The Fighting Shepherdess Part 35

The banker's att.i.tude since his interview with Kate and her subsequent astonis.h.i.+ng and unexpected payment of the mortgage had been one of polite aloofness. That matter was still a mystery which he hoped to solve sometime. But long ago Mr. Wentz had learned that the life of a banker is not the free independent life of a laundryman, and that with a compet.i.tor like Abram Pantin forever hara.s.sing him by getting the cream of the loans, it was sometimes necessary to make concessions and conciliations.

As Kate was leaving, he arose and extended a hand over the railing.

"We don't see you often, Miss Prentice."

She showed no surprise at his action and extended her own hand without either alacrity or hesitancy as she replied briefly:

"I seldom come to Prouty."

"I merely wished to say that if at any time we can accommodate you, do not hesitate to ask us." Mr. Wentz realized that he was laying himself open to an embarra.s.sing reminder, and expected it, but Kate did not betray by so much as the flicker of an eyelid that she remembered when she had pleaded, not for money, but only for time to save herself from ruin.

"You are very kind." She bowed slightly.

"You are one of our most valued customers." Her reserve piqued him; it was a kind of challenge to his gallantry. "I hope--I trust you will allow us to show our appreciation in some way--if only a small favor."

"I don't need it."

"You are very fortunate to be in that position, the way times are at present. In that case," he smiled with the a.s.surance of a man who had had his conquests, "I'll presume to ask one. We should be pleased--delighted to handle your entire account for you. You keep it--"

"In Omaha."

"Why not in Prouty?" ingratiatingly.

Kate did not answer immediately, but while she returned the gaze of his melting brown eyes steadily she received a swift impression that for some reason deposits would be particularly welcome. There had been no eagerness or anxiety to suggest it, yet she had the notion strongly that the bank needed the money. Perhaps, she reasoned swiftly, the suspicion was born merely of her now habitual distrust of motives; nevertheless, it was there, to become a fixed opinion.

While she seemed to deliberate, Mr. Wentz's thoughts were of a different nature. If she were not so tanned and wore the clothes of civilization--she had the features, and, by George! she had a figure!

These interesting mental comments were interrupted by a sudden dilation of Kate's pupils as though from some sudden mental excitement. The gray iris grew luminous, he noticed, while her face was flooded with color, as though she had been startled.

"I will consider it."

The answer was noncommittal, but the graceful sweeping gesture with which he stroked his mustache as she departed was one of satisfaction.

Mr. Wentz had a notion that after looking at him for all these years the young woman had just really seen him.

The banker returned to his desk, opened a drawer and extracted a small mirror, in which he regarded himself surrept.i.tiously. What was it about him--what one thing in particular, he wondered, that was so compelling that even a woman like this Kate Prentice must relent at his first sign of interest? Was it his appearance or his personality?

In the pleasing occupation of contemplating his own features and trying to answer these absorbing questions, Mr. Wentz forgot temporarily that Neifkins, in violation of the law governing such matters, was in debt to the bank beyond the amount of his holdings as director, and behind with his interest--a condition which had disturbed the president not a little because it was so fraught with unpleasant possibilities.

CHAPTER XVII

EXTREMES MEET

Kate raised herself on an elbow and looked out through the open window above her bunk where the first streak of dawn was showing. The soft air was redolent of things growing and the pungent odor of sagebrush. The bush birds were chirping furiously; all the soul-stirring magic of spring in the foothills was in its perfection; but it conveyed nothing to Kate save the fact that another day was beginning in which to get through the work she had outlined.

She was like that now--practical, driving, sparing neither herself nor others--apparently without sentiment or any outside interest. Her sheep and that which pertained to them seemed to fill her whole horizon.

The interior of the wagon alone was sufficient to disclose the change in Kate. As the growing light made the dim outlines clearer it brought out on the floor and side benches a promiscuous clutter that contained nothing suggesting a feminine occupant. There was no scrollwork in soap on the window now. On the contrary, the gla.s.s badly needed was.h.i.+ng. No decorative advertis.e.m.e.nt, no bouquet above the mirror, or festal juniper thrust between the oak bows and the canvas. A pile of market reports and _Sheep Growers' Journals_ replaced the fas.h.i.+on magazines, while the shelves that had contained romances and histories were filled with books on wool-growing.

The floor s.p.a.ce and side benches were occupied by new horse shoes, a can of paint, sheep shears, a lard bucket filled with nails and staples, boxes of rifle ammunition, riding boots and arctics, a halter and a broken bridle.

It all said plainly that the wagon represented only a place for sleep and shelter, yet, since she had no other, it was home to the sheep woman.

Kate raised herself higher on her elbow and called sharply:

"Bowers?"

A sleepy response came from somewhere.

"It's daylight--hurry!"

Bowers's voice, plaintive but stronger, answered:

"I'd be ten pounds heavier if it wasn't for that word 'hurry.'"

Kate smiled faintly. Complaining and threatening to mutiny was to Bowers merely a form of recreation and Kate knew that nothing short of a charge of dynamite could blast Bowers loose from his beloved wagon. He spoke invariably of the ranch as "Our Outfit" and he could not have been more faithful if their interests had been identical, though he missed no occasion to declare that it robbed a man of his self-respect to work for a woman.

The chief complaint of Kate's herders was against her brusque imperious manner and her exactions, which took no account of their physical limitations. Fatigue, weather, long hours without food or sleep under trying conditions, were never excuses to satisfy her for the slightest neglect of duty, or any error of judgment which worked to her disadvantage. She seemed to regard them as human machines and they felt it. All save Bowers obeyed without liking her.

"Headquarters" were still on the original homestead, but they had grown since they had consisted of Kate's sheep wagon, Mormon Joe's tepee and a ten-by-twelve cook tent. Now it looked like a canvas village when first seen through the willows, for there was a dining tent connected with the cook tent by a fly, and near it a commissary tent where were heaped supplies, saddles, harness and all that it was needful to keep under shelter, while around the tents was a semicircle of sheep wagons. There was a substantial horse corral, and across the creek the sheep-pens had tripled in size, with a row of well-built shearing-pens beside them.

Under a long shed with a corrugated-iron roofing there were sacks of wool piled to a height which gave Kate a feeling of deep satisfaction each time she pa.s.sed them.

Everything showed thrift, economy, a practical intelligence and a Spartan disregard for personal comfort. The camp was as devoid of luxuries and superfluities as an Indian village. And on a hillside where the afternoon sun lay longest there was a sunken grave enclosed in wire.

Here Mormon Joe was turning to dust, unavenged, forgotten nearly, by all save a handful.

Kate felt that she had every reason to be satisfied with her progress and to congratulate herself upon the judgment she had displayed in continuing to raise sheep for their fleece when the price of wool was nil, practically, and every discouraged grower in the state, including the astute Neifkins, was putting in "black-faces" that were better for mutton. Now a protective administration was advancing the price of wool, and when she sold she would have her reward for her courage. She had been the first to import a few of the coa.r.s.er wool sheep from Canada and the experiment had proved that they were especially adapted to the rocky mountainous range of that section. The Rambouillets she purchased had kept fat where the merinos had lost weight on the same feed. The ewes had sheared on an average of close to twelve pounds and the bucks more than fifteen, a few as high as twenty-five. And now she wanted more of them.

Thus circ.u.mstances seemed to have diverted her tastes into new channels entirely. As she had once yearned for clothes, and companions.h.i.+p, and happiness, she now with the same intensity wanted sheep, and more sheep, and better sheep. Little by little, too, and un.o.btrusively, she was acquiring script land, lieu land, long-time leases, patented homesteads, and the water holes which controlled ranges. To do all this meant the elimination of every unnecessary expenditure and she denied herself cheerfully, wearing clothes that were no better than her herders', shabby sometimes to grotesqueness.

The coming autumn she would have old ewes and wether lambs to s.h.i.+p sufficient to cover her expenses, while the sale of her wool at present prices would enable her to grade up her herds to a point that would be approximately where she would have them. She had seen too many hard winters and short ranges ever again to be over-sanguine, but she knew that unless some unprecedented loss came to her she was well on the way to the fulfillment of her ambition. A few good years and the "Sheep Queen of Bitter Creek" would no longer be a t.i.tle of derision. But these thoughts were her secrets and she had no confidants. Bowers was the nearest approach to one, but even he knew nothing of the incentive which made her seemingly tireless herself and possessed of a driving energy that made all who worked for her fully earn their wages.

Bowers was preparing breakfast by lamplight when Kate clanged the triangle of iron to awaken two herders asleep in their "tarps" under the willows. They crawled out in the clothes in which they had slept, dishevelled and grumbling.

They breakfasted by lamplight, seated on benches on either side of the long table improvised from boards and cross-pieces of two-by-fours.

There was no tablecloth and the dishes were of agate-ware as formerly.

Kate ate hurriedly and in silence, but the usual airy persiflage went on between Bowers and the herders.

"It near froze ice this mornin'," Bowers observed by way of making conversation. "I was so cold that I had to s.h.i.+ver myself into a pressperation before I could get breakfast."

"I slept chilly all night," said Bunch, and added, looking askance at his erstwhile bed-fellow, "They ain't no more heat in Oleson than a rattler."

"Looks like you'd steal yurself a blanket somewhur," Bowers commented.

"I wouldn't a slept the fore part of last night anyhow," Bunch said pointedly.

"I hope I didn't keep you awake with my singin'?" Bowers's voice expressed a world of solicitude.