Ranching For Sylvia Volume-554 by Harold Bindloss (chrome ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Platform Hurried Toward The Car.  A Hum Of Excited Voices Broke Out And

Edgar Had Some Difficulty In Pushing Through The Growing Crowd To Reach

The Steps.  A Constable, Who Had Hard Work To Keep The Others Back, Let

Him Pass, And He Found Flett Standing On The Platform Above, Looking

Rather Jaded, With A Pistol Loose In His Holster.

"Isn't Mr. Lansing Here?" Flett Asked Eagerly, And Then Turned To The

Trooper.  "Keep Those Fellows Off!"

"No," Answered Edgar; "He Hasn't Come Into Town.  But What's The Cause

Of This Commotion?  Have You Got Your Men?"

"Three Of Them," Said Flett, With A Look Of Pride.  "I Expect We'll Get

The Fourth.  But Come In A Minute, Out Of The Noise."

The Car Was Besieged.  Curious Men Were Clambering Up The Side Of It,

Trying To Peer In Through The Windows; Others Disputed Angrily With The

Trooper Who Drove Them Off The Steps.  Eager Questions Were Shouted And

Scraps Of Random Information Given, And Groups Of People Were Excitedly

Running Across The Street To The Station.  It Was, However, A Little

Quieter In The Vestibule When Flett Had Banged The Door.  He Next

Opened The Inner Door That Led To The Smoking Compartment Of The

Colonist Car.  In Spite Of Its Roominess, It Was Almost Insufferably

Hot And Very Dirty; The Sunlight Struck In Through The Windows; Sand

And Fine Cinders Lay Thick Upon The Floor.  A Pile Of Old Blue Blankets

Lay, Neatly Folded, On One Of The Wooden Seats, And On Those Adjoining

Sat Three Men.  Two Wore Brown Duck Overalls, Gray Shirts, And Big Soft

Hats; One Was Dressed In Threadbare Cloth; But There Was Nothing That

Particularly Suggested The Criminal In Any Of Their Sunburned Faces.

They Looked Hot And Weary With The Journey, And Though Their Expression

Was Perhaps A Little Hard, They Looked Like Harvest Hands Traveling In

Search Of Work.  One, Who Was Quietly Smoking, Took His Pipe From His

Mouth And Spoke To Flett.

"Can't You Get Us Some Ice?" He Asked.  "The Water In The Tank Isn't

Fit To Drink."

"They Haven't Any Here.  You'll Have To Wait Until We Get To The

Junction," Flett Told Him, And Drew Edgar Back Into The Vestibule.

"We're Taking Them Right Along To Regina," He Explained.  "I'm Sorry I

Couldn't See Mr. Lansing, But I'll Ride Over As Soon As I'm Sent Back.

If He's Likely To Be Away, He'd Better Send Word To The Station."

"I Don't Expect He'll Leave The Farm During The Next Few Weeks," Said

Edgar.

Then One Of The Constables Looked In.

"Conductor Says He Can't Hold Up The Train."

"I'll Be Off," Said Edgar, With A Smile At Flett.  "This Should Mean

Promotion; It's A Fine Piece Of Work."

He Jumped Down As The Train Pulled Out And Hurried Back To The Store

Where Miss Taunton Was Eagerly Awaiting News.  Soon Afterward He Left;

And As He Rode Up To The Homestead Day Was Breaking, But He Found

George Already At Work In The Stable.

"It's Lucky We Don't Need Your Horse.  If You're Going To Keep Up This

Kind Of Thing, You Had Better Buy An Automobile," He Remarked.

Edgar Laughed.

"I Don't Feel Remarkably Fresh, But I'll Hold Out Until To-Night.

There's The Fallowing To Be Got On With; I Suppose Nothing Must

Interfere With That.  But Aren't You Up A Little Earlier Than Usual?"

"I Want To Haul In The Posts For The New Fence.  Grierson Has His Hands

Full, And Now That There Are Four Of Us, Jake Spends So Much Time In

Cooking."

"A Reckless Waste Of Precious Minutes!" Edgar Exclaimed Ironically.

"If One Could Only Get Over These Troublesome Bodily Needs, You Could

Add Hours Of Work To Every Week And Make Sylvia Marston Rich.  By The

Way, Jake's Cooking Is Getting Awful."

He Put Up His Horse And Busied Himself With Several Tasks Before He

Went In To Breakfast.  When It Was Finished, And The Others Went Out,

He Detained George.

"What Did You Think Of That Meal?" He Asked.

"Well," Said George, "It Might Have Been Better."

Edgar Laughed Scornfully.

"It Would Take Some Time To Tell You My Opinion, But I May As Well

Point Out That You're Paying A Big Bill For Stores To Taunton, Though

We Never Get Anything Fit To Eat.  Helen And I Were Talking Over Your

Account, And She Wondered What We Did With The Things, Besides Giving

Me An Idea.  It's This--Why Don't You Tell Grierson To Bring Out His

Wife?"

"I Never Thought Of It.  She Might Not Come; And She May Not Cook Much

Better Than Jake."

"She Certainly Couldn't Cook Worse!  I Expect She Would Save Her Wages,

And She Would Set A Hired Man Free.  Jake Can Drive A Team."

"It's A Good Idea," George Agreed.  "Send Grierson In."

The Man Came A Few Minutes Later.

"We Get On Pretty Well; I Suppose You Are Willing To Stay With Me?"

George Said To Him.

Grierson Hesitated And Looked Disturbed.

"The Fact Is, I'd Be Very Sorry To Leave; But I'm Afraid I'll Have To

By And By.  You See, I've Got To Find A Place I Can Take My Wife To."

"Can She Cook?"

"Yes," Said Grierson, Indicating The Remnants On The Table With

Contempt.  "She Would Do Better Than This With Her Eyes Shut!  Then,"

He Continued Eagerly, "She Can Wash And Mend Clothes.  I've Noticed

That You And Mr. West Throw Half Your Things Away Long Before You Need

To."

"That's True," Edgar Admitted.  "It's The Custom Of The Country; Time's

Too Valuable To Spend In Mending Anything, Though I've Noticed That One

Or Two Of The People Who Tell You About The Value Of Time Get Through A

Good Deal Of It Lounging Round The Sachem.  Anyway, Amateur

Laundering's An Abomination, And I'm Most Successful In Washing The

Buttons And Wrist-Bands Off."  He Turned To His Companion.  "George,

You'll Have To Send For Mrs. Grierson."

The Matter Was Promptly Arranged, And When Grierson Went Out With A

Look Of Keen Satisfaction, Edgar Laughed.

"I Feel Like Pointing Out How Far An Idea Can Go.  Helen Only Thought

Of Making Me A Little More Comfortable, And You See The Result Of

It--Grierson And His Wife United, Things Put Into Shape Here, Four

People Content!  Of Course, One Could Cite A More Striking Example; I

Mean When Sylvia Marston Thought You Had Better Go Out And Look After

Her Farm.  There's No Need To Mention The Far-Reaching Consequences

That Opinion Had."

"I Volunteered To Go Out," George Corrected Him.

"Well," Said Edgar, "I Quite Believe You Did So.  But You're No Doubt

Pining To Get At The Fence."

They Went Off To Work, But Edgar, Driving The Gang-Plow Through The

Stubble Under A Scorching Sun, Thought That Sylvia's Idea Might Bear

More Fruit Than She Had Calculated On, And That It Would Be Bitter To

Her.  His Mind, However, Was Chiefly Occupied With A More Attractive

Person, And Once When He Turned The Heavy Horses At The End Of The

Furrows He Said Softly, "May I Deserve Her!" And Looked Up With A Tense

Expression In His Hot Face, As If Making Some Firm Resolve, Which Was A

Procedure That Would Have Astonished Even Those Who Knew Him Well.

A Week Passed, Each Day Growing Brighter And Hotter, Until The Glare

Flung Back By Sandy Soil And Whitening Grass Became Painful, And George

And His Assistants Discarded Most Of Their Clothing When They Went

About Their Tasks.  The Oats Began To Show A Silvery Gleam As They

Swayed In The Strong Light; The Wheat Was Changing Color, And There

Were Warm Coppery Gleams Among The Heavy Ears; Horses And Cattle Sought

The Poplars' Shade.  Then One Evening When The Grants Had Driven Over,

Flett Arrived At The Homestead, And, Sitting On The Stoop As The Air

Grew Cooler, Related His Adventures.

"I Guess My Chiefs Wouldn't Be Pleased To Hear Me; We're Not Encouraged

To Talk, But There's A Reason For It, As You'll See When I'm Through,"

He Said, And Plunged Abruptly Into His Narrative.

It Proved To Be A Moving Tale Of Weary Rides In Scorching Heat And In

The Dusk Of Night, Of Rebuffs And Daunting Failures.  Flett, As He

Admitted, Had Several Times Been Cleverly Misled And Had Done Some

Unwise Things, But He Had Never Lost His Patience Nor Relaxed His

Efforts.  Slowly And Doggedly, Picking Up Scraps Of Information Where

He Could, He Had Trailed His Men To The Frontier, Where His Real

Troubles Had Begun.  Once That He Crossed It, He Had No Authority, And

The American Sheriffs And Deputies Were Not Invariably Sympathetic.

Some, He Concluded, Were Unduly Influenced By Local Opinion, Which Was

Not In Favor Of Interfering With People Who Confined Their Depredations

To Canadian Horses.  Others, Who Acknowledged Past Favors From Regina,

Foresaw Troublesome Complications Before He Could Be Allowed To Deport

The Offenders; But Some, With A Strong Sense Of Duty, Offered Willing

Help, And That Was How He Had Been Able To Make The Arrests On Canadian

Soil.

"Now," He Concluded, "We Tracked These Men From Point To Point And I've

Evidence To Prove Most Of Their Moves, But They Never Had The Four

Horses In A Bunch Until They Made Montana, Which Is A Point Against Us.

We Can Show They Were Working As A Gang, That They Were Altogether With

The Horses On American Soil, But As We Haven't Corralled The Only Man

Mr. Grant Could Swear To, There's Only One Way Of Proving How They Got

Them.  You See Where All This Leads?"

"It Looks As If You Depended On My Evidence For A Conviction," Said