"In the first place I want you to pass the word around that the reward for bringing in that Apache is off."
"Why?" demanded the man.
"That's my business," replied the girl, shortly. The words and her tone reminded Kreff of the dead Boss--she was her father allover--and he said no more.
"The other thing is this report about cattle stealing," she continued.
"Who said there was any cattle stealin' goin' on?" he asked.
"Luke has missed a few head off the east range."
"Oh, that kid's loco," said Kreff. "They've drifted, an' he's too plumb lazy to hunt 'em up."
"'Kansas' has missed some, too, from up around the Little Mesa on the north range," she insisted. "I don't know so much about Luke, he hasn't been with us so long; but 'Kansas' is an old hand--he's not the kind to do much guessing."
"I'll look into it, Chita," said Kreff, "an' don't you worry your little head no more about it." There was something in his tone that made her glance up quickly, knitting her brows. His voice was low and soothing and protective. It didn't sound like "Smooth" Kreff in spite of his nickname, which, she happened to know, was indicative of the frictionless technique with which he separated other men from their belongings in the application of the art of draw and stud.
"You hadn't ought to hev nothin' to worry you," he continued. "This here business is a man's job. It ain't right an' fittin' thet a girl should hev to bother with sech things."
"Well, that's what I've got you and the other boys for, 'Smooth.'"
"Yes, but hired hands ain't the same. You ought to be married--to a good cow man," he added.
"Meaning?" she inquired.
"Me."
"Are you proposing to me, 'Smooth'?"
"I shore am. What do you say? You an' me could run this outfit together fine, an' you wouldn't never hev to worry no more about nothin'."
"But I don't love you, 'Smooth.'"
"Oh, shucks, that aint nothin'. They's a heap o' women marry men they don't love. They git to lovin' 'em afterwards, though."
"But you don't love me."
"I shore do, Chita. I've allus loved you."
"Well, you've managed to hide it first rate," she observed.
"They didn't never seem no chance, 'til now," he explained; "but you got a lot o' horse sense, an' I reckon you kin see as well as me thet it would be the sensible thing to do. You cain't marry nothin' but a cow man, an' they ain't no other cow man thet I knows of thet would be much of a improvement over me. You'll larn to love me, all right. I aint so plumb ugly, an' I won't never beat you up."
Wichita laughed. "You're sure tootin', 'Smooth,'" she said. "There isn't a man on earth that's ever going to try to beat me up, more than once."
Kreff grinned. "You don't hev to tell me that, Chita," he said. "I reckon that's one o' the reasons I'm so strong fer you--you shore would make one grand woman fer a man in this country."
"Well, 'Smooth,' as a business proposition there is something in what you say that it won't do any harm to think about, but as a proposal of marriage it hasn't got any more bite to it than a white pine dog with a poplar tail."
"But you'll think it over, Chita?" he asked, drawing a sack of Durham and a package of brown papers from his shirt pocket.
"You dropped something, 'Smooth,'" she said; gesturing toward the ground at his feet. "You pulled it out of your pocket with the makings."
He looked down at a bit of paste board, at one half of a playing card that had been torn in two--one half of the jack of spades.
Seventeen - CHEETIM STRIKES!
IT WAS night. The oil lamps were burning brightly in the barroom of the Hog Ranch. The games were being well patronized. The 1 girls were circulating among the customers, registering thirst. It looked like a large night.
In the back room two men, seated at opposite sides of a table, were conversing in low tones. A bottle, two glasses, and a mutilated jack of spades lay between them. One of the men was Cheetim, the other was Kreff.
"How much longer does thet feller think we kin hold them critters without hevin' every galoot in the Territory ridin' onto 'em an' blowin' the whole business?" demanded Kreff.
"I been tellin' him to see you," said Cheetim. Kreff pushed the jack of spades across the table to the other man. "You take this," he said."You see him oftener than I do. Don't turn this over to him 'til you git the money, but tell him that ef he don't get a hump on hisself we'll drive the bunch north an' sell 'em up there. They can't stay around here much longer--the girl's wise now thet somethin's wrong. Two of the hands has told her they been missin' stock lately!"
Cheetim sat in silence, thinking. Slowly he filled Kreff's glass, and poured another drink for himself.
"Here's how!" he said and drank.
"How!" replied Kreff.
"I been thinkin'," said Cheetim.
"Don't strain yourself, 'Dirty,' " Kreff admonished him.
"It's this-a-way," continued the other, ignoring Kreff's pleasantry. "Ef it warn't for the girl we could clean up big on thet herd. This here Agent'll buy anything an' not ask no questions."
"What do you want me to do," inquired Kreff, "kill her?"
"I want you to help me get her. Ef I kin get her fer a few days she'll be glad enough to marry me. Then I'll give you half what I get out of the cattle."
"Ride your own range, 'Dirty,'" rising, "and keep off o' mine."
"What do you mean?"
"Ef either one of us gets her it's me, that's what I mean." There was an ugly edge to his voice that Cheetim did not fail to note.
"Oh, hell," he said, "I didn't know you was sweet on her."
"You know it now--keep off the grass."
A pinto stallion, tied to a stunted cedar, dozed in the mid-day heat. His master, sprawled at the summit of a rocky knoll, looked down upon the other side at a bunch of cattle resting until it should be cooler, the while they pensively chewed their cuds. A youth lay upon his back beneath the shade of a tree. A saddled pony, with drooping head and ears, stood near by lazily switching its tail in mute remonstrance against the flies. Bridle reins, dragging on the ground, suggested to the pony that it was tethered and were all-sufficient. Somnolence, silence, heat--Arizona at high noon. Shoz-Dijiji surveyed the scene. With a reward of a thousand dollars on his head it behooved him to survey all scenes in advance. The reward, however, was but a secondary stimulus. Training and environment had long since fixed upon him the habit of reconnaissance. Immediately he had recognized Luis Mariel. If he were surprised he gave no evidence of it, for his expression did not change. His eyes wandered over the herd. They noted the various brands, ear- marks, wattles, jug-handles, and though Shoz-Dijiji could not have been termed a cattle man he read them all and knew the ranch and range of every animal in the bunch, for there was no slightest thing from one end of Apache-land to the other that an Apache let pass as of too slight importance to concern him. He saw that most of the cattle belonged to Wichita Billings, but he knew that it was not a Crazy B cowboy that was herding them, for the Crazy B outfit employed no Mexicans.
Long before Luis Mariel was aware of the fact Shoz-Dijiji knew that several horsemen were approaching; but he did not change his position since, if they continued in the direction they were going, they would pass without seeing him.
Presently four men rode into view. He recognized them all. Two of them were Navajoes, one a half-breed and the fourth a white man--the Indian Agent.
Shoz-Dijiji did not like any of them, especially the Indian Agent. He fingered his rifle and wished that Geronimo had not made that treaty with General Miles in Skeleton Canyon. Presently Luis heard the footfalls of the approaching horses and sat up. Seeing the men, he arose. They rode up to him, and the Agent spoke. Shoz-Dijiji saw him take a bit of paper from his pocket and show it to Luis. Luis took another similar bit of paper from his own pocket and compared it with the one that the Agent now handed him. Shoz-Dijiji could not quite make out what the bits of paper were--from a distance they looked like two halves of a playing card.