Alcoholics -- Fiction; Children of the rich -- Fiction; Colorado -- Fiction; Love stories; Ranch life -- Fiction; Western stories
Then the other hand went up to the boy's other shoulder, and the little
old rancher shook young Danny Lenox gently, as though to joggle him
back to himself.
"I know, sonny," he said softly. "I know--" Then he turned away quickly
and smote his palms together with a sharp crack.
"Now get to bed. I'll finish these here boots to-night and in th'
mornin' we ride. If you're goin' to get to be a top hand, we've got to
quit foolin' around home an' get to learn th' country. They's a lot of
colts we got to brand an' a bunch of wild ones to gather. It means
work--lots of it--for you an' me!"
He set to work, busily thumping on the boot.
In the morning, Danny was subdued, subdued and shaking. The spontaneity
that had characterized his first days on the ranch had departed. He was
still eager for activity, but not for the sake of the new experiences
in themselves. That gnawing was again in his throat, tearing his flesh,
it seemed, and to still the trembling of his hand it was necessary for
him to clutch the saddle horn and keep his fingers clamped tightly
about it as they rode along.
They climbed out of the gulch, horses picking their way up an almost
impossible trail, and on a high ridge, where country rolled and tossed
about them for immeasurable distances, Jed stopped and pointed out the
directions to his companion.
Thirty miles to the south was Clear River with its string of ranches,
and the town of Ranger, their post office. Twenty miles to the
southeast was the S Bar S Ranch, the center of the country's cattle
activity, and over west, on Sand Creek, a dozen miles' ride across the
hills and double that distance by road, was another scattering of
ranches where Dick Worth, deputy sheriff for that end of Clear River
County, lived.
"An' to th' north of us," continued Jed, with a sweep of his hand,
"they's nothin' but hills--clean to Wyoming! We're on th' outskirts of
settlements. South of th' river it's all ranches, but north--nothin'.
Couple of summer camps but no ranches. It's a great get-away country,
all right!"
The riding was easy that day, and in spite of his stiffness Danny
wished it were harder, because the turmoil kept up within him, and even
the unbroken talk of Jed, giving him an intelligent, interesting idea
of the country, could not crowd out his disquieting thoughts.
But it was easier the next day, and Danny took a deep interest in the
hunt for a band of mares with colts that should be branded. Jed's low,
warning "H-s-s-t! There they are!" set his heart pounding wildly, and
he listened eagerly to the directions the old man gave him; then he
waited in high excitement while Jed circled and got behind the bunch.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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