The Orphan by Clarence E. Mulford (motivational novels .txt) 📕

“I like a hog, all right, but you suit me too blamed well!” asserted Bud, grabbing at Silent’s pie.

“Gimme some of that,” demanded Jim, trying for the cake. And when the disturbance had ceased there were no signs of either pie or cake.

“It’s the travois for you, Humble dear!” softly hummed Charley Bailey. “And to the ranch, by the way of town!”

“And Bill will be pleased to explore the Limping Water on the bottom,” amended Jim. “One of us can drive the women home!”

ABOUT thirty people sat in a circle on the grass in the grove on the A-Y, engaged in taking viands from the well-filled plates which made the rounds. Keen humor from all sides kept them in roars of laughter, Humble and Bill provoking the greater part of it. Humble sat next to Miss Ritchie, while The Orphan and Bill flanked Helen, the sheriff next to his new foreman. Humble’s face had a look of benign condescension when he allowed himself to bestow perfunctory attentions on the members of his outfit, whom he graciously called “purty fair punchers in a way.”

Crawford, the former owner of the A-Y, sat next to Shields, and when the lunch had reached the cigar stage he arose and cleared his throat.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Bill and Humble,” he began amid laughter. “I have been regarded as the host of this picnic, and the false position embarrasses me. But any such momentary feeling is compensated by the importance of what I have to tell you.

“When I took up the A-Y it was with a determination to keep it and to spend the rest of my days on it in peace. This I have found to be impossible, and in consequence I have turned it over to a better man. The energy which I have seen applied in the right way for the last few weeks has assured me that the A-Y will soon be second in importance and wealth to no ranch in this country. I have seen order, system, emerge from chaos; I have seen five thousand cattle re-branded and taken care of in such dispatch as to astonish me and be almost beyond my belief. The sheriff has been as economical in the use of his energy as he can be in the use of his words. By that I don’t mean in the way that is causing you to smile, but simply that he knows how to accomplish the most work with the least possible expenditure of effort and time, as witnessed by the condition of this ranch to-day. But while he has been the guiding spirit in the work of putting the ranch on its proper footing, he has had as good assistants as it is possible to find.

“I don’t wish to tire you with any long speech, for brevity is the soul of more than wit, so I will close by telling you that the A-Y is in new and better hands–our sheriff is now its owner, and I extend to him my heartiest wishes for his success in his new venture. I must thank him and all of you for a very pleasant day and a memory to take East with me.”

For an instant there was intense silence, and then a small battle seemed to be taking place. The noise of the shooting and cheering was deafening and smoke rolled down like a heavy fog. The sheriff met the rush toward him and put in a very busy few minutes in shaking hands and replying to the hearty congratulations which poured in upon him from all sides. Everybody was happy and all were talking at once, and Bill could be heard reeling off an unbroken string of words at high speed.

The Orphan fought his way to his best friend and gripped both hands in his own.

“By God, Sheriff!” he cried. “This is great news, and I’m plumb glad to hear it! I hope you have the very best of luck and that your returns, both in pleasure and money, far exceed your fondest expectations. Anything I can do is yours for the asking.”

“Thank you, son,” replied the sheriff, looking fondly into his friend’s eyes. “I’m going to call on you just as soon as I can make myself heard in all this hellabaloo. Just listen to that!” he exclaimed as Silent let loose again.

“Glory be!” yelled he of the misleading name, slapping Humble across the back. “For this you ride home like a white man, Humble–all your sins are forgiven! Hurrah for the sheriff, his family and the A-Y!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, and his cheer was supported unanimously with true cowboy enthusiasm and vim.

“Hurray for me, too!” shouted Bill in laughter. Then he fled, with Silent in hot pursuit.

The sheriff tried to speak, and after several attempts was finally given silence.

“Thank you, everybody!” he cried, his face beaming. “I am happy for many reasons to-day, but foremost among them is the fact that I have so many warm and loyal friends. The A-Y is always open to all of you, and I’ll be some disappointed if you don’t put in a lot of your spare time over here.”

He paused for a few seconds and then looked at The Orphan, who stood at Helen’s side.

“Mr. Crawford did his part a whole lot better than I can do mine, I’m afraid, but I’m going to do my best, anyhow. The news has only been half told–the name of the new foreman of the A-Y henceforth will be The Orphan! Whoop her up, boys!” he shouted, leading a cheer which was not one whit less a cheer than those which had gone before.

The Orphan stared in astonishment, for once in his life he had been surprised. The sheriff at last had the drop on him. He looked from one to another, started to step forward and then changed his mind and looked appealingly at Helen, who smiled in a way to double the speed of his heart-beats.

Her eyes were moist, and the sudden consciousness that she formed half of the objective of all eyes caused her cheeks to go crimson. Her hand impulsively went to his shoulder and without thought on her part, and his incredulous questioning was answered by her.

“It’s all true,” she said earnestly. “I’ve known of it for a whole week now. You are the real foreman of the A-Y, and I most earnestly hope for your success.”

He suddenly seemed to be above the earth and his voice broke in his stammered reply. For a fraction of a second her eyes had told him what he had dreamed of, what he had hoped for above all things, and he grasped her hand for a second as he stepped forward toward his new employer, whose hand met his with a man’s grasp.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” he said, his head whirling from the surprises of a minute. “You’ve been squarer and fairer with me than any man I’ve ever known, and hell will look nice to me if I don’t make good with you.

“Thank you, boys; thank you, Bill: you’re all right, every one of you!” he cried as his friends crowded about him. “What the sheriff said about warm friends was the truth–thank you, Bud and Jim! Thank you, Blake–you’re another brick! Good God, what I have gained in two months! I can scarcely believe it, it seems so like a dream. That’s a real warm grip, all right, though,” he exclaimed as he shook hands with Humble, “so I reckon it’s all true. Two months!” he marveled. “Two glorious, glorious months! A new start in life, a loyal crowd of friends, a–and all in two months! And there is the man I owe it all to,” he suddenly cried, pointing to the sheriff. “There’s the whitest man God ever made, and I’ll kill the man who says I lie!”

“Good boy!” shouted Bill in enthusiastic endorsement. “You two make a pair of aces what can beat any full-house ever got together, and I’ll lick the man who says I lie!” he yelled pugnaciously. “The Orphant may be an orphant, all right, but he’s got a whole lot of brothers.”

Mrs. Shields walked over to The Orphan and placed a motherly hand on his shoulder as he recovered.

“You won’t be an orphan any longer, my boy,” she said, smiling up at him. “You’re one of us now–I always wanted a son, and God has given me one in you.”

DURING the month which followed the picnic things ran smoothly on the A-Y, and the rejuvenated ranch was the pride of the whole contingent, from the sheriff down to the cook. The Orphan had taken charge with a determination which grew firmer with each passing day and the new owner was delighted at the outcome of his plans. The foreman, elated and happy at his sudden shift in fortune, radiated cheerfulness and consideration. His men knew that he would not ask them to do anything which he himself feared to do, which would not have been much consolation to a timid man, since he feared nothing; but to them it meant that they had a foreman who would stick by them through fire and water, and a foreman who commands respect from his outfit is a man whose life is made easy for him. He had known too much of unkindness, harshness, to become angry at mistakes; instead, he set diligently at work to undo them, and mistakes were rare. The very men who had once wished for his life would now fight instantly to save it. They were proud of him, of the owner, the ranch and themeselves; and proudest of all was Bill, once driver of the stage, but now a cowboy working hard and loyally under the man who had once held him up for a smoke.

Visitors were numerous, and every man who called became enthusiastic about the ranch, and after he had departed marveled at the complete change in the man who was its foreman, and felt confidence in the good judgment of the sheriff. Ford’s Station was openly jubilant, for the town exulted in the discomfiture of the Cross Bar-8 and in the proof that their sheriff was right. And Ford’s Station chuckled at the news it heard, for the foreman of the Cross Bar-8 had called twice at the A-Y and was fast losing his prejudice against The Orphan. Sneed had found a quiet, optimistic foreman in the place of his former enemy, and the laughter which lurked in The Orphan’s eyes closed the breach. He had seen the man in a new light, and when he had said his farewell at the close of his second visit the grip of his hand was strong. As for the Star C, a trail had been worn between the two ranches and hardly a day passed but one or more of its punchers dropped in to say a few words to their former bunkmate, and to stir up Bill. The Star C, no less than his own men, swore by The Orphan.

One bright morning the sheriff left for a trip to Chicago and other packing cities to arrange for future cattle shipments, and announced that he would be away for a week or two. On the night following his departure trouble began. The ranch and bunk houses of the Cross Bar-8 were fired into, and when Sneed and his men had returned after a fruitless search in the dark the foreman stared at the wall and swore. Was it The Orphan again? In the absence of the sheriff had he renewed the war? First thought cried