VI. SUNSHINE AND SHADOW

by Andy Adams

　　SUNSHINE AND SHADOWAn entire week passed, during which the boys were alone. A few herdswere still coming over the trail, but for lack of an advocate to plead,all hope of securing more cattle must be foregone. Forrest had onlytaken his saddle, abandoning for the present all fixtures contributedfor his comfort on arriving at the homestead, including the horses ofhis employers. The lads were therefore left an abundance of mounts, allcattle were drifted above the ranch, and plans for the futureconsidered.Winter must be met and confronted. "We must have forage for our saddlehorses," said Joel to his brother, the evening after Forrest'sdeparture. "The rain has helped our corn until it will make fodder, butthat isn't enough. Pa cut hay in this valley, and I know where I can mowa ton any morning. Mr. Quince said we'd have to stable a saddle horseapiece this winter, and those mules will have to be fed. The grass hasgreened up since the rain, and it will be no trick at all to make tento fifteen tons of hay. Help me grind the scythe, and we'll put in everyspare hour haying. While you ride around the cattle every morning, Ican mow."A farm training proved an advantage to the boys. Before coming West,their father had owned a mowing machine, but primitive methods prevailedon the frontier, and he had been compelled to use a scythe in his hayingoperations. Joel swung the blade like a veteran, scattering his swath tocure in the sun, and with whetstone on steel, beat a frequent tattoo.The raking into windrows and shocking at evening was an easy task forthe brothers, no day passing but the cured store was added to, untilsufficient was accumulated to build a stack. That was a task which triedtheir mettle, but once met and overcome, it fortified their courage tomeet other ordeals."I wish Mr. Quince could see that stack of hay," admiringly said Dell,on the completion of the first effort. "There must be five tons in it.And it's as round as an apple. I can't remember when I've worked so hardand been so hungry. No wonder the Texan despises any work he can't do onhorseback. But just the same, they're dear, good fellows. I wish Mr.Quince could live with us always. He's surely a good forager."The demand for range was accented anew. One evening two strangers rodeup the creek and asked for a night's lodging. They were made welcome,and proved to be Texas cowmen, father and son, in search of pasturagefor a herd of through cattle. There was an open frankness about thewayfarers that disarmed every suspicion of wrong intent, and thebrothers met their inquiries with equal candor."And you lads are Wells Brothers?" commented the father, in kindlygreeting. "We saw your notice, claiming this range, at the trailcrossing, and followed your wagon track up the creek. Unless the marketimproves, we must secure range for three thousand two-year-old steers.Well, we'll get acquainted, anyhow."The boys naturally lacked commercial experience in their new occupation.The absence of Forrest was sorely felt, and only the innate kindness ofthe guests allayed all feeling of insecurity. As the evening wore on,the old sense of dependence brought the lads in closer touch with thestrangers, the conversation running over the mutual field of range andcattle matters."What is the reason," inquired Joel, "that so many cattle are leavingyour State for the upper country?""The reasons are numerous and valid," replied the older cowman. "It'sthe natural outgrowth or expansion of the pastoral interests of ourState. Before the opening of the trail, for years and years, Texasclamored for an outlet for its cattle. Our water supply was limited, theState is subject to severe drouth, the cattle were congesting on ourranges, with neither market inquiry or demand. The subjection of theIndian was followed by a sudden development of the West, the Texas andMontana cattle trail opened, and the pastoral resources of our Statesurprised the world. Last year we sent eight hundred thousand cattleover the trail, and they were not missed at home. That's the reason I'myour guest to-night; range has suddenly become valuable in Texas.""There is also an economic reason for the present exodus of cattle,"added the young man. "Our State is a natural breeding ground, but wecan't mature into marketable beef. Nearly twenty years' experience hasproven that a northern climate is necessary to fatten and bring ourTexas cattle to perfect maturity. Two winters in the North will insure again of from three to four hundred pounds' extra weight more per headthan if allowed to reach maturity on their native heath. This gainfully doubles the value of every hoof, and is a further motive why weare your guests to-night; we are looking for a northern range on whichto mature our steer cattle."The boys were grasping the fact that in their range they had an asset ofvalue. Less than two months before, they were on the point of abandoningtheir home as worthless, not capable of sustaining life, the stone whichthe builders rejected, and now it promised a firm foundation to theirfuture hopes. The threatened encroachment of a few weeks previous, andthe causes of demand, as explained by their guests, threw a new light onrange values and made the boys doubly cautious. Was there a possibletide in the primitive range, which taken at its flood would lead thesewaifs to fortune?The next morning the guests insisted on looking over the upper valley ofthe Beaver."In the first place," said the elder Texan, "let it be understood thatwe respect your rights to this range. If we can reach some mutualagreement, by purchase or rental, good enough, but not by any form ofintrusion. We might pool our interests for a period of years, and therental would give you lads a good schooling. There are many advantagesthat might accrue by pooling our cattle. At least, there is no harm inlooking over the range.""They can ride with me as far as Hackberry Grove," said Dell. "None ofour cattle range over a mile above the springs, and from there I cannearly point out the limits of our ranch.""You are welcome to look over the range," assentingly said Joel, "butonly on condition that any agreement reached must be made with Mr.Quince Forrest, now at Dodge.""That will be perfectly agreeable," said the older cowman. "No one musttake any advantage of you boys."The trio rode away, with Dell pointing out around the homestead thedifferent beaver dams in the meanderings of the creek. Joel resumed hismowing, and near noon sighted a cavalcade of horses coming down the dimroad which his father used in going to Culbertson. A wagon followed, andfrom its general outlines the boy recognized it to be a cow outfit,heading for their improvements. Hastening homeward, he found PaulPriest, the gray-haired foreman, who had passed northward nearly twomonths before, sitting under the sunshade before the tent."Howdy, bud," said Priest languidly in greeting. "Now, let methink--Howdy, Joel!"No prince could have been more welcome. The men behind the boys hadbeen sadly missed, and the unexpected appearance of Priest filled everywant. "Sit down," said the latter. "First, don't bother about gettingany dinner; my outfit will make camp on the creek, and we'll have alittle spread. Yes, I know; Forrest's in Dodge; old man Don told me heneeded him. Where's your brother?""Dell's gone up the creek with some cowmen from Texas," admitted Joel."They're looking for a range. I told them any agreement reached must bemade with Mr. Quince. But now that you are here, you will do just aswell. They'll be in soon.""I'm liable to tell them to ride on," said the gray-haired foreman. "I'mjealous, and I want it distinctly understood that I'm a silent partnerin this ranch. How many cattle have you?""Nearly three hundred and fifty, not counting the calves.""Forrest only rustled you three hundred and fifty cattle? The lazywretch--he ought to be hung for ingratitude!""Oh, no," protested Joel; "Mr. Quince has been a father to Dell andmyself.""Wait until I come back from Dodge, and I'll show you what a rustler Iam," said Priest, arising to give his horse to the wrangler and issuedirections in regard to camping.The arrival of Dell and the cowmen prevented further converse betweenPriest and his protégé. For the time being a soldier's introductionsufficed between the Texans, but Dell came in for a rough caress. "Whatdo you think of the range?" inquired the trail foreman, turning to themen, and going direct to the subject."It meets every requirement for ranching," replied the elder cowman,"and I'm going to make these boys a generous offer.""This man will act for us," said Joel to the two cowmen, with a jerk ofhis thumb toward Priest."Well, that's good," said the older man, advancing to Priest. "My nameis Allen, and this is my son Hugh.""And my name is Priest, a trail foreman in the employ of Don Lovell,"said the gray-haired man, shaking hands with the Texans."Mr. Lovell was expected in Dodge the day we left," remarked the youngerman in greeting. "We had hopes of selling him our herd.""What is your county?" inquired the trail boss, searching his pocketsfor a telegram."Comanche.""And when did you leave Dodge?""Just ten days ago.""Then you need no range--your cattle are sold," said Priest, handing theolder man a telegram.The two scanned the message carefully, and the trail foreman continued:"This year my herd was driven to fill a sub-contract, and we deliveredit last week at old Camp Clark, on the North Platte. From there the maincontractor will trail the beef herd up to the Yellowstone. Old man Donwas present at the delivery, and when I got back to Ogalalla with theoufit, that message was awaiting me. I'm now on my way to Dodge toreceive the cattle. They go to the old man's beef ranch on the LittleMissouri. It says three thousand Comanche County two-year-olds,don't it?""It's our cattle," said the son to his father. "We have the onlystraight herd of Comanche County two-year-olds at Dodge City. Thatcommission man said he would sell them before we got back."The elder Texan turned to the boys with a smile. "I reckon we'll have todeclare all negotiations off regarding this range. I had several goodoffers to make you, and I'm really sorry at this turn of events. I hadfigured out a leasing plan, whereby the rentals of this range wouldgive you boys a fine schooling, and revert to you on the eldestattaining his majority. We could have pooled our cattle, and yourinterests would have been carried free.""You needn't worry about these boys," remarked Priest, with an air ofinterest; "they have silent partners. As to schooling, I've known somemighty good men who never punched the eyes out of the owl in their oldMcGuffy spelling-book."A distant cry of dinner was wafted up the creek. "That's a welcomecall," said Priest, arising. "Come on, everybody. My cook has orders totear his shirt in getting up a big dinner."A short walk led to the camp. "This outfit looks good to me," said theelder cowman to Priest, "and you can count on my company to therailroad.""You're just the man I'm looking for," replied the trail boss. "We'remaking forty miles a day, and you can have charge until we reach Dodge.""But I only volunteered as far as the railroad," protested the genialTexan."Yes; but then I know you cowmen," contended Priest. "You have livedaround a wagon so long and love cow horses so dearly, that you simplycan't quit my outfit to ride on a train. Two o'clock is the hour forstarting, and I'll overtake you before evening."The outfit had been reduced to six men, the remainder having beenexcused and sent home from Ogalalla. The remuda was in fine condition,four changes of mounts a day was the rule, and on the hour named, thecavalcade moved out, leaving its foreman behind. "Angle across the plainand enter the trail on the divide, between here and the Prairie Dog,"suggested Priest to his men. "We will want to touch here coming back,and the wagon track will point the way. Mr. Allen will act as segundo."Left to themselves, the trio resolved itself into a ways and meanscommittee. "I soldiered four years," said Priest to the boys, once thesunshade was reached, "and there's nothing that puts spirit and courageinto the firing line like knowing that the reserves are strong. It'sgoing to be no easy task to hold these cattle this winter, and now isthe time to bring up the ammunition and provision the camp. The armycan't march unless the mules are in condition, and you must be wellmounted to handle cattle. Ample provision for your saddle stock is thefirst requirement.""We're putting up a ton of hay a day," said Joel, "and we'll have twohundred shocks of fodder.""That's all right for rough forage, but you must have corn for yoursaddle stock," urged the man. "Without grain for the mounts, cavalry isuseless. I think the railroad supplies, to settlers along its line,coal, lumber, wire, and other staples at cost. I'll make inquiryto-morrow and let you know when we return. One hundred bushels of cornwould make the forage reserves ample for the winter.""We've got money enough to buy it," admitted Joel. "I didn't want totake it, but Mr. Quince said it would come in handy.""That covers the question of forage, then," said Priest. "Now comes thequestion of corrals and branding.""Going to brand the calves?" impulsively inquired Dell, jumping atconclusions."The calves need not be branded before next spring," replied thepractical man, "but the herd must be branded this fall. If a blizzardstruck the cattle on the open, they would drift twenty miles during anight. These through Texas cattle have been known to drift five hundredmiles during the first winter. You must guard against a winter drift,and the only way is to hold your cattle under herd. If you boys letthese cattle out of your hand, away from your control, they'll driftsouth to the Indian reservations and be lost. You must hold them inspite of storms, and you will need a big, roomy inclosure in which tocorral the herd at night.""There's the corn field," suggested Dell."It has no shelter," objected Priest. "Your corral must protect againstthe north and west winds.""The big bend's the place," said Joel. "The creek makes a perfecthorseshoe, with bluff banks almost twenty feet high on the north andnorthwest. One hundred yards of fencing would inclose five acres. Ourcows used to shelter there. It's only a mile above the house.""What's the soil, and how about water?" inquired the gray-hairedforeman, arising."It's a sand-bar, with a ripple and two long pools in the circle of thecreek," promptly replied Joel."Bring in the horses," said Priest, looking at his watch; "I'll havetime to look it over before leaving."While awaiting the horses, the practical cowman outlined to Joel certainalterations to the corral at the stable, which admitted of the additionof a branding chute. "You must cut and haul the necessary posts andtimber before my return, and when we pass north, my outfit will buildyou a chute and brand your cattle the same day. Have the materials onthe ground, and I'll bring any needful hardware from the railroad."A short canter brought the committee to the big bend. The sand-bar wasovergrown with weeds high as a man's shoulder on horseback, but theleader, followed by the boys, forced his mount through the tangle untilthe bend was circled. "It's an ideal winter shelter," said Priest,dismounting to step the entrance, as a preliminary measurement. "Ahundred and ten yards," he announced, a few minutes later, "coon-skinmeasurement. You'll need twenty heavy posts and one hundred stays. I'llbring you a roll of wire. That water's everything; a thirsty cow chillseasily. Given a dry bed and contented stomach, in this corral your herdcan laugh at any storm. It's almost ready made, and there's nothingniggardly about its proportions.""When will we put the cattle under herd?" inquired Dell as the trio rodehomeward."Oh, about the second snowstorm," replied Priest. "After squaw winter'sover, there's usually a month to six weeks of Indian summer. It might beas late as the first of December, but it's a good idea to loose-herdawhile; ride around them evening and morning, corral them and leave thegates open, teach them to seek a dry, cosy bed, at least a month beforeputting the cattle under close-herd. Teach them to drink in the corral,and then they'll want to come home. You boys will just about have tolive with your little herd this winter.""We wintered here once," modestly said Joel, "and I'm sure we can do itagain. The storms are the only thing to dread, and we can weather them.""Of course you can," assured the trail boss. "It's a ground-hog case;it's hold these cattle or the Indians will eat them for you. Lost duringone storm, and your herd is lost for good.""And about horses: will one apiece be enough?" queried Joel. "Mr. Quincethought two stabled ones would do the winter herding.""One corn-fed pony will do the work of four grass horses," replied thecowman. "Herding is no work for horses, provided you spare them. If youmust, miss your own dinner, but see that your horse gets his. Dismountand strip the bridle off at every chance, and if you guard againstgetting caught out in storms, one horse apiece is all you need."On reaching the homestead, Priest shifted his saddle to a horse inwaiting, and announced his regrets at being compelled to limit hisvisit. "It may be two weeks before I return," said he, leading his horsefrom the corral to the tent, "but we'll point in here and lend a hand inshaping you up for winter. Forrest is liable to have a herd of his own,and in that case, there will be two outfits of men. More than likely,we'll come through together."Hurried as he professed to be, the trail foreman pottered around as iftime was worthless, but finally mounted. "Now the commissary isprovisioned," said he, in summing up the situation, "to stand a winter'ssiege, the forage is ample, the corral and branding chute is halfdone--well, I reckon we're the boys to hold a few cattle. Honest Injun,I hope it will storm enough this winter to try you out; just to see whatkind of thoroughbreds you really are. And if any one else offers to buyan interest in this range," he called back, as a happy afterthought,"just tell them that you have all the partners you need."