Judith of Blue Lake Ranch | Page 7

mi se?orita, she ees the cross be tween a wild devil and a sweet saint, se?or Madre de Dios! I would go down to hell for her to bring back fire to warm her leetle feet een weenter!"
Lee went thoughtfully on his way to the bunk-house. The cook, an importation of Bayne Trevors, a big, upstanding fellow with bare arms covered with flour, was putting on the breakfast to which a dozen rough-garbed men were sitting down.
"I've got orders for you fellows," said Lee from the doorway. "The boss of the outfit, the real owner, you know, just blew in. Up at the house. Says you boys are to stick around to take orders straight from headquarters. You, Benny," to the cook, "are to have a man's-size breakfast ready in a jiffy."
Naturally Benny led the clamor with a string of oaths. What in blazes did the owner of the ranch have to show up for anyway?--he wanted to know. He accepted the fact as a personal affront. Who was this owner?--demanded Ward Hannon, the foreman of the lower ranch, where the alfalfa-fields were.
Bud Lee explained gravely that the newcomer was some sort of relative of old Luke Sanford, who had recently acquired a controlling interest in the ranch. Ward Hannon grunted contemptuously. "The Lord deliver us!" he moaned. "Eastern jasper! One of the know-all-about-it brand, huh, Bud? I'll bet he combs his hair in the middle and smokes cigareets out'n a box! The putty-headed loons can't even roll their own smokes."
"Don't believe," hazarded Lee indifferently, "from the looks of our visitor that--that the owner smokes anything!"
"Listen to that!" grunted Ward Hannon.
"Softy, huh?"
"Well," Bud admitted slowly, "looks sort of like a girl, you know!"
"Wouldn't that choke you?" demanded Carson, the cow foreman, a thin, awkward little man, gray in the service of "real men." "Taking orders off'n a fool Easterner's bad enough. But old man or young, Bud?"
"Just a kid," was Lee's further dampening news. And as he nonchalantly buttered his hotcakes he added carelessly: "Something of a scrapper, though. Just put two thirty-two calibers into Trevors."
They stared at him incredulously. Then Carson's dry cackle led the laughter.
"You're the biggest liar, Bud Lee," said the old man good-naturedly, "I ever focussed my two eyes on. I'll lay an even bet there ain't nobody showed a-tall up this morning."
"You, Tommy," said Lee to the boy at his side, "shovel your grub down lively and go hitch Molly and old Pie-face to the buckboard. That's orders from headquarters," he grinned. "Trevors is to be hauled away first thing."
Tommy looked curiously at his superior. "On the level, Bud?" he asked doubtingly.
"On the level, laddie," was the quiet response.
And young Burkitt, wondering, but doubting no longer, hastened with his breakfast.
The others, looking at Lee's sober face questioningly, fired a broadside of inquiries at him. But they got no further information.
"I've told you boys all the news," he announced positively. "Lordy! Isn't that an earful for this time of day? The real boss is on the job: Trevors is winged; you are to stick around for orders from headquarters. If you want to know any more'n that, why--just go up to the house and ask your blamed questions."
Out of the tail of his eye he saw the swift approach of Bayne Trevors. The general manager's face was black with rage and through that dark wrath showed a dull red flush of shame. He walked with his two arms lax at his sides.
"Give me a cup of coffee, Ben," he commanded curtly, slumping into a chair. "Hurry!"
Benny, looking at him curiously, brought a steaming cup and offered it. Trevors moved to lift a hand; then sank back a little farther in his chair, his face twisting in his pain.
"Put some milk in it," he snarled. "Then hold it to my mouth. For the love of Heaven, hurry, man!"
Then no man there doubted longer the mad tale Bud Lee had brought them. Down from Trevors's sleeves, staining each hand, there had come a broadening trickle of blood. Trevors set his teeth and waited. Benny at last cooled the coffee and held it to his lips. Trevors drank swiftly, draining the cup.
"Get this coat off me," he commanded. "Curse you, don't tear my arms off! Slit the sleeves."
Benny's big, razor-edged butcher-knife cut away coat and shirt sleeves. And at last, to the eager gaze of the men in the bunk-house, there appeared the two wounds, one upon the outer right shoulder, the other upon the left forearm.
It was Lee who, pushing the clumsy cook aside, silently made the two bandages from strips of Trevors's shirt. It was Lee who brought a flask of brandy from which Trevors drank deep.
And then came Judith.
They stared at her as they might have done had the heavens opened and an angel come down,