Bunch Grass: A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle RanchVachell, Horace Annesley
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Bunch Grass: A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch
Vachell, Horace Annesley
Ranching -- California -- Fiction; Short stories, English; Western stories
"I've somethin' to tell ye, Mandy," said Mr. Roberts, some ten months
later. I feel kind o' mean, too. But I done it for you; for love o'
you, Mandy."
"Yes, Nal; what is it?"
They had been married a fortnight.
"Ye remember when the old man had the fit in the timer's box? Well,
that knocked me galley-west. I felt a reg'ler murderer. But when he'd
braced up, an began makin' himself hateful over our weddin', I felt
glad that I'd done what I done."
"And what had you done, Nal, dear?"
"Hold on, Mandy, I'm tellin' this. Ye see, he promised to sell ye to
me for two thousand dollars cash. But when I tendered him the coin, he
went back on me. He was the meanest, the ornariest----"
"Hush, Nal, he's dead now."
"You bet he is, or we wouldn't be sittin' here."
They were comfortably installed upon the porch of the old adobe. A
smell of paint tainted the air, and some shavings and odds and ends of
lumber betrayed a recent visit from the carpenter. The house, in
short, had been placed in thorough repair. A young woman with fifty
thousand dollars in her own right can afford to spend a little money
upon her home.
"He wouldn't take the coin," continued Nal, "he said I'd robbed him of
it, an' so I had."
"Oh, Nal!"
"It was this way, Mandy. Ye remember the trial, an' how you give the
snap away. Well I studied over it, an' finally I concluded to jest dig
up the half-mile post, an' put it one hundred feet nearer home. I took
considerable chances but not a soul suspicioned the change. The next
night I put it back again. The old man timed the colt an' so did I.
_Fifty-one seconds!_ I knew my filly could do the whole half-mile
in that. Comet's second dam was a bronco, an' that will tell! But I
wanted to make your grandfather bet his wad. He never could resist a
sure-shot bet, never. That's all."
Amanda looked deep into his laughing eyes.
"He was willing to sell me, his own flesh and blood," she murmured
dreamily. "I think, Nal, you served him just about right, but I wish,
don't get mad, Nal, I wish that--er--someone else had pulled up the
post!"
XVII
MINTIE
Mintie stood upon the porch of the old adobe, shading her brown eyes
from the sun, now declining out of stainless skies into the brush-
hills to the west of the ranch. The hand shading the eyes trembled;
the red lips were pressed together; faint lines upon the brow and
about the mouth indicated anxiety, and possibly fear. A trapper would
have recognised in the expression of the face a watchful intensity or
apprehension common to all animals who have reason to know themselves
to be the prey of others.
Suddenly a shot rang out, repeating itself in echoes from the cañon
behind the house. Mintie turned pale, and then laughed derisively.
"Gee!" she exclaimed. "How easy scairt I am!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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