Boy Ranchers at Spur Creek; Or, Fighting the Sheep Herders

  Produced by Al Haines

  [Transcriber's note: Extensive research found no evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

  Cover art]

  [Frontispiece: SNAKE CAUGHT HOLD OF THE ANIMAL'S LEFT HORN. "The BoyRanchers at Spur Creek."]

  THE BOY RANCHERS

  AT SPUR CREEK

  OR

  _Fighting the Sheep Herders_

  by

  WILLARD F. BAKER

  _ILLUSTRATED_

  NEW YORK

  CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

  THE BOY RANCHERS SERIES

  By WILLARD F. BAKER

  12mo. Cloth. Frontispiece

  THE BOY RANCHERS or Solving the Mystery at Diamond X

  THE BOY RANCHERS IN CAMP or The Water Fight at Diamond X

  THE BOY RANCHERS ON THE TRAIL or The Diamond X After Cattle Rustlers

  THE BOY RANCHERS AMONG THE INDIANS or On the Trail of the Yaquis

  THE BOY RANCHERS AT SPUR CREEK or Fighting the Sheep Herders

  CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, New York

  COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY

  CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

  THE BOY RANCHERS AT SPUR CREEK

  Printed in U. S. A.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I SHOTS IN THE NIGHT II MISSING PAPERS III ON THE TRAIL IV AROUND THE CAMPFIRE V AT SPUR CREEK VI THE ALARM VII A PARLEY VIII SUSPICIONS IX A CALL FOR HELP X DEL PINZO'S HAND XI COWBOY FUN XII AFTER THE RUSTLERS XIII A CLOUD OF DUST XIV THE SHEEP ARRIVE XV A BATTLE OF WITS XVI STRANGE ACTIONS XVII "WE CROWED TOO SOON!" XVIII SKIRMISHES XIX OPEN WARFARE XX THE FLAG OF TRUCE XXI A LEGAL CONTEST XXII NORT'S PLAN XXIII IN DISGUISE XXIV THE BRONTOTHERIUM XXV THE END OF THE SHEEP

  THE BOY RANCHERS AT SPUR CREEK

  CHAPTER I

  SHOTS IN THE NIGHT

  With a rattle and a clatter the muddy flivver stopped with a squeak ofbrakes in front of Diamond X ranch house. From the car leaped threeboys, one of them carrying a small leather pouch.

  "Here's the mail!" yelled this lad--Bud Merkel by name, and hiscousins, Nort and Dick Shannon, added the duet of their voices to hisas they cried:

  "Mail's in! Lots of letters!"

  "Any for me?" asked Nell, reaching out her hand toward Bud. "Don'ttell me there isn't!" she pleaded.

  "Well, I'm sorry, Sis," began Bud, teasingly, "there was one for you,but driving in we ran over a rattler and----"

  "Don't you believe him, Nell!" consoled Nort, who didn't altogetheragree with Bud's teasing of his sister. "Your letters are safe in thepouch."

  "Oh, there are _letters_, then, are there--not just _one_?" cried Nellwith shining eyes. "Thanks a whole lot."

  "Don't thank me--thank the postmaster--or whoever wrote you theletters!" laughed Nort.

  Bud had sat down on a bench outside the ranch house and was opening themail pouch. His mother came to the door of the kitchen, wiping flourfrom her hands, for though Mrs. Merkel kept a "hired girl," and thoughNell assisted, yet the mother of Bud insisted on doing much of the workherself, and very able she was, too.

  "Any letters for your father?" she asked.

  "Two or three," answered Bud, as he looked over the envelopes. "Andone for you, Mother."

  "Well, take your father's mail to him when you've finished sorting,"suggested Mrs. Merkel. "He said he was expecting something ofimportance. You'll find him over in the bunk house looking after Mr.Watson."

  "Mr. _Watson_!" shouted Bud with a laugh. "Do you mean Yellin' Kid?"

  "Oh, I guess that's what you call him," assented Mrs. Merkel as sheopened her letter. "But his name's Watson."

  "Guess you're the only one who remembers that, Ma," chuckled DickShannon, for though Mrs. Merkel was only his aunt, she was almostuniversally called "Ma" on the ranch of Diamond X.

  "Yellin' Kid isn't any worse, is he?" asked Bud.

  "Oh, no, but your father wanted to change the bandages and it takessome time. You'll find him pretty nearly finished, I guess, thoughyou'd better take his mail to him there."

  There had been a slight accident the week before, in which the horse ofYellin' Kid had crowded him against a post in a corral fence, badlybruising and cutting the leg of the cowboy. A doctor had been called,and after the first dressing of the wound had said Mr. Merkel or someof the men could attend to it as much as was necessary, and the ranchowner was now in performance of this duty.

  "I'll take the boys' mail, Bud," offered Old Billee, one of the veterancow punchers of Diamond X. "Don't reckon you got any for me, haveyou?" he asked with a sort of wistful hope in his voice.

  "Sorry, Billee, but there doesn't seem to be any," answered Bud."Better luck next time."

  "No, I don't reckon there will be," sighed Old Billee. "All my friendsis dead an' gone, an' nobody else wants t' write t' an ole timer likeme." He took the letters destined for the other cowboys who wereengaged in various duties about the ranch, saying he would distributethem, while Bud took those destined for his father to the sleepingquarters of the men, where Yellin' Kid was forced to remain temporarilyin his bunk.

  Nort and Dick had letters from "home," as they called their residencein the East, though they had been west so long now that they mightalmost be said to live on the ranch. And while Bud's cousins weregoing over their missives, Mr. Merkel was doing the same with those hisson handed him.

  "How are you, Kid?" asked Bud of the injured cowboy as Mr. Merkel satat a table tearing open the various envelopes.

  "Oh, I'll be up and around again shortly," was the answer. "If youfigure on starting off after any more Indians I could get ready inabout two quivers of a steer's nose."

  "Guess there won't be any more Indians around here for a while,"observed Bud. "We taught those Yaquis a lesson."

  "Now you're shoutin'!" exclaimed Yellin' Kid, though it was he, ratherthan Bud, who spoke in a loud voice--hence the Kid's name. He justcouldn't seem to speak in ordinary tones, but appeared to take it forgranted that every one was deaf, and so shouted at them.

  Suddenly the quiet reading and attention that Mr. Merkel had beengiving his letters was broken as he jumped up, scattering the papers tothe floor of the bunk house. He held in his hand a single sheet thatseemed to cause him great surprise, not to say anger, and he exclaimed:

  "Well, it's come, just as I feared it would! Now we're in for some hottimes!"

  "What's the matter, Dad?" asked Bud, looking toward the door in whichhis cousins now stood, having finished reading their letters.

  "Not another Indian uprising, is it?" asked Bud.

  "Almost as bad!" his father answered. "We're going to have trouble. Imight have known things were too good to last!"

  "What sort of trouble?" inquired Nort.

  "With sheep herders," answered Mr. Merkel.

  "Sheep herders!" cried Bud, and if you know anything about the cattlebusiness you will realize his tone of voice. For, as I will explainlater, sheep herders are hated and despised by cattle men and horsebreeders alike, and with good reason, in spite of the rights the sheepmen have. "What do you mean?" asked Bud, fully alive to the dangerimplied by his father's words. "There isn't a sheep within a hundredmiles of here, thank goodness!"

  "No, but there soon will be," said Mr. Merkel grimly.

  "What makes you say that?" and Bud clearly showed his fear and interest.

  "Here's an official notice," his father said, waving the paper in hishand. "It just came in the mail yon brought. The government announcesthat it has thrown open to the public the old Indian lands borderin
g onSpur Creek, and it won't be a month before the place is over-run withMexicans, Greasers, and worse, with their stinking sheep! Pah! Itmakes me sick, after all the work we've done at Diamond X to have itspoiled this way! But I'm not going to sit back and stand it! I'mgoing to fight!"

  "That's right, Dad! I'm with you! I'll fight, too! Won't we,fellows?" he appealed to Nort and Dick.

  "Sure we will!" was their answer. And it was, in a way, as much theirbattle as it was that of Mr. Merkel and his son. For Bud, Nort andDick had a small ranch of their own in Happy Valley, not far from themain holdings at Diamond X.

  "But why do you think we'll be over-run with sheep just because they'veopened up the Indian lands?" asked Nort.

  "It just naturally follows," his uncle answered. "Every low-down onerysheep man for a hundred miles around has had his eyes on these landsfor the last five years, waiting for Uncle Sam to put 'em in the openmarket. Now the government has finally paid the Indians' claims andthose fellows at Washington have decided to make it afree-for-all-race."

  "Well, in that case," said Bud, "can't you and the other cattlemenaround here jump in and claim the land so there won't be any danger ofthe sheep men coming in?"

  "Well, there's just one hitch," answered Mr. Merkel. "I said it was afree and open race, but it isn't--exactly. Ranchmen who own more thana certain amount of acreage, grazing ground and range, are barred fromtaking any of this Indian land."

  "But there may be enough good cattle men and horse breeders who willtake up all the claims and so shut out the sheep," suggested Nort.

  "That might happen, but I haven't told you all," said his uncle. "Yousee boundary lines out here are pretty uncertain. In some places therenever has been a survey made. So not only may the sheep men jump inand claim the Indian land that the government has opened, but they'llover-run land that we now use for grazing cattle and horses. And Ineedn't tell you that once sheep have been on land it's ruined for mybusiness."

  This was very true, and though Nort and Dick had once been in the"tenderfoot" class, they had learned of the deep-seated hatred thatexisted on the part of a cattle man against a sheep owner.

  There is a real reason for this. Horses and cattle in the West justnaturally hate sheep. It may be that the cattle and horses recognizethat the sheep is such a greedy eater that he practically cleans offthe grass down to the very roots, whereas a steer or horse leavesenough of the herbage to grow for the next time.

  Then, too, the strong smell of sheep seems to annoy horses and cattle.Often a bunch of steers or a herd of horses will stampede and run formiles, merely after getting a whiff of the odor from a bunch of sheep.They will even do this if, in grazing, they come to a place where sheephave been eating. And if sheep wade through a creek the odor of theiroily wool seems to remain for days, and horses and cattle refuse todrink, unless almost dying of thirst. So much for the animalsthemselves, and because of this there was unending war between thehorses and cattle on one side, and sheep on the other. Though itcannot be said that the meek sheep did any fighting. They neverstampeded because they had to drink from streams where cows and horseshad watered, nor did they refuse to nibble grass left by the largeranimals.

  Aside from the fact that the horse breeders and cattle men werepioneers on the old open range, and naturally resented the coming ofthe lowly sheep herders, there is another reason for the hatred.Sheep, as I have said, nibble the grass to its very roots. And thenthe small and sharp feet of the sheep cut into the turf and so chopwhat few roots that are left as to prevent a new crop of grass fromgrowing--the fodder dies off. And as the sheep are kept constantly onthe march, as they greedily eat their way, they spread ruin--at leastso the ranchmen thought. So it was and had been war.

  "This is bad news--bad news!" muttered Mr. Merkel. "We ranchers willhave to get together and talk it over. We've got to do something! Iwant to talk to Tom Ogden." He was the owner of Circle T ranch, and afriend of Mr. Merkel.

  "Shall I go for him in the flivver?" asked Bud, for since the advent ofthe little car he and his cousins often journeyed in it, leaving theirhorses in the corral. Though there were places where only a horsecould be used, and of course for cattle work no cowboy would think ofanything but of being in the saddle.

  "No, thank you. I'll call him on the wire," said Mr. Merkel. "I'llhave him bring some of the other ranchers over. We've got to actquickly."

  "When does the land-grabbing start?" asked Dick.

  "It's open now--has been for the last two weeks. This notice is late,"said Mr. Merkel, looking at the paper in his hand. "Even now some ofthe sheep men may be coming up from the Mexican border. We've got todo something mighty sudden!"

  Seldom had Bud and his cousins seen Mr. Merkel so moved, and the boysrealized from this the grave danger.

  That evening a number of wealthy and influential ranch owners gatheredat Diamond X to talk the situation over. As cattle men in a small way,the Boy Ranchers, as they were called, were allowed to "sit in" on theconference.

  "The worst of it for me," said Mr. Merkel, "is that the range where Ibreed my best steers is near this Spur Creek tract, and the sheep willnaturally over-run my feeding ground."

  "Can't you fence it in?" asked Mr. Ogden.

  "Too late for that now; it would take weeks to get the wire here, andsome of those onery sheep men wouldn't mind cutting the strands,anyhow. It only takes one night for a band of sheep to ruin a goodmany miles of pasture. No, what we've got to do is to fight 'em fromthe start--not let 'em get there."

  "We'll take up the land ourselves!" exclaimed Henry Small.

  "Can't, Hen," objected Mr. Merkel. "We all own our full share now, andmaybe a little more. Of course, when you look at it from a legalstandpoint a sheep man has just as many rights under the government aswe have. But not by custom or western ways."

  "Not by a long shot!" cried the other ranchmen.

  "I hope your papers are all straight," observed Mr. Ogden to Bud'sfather.