produced
Carson, still he put little faith in those tall towers into which
alfalfa and Indian corn were fed to make lush fodder.
"I don't know a whole lot about silos," he admitted.
"Neither does Carson," said Judith. "He looks at such things as silos
and milking-machines and tractors and fences even as the old Indians
must have looked at the inroads of the white men. But, do you know
where he has been these last few days?"
"In San Francisco? Heard him say he was going to take a few days off."
Judith laughed.
"That's Carson for you! He wouldn't admit where he was going. I sent
him down to Davis where the State experimental farm and laboratories
are. He's going to see silo, study silo, think silo until he gets a
new idea into his head. I have ordered a big extension in our
irrigated area, I have begun the construction of two more silos. When
Carson gets back he's going to look around for some more shorthorns at
bargain prices. I have an idea it wouldn't do you any harm either, to
look over what we are doing down at the Lower End."
Again she paused. Then, her eyes suddenly darkening, she told him
what, after all, lay top-most in her mind.
"I have said that if I am given the chance, I can make a go of this.
It's up to you, Bud Lee, to help see that I get that chance. An
attempt was made to spread the lung-worm through my calves. Now it's
the hogs. Do you know what the latest news is from the pens? There's
cholera among them."
"Where did it come from?" he demanded. "Tripp's been keeping the
health of our stock up right along."
"Where did it come from?" Judith repeated after him. "That's what I
don't know. We've been so careful. But where did the calf sickness
come from? Bayne Trevors imported it."
The inference was clear. He stared at her with frowning eyes.
"I don't see how he could have done it without Tripp's getting on to
it. He hasn't bought any new hogs."
"But you understand now why I wanted to talk to you? If I win out in
the thing I have taken on my shoulders, it is going to be by a close
margin. I've thought it all out. We can't slip up in a single deal!
But, it's up to you to give me a hand. To find out for yourself such
things as where did the cholera come from! And to look out, that the
next time they don't burn us out, when the range is dry. To see that
nothing happens to your horses. To keep your two eyes wide open. To
help me find the man, working with us right now, who is double-crossing
us, who turned Shorty loose, who is watching a chance to do his knife
act again somewhere else. Do you get me, Bud Lee?"
"I get you," replied Lee.
From without, gay voices, calling merrily, interrupted them. Lee went
swiftly to the door while Judith finished her coffee and pulled her
broad hat a little lower to throw its shadow in her eyes.
"Ahoy, there!" It was Pollock Hampton's voice. "We saw your horses
and thought we'd catch you picnicking. Got a fire going, too! Say,
that's bully. Come ahead, Marcia."
Marcia, a long riding-habit gathered in one hand, her cheeks flushed
with her ride, her eyes bright as they rested upon the tall form in the
doorway, came on behind Hampton. As the eyes of the two girls met, a
sudden hot flush flooded Judith's cheeks. She hated herself for it;
she wondered just how red her eyes were.
"Say, Judith," called Hampton, "I'm glad as the dickens we found you.
Sawyer, the sheriff, telephoned just now. Said to tell you he'd
located Quinnion. The funny part of it is that we made a mistake. It
wasn't Quinnion at all that tried to shoot you and Bud up the other
night."
"How's that?" demanded Lee. "Who says it wasn't?"
"Sawyer. Found Quinnion at a sheepman's place thirty or forty miles
north of here. The sheepman swore Quinnion had been with him two
weeks, was with him that night."
"A sheepman _can_ lie," grunted Lee.
Judith's brief moment of confusion passed, she ushered Marcia into the
cabin. True to her promise, Miss Langworthy, though she flashed a
quick look toward Lee, did not speak to him. He found himself flushing
quite as hotly as Judith had done.
"We've just finished our lunch," Judith was saying. "And we've left
you half of our coffee."
"I've been simply dying to see this place!" cried Marcia impetuously.
"I told Pollock that it was a sure sign he didn't love me any more if
he wouldn't bring me. And you and--and one of the men," her eyes on
Judith's, "actually were in here, being shot at! Judith, dear, you are
just the bravest girl in the world. If I'd been here I'd have simply
died. I know I would."
Perhaps she would. At any rate she shuddered delightfully. She found
a bullet-hole in the door and put a pink forefinger into it, giving a
second little shiver. She managed to keep her back full upon Lee.
"Oh, by the way," said Hampton, busy opening the parcel of lunch they
had brought with them, "Marcia's heard all about you, Bud. You said
you wanted to meet Lee, Marcia. Well, here he is, tall and handsome in
a devilish reckless way, looking at the dimple at the back of your
neck. Miss Langworthy, Mr. Lee. Judith, that coffee smells good!"
"You are a naughty little boy, Pollock," said Miss Langworthy coolly.
Nevertheless she turned smiling to Lee and put out her hand to him.
"Mr. Hampton really makes quite a hero of you," she said composedly.
"I think I have seen you--from a distance, you know."
The small whiteness of her hand was swallowed up in the lean brown of
his.
"Hampton's a prevaricator," he said gravely, as he looked down into the
merry blue eyes turned up to him. "But he's a gentleman I have to
thank for the introduction. I am very happy to know you, Miss
Langworthy."
"And now," cried Marcia, slipping her hand out of Lee's and going to a
chair near the table, "do tell me all about that terrible, terrible
night. But do you think we are quite safe here now, Mr. Lee?"
To herself Judith was saying: "Just the type to be Bud Lee's ideal
lady!"
When they left the cabin, an hour later, Judith challenged Hampton to a
ride and so left Marcia and Bud Lee to follow leisurely.
XVI
POKER FACE AND A WHITE PIGEON
Mrs. Simpson had made a discovery. It was epoch-marking! It was
tremendous. Nothing short of that! So, at the very least, Mrs.
Simpson was prepared to maintain stoutly in the face of possible
ridicule.
Though, as Judith's housekeeper, she had sufficient household duties on
her plump shoulders to send a less doughty woman creeping wearily to
bed with the chickens, she found time before the dawn and long after
nightfall to keep her eye upon that Black Spanish and his recruit and
treacherous ally, Fujioki.
One morning, very early, Mrs. Simpson, from the thick curtains of the
living-room, saw Jose "prowling around suspicious-like in the
courtyard!" She thrilled at the sight. She always thrilled to Jose.
The half-breed had gone silently, "sneaking-like," by Judith's outer
door. He had paused there, listening. He had gone back to the
courtyard, hesitating, pretending that he was looking at the roses!
Such a ruse on the part of so black-hearted a villain inspired in the
scarcely breathing Mrs. Simpson a vast disgust. As if he could fool
_her_ like that, pottering around among the roses!
She, too, sought to move silently in his wake, though under her ample
weight the veranda creaked audibly. Still, making less noise than
usual, she peered through the lilacs. She saw Jose at the base of the
knoll, going swiftly toward the stables. She saw another man who,
evidently, was a third of the "gang," and who, of course, had risen
early to creep out of the men's bunkhouse before the others were awake,
to meet Jose. Screening herself behind the lilacs, her heart throbbing
as it had not done for many a long year, she watched.
Jose and the other man did meet. Jose stopped. The two exchanged a
few words, too low for Mrs. Simpson to hear at that distance. But she
made out that the other man had something in his hand, something white.
A pigeon! For, suddenly released, it fluttered out of the man's hands
and, circling high above Mrs. Simpson's head, flew to join the other
birds cooing on the housetop!
"A carrier-pigeon!" gasped Mrs. Simpson. "Taking a message to the
other cutthroats!"
From that instant there was no doubt in her mind. This fitted in too
well with her many suspicions not to be the clew she had sought long
and unceasingly.
Jose went on, the man from the bunk-house went back into it, and Mrs.
Simpson fled to the house and hastened excitedly to Judith's room.
Judith, rudely awakened, came hurriedly to her door in her
dressing-gown, her eyelids heavy with sleep. When she heard, she
laughed.
"You dear old goose!" cried Judith joyously. "I just love you to
death. You put fresh interest into life."
Despite Mrs. Simpson's earnest protests, Judith hugged her and pushed
her out again, saying that since she was awake now she would want her
breakfast just as soon as she could get it. The housekeeper shook her
head and retreated heavily.
"You've got to show some folks a man cutting their throats," she
muttered to herself, "before they'll believe it. It is a
carrier-pigeon and I know it. And that Black Spanish--ugh! He makes
my blood curdle, just to look at him!"
"Carrier-pigeons!" laughed Judith, as she began a hurried dressing.
"The dear old goosie! And poor old Jose. She'll get something on him
yet. I wonder why she----"
Suddenly Judith broke off. She was standing in front of a tall mirror,
still only half-dressed. As she looked into the bright face of the
smiling girl in the glass, a sudden change came. Pigeons! Doc Tripp
had said that Trevors had got them; had remarked on the incongruity of
a man like Trevors caring for little cooing birds. It was rather odd.
Carrier-pigeons--carrier----
Judith whipped on her dressing-gown again and, slipperless, her warm,
bare feet pat-patting upon the cold surfaces of the polished floors,
she ran to the office.
"Send Jose to me," she called to Mrs. Simpson. "In the office. I want
him immediately."
A warm glow came into Mrs. Simpson's breast. With a big kitchen poker
behind her broad back, she hastened out to call Jose. Judith, at the
telephone, called for Doc Tripp.
"Come up immediately," she commanded, "prepared to make a test for
hog-cholera germs, Doc. No, I am not sure of anything, but I think I
begin to see where it came from and how. Hurry, will you?"
To Jose she said abruptly:
"Go down to the men's quarters, Jose. Tell Carson and Lee to come
right up." And as Jose turned to go, she added carelessly: "Seen any
of the men yet?"
"_Si, senorita_," answered Jose. "Poky Face is up."
"Poker Face? All right, Jose. The others will be about, then."
Jose took little more time for his errand than for his elaborate bow.
Carson and Lee came promptly, Carson a score of steps in advance, for
Lee had tarried just long enough to wash his face and brush his hair;
Carson had not.
"Tell me," demanded Judith, looking at her cattleman with intent
eagerness, "what do you know about Poker Face?"
"One of the best men I've got," answered Carson heartily.
"Square, you think?"
"Yes. If I didn't think so he'd have been on his way a long time ago."
"How long has he been here? Who took him on?"
"Trevors hired him. About the same time he hired me."
Bud Lee, entering then, wondered what new thing was afoot. He glanced
down and saw a bare foot peeping out from the hem of Judith's heavy red
robe; he saw the hair tumbled in a glorious brown confusion over her
shoulders. She was amazingly pretty this way.
"I want you two men to just stick around until I send for you again,"
said Judith, her eyes upon Carson alone, a little pink, naked foot
suddenly withdrawn and tucked somewhere under her in her chair. "And
keep your eyes on Poker Face. Keep him here, too, Carson. By the way,
did any of you boys come in late last night? Or early this morning?"
"Why, no," answered Carson slowly. "An' yes. None of the reg'lar
boys, but a man from down the river, looking for a job. Heard we was
short-handed. Blew in early. Just got in a few moments ago, Poker
Face said."
Quick new interest flew into Judith's eyes.
"Keep him here, too!" she cried. "And I'll give you something to do
while you wait: bring me all the pigeons you can get your hands
on--white ones. Shoot them if you have to. And be careful you don't
rub the dust off their feet."
Carson's eyes went swiftly to Bud Lee's. In Carson's mind there was a
quick suspicion: The strain of life on the ranch was proving too much
for a girl, after all.
Judith, reading his thought, turned up her nose at him and, seeking to
keep her feet hidden as she walked by sagging a little at the knees,
went to the door. Turning there, she saw in Lee's eyes the hint of a
smile, a very approving, admiring smile.
"Impudent!" she cried within herself. Looking very tiny, her knees
bent so that her robe might sweep the floor, she continued with all
possible dignity to the hallway. Once there, she ran for her room, her
gown fluttering widely about her. In her room, though she dressed
hurriedly, she still took time for a long and critical examination of
two rows of little pink toes.
"Just the same," she said to the flushed Judith in the mirror, "they
are very nice feet--Bud Lee, I'd just like to make you squirm one of
these days. You're altogether too--too--oh, scat, Judy. What's the
matter with you?"
In less than half an hour Doc Tripp, showing every sign of a hurried
toilet, rode into the courtyard. He came swiftly into the office, bag
in hand. Judith, waiting impatiently for him, lost no words in telling
him her suspicions. And Doc Tripp, hearing her out, swore softly and
fluently, briefly asking her pardon when he had done.
"I'm a jackass," he said fervently. "I always knew I was a fool, but I
didn't know that I was an idiot! Why, Judy, those damned pigeons have
been sailing all over the ranch, billing and cooing and picking up and
toting cholera germs. Any fool can see it now. I might have known
something was up when Trevors bought the infernal things. It's as
simple as one, two, three. Now this other jasper, pretending to look
for a job, brings on some more of them, so that the disease will spread
the faster. Let me get my two hands on him, Judith. For the love of
God, lead me to him."
But, instead, she led him to the dozen white pigeons which Carson
brought in.
Tripp, all business again, improvised his laboratory, washed the
pigeons' feet, made his test, with never another curse to tell of his
progress. Judith left him and went into the courtyard, where, in a
moment, Carson came to her.
"You better tell me what's up," he said sharply. "I know something is.
That new guy that just come in is darned hard to keep. Just as quick
as I grab a shotgun an' go to shooting pigeons he moseys out to the
corrals an' starts saddling his horse."
"Don't let him go!"
Carson smiled a dry, mirthless smile.
"Bud is looking out for him right now," he explained. "Don't you worry
none about his going before we say so. But I want to know what the
play is."
Judith told him. Carson shook his head.
"Think of that?" he muttered. "Why, a man that would do a trick like
that oughtn't to be let live two seconds. Only," and he wrinkled his
brows at her, "where does Poker Face come in? We ain't got no call to
suspicion he's in on it."
"You watch him, just the same, Carson. We know that somebody here has
been working against us. Some one who turned Shorty loose. Maybe it
isn't Poker Face, and maybe it is."
"He plays a crib game like a sport an' a gentleman," muttered Carson.
"He beat me seven games out'n nine last night!" And, still with that
puzzled frown in his eyes, he went to watch Poker Face and the new man.
To have one of the men for whom he was responsible suspected hurt old
Carson sorely. And Poker Face, the man with whom he delighted to play
a game of cards--it was almost as though Carson himself had come under
suspicion.
"You're going to stick around just a little while, stranger," Bud Lee
was saying quietly to a shifty-eyed man in the corral. "Just why, I
don't know. Orders, you know."
"Orders be damned," snarled the newcomer. "I go where I please and
when I please."
He set a foot to his stirrups. A lean, muscular hand fell lightly upon
his shoulder and he was jerked back promptly. Lee smiled at him. And
the shifty-eyed man, though he protested sharply, remained where he was.
[Illustration: A lean, muscular hand fell lightly upon his shoulder and
he was jerked back promptly.]
A thin, saturnine man whose lips never seemed to move, a man with
dead-looking eyes into which no light of emotion ever came, watched
them expressionlessly from where he stood with Carson. It was Poker
Face.
"No," Poker Face answered, to a sharp question from the persistent
Carson.
"Sure, are you?"
"Yes."
At last word came from Judith. Carson and Lee were to bring both of
the suspected men to the house. Doc Tripp, wiping his hands on a
towel, his sleeves up, bestowed upon the two of them a look of
unutterable contempt and hatred.
"You low-lived skunks!" was his greeting to them.
"Easy, Doc," continued Judith from her desk. "That won't get us
anywhere. Who are you?" she demanded of the man standing at Lee's side.
"Me?" demanded the man with an assumption of jauntiness. "I'm Donley,
Dick Donley, that's who I am!"
"When did you get here?"
"'Bout an hour ago."
"What did you come for?"
"Lookin' for a job."
"Did Carson say he hadn't anything for you?"
"No, he didn't. You're askin' a lot of questions, if you want to
know," he added with new surliness.
"Then why are you going in such a hurry? Don't you like to see any one
shoot pigeons?"
Donley stared back at her insolently.
"Because I didn't fall for the crowd," he retorted bluntly. "An', if
you want to know, because I didn't hanker for the job when I found out
who was runnin' it."
"Meaning me? A girl? That it?"
"You guessed it."
"Who told you that I was running the outfit?" she demanded suddenly,
her eyes hard on his. "You must have found that out pretty soon! Who
told you?"
Donley hesitated, his eyes running from her to the other faces about
him, resting longest upon the expressionless, dead-looking eyes of
Poker Face.
"What difference does it make who told me?" he snapped.
"Answer me," she commanded. "Who told you?"
"Well," said Donley, "he did. Poker Face told me."
"Who told you that his name was Poker Face?" Judith shot the question
at him.
Donley moved a scuffling foot back and forth, stirring uneasily. That
he was lying, no one there doubted; that he was but a poor liar after
all was equally evident.
"You ain't got no call to keep me here," he said at last. "I ain't
goin' to answer questions all day."
"You'll answer my questions if you don't want me to turn you over to
Emmet Sawyer in Rocky Bend!" she told him coolly. "How did you know
this man was called Poker Face? Did you know him before?"
Donley's eyes went again, furtive and swift, to Poker Face. But so did
all other eyes. Poker Face gave no sign.
"Yes," answered Donley then, taking refuge at last upon the solid basis
of truth.
"Did you know this man?" Judith asked then of Poker Face, turning
suddenly on him.
"No," said Poker Face.
Donley, having guessed wrong, flushed and dropped his head. Then he
looked up defiantly and with a short, forced laugh.
"Suppose I know him or don't know him," he asked with his old
insolence, "whose business is it?"
But Judith was giving her attention to Poker Face now.
"Where did you get that white pigeon you turned loose this morning?"
she asked crisply.
"Caught it," was the quiet answer.
"How?"
"With my han's."
"Why?"
"Jus' for fun."
"Did you know that pigeons could carry hog-cholera on their feet?"
"No. But I wouldn't have been afraid, not bein' a hawg."
Donley tittered. Poker Face looked unconcerned.
"Take that man Donley into the hall," Judith said to Lee. "See if he
has got any pigeon feathers sticking to him anywhere, inside his shirt,
probably. If you need any help, say so."
Very gravely Bud Lee put a hand on Donley's shoulder.
"Come ahead, stranger," he said quietly.
"You go to hell!" cried Donley, springing away.
But Bud Lee's hand was on him, and though he struggled and cursed and
threatened he went with Lee into the hallway. Tripp, watching through
the open door, smiled. Donley was on his back, Lee's knees on his
chest.
"I'll tell you one thing, stranger," Bud Lee was saying to him softly,
as his hand tore open Donley's shirt, "you open your dirty mouth to
cuss just once more in Miss Sanford's presence and I'll ruin the looks
of your face for you. Now lie still, will you?"
"Connect me with the Bagley ranch," Judith directed the Rocky Mountain
operator. "That's right, isn't it, Doc?"
"Yes," answered Tripp. "That's the nearest case of cholera."
"Hello," said Judith when the connection had been established. "Mr.
Bagley? This is Judith Sanford, Blue Lake ranch. I've got a case of
hog-cholera here, too. I want some information."
She asked her questions, got her answers. Triumphantly she turned to
Tripp.
The Bagley ranch, though a hundred miles away, was the nearest
cholera-infected place of which Tripp had any knowledge. Bagley did
have a flock of pigeons; a man, a month or so ago, had bought two dozen
from him; the man wasn't Trevors. Bagley didn't know who he was. The
same man, however, had shown up three days ago and had asked for
another half-dozen of the birds. There had been three white pigeons
among them. He was a shifty-eyed chap, Bagley said, old brown suit,
hat with a rattlesnake skin around the crown. That, point for point,
spelled Donley.