The Cattle-Baron's Daughter

  THE CATTLE-BARON'S DAUGHTER

  by

  HAROLD BINDLOSS

  Author of "Alton of Somasco," etc.

  A FIERCE WHITE FROTHING ABOUT HIM.--Page 335.]

  New YorkFrederick A. Stokes CompanyPublishers

  Copyright, 1906, byFrederick A. Stokes CompanyThis Edition published in September, 1906All rights reserved

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I The Portent 1 II Hetty Takes Heed 12 III The Cattle-Barons 26 IV Muller Stands Fast 39 V Hetty Comes Home 50 VI The Incendiary 62 VII Larry Proves Intractable 72 VIII The Sheriff 85 IX The Prisoner 96 X On the Trail 110 XI Larry's Acquittal 122 XII The Sprouting of the Seed 134 XIII Under Fire 144 XIV Torrance's Warning 155 XV Hetty's Bounty 165 XVI Larry Solves the Difficulty 177 XVII Larry's Peril 189 XVIII A Futile Pursuit 201 XIX Torrance Asks a Question 212 XX Hetty's Obstinacy 224 XXI Clavering Appears Ridiculous 238 XXII The Cavalry Officer 250 XXIII Hetty's Avowal 262 XXIV The Stock Train 272 XXV Cheyne Relieves His Feelings 286 XXVI Larry's Reward 296 XXVII Clavering's Last Card 309 XXVIII Larry Rides to Cedar 321 XXIX Hetty Decides 331 XXX Larry's Wedding Day 343 XXXI Torrance Rides Away 355

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  "Come Down!" _Facing page_ 48

  "She'll shoot me before she means to." 66

  A white face and shadowy head, from whichthe fur cap had fallen. 114

  "Aren't you a trifle late?" 160

  There was a note in her voice that set the man'sheart beating furiously. 268

  A fierce white frothing about him. _Frontispiece_

  THE CATTLE-BARON'S DAUGHTER

  I

  THE PORTENT

  The hot weather had come suddenly, at least a month earlier than usual,and New York lay baking under a scorching sun when Miss Hetty Torrance satin the coolest corner of the Grand Central Depot she could find. It was byher own wish she had spent the afternoon in the city unattended, for MissTorrance was a self-reliant young woman; but it was fate and theirregularity of the little gold watch, which had been her dead mother'sgift, that brought her to the depot at least a quarter of an hour toosoon. But she was not wholly sorry, for she had desired more solitude andtime for reflection than she found in the noisy city, where a visit to aneminent modiste had occupied most of her leisure. There was, she hadreasons for surmising, a decision of some moment to be made that night,and as yet she was no nearer arriving at it than she had been when thelittle note then in her pocket had been handed her.

  Still, it was not the note she took out when she found a seat apart fromthe hurrying crowd, but a letter from her father, Torrance, theCattle-Baron, of Cedar Range. It was terse and to the point, as usual, anda little smile crept into the girl's face as she read.

  "Your letter to hand, and so long as you have a good time don't worryabout the bills. You'll find another five hundred dollars at the bank whenyou want them. Thank God, I can give my daughter what her mother shouldhave had. Two years since I've seen my little girl, and now it seems thatsomebody else is wanting her! Well, we were made men and women, and if youhad been meant to live alone dabbling in music you wouldn't have beengiven your mother's face. Now, I don't often express myself this way, butI've had a letter from Captain Jackson Cheyne, U. S. Cavalry, which readsas straight as I've found the man to be. Nothing wrong with that family,and they've dollars to spare; but if you like the man I can put down twofor every one of his. Well, I might write a good deal, but you're too muchlike your father to be taken in. You want dollars and station, and I cansee you get them, but in a contract of this kind the man is everything.Make quite sure you're getting the right one."

  There was a little more to the same purpose, and when she slipped theletter into her pocket Hetty Torrance smiled.

  "The dear old man!" she said. "It is very like him; but whether Jake isthe right one or not is just what I can't decide."

  Then she sat still, looking straight in front of her, a very attractivepicture, as some of the hurrying men who turned to glance at her seemed tofind, in her long light dress. Her face, which showed a delicate ovalunder the big white hat, was a trifle paler than is usual with mostEnglishwomen of her age, and the figure the thin fabric clung about lessdecided in outline. Still, the faint warmth in her cheeks emphasized theclear pallor of her skin, and there was a depth of brightness in the darkeyes that would have atoned for a good deal more than there was in hercase necessity for. Her supple slenderness also became Hetty Torrancewell, and there was a suggestion of nervous energy in her very pose. Inaddition to all this, she was a rich man's daughter, who had been welltaught in the cities, and had since enjoyed all that wealth and refinementcould offer her. It had also been a cause of mild astonishment to thefriends she had spent the past year with, that with these advantages, shehad remained Miss Torrance. They had been somewhat proud of their guest,and opportunities had not been wanting had she desired to change herstatus.

  While she sat there musing, pale-faced citizens hurried past, greatlocomotives crawled to and fro, and long trains of cars, white with thedust of five hundred leagues, rolled in. Swelling in deeper cadence, theroar of the city came faintly through the din; but, responsive to thethrob of life as she usually was, Hetty Torrance heard nothing of it then,for she was back in fancy on the grey-white prairie two thousand milesaway. It was a desolate land of parched grass and bitter lakes withbeaches dusty with alkali, but a rich one to the few who held dominionover it, and she had received the homage of a princess there. Then sheheard a voice that was quite in keeping with the spirit of the scene, andwas scarcely astonished to see that a man was smiling down on her.

  He was dressed in city garments, and they became him; but the hand he heldout was lean, and hard, and brown, and, for he stood bareheaded, a palerstreak showed where the wide hat had shielded a face that had beendarkened by stinging alkali dust from the prairie sun. It was a quietlyforceful face, with steady eyes, which had a little sparkle of pleasure inthem, and were clear and brown, while something in the man's sinewy posesuggested that he would have been at home in the saddle. Indeed, it was inthe saddle that Hetty Torrance remembered him most vividly, hurling hishalf-tamed broncho straight at a gully down which the nondescript packstreamed, while the scarcely seen shape of a coyote blurred by the dust,streaked the prairie in front of them.

  "Hetty!" he said.

  "Larry!" said the girl. "Why, whatever are you doing here?"

  Then both laughed a little, perhaps to conceal the faint constraint thatwas upon them, for a meeting between former comrades has its difficultieswhen one is a man and the other a woman, and the bond between them has notbeen defined.

  "I came in on business a day or two ago," said the man. "Ran round tocheck some packages. I'm going back again to-morrow."

  "Well," said the girl, "I was in the city, and came here to meet FloSchuyler and her sister. They'll be in at four."

  The man looked at his watch. "That gives us 'most fifteen minutes, butit's not going to be enough. We'll lose none of it. What about thesinging?"

  Hetty Torrance flushed a trifle. "Larry," she said, "you are quite sureyou don't know
?"

  The man appeared embarrassed, and there was a trace of gravity in hissmile. "Your father told me a little; but I haven't seen him so often oflate. Any way, I would sooner you told me."

  "Then," said the girl, with the faintest of quivers in her voice, "thefolks who understand good music don't care to hear me."

  There was incredulity, which pleased his companion, in the man's face, buthis voice vaguely suggested contentment.

  "That is just what they can't do," he said decisively. "You sing mostdivinely."

  "There is a good deal you and the boys at Cedar don't know, Larry. Anyway, lots of people sing better than I do, but I should be angry with youif I thought you were pleased."

  The man smiled gravely. "That would hurt. I'm sorry for you, Hetty; butagain I'm glad. Now there's nothing to keep you in the city, you'll comeback to us. You belong to the prairie, and it's a better place thanthis."

  He spoke at an opportune moment. Since her cherished ambition had failedher, Hetty Torrance had grown a trifle tired of the city and the round ofpleasure that must be entered into strenuously, and there were times when,looking back in reverie, she saw the great silent prairie roll back underthe red sunrise into the east, and fade, vast, solemn, and restful, a coolland of shadow, when the first pale stars came out. Then she longed forthe jingle of the bridles and the drumming of the hoofs, and felt oncemore the rush of the gallop stir her blood. But this was what she wouldnot show, and her eyes twinkled a trifle maliciously.

  "Well, I don't quite know," she said. "There is always one thing left tomost of us."

  She saw the man wince ever so slightly, and was pleased at it; but he was,as she had once told him in the old days, grit all through, and he smileda little.

  "Of course!" he said. "Still, the trouble is that there are very few of usgood enough for you. But you will come back for a little?"

  Miss Torrance would not commit herself. "How are they getting along at theRange?"

  "Doesn't your father write you?"

  "Yes," said the girl, colouring a trifle. "I had a letter from him a fewdays ago, but he seldom mentioned what he was doing, and I want you totell me about him."

  The man appeared thoughtful. "Well," he said, "it's quite three monthssince I spoke to him. He was stirring round as brisk as ever, and isrolling the dollars in this year."

  "But you used to be always at the Range."

  The man nodded, but the slight constraint that was upon him did not escapethe girl. "Still, I don't go there so often now. The Range is lonesomewhen you are away."

  Miss Torrance accepted the speech as one made by a comrade, and perhapswas wrong, but a tramp of feet attracted her attention then, and shelooked away from her companion. Driven by the railroad officials, and ledby an interpreter, a band of Teutons some five or six hundred strong filedinto the station. Stalwart and stolid, tow-haired, with the stamp ofacquiescent patience in their homely faces, they came on with the swing,but none of the usual spirit, of drilled men. They asked no questions, butwent where they were led, and the foulness of the close-packed steerageseemed to cling about them. For a time the depot rang to the rhythmictramp of feet, and when, at a sign from the interpreter, it stopped, twobewildered children, frowsy and unwashed, in greasy homespun, sat down andgazed at Miss Torrance with mild blue eyes. She signed to a boy who waspassing with a basket slung before him, and made a little impatientgesture when the man slipped his hand into his pocket.

  "No," she said; "you'll make me vexed with you. Tell him to give them allhe has. They'll be a long while in the cars."

  She handed the boy a silver coin, and while the children sat still,undemonstratively astonished, with the golden fruit about them, the manpassed him a bill.

  "Now get some more oranges, and begin right at the top of the line," hesaid. "If that doesn't see you through, come back to me for anotherbill."

  Hetty Torrance's eyes softened. "Larry," she said, "that was dreadfullygood of you. Where are they all going to?"

  "Chicago, Nebraska, Minnesota, Montana," said the man. "There are the carscoming in. Just out of Castle Garden, and it's because of the cityimprovements disorganizing traffic they're bringing them this way. They'rethe advance guard, you see, and there are more of them coming."

  The tramp of feet commenced again, but this time it was a horde of diversenationality, Englishmen, Irishmen, Poles, and Finns, but all with thestamp of toil, and many with that of scarcity upon them. Bedraggled,unkempt, dejected, eager with the cunning that comes of adversity, theyflowed in, and Hetty Torrance's face grew pitiful as she watched them.

  "Do they come every week like this and, even in our big country, have wegot room for all of them?" she said.

  There was a curious gleam in the man's brown eyes. "Oh, yes," he said."It's the biggest and greatest country this old world has ever seen, andthe Lord made it as a home for the poor--the folks they've no food or usefor back yonder; and, while there are short-sighted fools who would closethe door, we take them in, outcast and hopeless, and put new heart inthem. In a few short years we make them men and useful citizens, the equalof any on this earth--Americans!"

  Hetty Torrance nodded, and there was pride but no amusement in her smile;for she had a quick enthusiasm, and the reticence of Insular Britain hasno great place in that country.

  "Still," she said; "all these people coming in must make a difference."

  The man's face grew grave. "Yes," he said; "there will have to be achange, and it is coming. We are only outwardly democratic just now, anddon't seem to know that men are worth more than millionaires. We have letthem get their grip on our industries, and too much of our land, untilwhat would feed a thousand buys canvas-backs, and wines from Europe forone. Isn't what we raise in California good enough for Americans?"

  Miss Torrance's eyes twinkled. "Some of it isn't very nice, and they don'tlive on canvas-backs," she said. "Still, it seems to me that other menhave talked like that quite a thousand years ago; and, while I don't knowanyone better at breaking a broncho or cutting out a steer, straighteningthese affairs out is too big a contract for you."

  The man laughed pleasantly. "That's all right, but I can do a little inthe place I belong to, and the change is beginning there. Is it good forthis country that one man should get rich feeding his cattle on leagues ofprairie where a hundred families could make a living growing wheat?"

  "Now," said the girl drily, "I know why you and my father haven't got on.Your opinions wouldn't please him, Larry."

  "No," said the man, with a trace of embarrassment, "I don't think theywould; and that's just why we've got to convince him and the others thatwhat we want to do is for the good of the country."

  Hetty Torrance laughed. "It's going to be hard. No man wants to believeanything is good when he sees it will take quite a pile of dollars out ofhis pocket."

  The man said nothing, and Hetty fancied he was not desirous of followingup the topic, while as they sat silent a big locomotive backed anothergreat train of emigrant cars in. Then the tramp of feet commenced again,and once more a frowsy host of outcasts from the overcrowded lands pouredinto the depot. Wagons piled with baggage had preceded them, but manydragged their pitiful belongings along with them, and the murmur of theiralien voices rang through the bustle of the station. Hetty Torrance wasnot unduly fanciful, but those footsteps caused her, as she afterwardsremembered, a vague concern. She believed, as her father did, that Americawas made for the Americans; but it was evident that in a few more yearsevery unit of those incoming legions would be a citizen of the Republic,with rights equal to those enjoyed by Torrance of Cedar Range. She hadseen that as yet the constitution gave no man more than he could by hisown hand obtain; but it seemed not unlikely that some, at least, of thosedejected, unkempt men had struck for the rights of humanity that weredenied them in the older lands with dynamite and rifle.

  Then, as the first long train of grimy cars rolled out close packed withtheir frowsy human freight, a train of another kind came in, and two youngwomen in light dre
sses swung themselves down from the platform of a carthat was sumptuous with polished woods and gilding. Miss Torrance rose asshe saw them, and touched her companion.

  "Come along, Larry, and I'll show you two of the nicest girls you evermet," she said.

  The man laughed. "They would have been nicer if they hadn't come quite sosoon," he said.

  He followed his companion and was duly presented to Miss Flora and MissCaroline Schuyler. "Larry Grant of Fremont Ranch," said Miss Torrance."Larry is a great friend of mine."

  The Misses Schuyler were pretty. Carolina, the younger, pale, blue-eyed,fair-haired and vivacious; her sister equally blonde, but a triflequieter. Although they were gracious to him, Grant fancied that oneflashed a questioning glance at the other when there was a halt in theconversation. Then, as if by tacit agreement, they left him alone a momentwith their companion, and Hetty Torrance smiled as she held out her hand.

  "I can't keep them waiting, but you'll come and see me," she said.

  "I am going home to-morrow," said the man. "When are you coming, Hetty?"

  The girl smiled curiously, and there was a trace of wistfulness in hereyes. "I don't quite know. Just now I fancy I may not come at all, but youwill not forget me, Larry."

  The man looked at her very gravely, and Hetty Torrance appeared to findsomething disconcerting in his gaze, for she turned her head away.

  "No," he said, and there was a little tremor in his voice, "I don't thinkI shall forget you. Well, if ever you grow tired of the cities you willremember the lonely folks who are longing to have you home again backthere on the prairie."

  Hetty Torrance felt her fingers quiver under his grasp, but the nextmoment he had turned away, and her companions noticed there was a faintpink tinge in her cheeks when she rejoined them. But being wise youngwomen, they restrained their natural inquisitiveness, and asked noquestions then.

  In the meanwhile Grant, who watched them until the last glimpse of theirlight dresses was lost in the crowd, stood beside the second emigranttrain vacantly glancing at the aliens who thronged about it. His bronzedface was a trifle weary, and his lips were set, but at last hestraightened his shoulders with a little resolute movement and turnedaway.

  "I have my work," he said, "and it's going to be quite enough for me."