The Sheriff of Badger Part 3

CHAPTER III

CONCERNING A BABY'S WAIL

He was gripping both her hands and she had not moved. Her lips were open, but she seemed powerless to speak. A loud thump startled the pair.

A shrill wail from the bedroom and Mrs. Floyd sprang up.

The baby had fallen from the bed and was now engaged in howling himself purple in the face. Mrs. Floyd swooped down on him in a tremor, and gathering him in her arms, went all over his st.u.r.dy body with speed and precision, to ascertain in just how many places bones were broken.

"Lafe," she cried, "he's b.u.mped his head. Oh, just look at this lump! My own precious darling! Lafe, get the witch-hazel! Quick! No, no! In the bathroom, on the window sill. Oh, he's holding his breath! Baby! Baby!"

She shook Tommy until he was forced to release the air in his lungs, which he let go with a tearing yell. Johnson brought the bottle and stood awkwardly holding it, while she applied some of the contents to a red spot on the baby's forehead. Sally sat in a chair, rocking back and forward, with her lips against her child's neck and her arms holding him close. Little Tom clutched her tightly and gradually his cries and sobs ceased. Lafe tiptoed to the door. He remained there a few minutes to watch, leaning against the jamb. But Sally did not appear to notice him as she crooned to the baby, who was sinking to sleep.

Johnson was standing at the edge of the steps, staring into the blackness, when she came out. He threw away his cigarette on hearing her call his name.

"Just look at that dark, Sally, will you?" he said. "It beats all."

At the tone of his voice, she cried: "Oh, Lafe, Lafe! I'm so glad!"

Mrs. Floyd did not specify why she was glad, nor did Johnson ask her.

She gave him both hands without hesitation, and they stood smiling at each other in comradely fas.h.i.+on in the half-light from the hall. When he spoke, it was to his childhood's playmate.

"Huh-huh!" she agreed. "Let's sit down and talk over old times. Do you remember, Lafe, the gra.s.s fights we used to have? You were an awful cheat."

"That's a lie, ma'am! Leastways, it ain't true. You done put a lizard down my back with a bunch of gra.s.s."

They were in high glee when a clatter of hoofs broke in on them. It startled Mrs. Floyd.

"What's that? Who's that?"

Two riders pulled up in front of the house, and Floyd stepped stiffly out of the saddle. He gave the reins to Miguel, who disappeared toward the corrals at a gallop. The boss was spattered with mud, and wringing wet and dog-weary. As he came into the light, he dragged his feet, and water ran in streams from his overalls and seeped from his boots.

"Tom!" His wife ran to him.

"Don't," he said. "I'm soaking."

"How did you get here? Mercy! You're a sight. Don't let the rain drip on the rug! Stand over here."

"How's the bridge, Floyd?" Johnson asked.

"The bridge is down," the boss answered. "We done swum the river." Then he chuckled grimly. "Miguel, he was plumb scared, but I pulled a gun on him and made him go ahead."

He threw himself into a chair and removed his muddied spurs.

"I never dreamed you'd get back to-night," said Sally.

"I said I would, didn't I?"

Johnson, resting his shoulders against the sitting-room mantel, suddenly bethought himself and went to his room, whence he returned briskly with a bottle of whisky.

"This'll keep the cold out."

"Why, you must be half dead, you poor, dear old Boy Blue!" Sally cried; the name fitted the boss as happily as Fido would a rhinoceros. "Wait, and I'll cook you something."

Something in her manner or her words caused Floyd to lift his head sharply. A slow smile twisted his features. He got up and went into the dining-room to pour some water into his drink. Before he drained it, he looked at his reflection in the gla.s.s above the sideboard. His eyes showed tired but well content.

"Come on, Lafe," he said brusquely. "Let's eat."

"You're on," said the cheery Mr. Johnson.

Sally hovered about them, constantly running to the kitchen for hot coffee and toast. Lafe sat back--it being his custom to bring his mouth down to his fork, instead of his fork up to his mouth--and surveyed the scene with much approval. Mrs. Floyd was at that moment pressing her husband to a second plate of scrambled eggs.

"There's nothing like a home, after all," said the boss, with a sigh of satisfaction. "You ought for to get married, Lafe."

"h.e.l.l!--yes!" said Lafe, who was sometimes careless in his speech.

CHAPTER IV

OUT OF A JOB

Three days later Johnson left us to go north with his last load of cattle. Floyd and his wife were at the pens to say good-by, and waved at him until the caboose followed the rest of the train around a curve.

Even Tommy flapped his chubby fist. And in the course of time Horne paid him off.

That was in Kansas City. Johnson spent his earnings in something under thirty hours and made the return in a day coach, having no money for a berth. Indeed, his last meal, which he procured at a wayside lunch counter in New Mexico, he was compelled to charge. It was made easier for him to do this inasmuch as he had already eaten the meal. The landlord, after slowly thinking it over, said he would trust Lafe.

Now he was back in the cow country, hopeful that Horne might find further employment for him, for that was the only work in which Lafe was content. And he went to Badger, his credit being good there until they should discover he had no money. It behooved him to get a job, with winter almost on them, yet the prospect did not distress Lafe in the least. He loitered around the Fas.h.i.+on, waiting for something to turn up.

On a November morn, Buffalo Jim rode into Badger from the Lazy L, leading a pack-horse that carried all his worldly possessions on its back. Buffalo was lifted up in heart and scornful of roundups, having just sold a mine. It does not concern us what sort of mine he sold, although a gentleman from Illinois grew very nasty over this point subsequently. Suffice that Jim had four hundred dollars.

He told Lafe that he was through with the Lazy L and sick cows, and would devote his future to prospecting. n.o.body would ever order him around again; he wouldn't stand to be roused out of bed at four in the morning by Floyd, or any man alive. A week's work in the hills, a vein of copper--and here he was with money in his pocket, able to glean life's pleasures. He banged his silver down on the bar and looked all around, like a landed proprietor. Johnson agreed that it was a tempting career, although a man had once hunted him for a month with a sawed-off .25-35 because of a similar transaction. Buffalo scoffed at the suggestion of the Illinois party ever finding him, and he proceeded to do nothing. Lafe helped him.

It is to be feared that you will regard these two as a G.o.dless pair, which I deplore. Remember that customs create standards of behavior, and in Johnson's world they are suspicious of a man who permits himself no indulgences. Besides, in your circle or in mine, what earthly honor is accorded the man so palely good that he never takes a jaunt into the pleasant by-ways?

So then, Lafe Johnson and Buffalo Jim proceeded to enjoy life in Badger in the only way they knew. There was really no adequate physical reason for Shortredge's name of Buffalo Jim. If one scrutinized him closely, the difference could be discerned with comparative ease. Yet Shortredge possessed traits that made the appellation peculiarly fitting. When storms brew, a buffalo will drift into them head on, being so constructed by the Creator. It is yet to be learned that Jim ever permitted trouble to overtake him with his back turned.

They were lying under a pool table in the Fas.h.i.+on one gusty November dawn, lost in vague conjecture as to how they had arrived there, when Mr. Shortredge was seized of an inspiration. He told Lafe that he would give a dance, and Lafe readily consenting to this expenditure of his friend's money, they sallied forth to acquaint the citizens of the impending function, and to bid them come.

"I want everybody to come a-runnin'," was Jim's formal invitation. "No style, mind; but it's best to be clean."

The ball was held in Haverty's empty feed barn and the guests presented themselves with the commendable expedition their host had urged on them.

At an early hour in the festivities, three male persons from Nogales sought admittance, and Lafe Johnson, not taking kindly to their looks, a slight awkwardness resulted. This was satisfactorily adjusted between the barn and the town limits, and Lafe and his companion returned to their hospitable duties in that peace of mind obtainable from work well done.