“Strangers, you’re welcome to Hardscrabble,” said he. “Alight and hitch3. Your[23] horses won’t go very far away, and so you can turn them loose.”
“Thank you,” said I. I was expected to do all the talking. “Do we address Mr. Davenport?”
“That is my name,” returned the invalid. “And I see you are boys, too. Bob will be glad of that. Come up here.”
It did not take us very long to remove our saddles and bridles4 from our horses and carry them up on the porch. Then we shook hands with Mr. Davenport and his son Bob, and took the chairs that were promptly5 brought out to us.
“You are very young men to be travelling around this way,” said the invalid. “I shouldn’t think that your parents would permit it.”
“Well, I don’t know that we have any parents to say what we shall do. We are alone in the world, with the exception of Tom here, who has an uncle in Mississippi. We have come a thousand miles to buy some cattle; but I don’t think, from what I have seen of your cattle, that we shall want any.”
[24]
“Oh, this drought is simply awful,” said the invalid, rising up in his chair. “We haven’t had a drop of rain for sixteen months, and if it keeps on much longer we shall all die in the poor-house. The route you came led you through a portion of my herd6. I want to know if you ever saw such a sorry looking lot of cattle as they are?”
This seemed to be the opportunity that Mr. Davenport was waiting for, and he began and told us all about those troublous times in Texas during the past two years, and he said that the drought and the farmers were to blame for it. There had been a period in the history of the State when the stockmen had things all their own way; when their herds7 roamed over almost two thousand square miles of territory, going wherever grass and water were most abundant, and attended by only a few Mexican vaqueros, whose principal business it was to see that their employer’s outfit8 did not become mixed up with cattle belonging to somebody else. But, of course, this state of affairs could not continue forever in a country like ours. The soil of Texas was[25] as well adapted to agriculture as it was to stock raising, and it was not long before people began to find it out.
When the tide of immigration begins setting toward any State or Territory, it is astonishing how quickly it will become filled up. In a very short time the farmers grew to be a power in the cattle lands of Texas. Of course they settled along the water courses, or as close to them as they could get, and when they selected their land they fenced it in and turned it up with the plough, thus depriving the cattlemen of just so many acres of pasture, and in some instances shutting them off from the streams.
Of course, too, bad blood existed between these two classes from the very first. The cattlemen saw their limits growing smaller day by day, and they did not take it very much to heart when their half wild cattle broke through the fences and ruined the fields upon which the farmers had expended9 so much labor10; but they got fighting mad when the farmers sued them in the courts and were awarded heavy damages for their crops.[26] Neighborhood rows and civil wars on a small scale were of common occurrence, and during this particular summer the long to be remembered drought came, and I could rest assured of one thing, and that was, matters were going to be brought to a climax11. It was surely coming, and the farmers would find out one thing, and that was, that Mr. Davenport, even if he was half dead from consumption, could shoot as well as anybody.
For long months not a particle of rain fell upon the parched12 soil, and when the school-lands, on which large numbers of cattle grazed, were utterly13 barren of verdure and rendered worthless for years to come, and all the little streams went dry, the ranchmen saw ruin staring them in the face. The sufferings of the walking skeletons, which represented every dollar they had in the world, were terrible in the extreme, and grass and water must be had at any price. The nearest point at which these could be had was on the West Fork of Trinity. It was true that the most, if not all, of the land in that vicinity had been turned into farms and fenced in, but what did[27] the desperate cattlemen care for that? Grass and water were the free gifts of Heaven, and, if necessary, they were ready to fight for their share.
What it was that induced Mr. Davenport to say all this to me, an entire stranger, I cannot imagine, unless it was because he was so excited by the financial distress14 which he saw hanging over him that he must tell it to somebody. Sometimes during his narrative15 he would get up out of his chair and pace back and forth16 on the porch as if all his old strength had come back to him. His eye would kindle17, until I made up my mind that if all the ranchmen were like him there would be some shooting before the summer was over. For myself I heartily18 wished I was safe back where I belonged.
“Do you own this land where you are located?” I asked, feeling that I must say something.
“No, nor does anybody else. We are squatters. My neighbors tell me that there was a time, not so very long ago, when this ranch was located at least a hundred miles to the[28] east of where it is now; but the farmers kept coming in until I am where I am now. You can’t keep cattle where there is land fenced in.”
“What makes you think that you are going to drive your stock away from here toward Trinity?”
“Because there were a couple of men here from the lower counties, not three weeks ago, to see if I would join in,” answered the invalid. “You see my cattle would get all mixed up with others and there is no telling when we would get them apart. That will make it necessary for me to hire some more men, and as you haven’t got anything to do, why can’t you hire out to me?”
“That’s an idea,” said I. “I will speak to my companions about it and see what they have to say. We would rather not have any shooting——”
“Oh, you will see plenty of it if you stay around with us,” said Mr. Davenport. “The minute we get near Trinity it will commence. Why, there must be as much as one hundred and seventy-five thousand head of cattle that[29] need watering. It’s all farms up that way too.”
“I was about to say that we would rather not have any shooting around where we are,” I continued. “But if there is going to be any we would rather be where we can have a hand in it.”
“That’s the trouble, is it?” said Mr. Davenport, with a smile.
“Yes, sir. And as far as paying us anything—why, we are here with you now, and if you will give us board it is all we ask.”
I looked at Tom and he nodded his head. I glanced around for Elam, but he and Bob had disappeared. They had got into conversation and had gone off to look at something.
“That’s all right,” said Mr. Davenport. “That boy has been confined here on the ranch and he has not seen a companion before. I have been afraid to let him out of my sight. By the way, this man whom you have just introduced to me is all right?”
“Who? Elam? Oh, yes! You can trust him anywhere.”
[30]
“I mean he wouldn’t let harm come to Bob without making a fuss about it.”
“No, sir,” said I, rather astonished at the proposition. “I don’t see that any harm can come to him out here.”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Mr. Davenport, with a heavy sigh, which told how heavily the matter bore on his mind, “I don’t know.”
Not to dwell too long on incidents that are not connected with this story, I will simply say that we were presented to two of the cowboys that night at supper time as the fellows Mr. Davenport had employed to help him drive his cattle north, our duties to begin on the day the march commenced. I took a great notion to the two men—tall, rawboned, and rough, and the simple and earnest manner in which they agreed with their employer on all questions concerning the conduct of the farmers, in keeping his cattle out on the barren prairie where there was neither water nor grass to be had, made me think that their hearts were in the matter.
During the next week I noticed that Bob and Elam went off somewhere immediately[31] after breakfast and did not get back before night. That was all right to me, but I wanted to make sure that Elam knew what he was doing, so one day when I got a chance to speak to him in private I said:
“What do you and Bob do when you are gone all day?”
“Sho!” said Elam, with a laugh. “He just makes me lay under the trees and tell him stories.”
“You are sure no harm comes to him?”
“Harm? What is going to harm him out here?”
“I don’t know and his father doesn’t know; but if you are wise you will keep your eyes open.”
“Harm!” repeated Elam. “Well; I should like to see somebody harm him. He’s got a good heart, that boy has. Be they going to shoot him?”
“I don’t know what they are going to do, I tell you. If his father ever tells me I will tell you.”
During all this time Mr. Davenport kept Tom and me close to himself. It was a companionship[32] that was entirely19 new to him in that country, and he wanted to make the most of it. Before I had been acquainted with him twenty-four hours I could see that he was different from most men who made stock raising a business, that for years he had been out there where he had nobody to talk to, and I was sure he had some secret to tell us. One day it all came out, as I knew it would, if we let the matter alone and did not trouble him with it. It was a hot day during the first of August and we were sitting there on the porch, trying to raise a little breeze by fanning ourselves with our hats. It was after dinner, and the Mexican cook had gone somewhere to sleep and we were there alone.
“I haven’t always been what you see me now,” said Mr. Davenport, settling back in his chair as if he had resolved upon his course. “I have a secret which I want to tell Bob, but I don’t know how to go about it. It isn’t anything of which I am ashamed,—many men have done the same before me,—but somehow I have let it go so long that it has become a task to me. I want to ask your advice[33] about it. You are comparative strangers to me, but somehow I have taken to you and want to trust you. I haven’t had anyone around me to whom I was willing to confide20 it, and now I know that I am not long for this world I want to see Bob have his rights.”
With these words the invalid began his story. It was short, but we could both see how great an effort it cost him.
Mr. Davenport was an old “forty-niner.” He spent a few successful years in the gold mines and then returned to the States, and established himself as a wholesale21 merchant in St. Louis, his native city, and soon became known as one of its most enterprising business men. The only relatives he had in the world, except his son Bob,—who was not his son in reality,—were an unmarried uncle, who went to Texas and became a ranchman, and a half brother, who was not a relative to be proud of. Too lazy to work, this half brother, whose name was Clifford Henderson, gained a precarious22 living by his wits. He gambled when he could raise a stake, and borrowed of his brother when he couldn’t. He was[34] more familiar with the police court than he was with the interior of a church, and when his generous brother’s patience was all exhausted23 and he positively24 refused to pay any more of his debts, he left that brother’s presence with a threat of vengeance25 on his lips.
“I will get even with you for this,” said he. “Bob is not your son, and I will see that you don’t adopt him, either. Whenever I see a notice of your death,—and you can’t live forever,—I will hunt that boy up and make him know what it is to be in want, as I am at this moment.”
The fact that Bob was not his son ought not to have weighed so heavily with the invalid as it did, but still he could not bear to enlighten him. He was the son of a friend in the gold mines, who, dying there, left Bob alone, and Mr. Davenport took him up. He christened him Davenport, and the boy always answered to his name. There never had been any doubt in his mind that Bob would some day come in for all his money, until this Clifford Henderson began his threatenings; and even after that[35] Mr. Davenport did not wake up and attend to things as he ought.
In process of time Mr. Davenport’s unmarried uncle died, and in his will he made him executor and heir to all the property he had accumulated in Texas. In the hope that a change in the climate might prove beneficial to his health, as well as to leave that miserable26 Clifford Henderson and all his threatenings behind, Mr. Davenport moved to Texas and took possession of his legacy27, bringing Bob with him. In fact, the two did not act like father and son, but like two brothers who could not bear to be separated. All they found when they reached Texas was a rather dilapidated old house, which was very plainly furnished, and presided over by a half-breed Mexican cook, who was so cross and surly that one could hardly get a civil word out of him. The rest of the help—there were four of them in all—were cowboys. They spent the most of their lives on the open prairie, looking out for the safety of Mr. Davenport’s cattle.
“I have got everything——”
Mr. Davenport suddenly paused and put[36] back into his coat the large pocket book which he had been in the act of showing to us. Then he got upon his feet and carefully closed the door leading into the cabin, and walked cautiously to one end of the porch and looked around the house, then to the other end, but came back without seeing anybody.
“One has to be careful,” said he, in explanation. “I am as afraid of my help as of anything else.”
“Of your help!” I exclaimed. “If there is anybody here that you are afraid of, why don’t you discharge him?”
“Because I want to see what he is here for,” said the invalid. “He works for nothing at all, but yet he always seems to have plenty of money. You know ’Rastus Johnson?”
Yes, we did know him, and he was one of the few people about the ranch to whom I had taken a violent dislike. He was just the man to excite the contempt of a Texan, because he couldn’t ride; but when he came to Mr. Davenport’s ranch six months ago, and told a[37] pitiful story about the luck that had befallen him in the mines, he was given odd jobs to do about the ranch for his board. There were two things that struck Mr. Davenport as peculiar28, or we might say three, and tempted29 by something, he knew not what, he kept the man around the house as much as possible and watched his movements. One was the care he took of his six-shooters. He had a splendid pair, and when engaged in no other occupation, he was always rubbing them up until they shone like silver. The other was his story about the mines. He did not know that Mr. Davenport was an old forty-niner, and he thought he could say what he pleased to him and he would believe it. The nearest mines that Mr. Davenport knew anything of were those located about Denver, the very place we had come from; and the idea that anyone could walk a thousand miles, right through a country settled up by cattlemen and farmers, and be as poor as he was when he struck Mr. Davenport’s ranch, was ridiculous. But Mr. Davenport kept this to himself. He had Clifford Henderson in mind,[38] and he resolved if ’Rastus attempted anything out of the way he would expose him on the spot.
As ’Rastus grew more and more at home about the ranch, other qualities developed themselves. He took to “snooping” around the house to see what he could find there, and once, when Mr. Davenport entered the ranch suddenly, he was certain that he saw ’Rastus engaged in trying to pick the lock of his desk; but ’Rastus began tumbling up his bed, and turned upon his employer with such a hearty30 good-morning that the invalid was inclined to believe he was mistaken.
“Yes,” said I, in response to Mr. Davenport’s question; “I believe we know something about ’Rastus. Some of the cowboys have told us a good deal about him. Is he the one you are afraid of?”
“I’ve got the whole thing right here,” said Mr. Davenport, seating himself in his chair and drawing a big fat pocket-book from his inside pocket. “It contains my will, and also instructions in regard to what I want Bob to do with the rest of our herd in case any[39] escape the effects of the drought. It also contains a full history of the manner in which he came to me, and hints regarding those threats of Henderson—whom I sincerely trust he may never see again. In short, nothing that I could think of has been omitted.”
“You don’t think that Henderson would follow you down here, do you?” said Tom.
“My dear boy, you don’t know anything about that man if you think he wouldn’t follow me to Europe,” said Mr. Davenport sadly. “If he is alive, Bob will hear from him; and that he is still alive I am forced to believe from the actions of this man Johnson. I don’t expect to come back here, and I want you two boys to swear to what I have told you. You will, won’t you?”
Of course Tom and I agreed to it, and then we wondered what sort of a man Clifford Henderson could be to scare his half brother so badly as that.
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1
ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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2
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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hitch
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| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
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bridles
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| 约束( bridle的名词复数 )； 限动器； 马笼头； 系带 | |
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5
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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7
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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10
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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12
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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13
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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19
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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