Judith of Blue Lake Ranch | Page 3

as sharp
and quick as his eyes. "As if I didn't have enough to contend with
already!"
"Meaning young Hampton, I take it?" said Lee quietly.
Trevors nodded savagely.
"Telegram. Caught it over the line the last thing last night. We'll have
to sell some horses this time, Lee."
Lee's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "I didn't plan to do any selling for
six months yet," he said, not in expostulation but merely in explanation.
"They're not ready."
"How many three-year-olds have you got in your string in Big
Meadow?" asked Trevors crisply.
"Counting those eleven Red Duke colts?"
"Counting everything. How many?"
"Seventy-three."
The general manager's pencil wrote upon the pad in front of him "73,"
then swiftly multiplied it by 50. Lee saw the result, 3,650 set down with
the dollar sign in front of it. He said nothing.
"What would you say to fifty dollars a head for them?" asked Trevors,
whirling again in his swivel chair. "Three thousand six fifty for the
bunch?"
"I'd say the same," answered Lee deliberately, "that I'd say to a man

that offered me two bits for Daylight or Ladybird. I just naturally
wouldn't say anything at all."
"Who are Daylight and Ladybird?" demanded Trevors.
"They're two of my little horses," said Lee gently, "that no man's got the
money to buy."
Trevors smiled cynically. "What are the seventy-three colts worth
then?"
"Right now, when I'm just ready to break 'em in," said Bud Lee
thoughtfully, "the worst of that string is worth fifty dollars. I'd say
twenty of the herd ought to bring fifty dollars a head; twenty more
ought to bring sixty; ten are worth seventy-five; ten are worth an even
hundred; seven of the Red Duke stock are good for a hundred and a
quarter; the other four Red Dukes and the three Robert the Devils are
worth a hundred and fifty a head. The whole bunch, an easy fifty-seven
hundred little iron men. Which," he continued dryly, "is considerable
more than the thirty-six hundred you're talking about. And, give me six
months, and I'll boost that fifty-seven hundred. Lord, man, that chestnut
out of Black Babe by Hazard, is a real horse! Fifty dollars----"
He stared hard at Trevors a moment. And then, partially voicing the
thought with which he had grappled upon the corral gate, he added
meditatively: "There's something almighty peculiar about an outfit that
will listen to a man offer fifty bucks on a string like that."
His eyes, cool and steady, met Trevors's in a long look which was little
short of a challenge.
"Just how far does that go, Lee?" asked the manager curtly.
"As far as you like," replied the horse foreman coolly. "Are you going
to sell those three-year-olds for thirty-six hundred?"
"Yes," answered Trevors bluntly, "I am. What are you going to do
about it?"

"Ask for my time, I guess," and although his voice was gentle and even
pleasant, his eyes were hard. "I'll take my own little string and move
on.
"Curse it!" cried Trevors heatedly. "What difference does it make to
you? What business is it of yours how I sell? You draw down your
monthly pay, don't you? I raised you a notch last month without your
asking for it, didn't I?"
"That's so," agreed the foreman equably. "It's a cinch none of the boys
have any kick coming at the wages."
For a moment Trevors sat frowning up at Lee's inscrutable face. Then
he laughed shortly. "Look here, Bud," he said good-humoredly, an
obvious seriousness of purpose under the light tone. "I want to talk with
you before you do anything rash. Sit down." But Lee remained standing,
merely saying, "Shoot."
"I wonder," explained Trevors, "if the boys understand just the size of
the job I've got in my hands? You know that the ranch is a
million-dollar outfit; you know that you can ride fifteen miles without
getting off the home-range; you know that we are doing a dozen
different kinds of farming and stock-raising. But you don't know just
how short the money is! There's that young idiot now, Hampton. He
holds a third interest and I've got to consider what he says, even if he is
a weak-minded, inbred pup that can't do anything but spend an
inheritance like the born fool he is. His share is mortgaged; I've tried to
pay the mortgage off. I've got to keep the interest up. Interest alone
amounts, to three thousand dollars a year. Think of that! Then there's
Luke Sanford dead and his one-third interest left to another young fool,
a girl!"
Trevors's fist came smashing down upon his table. "A girl!" he repeated
savagely. "Worse than young Hampton, by Heaven! Every two weeks
she's writing for a report, eternally butting in, making suggestions,
hampering me until