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THE LONG DIM TRAIL
By FORRESTINE C. HOOKER
A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York
Published by arrangement with Alfred A. Knopf
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY FORRESTINE COOPER HOOKER
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
LOVINGLY DEDICATED TO MY FATHER, BRIGADIER-GENERAL CHARLES L. COOPER, U. S. A. MY BROTHER, MAJOR HARRY L. COOPER, U. S. A. AND MY UNCLE, CAPTAIN LOUIS R. CHESTER. U. S. N. OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN. WITHOUT FEAR AND WITHOUT REPROACH
F. C. H.
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
"Everything all right, Limber?" asked Allan Traynor, boss of the DiamondH ranch, as a cowboy with jingling spurs reined his pony before theclosed gates of the corral.
Doctor Powell, standing beside Traynor, scrutinized the rider, whosebroad-brimmed Stetson, caught by the wind, flapped from his face,exposing the sun-brown skin, firm chin and grey eyes. It needed nostudent of psychology to decide that Limber was not a man who wouldflinch when facing a six-shooter held by a rustler.
The cowboy nodded answer to Traynor's query. Limber's eyes scanned theherd, then, satisfied, he leaned across the neck of his pinto pony, andsaid, "Paddy Lafferty wants to sell out."
"Who told you?" Traynor spoke with undisguised surprise.
"Dillon. Paddy tol' him he was gettin' too old, that the rheumatiz isbotherin' again, an' he's goin' to quit because he won't trust no one torun his herd when he can't get 'round to it hisself."
"Did Paddy say how much he wanted?"
"Nope," was the laconic reply. "I'll find out. It's a mighty good bunchof stuff. Lots of three-year steers, an' thar ain't many three-year-oldsleft in these parts, now."
"It's worth looking up," commented Traynor. "I'm glad you spoke of it.How soon will you be ready to hit the trail?"
"'Bout ten minutes."
"Keep the boys out of mischief this trip, if you can."
There was a twinkle in Traynor's eyes that was reflected in the greyones of the cowboy, who said soberly, "I'll do my best. But when theyget to mixin' in things they're slipperier than a bunch of quicksilver.You think you got hold of it and you find you ain't."
Limber turned his pony toward the corrals, twisting in his saddle asTraynor called after him, "Tell some one to saddle my pony and DoctorPowell's. We'll ride out with you."
As the cowboy disappeared, Traynor said, "It will give you a faint ideaof the work. You'll find it mighty different from the cowpuncher's lifeof moving pictures."
The doctor laughed. "I feel like a small boy about to wriggle under thecanvas of a circus tent. I never dreamed that Arizona was such awonderland."
The eyes of the two men swept across the Sulphur Spring Valley thatundulated twenty miles from the Galiuro Mountains on the west to theGrahams on the east; starting sixty miles north of the Diamond H in thenarrow Aravaipa Canon, it gradually broadened into a great plain thatterminated at the Mexican border.
"Of course," continued the doctor, "I had a vague idea of its mineralwealth and cattle interests, but I must confess that until I reachedhere the name of Arizona conjured visions of burning desert, Gilamonsters, rattlesnakes, horn-toads and Apaches. Even when I stepped fromthe train and met you, the impression of a 'No-Man's Land' was strongupon me. Yet now that I have been here a month I feel as though I shallnever want to leave it."
"You can make sure of that," retorted Traynor, "if you will go to theHasayampa River, kneel on the brink and drink of the water. You must bevery careful, though, to kneel above the crossing. This will keep youfrom ever wishing to leave Arizona and you will receive the gift ofabsolute truthfulness; but, should you drink while kneeling below thecrossing, truth and you will be divorced the balance of your life."
"Did you drink below the crossing or above?" challenged the doctor withan amused smile.
"There is only one case on record where a man acknowledged that he drankthe water below the crossing. His name was Hasayampa Bill. He died ayear ago. Hasayampa Bill was a victim of circumstances, not intention.He said that he was drinking above the crossing when he lost his balanceand fell into the stream which carried him far below. Though Hasayampaswore solemnly that he kept his mouth shut--for the first time onrecord--his reputation was thoroughly established. A letter addressed tothe 'Biggest Liar in Arizona' was accorded him by popular vote."
The doctor was about to reply, when the air was filled withear-splitting whistles and staccato cries. Then the big gates of thecorral swung open, and an avalanche of cattle tumbled madly through andheaded in a wild rush down the road that led south towardWillcox--excited bellows and plaintive lowing of calves seeking theirmothers, mingled with the voices of invisible men, completelyobliterated by the clouds of alkali dust.
Traynor led the way into the stable where two saddled ponies twistednervously. The men looked at each other and smiled as the doctorapproached the pinto pony. Its eyes showed whites, its ears went back.It sheered nervously, but Powell gained the saddle and, with Traynorclose beside him, they reached the moving herd.
Through the haze of dust a shadowy rider would loom momentarily, thendisappear. Traynor rode on the outer edge of the herd. Doctor Powellbecame aware that Limber had materialized at his side, and forgoteverything else in his admiration of the cowpuncher's unconscious graceas his lithe, swaying figure adjusted itself to each movement of thewiry, dancing pony.
"Head off that buckskin," shouted Limber, rising in his stirrups andwaving his quirt at a cow that was making a wild dash for freedom.
Bronco's pony emerged from the haze and tore madly after the cow,reaching her side just as she made up her bovine mind that she had nointention of deserting. Her expression of injured innocence as sheambled quietly back roused Doctor Powell's mirth and Bronco's ire.
The cowpuncher reined his pony beside Powell's, muttering imprecationsthat finally ended in a verbal explosion.
"Durn her! Whenever you turn an old buckskin cow like that loose in theherd it's as bad as sickin' a mother-in-law on a happy family. She won'trest till she gets 'em millin' and stampedes everything in sight, andthen she picks up her knittin' and looks innercent and says she neverallowed to start nothin' noways! Gee! I wish I could strike a ranchwhere there warn't nothin' but steers. The minute you mix up with afemale critter, cow or petticoats, you're roundin' up trouble foryourself and lots of others."
He paused long enough, to jerk out a sack of tobacco and cigarettepapers, letting the reins fall on his pony's neck as he glared at thecow. She was slowly dropping to the rear of the herd, but Bronco and hispony did not relax their vigilance.
"Mebbe you thought I didn't know you, you old buckskin bag o' bones,"apostrophized Bronco. "I'd know that derned twisted horn if I was deadtwenty years!"
Holy Dick galloped up, grinning broadly.
"Hello, Bronc! Ain't that your ol' buckskin friend?"
Bronco snorted. "Yep! An' you bet she's goin' to keep movin' until she'sloaded in the car and headed for trouble somewhar else. Arizona ain'tbig enough to hold her an' me."
Holy rode off, turning in his saddle and screaming in a shrill nasalwhine that he fondly imagined was singing:
"'Tis ye-a-a-rs since las-s-s-st we-e-ee met An' we ma-a-aa-ay not me-ee-et agin. I stru-ug-gle to-o-oo forgit But I stru-ug-g-g-gg-g-ll-l-ll-le aa-aal in va-aa a-in."
Holy's pony contributed to the tremolo ef
fect by its short, nervoustrot.
"I'm glad she's a gittin' offen the range," soliloquized Bronco, "butI'll always be sorry we didn't butcher her on the ranch so's I couldhelp chaw her up. If ever I get to Heaven all I'll ask is to eatbuckskin cows for everlastin'."
As he uttered the last words Bronco raced ahead, leaving Doctor Powellat liberty to laugh and wonder what the mystery of the buckskin hoodoomight be. Then his eyes wandered from the dust-cloud ahead of him to thepurple-blue peaks that reached thousands of feet upward as if strivingto pierce the brilliant sky; across the valley clumps of greyish brownsaccaton grass, slender tufts of waving gietta interspersed by tallspikes of Spanish Dagger formed a typical Arizona landscape.
"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Traynor, riding up to him.
Powell's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "It's a wonderful country! Howfar away is Hasayampa River? I'm ready to start now for that drink!"
They laughed together as their ponies' heads were reined toward theranch, but Powell could not resist a backward glance at the herd whichhad now settled down to a steady amble. The sunlight filtering throughthe dust formed a golden mist in which the cowpunchers and their ponieswere dimly silhouetted.
"Of course there are annoyances, unpleasant people to encounter attimes, bad seasons to offset the good ones,"--Traynor deftly rolled acigarette with his right hand as he spoke, his left resting lightly onthe high pommel of his saddle. "Taking it all in all, though, when Iride across the valley or reach a high peak and look down wherethousands of cattle graze undisturbed by the in-roads of civilization, Ifeel it is a royal heritage. Do you think I would barter it, like Esau,even though my menu might read, 'Pottage a la champagne and truffles'?"
"Is the role of Prodigal Son necessary to qualify for a fatted calf inArizona?" queried Powell. "I'm as hungry as the proverbial bear. Oh,that reminds me. Bronco was bewailing the fact that a certain buckskincow had not been butchered at the ranch. He seems a bit sensitiveregarding buckskins. What's the trouble?"
Traynor's mouth twitched as he answered, "Ask him. It's too good a storyfor any one else to spoil in the telling."
They reached the stables and left the ponies with the Mexican stableman.As they entered the large court-yard which formed the center of thehouse, they were greeted by the welcome sound of the lunch bell andFong, in immaculate white and with neatly coiled queue, smiled amiablyfrom the dining room door.
After lunch the two men sat smoking and chatting in the deep porchbetween the dining room and living room, where easy chairs, a hammock, atable littered with newspapers and magazines, tempted one to loiter. Thestable boy interrupted them, speaking in Mexican, and Traynor explainedthat there was some trouble with the acetelyn plant.
"I always take care of that myself, and unless I do so we will have toresort to coal-oil lamps. I'll be back shortly. Make yourselfcomfortable."
Powell leaned back lazily in his chair, trying to reconcile Traynor whohad just spoken with the Traynor he once knew; a young chap fresh fromcollege, unlucky enough to lose his last remaining relative at the sametime he inherited a fairly good-sized fortune.
It had been the usual story of "wild oats." Then Traynor's revulsion hadbeen complete, though not in time to avoid a quarrel with the girl towhom he was engaged. Exaggerated stories of various episodes, exploitedby a Sunday paper, caused her to return his ring and refuse absolutelyto see him or listen to his explanations.
Traynor thrashed the reporter, paid a heavy fine for that privilege andstarted on a trip West with no definite idea except to get as far aspossible from a place filled with bitter memories.
During the journey he met a young army officer returning from leave ofabsence, and the lieutenant's invitation to visit Fort Grant had beenaccepted by Traynor. Some months later Traynor, disposing of all hisEastern interests, had purchased the Diamond H ranch, the owner of whichhad recently died.
In the seven years after this purchase, Cuthbert Powell was the only oneof Traynor's former acquaintances who ever heard from the young rancher.Powell had promised to visit the ranch, but not until now had thatpromise been fulfilled. It was not easy to recognize the tanned, alertchap who grasped his hands as he alighted from the Pullman. As days wentby, it was a constant source of surprise to the doctor to note that themental change in his friend was more marked than the physical. It was asthough the breadth and strength of the country had been absorbed by theowner of the "Diamond H."
Traynor returned and slipped into the chair he had vacated.
"You see, on a ranch one becomes blacksmith, veterinarian, doctor,cowpuncher, carpenter, farmer--. In fact, a veritable jack of alltrades. No one cares what your family is, how much money you own or whatyour social status elsewhere, past, present or future, may be. It isyourself that is judged. There is no court of appeal if you arecondemned. You've got to look a man in the eyes, grip his hand as acomrade, shoot as quickly as the other chap, roll in your blanket andtake any weather that comes, without growling. If you can do thesethings the life will suit you and the vastness of the place sinks intoyour soul. It mends one's broken faith in humanity."
Powell, watching his friend, saw the lines about his mouth harden andknew that the memory of the past was burning like a corroding acid. Thenthe mood passed and Traynor turned with a half-smile.
"Well, what do you think of your first experience as a cowhand?"
"I'm thankful that I knew how to ride before I came here," laughedPowell. "That was rather a gay little nag I had this morning."
"That animal's name is Hot Tamale. The boys wanted to try you out a bit.I knew you could take care of yourself, so did not say anything. Thejoke is on them now; but you have won their respect and will be freefrom other pranks."
"I think I'll insist on riding Hot Tamale hereafter," asserted Powell."By the way, when Limber spoke to you about that bunch of cattle, Ithought I would like to buy them, provided you, yourself, did not intendto do so. Of course, I realize that I am a tenderfoot, ignorant of thefirst rudiments of the cattle business, but what would you advise aboutmy locating in this section?"
"It would be a good move," responded Traynor. "Paddy's range liesbetween my own and the Hot Springs country across the Galiuros. He haspermanent water, which is a gold mine, especially during a dry season.The mountains between here and Hot Springs are rich in feed, so Paddy'scattle work that way." He puffed silently on his cigar for a fewseconds, then turned suddenly to Powell. "Look here, Cuthbert, if youare really serious about locating in this section, why don't you get intouch with Doctor King who owns the Hot Springs? The place wouldinterest you professionally, for the water comes out of solid rock at atemperature of 140 degrees and is the purest water I have ever tasted.It is noted in the Territory as a cure for various complaints."
"I would certainly like to see it," answered the doctorenthusiastically, "if you can arrange it for me."
"King only held Squatter's Right until recently. Under that, thepossessor loses title unless he stays on the ground. It is not undergovernment survey yet, so could not be patented like surveyed land. Iadvised King to patent it under Indian Script and make his titlesecure. He has just done this. King has been hoping to erect asanitarium at the Springs, but lack of funds, and his flat refusal toconsider anyone as a partner except a resident physician able to financethe plans, has blocked his scheme."
"It might appeal to him to let me carry out my own idea of establishinga sanitarium for tubercular children in Arizona. I don't mean wealthyinvalids, attended by a retinue of nurses and other impedimenta, butpoor children who otherwise would have no hope of health. The climate,altitude and all conditions would be simply ideal. I should like to talkto him myself."
"Do you know that you are setting forth the very ideas that Kingdiscussed with me the last time I saw him? That was, a place for poor,tubercular children. He loves every child that he sees. His own boy diedat the age of six. The mother died soon after. King gave me no details,and I doubt whether anyone else besides myself, knows this much. I fancyh
is thought was to make the place a memorial to the boy he lost."
"It would be a splendid idea to carry out with such a man!" exclaimedPowell, deeply moved. "How soon do you think it could be arranged for meto meet him?"
"It's a waste of time to write. No one but King and a family namedGlendon live in that section. Mail lies at the Willcox post-office untilone or the other happens to be in town. It's thirty-five miles fromWillcox to Hot Springs, and twenty-four across the Galiuro trail fromhere. When Limber gets back, you and he could ride over the mountains,have a look at the Springs and talk it over with Doctor King. I feelvery confident that you might join forces."
"Fine!" ejaculated Powell. "Now, what about that cattle deal?"
"You are determined to 'jump in with both feet' as the boys would say,"laughed Traynor. "However, it would be wise to take that matter up assoon as possible. Paddy is a queer character, so you had better stayout of the deal until I get it arranged with him. If you make the buyand at any time wish to sell out, I will take the herd and ranch at thesame price you pay for it, so you will not run any risk of being tied uphere if you wish to leave."
"I asked you to tell me how far it is to the Hasayampa River?" remindedthe doctor. "Even if I do not indulge in a drink from that historicstream, I am here to stay."
"You'll make good," asserted Traynor, heartily. "The man who is a realman wins out here in the end, if he lets whiskey and cards alone. Livingon ranches, miles away from civilization, one does not have the problemof women. 'Cherchez la femme' does not apply to this section of thecountry, thank the good Lord! That's why this place appealed moststrongly to me. Unless I go to Willcox I can forget there is such acreature as woman in the universe."
"All women are not the same, Allan," protested Powell, placing his handon Traynor's arm and looking at him earnestly. "I hope the right onewill come into your life some day. One who can appreciate you as youdeserve, and who will be big enough and fine enough to be a wife in thebest sense of the word. Why, man! Think of the pride and pleasure youwould have in this place, knowing that it was the heritage of your son!"
Traynor rose hastily, turned abruptly from his friend and stood staringthrough the open door of the porch across the wide pastures. His facewas white when he confronted Powell.
"What would you do if you found that the patient upon whom you areoperating has not succumbed to the anaesthetic, Cuthbert? Cut withoutpity?"
"Yes," answered Powell, "if it meant life or death to waver or hesitatea second."
"I thought I was numb; that it would not hurt any more; but when youspoke of--a son--it cut into my heart. I've tried to forget--it's likeburying something that is alive. In the night I hear its voice; I seeits shadow even in the darkness."
He rose and moved restlessly; his face white. "No one knows what itmeant to give her up. She believed those damned reports and gave me nochance to prove the truth, and I--, why--it would not have mattered ofwhat she was accused; the blackest charges proved against her,--I wouldhave held her and fought the world for her, innocent or guilty. Ibelieved she loved me as I loved her--she refused to hear my story."
"Did she never know the truth?" asked Powell.
"Returned my ring, asked me to spare her the humiliation of talking tome. Yet, after I came here, I wrote telling her that the man in myautomobile with that woman, was not myself. You remember the newspapersspared the woman's name. She had a husband and child--eloping with thatcad, Brunton. Cheap machine broke down at two o'clock in the night. Irecognized them. Put 'em in my machine and told her to get back homebefore it was too late. Oh, she was ready enough then to be decent.Brunton took her to her door, then he went to his place, but that foolreporter saw the number of the machine, and wrote the story. You knowit. Woman's name kept out, my name not mentioned outright, butdescription sufficient to identify me beyond doubt. Couldn't sue thepaper, my lawyer said, and Brunton lit out for Europe. Rotten mess allaround.
"I wrote the full truth to Nell, begged a word from her as a man dyingof thirst begs for a drop of water. She never answered the letter. Ayear later I wrote again, and that one was returned unclaimed."
"You say that the second letter came back unclaimed," spoke Powell,"but, you have no proof that the first one ever reached her. Had youthought of that?"
"Yes. Both letters had my Arizona address on the envelope as well asinside. When I did not hear in reply to the first letter, and it was notreturned to me, I communicated with the Dead Letter Office, but no suchletter had been turned over to that department. The only logicalconclusion was that she did not wish to answer."
The doctor made no comment. Traynor's reasoning was too convincing forsuggestions.
"Yet, I made a second effort," went on the boss of the Diamond H. "Afterthat, there was nothing more to do but accept the situation. Now youknow the truth, Cuthbert. No other woman will ever fill her place in mylife,--but, I cannot keep her out of my thoughts, day or night."
"I'm sorry I spoke, old man," answered the doctor.
"I'm glad you did," replied Traynor. "Now, you understand."
As the shadows lengthened on the prairie the two friends smoked andspoke of other things. And yet--both Traynor and Powell--and manyanother--had read with the careless glance of the unscathed, the accountof a train wreck in Kansas, in which the loss of life had beenappalling, and the loss of mail had not been mentioned.