He was a big fellow, standing over six feet, with a broad, well-muscled frame denoting strength above the average even for men of his height, and he was still on the right side of forty. His hair, eyebrows, and carefully-trimmed beard were deep black and gave him a striking appearance. A captious critic might have suggested that the face was too fleshy and the rather small eyes too close together, but ninety-nine women out of every hundred would have voted Joe Tarman a very handsome man.
In this he differed entirely from his companion; Seth Laban could have no such pretensions. He was a slight man of between forty and fifty, with a pronounced stoop which made him appear shorter than he really was. He had a long nose, receding forehead and chin, and small eyes, a combination which produced a rodent-like impression. Believers in the Buddhist theory of the transmigration of souls have said that his previous existence must have been that of a rat, while others, of a less charitable nature, might have held that he was still a rat, and would not have been too wide of the mark at that.
This curiously assorted couple, having installed themselves at the hotel, at once gravitated to the Folly, followed by a number of the inhabitants..Tarman, having introduced himself and his companion no the bartender, at once struck the right note by ordering drinks for nhe crowd. He made no secret of his object in coming to Hatchett's.
`Stayin' long?' asked Silas.
`All depends,' said the big man. `I'm just havin' a look around. Heard this was good cattle country, an' came along. Cows is where T live; I've handled a few in my time, eh, Seth?'
`I reckon,' replied Laban, following the words with the disruption of his features which did duty with him as a smile. `It's good cattle-land all right, but pretty well covered,' returned Silas. `I ain't heard as any o' the owners want to sell.' `They'd better sell while the sellin's good; they won't have nothin' left soon,' sniggered one of the crowd.
`How comes that?' asked the visitor.
`Rustlers,' was the laconic answer.
Tarman laughed. `I've handled a lot o' rustlers in my time too, eh, Seth?'
`I reckon,' came the reply, with the same parody of smile.
`I've got a shore cure for rustlin',' the big man went on. `Yes, gents, a shore cure--never known it to fail; a rope an' a branch --that's a combination that'll bean Mr Rustler every time.'
`Yu gotta catch 'em first,' said the man who had spoken before. `Injuns is tricky, an' so is the blame country round here.' `I got no use for Injuns, not noways,' chimed in another. `Well, I wouldn't go so far as that,' smiled Tarman. `There's been times when I've found 'em useful, eh, Seth?'
`I reckon,' came the inevitable reply.
The discussion became general but Tarman now took little part in it; he was looking through the open door of the saloon, intent on something taking place on the far side of the dusty street. He saw a girl sitting her pony easily, cowboy fashion, that is, almost standing in the stirrups. In her neat shirt-waist, divided skirt, trim high boots, and soft sombrero looped up at one side she was, in Western idiom, `easy to look at.' She was talking to a tall cowboy who stood beside her, hat in hand, with the reins of his mount--a magnificent roan--looped over his arm. Already Tarman had decided that he wanted both the girl and the horse.
`Who's the lady?' he asked of Silas, nodding his head towards the street.
Norry Petter, daughter of Old Simon of the Y Z,' replied the barman. `Feller she's talkin' to is one o' the outfit--name o' Green--ain't been about here long.'
The big man's features betrayed no particular interest in the information. `She's a good-looker,' he said. But his eyes could not keep away from the door-opening.
Meanwhile the pair outside continued their conversation, quite unconscious of the interest being taken in them. Noreen had not known that the puncher was in town until she saw him standing by the roan opposite the saloon. For a moment she contemplated riding past winh just a nod of recognition, and then, with a little frown of determination, she reined in and smiled a greeting. Green, who had not failed to note the hesitation, removed his hat and grinned quizzically.
`Why didn't yu?' he asked.
`Why didn't I what?' she parried, though she knew what he meant.
`Ride past without seein' me,' he said.
The girl flushed. `I never dreamt of doing that,' she protested. `At first I wasn't going to stop because...' She paused, and then added, `Some sneak saw us the day you carried me up the cliff, and told Daddy we'd been riding together; he was rather upset.'
`Didn't like the idea o' yu bein' too friendly with a common cowboy, I s'pose,' Green said, with a perceptible tinge of bitterness in his tone.
`No, it wasn't that,' she said quickly. `Why, Daddy was a cowboy once himself, and what he said applied to all the outfit.'
`An' I'm bettin' that he pointed out that I ain't handed in any account o' my life an' adventures,' Green hazarded gravely, but wint twinkling eyes.
The girl laughed gaily, glad that the hurt had passed. `He did suggest that we don't know much about you,' she admitted. `Of course, he didn't know that you had come to my rescue again.'
`An' I don't want that he should; I'm askin' yu to forget it too,' said the puncher quickly. Will yu?'
She shook her head. `I don't forget services,' she replied. `Some day I shall tell him, and he won't forget it either. Dear old Daddy, he's only thinking of me and you mustn't "hold it against him," as Larry would say.'
`Yore father is dead right,' the man said, and there was a look in his eyes she had never seen there before, which quickened her pulses and made her turn her head away. To hide her confusion, she leant forward and stroked the roan's neck with her gloved hand.
`Isn't he a beauty?' she said. `I hope you haven't taken all the spirit out of him.'
`Oh, he still gets notions,' laughed the puncher. `He knows me an' we get along fine, but I doubt if anyone else could ride him. Larry tried the other day an' didn't last a minute; he's a good horseman, too.'
At this point the conversation was interrupted. Across from the door of the saloon came Tarman, accompanied by Rayne, the keeper of the hotel, whom Noreen had known for years. He greeted her with a wave of the hand.
`Mornin', Miss Norry,' he said. `Want yu to meet Mr. Joseph Tarman, a visitor to our litnle town.'
The girl held out her hand frankly and the big man bowed over it with rather a flourish, and said: `I'm askin' yu to excuse my buttin' in like this, Miss Noreen, but when yu were pointed out to me I felt I had to make acquaintance as quickly as possible. I'm hopin' to pay yore father a visin right soon.'
His bold eyes took in every detail of her as she sat there, and her first impression was one of revolt against the possessive air he radiated.
`My father, I am sure, will be pleased to see you,' she said. `Not so pleased as I'll be,' Tarman responded heartily. `An' the first thing I'm goin' no ask him is what price he'll take for that roan there which I see carries his brand, an' which--with one exception--has taken my fancy more than anythin' I ever set eyes on.'
He smiled broadly as he spoke, showing his strong white teeth, and the girl, country-bred as she was, could not fail to understand that he was paying her what he considered to be a compliment.
`That horse is not my father's property although it bears our brand,' she said coldly. `In belongs to this gentleman.'
She indicated Green, who was quietly waiting until the interrupted conversation could be resumed. Tarman turned a somewhat insolent gaze upon the cowboy.
`Give yu a hundred dollars for the hoss,' he said.