Frontier and pioneer life -- Idaho -- Fiction; Siblings -- Fiction; Western stories
"Go on," she ordered. "I couldn't let you lie out here and starve, even
if Ludlum can. How any man can turn a herd of cattle into the hills and
not know or care what happens to them for weeks and months is more than
I can comprehend. Come! Move along there."
Thus adjured, and helped by an occasional flick of the rawhide, the
calf moved ahead until within sight of the gate. Harry was just about
to get down and open it, when the pony gave a jerk and looked sidewise,
and Harry had a glimpse of an old felt hat moving behind a ledge of
lava that had jutted from the scab land. Riding forward, she came face
to face with Joe Biane. He had climbed up through one of the fissures
and stood leaning carelessly against the rocks, with his hands behind
him. A mischievous smile curled his lips.
"Morning, Joe!" she said. "Will you open the gate for me?"
Joe did not move. Astonished, she waited a moment. Then she noticed
that he was hiding his hands. Her lips curved in a comprehending smile.
"You needn't be afraid!" she exclaimed. "I won't look at the birds
you're hiding. I realize it's useless to try to protect them from you."
Joe neither answered nor moved. His derisive grin widened; he looked at
the calf and inquired, "Lost another critter, have you?"
"Another calf? This isn't ours that I know of. I found it starving
outside, and I'm bringing it in to feed it."
"Sure. Of course you want to save it." Joe snickered, and then, to her
astonishment, he burst into a rude laugh and moved back among the lava
ridges out of sight.
Harry watched him. He had shifted his hands quickly; nevertheless,
she had caught a gleam of something. "His shotgun, of course," she
decided. She felt oddly irritated by his impudent stare and laughter.
What did he mean by saying "of course" she wanted to save the calf?
"It's just his fresh way of talking," Rob said at noon, when she had
described the incident to him. "He may think you expect a reward from
Ludlum for feeding it. It may be ours, of course, though I don't see
where the cow can be. We'll have to wait until to-night when the milk
cows come in to see if any of them claim this one. It looks too poor to
be ours, I think. Any time Ludlum's riders come looking for strays, we
can show them these two and let them decide."
"Don't you think we should round our critters up and count them?" Harry
suggested. "It's a long time since we've been over the yearlings and
steers, and we may be losing more of them. Those two haven't turned up
yet."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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