Historical fiction; Ranch life -- Fiction; Western stories
On the other hand, Forrest lightened all depression of spirits. "Don't
worry," said he to the boys. "Just as sure as water runs and grass
grows, I'll come over this trail again. So far in life, I've never done
any good for myself, and I'm going to play this hand out and see if you
lads land on your feet. Now, don't get the idea that I've done any great
feat in rustling you boys a few cows. It's one of the laws of life, that
often we can do for others what we can't do for ourselves. That sounds
like preaching, but it isn't. Actually, I'm ashamed of myself, that I
didn't get you double the number of cattle. What we did skirmish
together was merely the flotsam of the trail, the crumbs that fall from
the supper table, and all obligations to me are overpaid. If I could
have had just a few tears on tap, with that hospital talk, and you boys
being poor and orphans--shucks! I must be getting doty--that plea was
good for a thousand strays and cripples!"
The brothers took courage. So far their chief asset was a fine range.
Nearly three hundred and fifty cattle, imperfect as the titles to many
of them were, had been secured and were occupying the valley. A round
dozen cow ponies, worthless for the present, but which in time would
round into form, were added to the new ranch. Every passing commissary
had laughed at the chance to discard its plunder and useless staples,
and only the departure of the man behind the venture, standing in the
shadow as it were, threw a depression over the outlook.
Funds, with which to pay his reckoning, had been left with Forrest. The
boys had forgotten the original agreement, and it was only with tact and
diplomacy that a snug sum, against his protest and embarrassment, was
forced on Joel. "It don't come off me," said the departing man, "and it
may come handy with you. There's a long winter ahead, and the fight
ain't near won yet. The first year in starting a ranch is always the
hardest. But if you boys can only hold these cattle until grass comes
again, it's the making of you. You know the boy is father to the man,
and if you are true-blue seed corn--well, I'll bet on two ears to
the stock."
Forrest's enthusiasm tempered the parting. The start for the railroad
was made at daybreak, and in taking leave, each boy held a hand, shaking
it heartily from time to time, as if to ratify the general advice. "I'll
make Dodge in two days," said the departing guest, "and then I'll know
the meaning of this wire. It means something--that's sure. In the mean
time, sit square in your saddles, ride your range, and let the idea run
riot that you are cowmen. Plan, scheme, and devise for the future.
That's all until you hear from me or see my sign in the sky.
Adios, señors."
CHAPTER VI
SUNSHINE AND SHADOW
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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