VIf ever a man looked worried, it was Joe Kipp. Every feature of his tanned face was drawn and haggard. His eyes were bloodshot and seared with some tortuous pain. His hands shook so that he spilled the tobacco he was pouring into a brown paper.“Pete was a sorter trusty at Deer Lodge,” he went on to explain. “He waited till the chance come, then made a clean getaway. He was gone two hours afore they found it out. I got orders tuh watch out fer him, Hank. Yuh see, they figger he’ll be showin’ up around these parts.”“Look here, Joe Kipp,” said Ma Basset firmly, her eyes still wet, “I don’t intend to sit by with my hands in my lap while you or any other man is gunnin’ fer my Pete. Yo’re a law officer and there’s no way to keep yuh from hangin’ around here, but I’m givin’ yuh warnin’ here and now that no man kin take Pete while I kin hold a gun.”She turned to her husband.“Hank, I’m glad the boy’s loose and a breathin’ good clean air again. He ain’t goin’ back if I kin help it. Are you standin’ by yore wife and son er do you line up on the side uh the law that sends innocent boys tuh prison? Are yuh——”“Hush, Ma, yo’re excited,” interrupted Hank. “Uh course, I’m stayin’ by Pete, right er wrong. But there’s no need tuh——”Ma Basset sent him a withering glance and whirled on the uncomfortable sheriff.“If you was as eager tuh git back them stolen cattle as yuh are tuh shoot our Pete boy, we’d not be facin’ poverty in our old age. It’s a wonder tuh me that you got the nerve tuh show yore face on this ranch, Joe Kipp.”The sheriff winced as if struck. Shoulders sagging, eyes fixed on the ground, he made no reply. Tad and Shorty, unwilling spectators, were heartily wishing themselves elsewhere.A mother cat will face a dog fifty times her size in defense of her young. Face him without fear. Men call it mother instinct and there is in this life no more courageous, more self-sacrificing, nor more beautiful trait. Not a man there but respected Ma Basset for the stand she took, Joe Kipp included.“Ma’am,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the ground, “I don’t reckon I blame yuh none fer the way yuh feel. But yo’re plumb wrong about me gunnin’ fer Pete Basset. No matter how the play comes up. I ain’t drawin’ no gun on him if I should cut his trail. If I was as onery as you figger I am, I’d uh kept my mouth shet and laid low till Pete showed up. My idee in ridin’ over was tuh kinda let yuh know it in time tuh warn him. In doin’ that I’m violatin’ my oath uh office.”Kipp turned abruptly and swung into his saddle. Before Hank Basset or his wife could say a word, he had ridden through the pole gate and was lost to sight in the trees.“I’d orter have my tongue cut out,” said Ma Basset contritely. “Talkin’ to the pore ol’ feller thataway when he was doin’ us a good turn. Hank, git on yore hoss and ketch him. Tell him I was jest a fool woman talkin’ a lot uh fool nonsense.”Hank shook his head.“I reckon ol’ Joe savvys, Ma. He ain’t holdin’ no grudge. Supposin’ we tackles some grub? It’s past sundown and we kin talk this thing over better after we’ve took on a bait uh beef and beans.”He jerked the saddle off his horse and followed his wife to the house.“Holler when supper’s ready, Hank,” Tad told him. “Me’n Shorty wants tuh tack a shoe on one of our hosses.”Hank nodded appreciatively. He knew that there was no horse to shoe and he thanked Tad with a look for the kindly lie that gave him and his wife a chance to discuss in private the escape of their son.When Hank had gone in the house, Tad turned serious eyes on his partner.“Shorty, I got a hunch that Joe Kipp’s a worryin’ over somethin’ besides this Pete gent. He’s sick inside as if he was gut shot and I aim tuh find out what’s eatin’ on him. Yuh seen how he flinched when Miz Basset lit on him?”“Yuh don’t think the ol’ feller’s playin’ a double game do yuh, Tad?” Shorty’s voice dropped to a whisper.“I hate tuh be thinkin’ he’s that ornary, but dang me if there ain’t some things about this deal that has me guessin’. I’m goin’ tuh foller Kipp and see what comes uh it. Tell Hank and Miz Basset some durned lie er another about why I rode off. Look fer me when yuh see me ride through yonder gate,sabe? This may be a hour’s job, er on the other hand, mebbe so it’ll take a week.”“Why can’t we both go?”“Because, my well-meanin’ but plumb onsenselessamigo, it’s a one man job, this trailin’ business. Stick around here, keep yore eyes peeled, and if the Pete boy shows up, tell him not tuh quit the flats till I show up and kin make a medicine talk with him. This deal has my curious bump a-itchin’ and we’ll see ’er through, no?”“I’d tell a man. Taddie, ol’ war hoss, I’m rearin’ tuh tackle that river from yon side and——”“Of all the plumb dehorned, knee-sprung, narrer-foreheaded idiots that ever dealt his pardner misery, yo’re the wust! We ain’t here tuh do no fightin’, dang it. And I don’t want tuh put in the rest uh the summer hangin’ around them sand bars waitin’ fer yore fool carcass tuh come floatin’ along. Haze that fool idee plumb outa yore system and start all over on some plan that listens sensible.“A man ’ud think yuh had more lives than a tom cat. Fork yore geldin’ and come down the pasture with me while I ketches me my Yaller Hammer pony. And git this here idee circulatin’ through yore system, son: We’re peaceful cow hands, me and you. This ain’t our scrap that’s goin’ on and the best we’ll git is the sharp end uh the prod-pole if we cuts in heavy.“Leave the thinkin’ parts tuh yore pardner. If I hollers fer he’p, come a runnin’ but not lessen I hollers. We want tuh be all in one piece and enjoyin’ health and prosperity, as the sayin’ goes, when we presses our ponies fer Arizony this fall. Keep yore tongue between yore jaws and yore gun in the scabbard and we stand a fair tuh middlin’ show uh makin’ our home range, come Christmas. Go rearin’ and fightin’ yore head and like as not we’ll winter in a two by four hoosegow somewheres in Montana.”Ten minutes later, Shorty watched his partner ride his fresh horse out the pole gate and along the trail Kipp had taken. A wide grin spread across the little cow puncher’s weather-tanned face.“Yuh long-legged preacher,” he muttered good humoredly. “Yo’re plumb —— on givin’ forth wise words, ain’t yuh? Yuh give more danged advice than a Jersey cow gives milk. Then yuh rides away tuh hog all the fun whilst I hangs around the kitchen door like a dad-gummed blowfly and whittles sticks till yuh chooses tuh come back. Now I gotta go in there and lie tuh cover yore trail, dang yuh. We’ll see about swimmin’ that river, big ’un.”“Grub pile!” called Hank from the kitchen door, thus putting an end to Shorty’s muttered tirade against the tyranny of his big partner.A wicked look gleamed in his eyes as he made his way to the cabin.“Where’s yore partner?” asked Ma Basset.“Gone,” said Shorty, shaking his head sadly.“Gone? Gone where?”“Tuh town, I reckon, ma’am. I done the best I could tuh stop him but ’twan’t no use. Yuh see, Miz Basset, he’s one uh these here habitual drunks. Goes fer months without tetchin’ a drop. Then, sudden like, he jest busts out. He’ll swim rivers, climb pinnacles, go afoot if he has tuh, till he locates licker. Then he bogs down till he’s soaked up enough tuh kill ary ten men, forks his hoss and comes back. And the queer part of it is, he looks cold sober all the time. I bet a new hat yuh won’t be able tuh tell he’s had a drink when he gits back.”“Land sakes! The pore, diseased critter. Who’d uh thunk he was inflicted thataway, Hank? I hope he gits home safe.”Hank gave Shorty a suspicious look and when Ma Basset’s broad back was turned, the little puncher winked broadly. Hank chuckled.“Hank Basset!” Ma whirled at the sound. “Shame on yuh. Makin’ fun uh that pore, diseased boy. If that ain’t like a man. Cow punchers is the most cold-hearted humans livin’, I do believe.”“Yes’m,” agreed Hank. “Shorty, if yuh’d crave the use of a brush and comb, I’ll herd yuh to it.”He led the way into the living room and to the bed room beyond. As he passed the cupboard, his hand slipped behind the curtain and when the two gained the bed room, Hank uncorked the bottle of snake bite cure.“Happy days, Hank.”“Drink hearty, Shorty,” came the reply, soft whispered, barely audible above the ensuing gurgling noise.
If ever a man looked worried, it was Joe Kipp. Every feature of his tanned face was drawn and haggard. His eyes were bloodshot and seared with some tortuous pain. His hands shook so that he spilled the tobacco he was pouring into a brown paper.
“Pete was a sorter trusty at Deer Lodge,” he went on to explain. “He waited till the chance come, then made a clean getaway. He was gone two hours afore they found it out. I got orders tuh watch out fer him, Hank. Yuh see, they figger he’ll be showin’ up around these parts.”
“Look here, Joe Kipp,” said Ma Basset firmly, her eyes still wet, “I don’t intend to sit by with my hands in my lap while you or any other man is gunnin’ fer my Pete. Yo’re a law officer and there’s no way to keep yuh from hangin’ around here, but I’m givin’ yuh warnin’ here and now that no man kin take Pete while I kin hold a gun.”
She turned to her husband.
“Hank, I’m glad the boy’s loose and a breathin’ good clean air again. He ain’t goin’ back if I kin help it. Are you standin’ by yore wife and son er do you line up on the side uh the law that sends innocent boys tuh prison? Are yuh——”
“Hush, Ma, yo’re excited,” interrupted Hank. “Uh course, I’m stayin’ by Pete, right er wrong. But there’s no need tuh——”
Ma Basset sent him a withering glance and whirled on the uncomfortable sheriff.
“If you was as eager tuh git back them stolen cattle as yuh are tuh shoot our Pete boy, we’d not be facin’ poverty in our old age. It’s a wonder tuh me that you got the nerve tuh show yore face on this ranch, Joe Kipp.”
The sheriff winced as if struck. Shoulders sagging, eyes fixed on the ground, he made no reply. Tad and Shorty, unwilling spectators, were heartily wishing themselves elsewhere.
A mother cat will face a dog fifty times her size in defense of her young. Face him without fear. Men call it mother instinct and there is in this life no more courageous, more self-sacrificing, nor more beautiful trait. Not a man there but respected Ma Basset for the stand she took, Joe Kipp included.
“Ma’am,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the ground, “I don’t reckon I blame yuh none fer the way yuh feel. But yo’re plumb wrong about me gunnin’ fer Pete Basset. No matter how the play comes up. I ain’t drawin’ no gun on him if I should cut his trail. If I was as onery as you figger I am, I’d uh kept my mouth shet and laid low till Pete showed up. My idee in ridin’ over was tuh kinda let yuh know it in time tuh warn him. In doin’ that I’m violatin’ my oath uh office.”
Kipp turned abruptly and swung into his saddle. Before Hank Basset or his wife could say a word, he had ridden through the pole gate and was lost to sight in the trees.
“I’d orter have my tongue cut out,” said Ma Basset contritely. “Talkin’ to the pore ol’ feller thataway when he was doin’ us a good turn. Hank, git on yore hoss and ketch him. Tell him I was jest a fool woman talkin’ a lot uh fool nonsense.”
Hank shook his head.
“I reckon ol’ Joe savvys, Ma. He ain’t holdin’ no grudge. Supposin’ we tackles some grub? It’s past sundown and we kin talk this thing over better after we’ve took on a bait uh beef and beans.”
He jerked the saddle off his horse and followed his wife to the house.
“Holler when supper’s ready, Hank,” Tad told him. “Me’n Shorty wants tuh tack a shoe on one of our hosses.”
Hank nodded appreciatively. He knew that there was no horse to shoe and he thanked Tad with a look for the kindly lie that gave him and his wife a chance to discuss in private the escape of their son.
When Hank had gone in the house, Tad turned serious eyes on his partner.
“Shorty, I got a hunch that Joe Kipp’s a worryin’ over somethin’ besides this Pete gent. He’s sick inside as if he was gut shot and I aim tuh find out what’s eatin’ on him. Yuh seen how he flinched when Miz Basset lit on him?”
“Yuh don’t think the ol’ feller’s playin’ a double game do yuh, Tad?” Shorty’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“I hate tuh be thinkin’ he’s that ornary, but dang me if there ain’t some things about this deal that has me guessin’. I’m goin’ tuh foller Kipp and see what comes uh it. Tell Hank and Miz Basset some durned lie er another about why I rode off. Look fer me when yuh see me ride through yonder gate,sabe? This may be a hour’s job, er on the other hand, mebbe so it’ll take a week.”
“Why can’t we both go?”
“Because, my well-meanin’ but plumb onsenselessamigo, it’s a one man job, this trailin’ business. Stick around here, keep yore eyes peeled, and if the Pete boy shows up, tell him not tuh quit the flats till I show up and kin make a medicine talk with him. This deal has my curious bump a-itchin’ and we’ll see ’er through, no?”
“I’d tell a man. Taddie, ol’ war hoss, I’m rearin’ tuh tackle that river from yon side and——”
“Of all the plumb dehorned, knee-sprung, narrer-foreheaded idiots that ever dealt his pardner misery, yo’re the wust! We ain’t here tuh do no fightin’, dang it. And I don’t want tuh put in the rest uh the summer hangin’ around them sand bars waitin’ fer yore fool carcass tuh come floatin’ along. Haze that fool idee plumb outa yore system and start all over on some plan that listens sensible.
“A man ’ud think yuh had more lives than a tom cat. Fork yore geldin’ and come down the pasture with me while I ketches me my Yaller Hammer pony. And git this here idee circulatin’ through yore system, son: We’re peaceful cow hands, me and you. This ain’t our scrap that’s goin’ on and the best we’ll git is the sharp end uh the prod-pole if we cuts in heavy.
“Leave the thinkin’ parts tuh yore pardner. If I hollers fer he’p, come a runnin’ but not lessen I hollers. We want tuh be all in one piece and enjoyin’ health and prosperity, as the sayin’ goes, when we presses our ponies fer Arizony this fall. Keep yore tongue between yore jaws and yore gun in the scabbard and we stand a fair tuh middlin’ show uh makin’ our home range, come Christmas. Go rearin’ and fightin’ yore head and like as not we’ll winter in a two by four hoosegow somewheres in Montana.”
Ten minutes later, Shorty watched his partner ride his fresh horse out the pole gate and along the trail Kipp had taken. A wide grin spread across the little cow puncher’s weather-tanned face.
“Yuh long-legged preacher,” he muttered good humoredly. “Yo’re plumb —— on givin’ forth wise words, ain’t yuh? Yuh give more danged advice than a Jersey cow gives milk. Then yuh rides away tuh hog all the fun whilst I hangs around the kitchen door like a dad-gummed blowfly and whittles sticks till yuh chooses tuh come back. Now I gotta go in there and lie tuh cover yore trail, dang yuh. We’ll see about swimmin’ that river, big ’un.”
“Grub pile!” called Hank from the kitchen door, thus putting an end to Shorty’s muttered tirade against the tyranny of his big partner.
A wicked look gleamed in his eyes as he made his way to the cabin.
“Where’s yore partner?” asked Ma Basset.
“Gone,” said Shorty, shaking his head sadly.
“Gone? Gone where?”
“Tuh town, I reckon, ma’am. I done the best I could tuh stop him but ’twan’t no use. Yuh see, Miz Basset, he’s one uh these here habitual drunks. Goes fer months without tetchin’ a drop. Then, sudden like, he jest busts out. He’ll swim rivers, climb pinnacles, go afoot if he has tuh, till he locates licker. Then he bogs down till he’s soaked up enough tuh kill ary ten men, forks his hoss and comes back. And the queer part of it is, he looks cold sober all the time. I bet a new hat yuh won’t be able tuh tell he’s had a drink when he gits back.”
“Land sakes! The pore, diseased critter. Who’d uh thunk he was inflicted thataway, Hank? I hope he gits home safe.”
Hank gave Shorty a suspicious look and when Ma Basset’s broad back was turned, the little puncher winked broadly. Hank chuckled.
“Hank Basset!” Ma whirled at the sound. “Shame on yuh. Makin’ fun uh that pore, diseased boy. If that ain’t like a man. Cow punchers is the most cold-hearted humans livin’, I do believe.”
“Yes’m,” agreed Hank. “Shorty, if yuh’d crave the use of a brush and comb, I’ll herd yuh to it.”
He led the way into the living room and to the bed room beyond. As he passed the cupboard, his hand slipped behind the curtain and when the two gained the bed room, Hank uncorked the bottle of snake bite cure.
“Happy days, Hank.”
“Drink hearty, Shorty,” came the reply, soft whispered, barely audible above the ensuing gurgling noise.