"I like that! Maybe he's forgotten I tried to explain things the day he ran me in."
"But you didn't tell him where Jones got his horse. He's going out to-morrow to hunt up Jones and bring him here to prove that those horses are his."
"But they're not. They're mine."
"Yours!" Harry cried, falling back a step.
"That's what this bill of sale is. I bought every one of those colts from Jones."
"But, Rob, where did Jones get Garnett's horse? He never sold it."
"Don't ask me. There comes Pedersen. You'll have to go now."
"And you won't see Garnett? Please, Rob! He's really our friend. Oh, yes, and another thing. I was telling him about that herder, Boykin, and he says my description of him exactly fits a herder of Joyce's named Hunter, who is in jail here. I think Garnett suspects that they are the same man, and he seems to think it may make a lot of difference to us. I don't quite see how, do you?"
Rob's expression changed. "It would make a lot of difference to me to know that Boykin was in the jug."
"Oh, it was some bigger difference than that. He didn't want to tell me about it until he was sure, but maybe he would tell you."
Rob laughed. "Aren't you ingenious, miss? Not till morning, anyway. Maybe I'll talk to him then, unless Raeburn gets home first. If I can only see the judge for five minutes, he'll probably dismiss the case against me without another word."
Garnett looked up eagerly when Harry entered the office. "He didn't want to see me?" he asked.
"He will in the morning." She blushed faintly, but still faced him with frank eyes.
"Well, let's go. You're all in. It's nearly midnight, do you know it? And you haven't had a square meal all day."
"I'm not a bit hungry, but I am sleepy, most horribly sleepy."
She yawned and laughed at the same time.
As they went out into the street, Harry drew a deep breath and lifted her face. How sweet the fresh air was! And to think of Rob's being shut up in that horrible prison!
"I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you," said Garnett, when they stopped at the foot of the hotel steps. "But I won't leave this game until it's played through."
He held out his hand to her, raised his hat and looked at her; in his steady blue eyes was an expression of sincere friendliness that put courage into Harry's heart.
The confidence which that assurance of good will inspired in her sent Harry to a dreamless sleep.
When she came down to breakfast the next morning, the hotel clerk handed her a note.
Miss Holliday,
Dear Friend, Am sorry not to drive you across the prairie to-day, but have gone to hunt up that Jones. Saw your brother early, and gave him a look at Hunter. He says it's the same herder that beat him up. Your brother ain't talking about Jones, but I'll camp on his trail until I find him, or what was him, and fetch him along back to straighten this business out. Resp.
Christopher Garnett.
The letter was like the warm handclasp he had given her last night. She hurried off to see Rob, hoping that now he would feel differently toward Garnett.
But Rob returned her cheery greeting without much enthusiasm. "Garnett's all right," he said, in answer to her eager question. "He admits he thinks I didn't steal his horse, but some one did, and Jones looks like a good one to put it on. I promised to keep Jones's affairs quiet until he gets ready to talk himself. If Garnett finds him, he may get what he can from him; that's no affair of mine. When I see Judge Raeburn, he'll put the whole business straight in five minutes."
"Well." Harry's voice was colorless, and she stared past Rob at the window. Then, with a quick change of manner, she turned to him. "In his note Garnett said that Boykin is Hunter. What will that mean, Rob?"
Rob's face lighted up. "If we can prove that he is, we can contest his filing on that land."
"O Rob! How perfectly splendid! But how soon can we find out?"
"When court opens. As soon as Boykin comes up for trial, Garnett will appear as a witness against him in this case of assault that he arrested him for."
"He attacked another man?"
"Yes, he got into a fight up on the way to the reserve; ran his sheep under the fence onto Rudy Batt's land, and when Rudy set his dogs on the sheep, Boykin, or Hunter, leaped on him with a stick, just as he did on me, and beat him up."
"Mercy! What a murderous creature! I'm glad some one arrested him at last."
"Yes, that's another thing I want to stay over here for: to appear against him in court. He may get six months in the pen."
"I hope he will. I wonder what he changed his name for? What a funny thing to do!"
"That's not so uncommon. A man often skips the country and changes his name when he's done something and is afraid of the law. Garnett says that Hunter was herding cattle for the same outfit he was with, and that he was always quarreling with some one. Then one night he pulled a gun on one of the boys, and lit out without waiting to see whether he'd killed him or not."
"Had he killed him?"
"No, lucky for him. But you see he had filed on a homestead out there, and so he's got no right to this one."
"Then we can surely get it."
"Not so sure. As soon as Joyce sees what's going to happen, he may jump in and put another man on there."
"O Bob! Could he? Would it be possible?"
"Why not? If he's slick enough to have done it so often, it won't bother him to do it once more. But there's time enough to think about that later. You must hit for home now, if you're to make it before dark. Let's see. You need groceries, don't you?"
"Yes. I forgot that to-day was Sunday."
"Well, see here. Go to the hotel and ask the clerk, Dougherty, to telephone down to his brother at the mercantile company store. Jack Dougherty is bookkeeper there, and he's usually down at the store early Sunday morning; he'll let you in to get what you want. When you get home, better round up the heifers every night to be sure they're all there. I may hear of the cow over this way."
Before Rob's calm, matter-of-fact attitude Harry's reluctance at going back to the ranch alone appeared childish. So she said good-by cheerily and started out.
The sun was high and the morning breeze dead when at last she left the poplar-shaded streets of the old mining town and struck the long road up the cañon to the top of the divide. She met only one person on the road, and that was Joyce. He was driving his motor car toward Hailey. When he came in sight the team began to prance nervously. Joyce got out and came up to them. He looked curiously at Harry, but did not recognize her until she spoke to thank him for quieting the horses.
"Say!" he exclaimed. "Ain't you the lady from Connecticut? Sure. What you doin' out here alone? Where's your brother at?"
"He had to stay in Hailey on business," she answered, smiling a little. Soon enough Joyce would know what the business was.
CHAPTER VIII
Harry did not come into view of the Robinson ranch until nine o'clock. It had been a long, hard drive from Hailey, and three miles yet lay between her and the homestead. Fortunately, it was not quite dark. Behind the mountains the after-glow still burned, dull orange and rose, and the tops of the buttes reflected a pale saffron gleam. But dark shadows filled the cañons, and objects near by had an odd trick of disappearing in the darkness just as Harry looked at them.
The ranch house lay dark and silent. Thinking that the family had gone to bed, Harry was going on without stopping. She was really too tired to stop and talk. As she came nearer, however, she saw a light in the kitchen; then the door opened and some one came down the path toward the gate.
"Hello there!" Robinson called. "That you, Holliday? Don't get down; I'll open the gate."
"It's I, Harry!" the girl answered. "I won't come in, thank you. But please tell Jimmy that he needn't ride over in the morning; I'll take care of the animals now."
"Say, you ain't alone, are you? Where's Rob at? Anything happened to him?" Robinson had swung back the gate and was peering at the girl perched on the wagon seat. "Vashti told us something was wrong."
"Yes. There's been some trouble over a horse Rob was boarding for a man, and he had to stay in Hailey." She broke off. How could she go into the story here, at this time of night?
"A hoss, eh? Well, them things do take quite some time to straighten up. But you can stop here with us until he gets home."
"Oh, thank you! Really, though, I guess I'd better go on. It's so late, and——"
"Sure thing. Too late for you to be chasin' back there alone to-night, ain't it, ma?"
"That's what." Mrs. Robinson, with her arms wrapped in her apron, had joined them, and stood listening while Harry told again what had happened to Rob. As the girl gazed down through the clear darkness the scent of the wild bean floated down to her from the hillsides. The hurrying patter of water in the irrigation ditches soothed her tired brain with the magic of a spell; her head nodded and her words became indistinct.
"Say, Johnny, she's droppin' in her tracks, she's so tired!" cried Mrs. Robinson. "Take them lines and hand her down 'fore she takes a header into the ditch."
Mrs. Robinson spoke in a tone of command, and "Johnny" obeyed. Yielding the lines with honest relief that she need go no farther that night, Harry climbed down and walked stiffly to the kitchen with her hostess.
The big, half-furnished room was neat and orderly from Saturday's scrubbing. Vashti, in her Sunday starched lawn frock and new scarlet hair ribbons, smiled bashfully. Mrs. Robinson, too, with "rats" in her hair and wearing a new purple gingham dress, seemed ten years younger. As she pulled forward a chair, Harry noticed that her right hand was swathed in a bandage.
"Yes, I burnt me, like a stupid," Mrs. Robinson explained. "Everything gets in a mill at once, seems like, and I burnt up a cake and busted a plate and put my hand out of business all at once. I got kind of behind Sat'day, havin' them extry hands to feed—we've got three here irrigatin' the alfalfy. We allus feed 'em good; it gives you a name outside, and you get the pick of hands when the rush of work brings 'em into the valley. Now, here's your tea warm; come and have a snack. It ain't much, but it'll hold you till morning, anyhow."
While she was talking, Mrs. Robinson had been setting out dishes at one end of the table. Harry sat down before a bewildering array of pickles, jelly, jam, cold meat, and hot fried "side meat," cake, pie, and some warmed-over vegetables from supper. If this was a "snack," Harry wondered what a "square meal" was. She was hungry from her day in the open air; but more compelling than her need of food was her need of sleep. Even while she drank her tea and tried to tell of her experiences on the trip to Hailey, her eyelids sank leadenly. Presently, in the middle of a sentence, she saw Mrs. Robinson smiling.
"You poor young one! You're that sleepy you don't know what you're sayin'. Vashti, run get some sheets and comfortables and we'll make up the davenport in the front room."
"It's good of you to keep me overnight when I know you have a houseful already," said Harry.
"Don't you worry. Nobody but comp'ny ever sleeps in the front room."
Mrs. Robinson led the way proudly into the room. Exhausted as Harry was, she knew what was expected of her, and managed to say something about the gorgeous carpet, the dazzling wall paper, and the vivid table cover.
The air in the room was lifeless, and as soon as Harry was alone she carefully drew aside the lace curtains and opened the window wide. Then, after taking a long breath of the fragrant night air, she undressed and dropped into bed. For a second she was conscious of sweet comfort; she gave a great sigh of content—and knew no more until she opened her eyes to the dawn and heard the clatter of stove lids in the kitchen.
"Well! You up?" exclaimed Mrs. Robinson in surprise, when Harry walked into the kitchen. "You could ha' laid another hour yet; breakfast ain't till six."
"I hoped you'd let me help. How is your hand this morning?"
"It hurts still, but I don't know what more I can do; it's covered good with flour and lard."
"If you would try it, I have some salve over in the tent. It's really wonderful stuff. Mother made me bring a big jar of it. I'll bring it over this afternoon."
"Land sakes, girlie, go all that distance just to fetch me some salve? Not much! There ain't no need of you goin' over to your place nohow. Jimmy can easy ride over and feed until your brother gets back."
But Harry was firm. She not only thought it her duty to stay on the homestead, but she felt a sort of pride in staying there alone. Her solitary drive, her adventure in the city of rocks, had waked a new spirit within her, and that spirit was struggling to express itself. She was, however, quite unconscious of that.
"Please let me cook breakfast," she said suddenly. "I'm sure I can if you'll just tell me how you have things. I can fry the potatoes and make good coffee, anyhow."
"Well, I b'lieve I will let you. 'Tain't real good manners to set your comp'ny to work, but you'll excuse me this once, I guess. I couldn't even dress the baby this morning—had to leave that to Vashti. Say," she added, "you couldn't stay a week and cook for me while these boys are here, could you?"
Harry grew rather pink and stammered a polite refusal.
"Well," said Mrs. Robinson, "I know you ain't used to this kind of work, but any one can see you're smart. You'd get the hang of things in half a day."
"I'd stay in a minute," Harry assured her, "just because you were so kind to us when Rob got hurt. But you know how it is, with all these cattle round, and ours just new to the place. If they should get out, they might get way across the river before Rob comes home."
"Yes, that's right. And you two have got to work together if you're goin' to make anything of homesteadin'. Pity you didn't take up a claim of your own while you were at it. A girl that's got a hundred and sixty in her own name is as independent as anyone."
"Yes, I'm sorry I didn't; but there's plenty to do, even on Rob's land."
"Ain't that the truth! Just wait until you get a crop in, though, and are lookin' for harvest hands—"
"We shan't have that trouble for a year or two, anyhow. Rob expects to go out to work, haying and harvesting for other people, and I suppose I shall stay at home and look after things."
"Say! Why couldn't you come over and help me at haying and harvesting? I'd pay you five a week and your board, and it'd keep the traces stiff here. Seems like the wagon is allus on my heels, as you might say, in the rush season."
"I'll come if I can," Harry promised.
She turned out the crisp, brown potatoes, poured the gravy into a bowl, and set the coffee back while she fried the eggs. Mrs. Robinson went out to pull the bell rope. The big iron bell hanging from the gable clanged its call, and a shout answered from the corral.
While Mrs. Robinson was overseeing the morning ablutions of the smaller children, who had come tumbling into the room at the sound of the bell, Harry went to the door to get a breath of fresh air after the heat and smoke of the kitchen.
The sun was just rising over the end of the foothills, and its rays shot up into the blue sky like altar flames; its red-gold beams made the trunks of the quaking asps up the cañon look like the pillars of a church. Unseen among the leaves a robin was chanting, rapt and blissful as a cloistered saint. That solitary voice of joy seemed all at once the voice of the morning—of the desert morning—monotonous, yet thrillingly significant to one who could see what the desert might mean. For an instant the girl's spirit flamed up in the knowledge of things yet to come. Then Mrs. Robinson called her, and she heard once more in the room behind her the homely clatter of the household assembling to breakfast.
"Them men folks comin'?" Mrs. Robinson called. "It's on the tap of six now."
As she looked at the clock, she filled the oatmeal bowls and ordered the children to their places at the table. Mrs. Robinson prided herself on serving her meals piping hot, without keeping the men waiting. While the men were coming in, the ranchwoman quickly filled the cups from the big blue enamel coffeepot, and set platters of eggs, plates of hot biscuits, and dishes of bacon at intervals on the table. Wondering and admiring, Harry watched her.
Mrs. Robinson motioned the girl to a place distinguished by a clean napkin, and at the same time introduced her to the young men.
"Let me make you acquainted with Miss Holliday; boys. This here's Pete Mosher, and Con Gardner, and Lance Fitch—Miss Harriet Holliday. She and her brother have homesteaded just east of here."
The young men bowed and murmured, "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."
Mrs. Robinson herself did not come to the table, but standing near by with her hands on her hips, watched to see that every one had all he wanted. Harry felt she had learned more this morning about how to do a great deal rapidly and efficiently than a month of solitary struggle on the homestead would have taught her. It made her feel as if she must get back there as soon as possible and "do things."
Mr. Robinson was telling the men about Rob's trouble with the sheep herder; all of them, it seemed, had had trouble with Joyce's men.
"Joyce is the meanest of all the sheepmen who come through here," said Lance Fitch. "Never gives a homesteader a bit of mutton, and grabs every blade of grass in sight."
"That's how he got so rich," remarked Pete Mosher; "by hoggin' the pasture and stealin' homesteads. I bet he's never hired a herder that he didn't make at least one homestead off him."
"Can't something be done to stop him?" asked Harry. "Couldn't some one go and ask him for a job herding, and then, when Joyce tried to get him to file on a homestead, have him arrested and prove him guilty?"
"Say, you catch Joyce and we'll send you to the legislature," promised Robinson, with a laugh.
Harry stayed long enough to help wash the dishes; then, in spite of the family's vigorous remonstrances, she drove over to the ranch. The heat of the day came on before she reached home, and she was glad that she had started early. Although there was not a great deal for her to do on the homestead, she did not finish her various tasks until noon. Hot and hungry, she went up to the tent to get herself some luncheon and to look for the jar of salve. She had just started to build a fire when she heard a horse's tread outside, and thinking that it was Rob, flew to the doorway. But it was a stranger that faced her—a big man, with keen, friendly eyes and a low, drawling voice.
"Robert Holliday live here?" he asked.
"Yes," Harry answered, "this is his homestead, but he's not here now. I'm his sister. Is there any message you wish to leave?"
"Pleased to meet you; Miss Holliday. I'm the sheriff of Lincoln County—Mason is my name. I've got a bunch of horses down in Shoshone that I understand Mr. Holliday can tell me something about. Do you know when he'll be home?"
"No, I don't. To tell you the truth, he's over in Hailey now, in jail, on a false charge of having stolen one of those horses."
"A false charge?" The sheriff looked at her searchingly.
"Yes." Harry colored under his keen inspection. "Chris Garnett, the deputy sheriff for this county, found my brother riding a horse that Garnett claimed as his. As Rob refused to tell him where he got it, Garnett took him to jail. But he admits now that he doesn't think Rob stole his horse. Rob could come home if he wanted to, but he's waiting over there to see Judge Raeburn and explain the whole matter to him."
"H'm! Well, maybe you can tell me where your brother got that horse."
"No, I can't. It was in the bunch of colts that a fellow named Jones brought in here, but I don't know where they came from."
"What were they doing here?"
"The colts? Why, Jones and Rob had some sort of a partnership in them. They broke them together, and Jones drove them out and sold them, I guess, for he had taken more than half of them when he disappeared about a week ago. We haven't any idea where he went, or whether he came up and took the rest of the horses without telling Rob."
"I see. And Garnett? Where's he at?"
"Gone to find Jones and see what he can get out of him."
Mason laughed. "Well, I'll be going on. You say your brother is staying over in Hailey to talk things over with Judge Raeburn? Court opens in Hailey to-day; so your brother ought to get back here to-morrow. I'm on my way to Soldier and I'll stop over here on my way back—in a couple of days or so."
"I wonder if you'll do me a favor?" Harry exclaimed, as Mason turned his horse. "Will you leave a little package at the Robinsons' for me? It's some salve for Mrs. Robinson's hand."
"Sure I will. I haven't seen the family for quite some time."
"What a stupid I am!" Harry exclaimed, as she watched the man ride away in the distance. "I didn't remember to ask him where Jones was, or where he found the colts, or anything. I wonder whether anything can be wrong—whether he arrested Jones?"
She turned away. A swarm of new, strange fears had suddenly sprung to life to torment her.
CHAPTER IX
Standing in the door of the tent, Harry stared out over the desert where the Sheriff had disappeared.
"Dear me!" she exclaimed. "It seems that out here in the desert you have to know more and think quicker and be generally all-around smarter to be good for anything than you do back East, where every one is supposed to know everything that's worth while."
All during the afternoon, no matter what she happened to be doing, her thoughts returned to that curious and not very flattering conclusion. She recalled to mind the different people she had met in the short time she had been in Idaho. They had all been "onto their job," as they would have said. Even when they were not naturally qualified for their work, they were self-reliant and resourceful.
Harry's great desire now was to find a way to help Rob. She looked round the vast expanse of untilled acres; neither her hand nor her brain was yet capable of attacking that work. She turned and surveyed the inside of the tent, and the spirit of all her New England ancestors rose up in protest within her. Gazing helplessly at the dishes of half-eaten food, the piles of canned goods, the eggs and butter heaped under the table because there was no other place for them, she saw in her mind her New England home, with its cellars, cupboards, storerooms, and pantries. Of all the housekeeping necessities for which this chaotic tent cried to her, it cried loudest for a pantry. Who could keep house without a pantry?
What, she wondered, had Mrs. Robinson done for a pantry when she had started housekeeping in her one-room "shack"? Harry's thoughts shifted to the ranch house, and the Robinsons' cheerful slapdash way of doing the day's work. She remembered helping Vashti bring in the butter and milk from the side-hill cellar.
A cellar! Laughing, Harry ran down to the garden. She came back with the shovel and grub hoe, and went on to the stream where the bank rose steeply on the other side into the slope of the hill.
At first her enthusiasm made the work seem easy. It was fun to drag the stones from the bank, to tear out roots and bushes, and gradually to see a cave shape itself. Of course it would be only a miniature cave, just large enough to hold a wooden packing box on end; but she could keep there butter and eggs and milk, and perhaps a few dishes.
Before she realized it the sun was low, the pigs were squealing for their supper, and her hands were badly blistered.
Well along in the afternoon of the next day, Harry was still digging bravely at her cellar. It was not enthusiasm now, but determination, that kept her at her task. She stood in the water and chopped doggedly at the roots. Sometimes she stopped to wipe her hot face on her sleeve, or to give her hair another twist.
"About a dozen shovelfuls," she said suddenly aloud, "and it will be finished."
"What'll be finished?"
"Oh!" With a cry Harry whirled round and faced Rob, who stood on the opposite bank grinning with amusement at the muddy, disheveled young person before him.
"Rob! You mean thing! How you scared me! When did you come? I didn't hear you."
"No wonder, making such a racket yourself. What's that? A playhouse?"
"A playhouse! That's a cellar." She dropped her work and walked back to the tent with him. "Well, it's good to see you. What has happened? What did Raeburn say?"
"Oh, not much. Gave me some good advice."
"What about Jones? Oh, yes, I forgot. The sheriff was here from Shoshone. He stopped here to ask you about those colts. He has them down in town."
"Yes, I know. I saw them last night."
"Well, then, you know more than I do."
"I know you've thought I was pretty mean, sis," Rob said, after a moment's silence, "not to tell you all about this business at the start. It wasn't because I didn't trust you; it was simply to save you from having to answer questions that you couldn't have answered honestly without giving everything away. But now it's all settled and you can know what we've been doing.
"First, I suppose you'd like to know who Jones is. I met him winter before last when we were both working on the new railway out of Shoshone. Jones had taken a subcontract under Grant, the man who had the whole job from the company, and from the start everything was against him: he struck rock, lost a team, and was laid up sick for a couple of weeks. He just lost out all around.
"Well, when he came to quit he hadn't a cent and was about five hundred dollars in debt besides. Grant got out a judgment against him for supplies, and there Jones was, with his whole winter's work shot to nothing.
"He worked at odd jobs during the summer. Then when he heard of that government ditch up in the northern part of the state, he hiked up there. He worked there all winter, got good pay, and saved some money. He'd written to me, off and on, and I saw he was worried about that money he owed. He wanted to pay it, but if he came back and paid up everything, he'd be cleaned out. If he could only invest it and make a little profit on it, he could pay his debts just the same and have a little left over to start on. He'd had such hard luck and worried so hard it seemed only fair.
"I happened to think of bringing horses in to sell. A work team fetches a good price down round Jerome and Twin Falls, where the new settlers are coming in. So we went into partnership on a bunch of horses. Jones went across into Oregon and got some colts cheap and brought 'em down here."
"But why did you have to keep it a secret?"
"Why, because, if his creditors had found out that he had a bunch of horses, they'd have attached the whole lot of them and sold them in auction for whatever they could get."
"But if he had sold them to you——"
"Yes, that's exactly why he did sell them to me; 'consideration one dollar.' Of course, he and I understood that they were really his, but legally they were mine, and no one could take them from me to settle his debts; but to be on the safe side we kept the colts up in the draw and worked with them only in the early morning and late afternoon, when there wasn't much danger of cattle men coming through. Well, everything was going fine, until one day when Jones was off looking up business he met a fellow he'd known on the railway that winter. Of course the fellow wanted to know how Jones was doing. Jones forgot himself and told more than he meant to. The other fellow was on his way to Shoshone then, and he said more than he should have. Grant heard about it, and by the time Jones had got back from Jerome, Grant had sent the sheriff after the horses."
"But why didn't Mason come down to see you?" exclaimed Harry. "What a strange thing to do—come and drive the horses off your land without a word!"
"But he didn't know that they were mine, or that they were on my land."
"Well, how did they know where to find them? Jones didn't tell that fellow exactly where they were, did he?"
"Of course not. It was through Joyce they found out. He was in town, at Mason's office, when Grant came in to send the sheriff after the colts, and Joyce remembered seeing them up there in the draw near the big quaking asp. Every one knows that tree, so it was easy for Mason to find the horses. It was dusk when he got there, and so I don't suppose he even thought of looking round to see whether any one lived down below in the cañon."
"Well, anyhow, if they're yours legally, why can't you go down and prevent Grant from selling them?"
"I thought of that. But Jones said not to—I talked with him on the telephone last night. We've sold half the bunch already, and the market is as good now as it ever will be, and rather than have any mix-up he thinks it's better to let Grant sell off the rest as quick as he can. We've made a good profit already, and so long as Jones is satisfied, I am. I got him into the scheme, so I felt that I had to stand by him to the finish."
"You certainly did!" exclaimed Harry. "It isn't every one who would go to jail for a man who is almost a stranger. Lose all that time and gain nothing by it!"
"Didn't I gain anything?" Rob looked at her oddly. "Didn't we, rather?"
"Didn't we?" she repeated, puzzled.
"Sure. Wasn't it by coming over to bring me that bill that you found out all about Boykin Hunter and the chance to contest his filing?"
"Sure enough. I'd forgotten. How did his case come out? Did he get the six months he deserved?"
"Not yet. Joyce was there, and he made a big powpow; said he could bring witnesses to prove that Boykin was a noble character, that he wouldn't hurt a fly, and so on. Asked for a stay until next court. Garnett says that's to give him time to chase round and find another man to put on that land. He's going to keep an eye on him,—Garnett on Joyce, I mean,—and if anything suspicious seems to be brewing, he'll chase down here and warn us."
"That's nice of him, isn't it? You aren't mad at him any longer?"
"At Garnett? Of course not. I was sore at him for being so bull-headed about his horse; but of course he was right to hang on to his suspicions until they were proved wrong. He was there this morning in court. He saw Mason last night, too, and learned the whole story about this horse deal. Yes, Garnett's a good fellow. It's fellows like him and old Dan Brannan that show a fellow what the West really is—the place where the man himself counts every time."
He got up and stretched himself. "I think I'll drive over to Soldier to-morrow and get a load of lumber. It's too dry to plow, and it won't be long before I'll be going haying and harvesting. If I get the lumber in now, we'll be ready to start building the house early in September."
"Where shall we put the house? I wish we could have it farther up the glen, near the trees."
"Let's go look round," suggested Rob.
As they walked up the slope, Harry said suddenly, "Oh, yes, I've meant to ask you a dozen times: how did Garnett's horse happen to be in that bunch of colts? I never told you how Garnett came here one day to look for his horse." She went on to relate what had happened, and why she had always put off telling him of it.
"Isn't that queer, the way a little incident can twist everything!" Rob exclaimed. "If I'd known that, I'd probably never have ridden the horse; never have got pinched anyhow, for refusing to tell where he came from. The way Jones happened to have him was this: You remember Garnett said he'd lost him? Well, a half-breed up in the reserve had stolen him, along with another, and was on his way to Boise when he met Jones coming this way, and got him to give him a colt in exchange for the two saddle horses."
"Goodness me! What a tangle, and yet how simple when once you know what caused it all! And where is Jones now? They didn't keep him a prisoner in Shoshone——"
"Oh, no, he's at liberty, but he had to stay and see how the matter was coming out. He said that after he pays his debts he's going into Oregon again to buy more colts."
They had been walking up the slope at a leisurely gait, and had just stopped beside a big rock to look round when the thud! thud! of a horse's hoofs came up from the trail, and they saw a buggy and team approaching. Rob shouted, and as the answering call came back, Harry giggled excitedly.
"It's Garnett! I'd know that voice anywhere."
They ran down to meet him, and reached the tent just as he climbed out of the dust-covered buggy.
"Hello, young fellow! What's the complaint now?" asked Rob. "I speak for one night's sleep before you drag me to jail again."
"Oh, don't worry," Garnett replied calmly. "It ain't you I'm after this time; it's your sister."
"Me!" Harry exclaimed. "Why, what do you mean?"
"Oh, say now! You're easy, ain't you?" Garnett apologized, with mischief gleaming in his eyes. "I didn't tell Bob the whole story, but didn't he tell you that I promised to come after you any time to go and file a contest on that homestead you're wanting?"
"What do you know about that!" Rob exclaimed in delight. "Has Boykin admitted he is Hunter, after all, or what?"
"No, it's Joyce that's given himself away; given the whole thing into my hand the way you'd shove a bottle at a baby."
"Oh, how?" Harry cried.
"It was yesterday, down at the livery stable in Soldier," began Garnett, as they all sat down on the grass. "I was in the stall way at the end of the shed fixing up my horse, and Joyce and another fellow came in along the alley beside me. Joyce never dreamed any one was listening, and he gave the whole thing up. He's going away to-morrow morning to show this new herder the land he's to make entry on, and then they're going to hike back to Shoshone in his automobile and file a contest over Boykin's filing."
"To-morrow!" repeated Rob.
"You're guessing. That gives us to-night to get ready; we'll make one first-class early start for Shoshone in the morning."
"To-morrow!"
"Say," said Garnett, turning to Rob, who sat as if he were dreaming, "don't use so many words. It sort of confuses me."
"You think we can do it?" asked Rob. It seemed too good to be true, and he was afraid that he should show his feeling.
"Can we! Well, I guess we can! You wait until you get in the rig behind that team of cayuses. You'll do it, hands down."
Rob looked at Garnett. He did not speak, but in his mute, eloquent gaze Garnett saw that what he had wished for had at last come to pass: Holliday was ready to be his friend!
"Isn't it queer," Harry said, after a moment's silence, "the way some people can take other people's mistakes and blunders and turn them into other people's good fortune!"
"Ain't you got an awful lot of folks mixed up in that?" asked Garnett.
"Not so many as you might guess, if you wanted to," said Harry, laughing, as she rose and went inside to her work.
Supper was a merry meal. Rob and Garnett laughed and talked and joked freely. Harry did not say much, but the sparkle in her eyes showed that she was very happy.
"And now, Harry, how early in the morning can you be ready to start for Shoshone?" asked Rob, as he and Garnett prepared to leave the tent for their beds in the hay. "I don't mean ready to begin to get ready; I mean ready to hit the trail."
"Oh, I can start now, if you say so," returned Harry, with a smile.
"Say. Let's take a ten-minute nap first," Garnett pleaded. "I feel like I was a living moving-picture show these days—I keep moving so much up and down the big road."
"Shall we make it eight o'clock in the morning, then?" said Rob. "By the way, Garnett, how are we going? We can't all three squeeze into that buggy."
"We could, but there's no use of it. You'll take the team and I'll ride your horse."
"You can't. He's down in Shoshone in that bunch of colts."
"Shucks! Well, I'll go as far as Robinson's with you and borrow a horse. Then I'll ride in ahead and meet you there. No use of me milling round in the dust behind you for thirty miles."
"I wish there were a short cut to town," said Harry to Rob, as they climbed out of Spring Creek cañon the following morning and started across the flats. Garnett had borrowed a horse at the Robinsons' and had ridden on ahead. "If Joyce sees us on the road, won't he suspect where we're going?"
"Why should he? He hasn't the faintest idea that we know his plans."
"But he knows that we wanted that homestead, and that we know Boykin is under suspicion of being some one else. If he hadn't been afraid, I don't believe he'd have rushed off like this to put a new man on the land."
"No, I don't suppose he would. Still, I'm not worrying. Even if he knew everything, he's got to go up on the land before he comes through by the road, and he's got to go slow a lot of the way. A buzz wagon is all right on a boulevard, but in a race like this give me a good team and a light rig and I'll lay my money on that."
As they drove along they laughed and talked, picturing Joyce's disgust at finding himself beaten, and feeling, in truth, as if they had already run and won the race. It was not until Rob looked at his watch and found that it was half-past twelve o'clock that they realized how much still lay between them and victory.
"I guess we'd better not stop at the Hyslop ranch for lunch," he said. "I'll let the horses drink, but we won't feed them. They would have to rest an hour if I did, and we've got to take the next fifteen miles on the run."
"Yes, yes," Harry agreed earnestly. "We mustn't stop for anything. We can't lose that homestead, Bobs, we can't."
Leaning forward, with her hands clasped tensely, she watched one after another the landmarks that Rob had pointed out to her on their first ride across the hills. How different she felt now!
They stopped to water the horses and to give them a few minutes' rest; then they pushed on again. Always listening and looking back, they kept the horses up to their work, and at the same time saved them for the last spurt.
"We're doing about eight miles an hour now," Rob said some time later. "We've about an hour and a half before the land office closes, and we ought to be able to do the rest of the trip in that time. That is, unless Joyce gets in and does it quicker."
He had hardly spoken when they heard behind them the faint blare of a horn.
"There he is now!" They said it in one breath, and their eyes met.
Rob slid forward in his seat. "We'll do it or bust."
"How can we?" asked Harry despairingly.
"I don't know. But I'm not going to give up now, would you?"
"Oh, no, no! Let's keep going to the very last. Something may happen for us."
Although the horses did their best, the motor car gained on them rapidly. Knowing that the car could pass them even if he held the middle of the road, Rob drew to the roadside. As the lumbering automobile went swiftly by it lunged down into a mudhole and spattered them freely.
"Thanks," said Rob placidly as Joyce glanced back over his shoulder. "That's one we owe you. Never mind, sis. You want to hold on, for wherever there's a stretch of good road I'll hit up the pace."
"Yes, that's right. He might break down or strike a snag at the last moment."
"Snakes and siwash!" Rob cried a few moments later. "He's done it! He's stuck!"
"O Bobs," Harry cried, giggling hysterically, "please be careful! The horses might run away."
"O my, O my, O my great-grandmother!" Rob shouted with delight as he pointed ahead.
They could now see the whole of the road between them and town. It wound downhill through the sagebrush, and then crossed the main ditch of the irrigation company; from there it ran in a straight line between the fenced fields until it entered the town.
About a mile ahead, just after crossing the bridge, the automobile stood motionless. The three men had climbed out, and were moving distractedly about it. Apparently their efforts to start it were proving futile.
"What did I tell you?" chuckled Rob. "He's struck a mudhole and bogged down. Look! There's a big break in the ditch somewhere above and the road is flooded a foot deep. Get up, you Derby winners, get up!"
CHAPTER X
As Rob and Harry drew near the disabled automobile, Joyce stepped out into the muddy road and hailed them.
"You couldn't stop long enough to hitch on here and haul us out, could you, Mr. Holliday?" he asked ingratiatingly, as Rob stopped. "We can't get her started neither way. It's kind of mean to ask a fellow to onhitch, but there's accidents happen to all of us, ain't there?"
Rob glanced at the car. Its front wheels were stuck fast in the mudhole; moreover, the bank of the slough was so soft and deep that Joyce could not get power enough into the wheels to force the machine either forward or backward. Rob watched him twice crank the engine and throw open the lever. The car shook violently, but refused to move. It was safe where it was for some time.
"You ought to get a couple of heavy rails or fence-posts to pry up the front wheels and run her across."
"That's all right, but I don't see any lying round here, do you?" Joyce snapped angrily. Then he added in a more pleasant tone, "I'll make it worth your while to put your team in here. I've got business in town that can't wait."
"I'm sorry; so have I," answered Rob.
"Wouldn't twenty-five make it up to you? Here it is." Joyce pulled the gold pieces from his pocket.
Rob shook his head. "Business first, pleasure afterward," he said, as the team started ahead. "I'm late as it is. You can get a couple of planks over at the ranch yonder."
A little way down the road Rob glanced back. "Now for the last lap," he said. "If that motor will only be kind enough to sulk for half an hour longer, I think we can just about beat him, her or it by a neck. Hurray!"
"He hasn't started yet," Harry announced from time to time, looking back to see what progress their rival was making. "Why can't he stick where he is until we get there? The moment he manages to get his machine out of the mud he'll simply open everything and rush past us, and we'll not be in the race at all."
"Not much. He'd bust the whole machine wide open if he struck one of these sharp rocks going fast. No, he'll wait until he gets pretty near town, where the roads are smooth, before he hits her up to top speed. So here is where we whirl in and do our level best."
Rob merely touched one of the ponies with the whip, and it was enough. Both ponies started on a run.
"O Rob! They're running away!" gasped Harry.
"Don't worry. I'd hate to see them drop, but I'm going to get there first, or bust. Where's Joyce now?"
Harry turned and knelt on the seat of the swaying buggy. "I don't see him. Yes, there he is! He's started! O Bobs! If we could only go faster!"
Rob did not answer. All his attention was on the team. How they could run! With ears back and tails stretched out, they dashed on; behind them swung the buggy, bounding over mudholes and across stones and ruts. Faster and faster the ponies flew.
Not daring to look back, Harry clung to the seat with both hands. Behind them came the continual blare of the horn as the motor car crept up on them, drew nearer and nearer, until, as they scrambled up the last hill, the mad clatter of the engine seemed almost in their ears. At the top of the slope, with the main street stretching before them, Rob showed no mercy. With the reins wrapped round his hands, he sat forward on the edge of the seat and urged the horses on.
Down the main street they went, missing a wagon, swerving past men who ran out to stop the runaway team, and who then, seeing the motor car behind, understood, and shouted applause. In a moment the quiet street was in an uproar of excitement. Shopkeepers and customers, corner idlers and school children, old men and women, ran pell-mell after the galloping team and the motor car.
Of three men on horseback who joined in the chase, one was Garnett. He had reached town about an hour before, but had not wished to put up his horse until Harry and Rob should come in. As soon as he saw them flying down the street, he rode up, and, by keeping close to the side of the buggy, helped to block the way to those behind.
As Rob pulled over to the side of the street toward the land office, Garnett shouted to Harry, "Jump for the door! Jump!"
Quick as thought, he reached down from his saddle, caught the girl round the waist as she leaned forward, and swung her from the buggy. He swung himself after her, and sprang up the steps to the office door just time to get between Harry and the sheepman, who reached for the doorknob at the same moment. But instead of all three piling into the room together, they merely fell against the door. For the door was locked.
Trembling with exhaustion and excitement, Harry felt her hand slip as Joyce tried to push her out of the way.
"No, you don't, Joyce!" Garnett said roughly, thrusting his arm in front of the sheepman. "You didn't get here first."
"This is a put-up job!" began Joyce angrily.
"I bet!" was Garnett's grim answer, which brought a laugh from the crowd that had gathered about the steps to see what would happen.
"Let me into this office!" Joyce ordered.
"The clerk didn't leave the key with me."
"This isn't your affair. Get away from that door!"
"Get away yourself."
"Perhaps I had better go," Harry said in a low tone to Garnett. "I can come back in the morning."
"Not early enough to get what you're after," said Garnett, glancing down at her. "You can hang on a while, can't you, until Rob gets back? He's gone to find out about opening this place. You don't want to have to stand here all night."
"All night?"
She turned a dismayed face on him. Garnett gazed into it a moment without answering. Never had he seen any girl look as Harry looked now. She was spattered with mud from hair to shoes. She had lost both hat and hairpins on that wild drive, and her brown curls lay in disorder about her neck. Her cheeks were white; even her lips were pale with excitement and weariness. But in her eyes shone the exultation of victory and on her lips was a smile.
"I can stand here a week if I have to," she said. "But I hope I shan't have to."
"You've got to get into this place first if you want that homestead. Here comes Rob now. Perhaps he's corralled the clerk."
Rob elbowed his way through the crowd that was pressing up to stare at Harry. "No use," he said. "The office won't be opened until nine o'clock to-morrow morning. I saw the clerk just as he was leaving town to go to a wedding, and wild horses couldn't have held him. Are you onto your job, sis?"
"I guess so. Listen. What is he saying?"
Joyce had retreated to the sidewalk. He was not afraid of a fight or unused to one, but for various reasons he hesitated to try to get possession of the door by force.
The jokes of the crowd were becoming more and more irritating to him, however, and suddenly he called out, "I'll give twenty-five dollars to any one who'll break that girl's hold on the door there!"
"And I'll give fifty swift kicks to any one who tries it!" cried Garnett.
"Wouldn't the young lady like a chair?" a voice said at Harry's elbow.
Turning, Harry saw Smoot, the hotel clerk, leaning over the railing of the porch with a chair in his hand.
"That's good of you!" she exclaimed gratefully. "I didn't realize how tired I am."
"Hungry, too, I guess," suggested Smoot. "If you're going to stick it out all night, you'll need some good chuck to hold you."
"I expect I shall," agreed Harry with a tired little laugh.
"Say, Smoot," suggested Rob, "can't you go over to Kenny's and tell 'em to send round a tray of grub?"
"All right. Anything in particular you'd like, Miss Holliday?"
"A gallon or two of water; I'm so thirsty! But don't you want to eat your own suppers?" she said, turning to Rob and Garnett.
"Shucks! We don't care when we eat," Garnett assured her. "We'll starve out this bunch first, anyhow." Then, in a lower tone, he added, "When Joyce sees you're game, he'll let up."
"I guess I'm game."
"Of course you are. I saw it that first time I spoke to you. Remember?"
"On the train?" She laughed. "Indeed I do. And you told me I'd stay. Honestly, I didn't expect to then."
"No, you didn't. But you stick to what you tackle. I kind of felt that once you'd camped in Idaho it'd get a strangle hold on you somehow."
"Well, it has. Any one seeing me hanging to a doorknob all night must realize that I like Idaho pretty well." She shivered involuntarily as she spoke.
"You're half froze. As soon as they come with that grub we'll send for a blanket."
"There comes the food now. And Mrs. Kenny. Isn't she the best, though? And I look like—I don't know what."
"Like a sure-enough fighter, and that's just what Mrs. Kenny likes."
The sun had set and it was beginning to grow chilly. Most of the crowd were drifting away. With a pot of coffee in one hand, a basket of food in the other, and a big shawl over her arm, Mrs. Kenny came sailing down the street, exchanging pungent remarks with the townsfolk as she passed; she was much like a frigate going to the rescue with guns unmasked.
"For the land sakes, girlie," she exclaimed, "is it really you? Well, you're the right stuff! Howdy, Joyce? Looks like you wasn't in this deal. How about it?"
"It's early yet," answered Joyce sourly. "Wait till four o'clock to-morrow morning."
"And if I ain't a heap sight duller than I think, you'll be some tired yourself by that time, settin' all night on the hard side of that stair-step. Better go git you some supper, you and the new herder you got there."
Joyce growled something unintelligible in reply. He held a low-toned conversation with the herder, and after a moment they walked away.
The minute they were out of sight, Mrs. Kenny caught Harry's arm. "Come on, now," she said quickly. "This is your time. You come round to the hotel the back way and get cleaned up and rested. Joyce won't dream you'll go like this, first dash out of the box. And if he did come back, why, Garnett here ain't never filed, and he can hold the door like it's for himself until you come back. Come on, now."
"That's right," insisted Garnett. "Mrs. Kenny is sure right."
When Harry came back, washed, brushed, fed, and rested, she felt prepared for anything. Joyce had not returned, and the three, Harry, Rob, and Garnett, felt certain that he had accepted defeat. Still, it would not do to run any chances, and they prepared to watch through the night.
Rob had brought some old boxes from the grocery store, and with them he built a little fire in the road; there, as the long, chilly hours passed, it glowed cheeringly. He and Garnett took turns watching the door and the fire.
But toward morning they unconsciously relaxed. Rob with his head on his knees, dozed beside the smouldering fire; Garnett, stretched near the door, nodded; and Harry, wrapped in the warm shawl, leaned her head against the back of her chair and tried to realize that morning was very near. Then suddenly she started, cried out, and clutched the doorknob just as Joyce, in stocking feet, slid swiftly across the porch.
Even as her call broke from her lips, Garnett threw himself forward, caught Joyce by the leg, and brought him to the floor. Then, dropping his hold, he sprang to his feet and stood in front of Harry, ready for what might come. Rob, too, had waked at the first sound of trouble, and had easily frustrated the herder's somewhat faint-hearted attempt to help out the sheepman.
Harry, Rob, and Garnett stood with their backs against the door, prepared for anything. But Joyce had wrenched his knee in falling and, unable to put up a good fight, limped away with angry threats.
At seven o'clock Mrs. Kenny appeared with breakfast. With her came "Old Man" Kenny and Smoot to take the place of Rob and Garnett while they went to the hotel to eat.
At nine o'clock the clerk opened the office door and the little party passed inside. After all the excitement and suspense, the mingled hope and fear through which she had lived in the last twenty-four hours, Harry was surprised at the calmness with which she went through the necessary business of signing the papers and taking the oath.
She was in a way, the calmest of all the little crowd which had collected to see the end of this exciting race and to take a good look at the girl who had "put one over hog-dollar Joyce." Every new settler means much to those already at work building homes in a new territory and almost every one who traded in town knew Rob Holliday and had heard of the hard work he and "the girl" were doing on his homestead.
The news of the race had of course run through the town and when the land office opened for Harry's filing both windows were full of heads and the porch held a crowd of complimentary size.
A low but constant whisper of explanation accompanied the gray-haired registrar's voice as he ran through the forms with Harry. When she had signed her name for the last time he carefully took off his spectacles, looked into her flushed and happy face with a kindly quizzical smile and held out his hand. "I don't know when I've filed anybody that pleased me like this has," he said; "If you keep a going on your hundred'n sixty like you came after it, young lady, you're liable to have a pretty first class ranch by time you prove up."
A laugh of appreciation from the listening group approved this remark and the many hands that shook hers as she passed down to the street assured Harry of the good will that went with her to the work before her.
They spent the forenoon in town, doing errands and, visiting with the acquaintances who had heard the story of Joyce's defeat and came around to hear the particulars. Mrs. Kenny gave them an early lunch and after thanking her for her share in the victorious siege, they started back to the ranch, Garnett going with them in order to take the team and buggy back to Hailey.
They were tired from lack of sleep and the long nervous strain, yet they were too elated with the sense of the victory they had won to let it go at that. They must talk it over and laugh at the fears they had endured, even if now and then an irrepressible yawn would sandwich in between the jokes.
"I bet I could stretch a mile if I didn't haff to walk back to meet my horse," Garnett confessed.
"And I'd drop out at the Hyslop ranch and sleep all the afternoon if I didn't hate to ask you two to wait and take me home." Harry's infectious laughter drew a smile from two riders who passed them coming in from the hills. Their felt hats pulled low over their eyes, their sunburned faces powdered with white dust, no one recognized them at first as they drew off the trail to let the buggy pass. But they touched their hats to Harry and glanced back.
"Why, hello Lance," Bob exclaimed. "I didn't recognize you and Rudy for the dust that's choked us."
The two dust-covered riders smiled. "Ain't you gettin' back from town early?" Lance inquired.
"Not so early as you fellas are gettin' in late." Garnett interposed. "The show's over."
"It sounded like you'd been seein' something pretty good," Lance admitted; "There warn't no notice over to Soldier of any show."
"Oh it warn't that sort. Just one of these here amytoor doin's. Charades. You know. Nobody knowed what he was going to say 'til he was sayin' it——"
"Or doing it," Rob added.
"Must of been some show," Rudy Batts ventured gravely, his hazel eyes very quiet and watchful for the joke behind all this banter.
"Some! A whole lot," Garnett said warmly. "More 'specially when that there Joyce, him bein' the villyan, crope up and thought he'd put one over the lady there."
"Sounds like it might be interesting if we was to hear it," said Lance. "We got the vilyan, but who's the hero?"
"There were two," Harry put in quickly. "Two heroes and a damsel in distress, men at arms, a throng of brave retainers, a noble dame who came to the rescue. Oh, it was wonderful. You tell them, boys!"
As the story was told there were nods and growls of approval from the two young men, homesteaders themselves, who had suffered more than once from inroads of sheep and cattle owned by certain high-handed stockmen.
"It's a big wedge you druv in between Joyce and his land grabbin', Miss Holliday," Lance told her; "and luck was sure with you when you took out after him."
"Spunk, I'd say," Garnett suggested as they all prepared to move along.
"Spunk! That's right." Rudy declared. "If there was a little more of that up our way mebbe we'd get busy and pull something that'd dehorn animals like Joyce for good and give the rest of us a chance to feed and water."
"This'll be the best news on the prairie this year," was Lance's farewell word.
"Any chance to board at your place for a while, Holliday?" Garnett asked, and, as Rob and Harry looked at him questioningly, he explained. "Why, your sister there will be cookin' and makin' cake for a month now to entertain the committee on congratulations that'll be hikin' over."
"I certainly owe you a cake, Garnett," said Harry. "You can order any kind you like."
So they talked as the day waned and they climbed steadily higher until Harry, gazing forward along the line of the road as it wound through flowering rabbit brush and summer's grass across the foothills, saw again the snowy peaks of the Sawtooth looking down at her.
Was it only two months ago that she had followed the same road into the unknown, curious and interested as a child? To-day she went where it led, happy and content, and ambitious too. She realized that it was not child's play that awaited her this time at the end of the road; it was woman's work—But she welcomed it for she had become a woman.