Presently the ranchman's trained eye caught sight of a dot far away on the trail, and his face cleared a little. Fifteen minutes passed and the dot resolved itself into a rider, with a smaller dot running ahead.
"Must be him, but what's he doin'--chasin' a coyote?" muttered the watching man.
At the foot of the rise to the ranch-house the trail twisted and the rider was lost to view behind the ranch buildings, consisting of a roomy bunkhouse, blacksmith's shop, a big barn and severalcorrals. Impatiently the ranch-owner rose and paced up and down the veranda. He had not long to wait; soon the rider appeared, raised his hand in salutation, and, halting the horse a score of yards away, dismounted and trailed the reins.
"Lo, Severn, glad to see yu," greeted the cattleman. "Come inside out o' this blame' sun."
The room they entered was, for the time and place, a luxurious one. There was a carpet on the floor, the heavy oak furniture was solid and comfortable, and the visitor noted with some surprise, a piano. All of these articles must have been brought by wagon from the nearest railway point, forty miles away. The pelt of a grizzly bear lay in front of the open fireplace, and the walls were adorned with numerous hunting and Indian trophies. The host set out a bottle and glasses and pushed over a box of cigars. The guest helped himself, and waited.
"Somebody got Stevens, my foreman, two weeks ago," Masters began abruptly. "His hoss drifted in an' I sent the boys out searchin'. They found him in a gully up towards the Pinnacles; he'd been bush-whacked--shot from behind. A steady, quiet fella, hadn't no enemies that ever I heard of, but--he was loyal to me. The man who takes his place runs the same risk. Yu get that?"
"Shorely," replied Severn unconcernedly.
"For years now a man has had me where the hair's short," the cattleman went on. "I've handed over money till I can raise no more, an' now he's takin' cattle; next it'll be the ranch, which is what he's afner. I got a scheme to beat him, but I can't put it in operation without a good man to take charge here. It's a gamble an' I may lose out, but that's why I sent for yu. What's the word?"
"Who's the man?" countered the visitor.
"Bartholomew, owner of the Bar B over towards the Mesa Mountains," replied the rancher.
"I'll go yu," Severn said shortly.
The ranch-owner's face showed relief, but he was a white man. "If yu want to chew it over, take yore time," he warned. "I'm tellin' yu it's a man-sized job yu'll be tacklin'. Black Bart is nearly Gawd A'mighty in these parts, an' people that fall foul o' him don't last long unless it's worth his while to let 'em, which explains me."
"That's all right for my end of it," Severn told him, "but there's somethin' yu gotta know." The older man looked his question, "Judge Embley introduced me to yu as Jim Severn, but I used to be called `Sudden'. Mebbe yu've heard the name?"
The rancher straightened up with a jerk and looked at his visitor incredulously. Heard of him? Who had not? Could this be the famous outlaw, the man who was said to bear a charmedlife and whose lightning gunplay had made his name a terror even to the most hardened "bad men" of the West? The face was quiet, confident, smiling, but the steady, steely eyes and lean, hard jaw carried conviction. Masters did not hesitate.
"Shake," he said, and then, "Jim--I reckon I better go on callin' yu that?" Severn nodded. "I guess my luck's turnin' at last. If I'd gone through the Territory with a fine tooth-comb I couldn't 'a' found a better man. Then yo're Peterson o' the YZ? But whyfor are yu takin' a hand in this?"
"Embley's an old friend o' mine, an' I had a reason o' my own. I got another one now," Severn grinned, and proceeded to tell of the discomfiture of the Bar B owner in Hope, omitting, however, any reference to the girl.
Masters laughed aloud. "Hell's bells, I'd 'a' give a stack o' blues to 'a' seen it," he burst out. "Black Bart an' three of his houn's sent scuttlin' by one man, an' all Hope a-lookin' on. I reckon that's the bitterest dose he's ever had to swallow, an' he won't forget it. Martin, too, is as venomous as a sidewinder; yu'll need to watch out."
"I'm aimin' to," Severn said. "Yore outfit to be trusted?"
The ranch-owner shook his head. "I dunno," he replied. "That's somethin' yu'll have to find out for yoreself. Stevens reckoned some were straight, but he gave me no names. Several of 'em Bartholomew sent here an' T had to take 'em. I'm givin' yu a free hand."
The visitor nodded. "Yu say Bart's takin' yore cows. Do yu mean he's rustlin' 'em?" he asked.
"No, blast him," exploded the rancher. "He just asks for fifty or a hundred to make up a trail herd an' I have to send 'em. Like I told yu, there's a reason why I can't refuse--yet. I'm mighty relieved to have yu here, Severn; I got a hunch yu'll save me an' Phil if anybody can."
"Phil? I didn't know yu had a son," said the visitor.
"I ain't, but I allus wanted one, an' when it come a girl I just had to call her Philipina," the cattleman explained.
From outside came a cry of "Hello, the house," in a fresh young voice.
"That'll be Phil,' said the ranch-owner, rising. "She don't know nothin' o' this, remember."
Severn followed his host through the long window opening on to the veranda. The girl had danced up the steps and greeted her father with an impetuous hug before she noticed the visitor. At the sight of him she shrank back.
"Phil, meet Jim Severn, who has come to take charge here in place of Stevens," Masters said.
She did not offer her hand, and there was no welcome in her eyes. "I have already met Mr. Severn," she said distantly.
The rancher looked surprised, and the newcomer explained. "Miss Masters happened to be present when I bought my dawg. As I told yu, I had to argue some with the owner."
He spoke with all gravity, but the girl sensed a sardonic note of amusement, and it increased her resentment. The rancher looked at the dog, patiently sitting by its master's horse.
"I ain't up much on dawgs, but I don't see no points about that one to call for argument," he commented. "'Pears to me just an ordinary dawg."
"Which yu got it--first wallop out o' the box," smiled the owner of the animal. "An ordinary dawg, that's what I liked about him. No fancy breeds for mine. That dawg is just folks, ain't liable to pun on frills, or h'ist his nose in the air an' think his boss is on'y a common cowpunch. No, sir, that dawg's got savvy, he's wide between the eyes, an' he'll do to take along."
The cattleman laughed, but his daughter did not share his amusement; beneath the gentle raillery she suspected a rebuke for herself, and her eyes remained frosty.
"Yu will take supper with us, Severn?" asked Masters.
"I'm obliged, but I'll eat with the outfit," the new foreman said, noting that the girl did not second the invitation.
The rancher nodded, and then, as a group of riders scampered in, he said, "Come along, I'll make yu acquainted. Back soon, Phil."
The girl gave the visitor the curtest of bows and then stood for a moment watching them. Though she disliked the new man, she could not help noticing the easy grace with which he moved, so distinct from the jerky, toed-in walk common to the cowboy. Somehow he suggested a panther on the prowl, and she shivered without knowing why.
The men were busy unsaddling, but they paused when they saw that their ernployer had something to say. The introduction was brief and to the point.
"This is Jim Severn, boys. He's come to take Stevens' job, an' he's in charge from now on."
Some of the men said "Howdy", others nodded, and a few looked only, and Severn fancied that the looks were not entirely friendly. He himself was silent, watching.
"There's yore quarters, Jim," Masters said, pointing to a small log house standing apart from the other buildings. "It's been made ready, but if there's anythin' else yu want, the cook'll get it for yu. So long."