Ben Blair Part 8

Once settled, he began to make acquaintances. Methodically, to the members of one ranch at a time, he sent invitations to dinner, and upon the appointed date he confronted his guests with a spectacle which made them all but doubt their ident.i.ty, the like of which most of them had never even seen before. Fancy a cowboy rancher, clad in flannel and leather, welcomed by a host and hostess in complete evening dress, ushered into a room which contained a carpet and a piano, and had lace curtains at the windows; seated later at a table covered with pure linen and set with real china and cut-gla.s.s. The experience was like a dream to the visitor. Temporarily, as in a dream, the evening would pa.s.s without conscious volition upon the latter's part; and not until later, when he was at home, would the full significance of the experience a.s.sert itself, and his wonder and admiration find vent in words. Then indeed would the fame of Scotty Baker, his wife, and little daughter, be heard in the land.

Early in his career, Scotty began to cultivate the impa.s.sive Rankin. He fairly bombarded the big rancher with courtesies and invitations. No holiday (and Scotty was an a.s.siduous observer of holidays) was complete unless Rankin was present to help celebrate. No improvement about the ranch was definitely undertaken until Rankin had expressed a favorable opinion concerning the project. Gradually, so gradually that the big man himself did not realize the change, he fell under Scotty's influence, and more and more frequently he was to be found headed toward the cosey Baker cottage. Now, for a year or more, scarcely a Sunday had pa.s.sed without one or the other of the men finding it possible to traverse the thirty miles intervening between them, to spend a few hours in each other's company.

It was in pursuance of this laudable intention that on the second morning following Ben Blair's adoption into the Box R Ranch--a Sunday--the Englishman hitched a team of his best blooded trotters to the antiquated phaeton, which was the only vehicle he possessed, and started across country at a lively clip. Thus it came to pa.s.s that about two hours later, having tied his team at the barn and started for the ranch-house, the visitor saw squarely in his path upon the sunny south doorstep an object that made him pause and blink his near-sighted eyes.

Under the concentration of his vision, the object resolved itself into a small boy perched like a frog upon a rock, his fingers locked across his s.h.i.+ns, his chin upon his knees. For an instant the Englishman hesitated. Courtesy was instinctive with him.

"Can you tell me whether Mr. Rankin is at home?" he asked.

The lad calmly disentangled himself and stood up.

"You mean the big man, sir?"

Again Scotty was guilty of a breach of etiquette. He stared.

"Certainly," he replied at last.

Ben Blair stepped out of the way.

"Yes, sir, he is."

Within the ranch-house Scotty dropped into the nearest chair.

"Tell me, Rankin," he began, "who is the new-comer, and where did you get him?" A long leg swung comfortably over its mate. "And, by the way, while you're about it, is he six or sixty? By Jove, I couldn't tell!"

The host looked at his visitor quizzically.

"Ben, I suppose you mean?"

"Ben, or _Tom_, I don't know. I mean the gentleman on the front steps, the one who didn't know your name," and the Englishman related the recent conversation.

The corners of Rankin's eyes tightened into an unwonted smile as he listened, and then contracted until the corner of the large mouth drew upward in sympathy.

"I'm not surprised, Baker," he admitted, "that you're in doubt about Ben's age. He's eight; but I'd be uncertain myself if I didn't absolutely know. As to his not knowing my name--it's just struck me that I've never introduced myself to the little fellow."

"But how did you come to get him? This isn't a country where one sees many children roaming around."

"No," the big mouth dropped back into its normal shape; "that's a fact.

He didn't just drop in. I got him by adoption, I suppose; least ways, I asked him to come and live with me, and he accepted." The speaker turned to his companion directly. "You knew Jennie Blair, did you?"

Scotty looked interested.

"Knew of her, but never had the pleasure of an acquaintance. I always--"

"Well," interrupted Rankin impa.s.sively, "Ben's her son. She died awhile ago, you remember, and somehow it seemed to break Blair all up. He wouldn't stay here any longer, and didn't want to take the kid with him, so I took the youngster in. As far as I know, the arrangement will stick."

For a minute there was silence. Scotty observed his host shrewdly, almost sceptically.

"That's all of the story, is it?" he asked at last.

"All, as far as I know."

Scotty continued his observation a moment longer.

"But not all the kid knows, I judge."

The host made no comment, and in a distinctively absent manner the Englishman removed his gla.s.ses and cleaned the lenses upon the tail of his Sunday frock-coat.

"By the way,"--Scotty returned the gla.s.ses to his nose and sprung the bows over his ears with a snap,--"what day was it that Blair left? Did it happen to be Friday?"

"Yes, Friday."

"And he doesn't intend ever to return?"

"I believe not."

The visitor's eyes flashed swiftly around the room. The two men were alone.

"I think, then, I see through it." The voice was lower than before. "One of my best mares disappeared night before last, and I haven't been able to get trace of a hoof or hair since."

"What?" Rankin was interested at last.

Scotty repeated the statement, and his host eyed him a full half minute steadily.

"And you just--tell of it?" he said at last.

The Englishman s.h.i.+fted uneasily in his seat.

"Yes." Forgetting that he had just polished his gla.s.ses, he took them off and went through the process again.

"Yes, I may as well be honest, I've seen a bit of these Westerners about here, and I don't really agree with their scheme of justice. They're apt to put two and two together and make eight where you know it's only four." For the second time he sprung the bows back over his ears. "And when they find out their beastly mistake--why--oh--it's too late then, perhaps, for some poor devil!"

For another half minute Rankin hesitated; then he reached over and grasped the other man by the hand.

"Baker," he said, "you ain't very practical, but you're dead square."

And he shook the hand again.

Of a sudden a twinkle came into the Britisher's eyes and he tore himself loose with an effort.

"By the way," he said, "I'd like to ask a question for future guidance.

What would you have done if you'd been in my place?"

Rankin stiffened in his seat, and a color almost red surged beneath the tan of his cheeks; then, as suddenly as his companion had done, he smiled outright.

"I reckon I'd have done just what you did," he admitted; and the two men laughed together.

"Seriously, though," said Scotty, after a moment, "and as long as I've told you anyway, what ought I to do under the circ.u.mstances? Should I let Blair off, do you think?"

For a moment Rankin did not answer; then he faced his questioner directly, and Scotty knew why the big man's word was so nearly law in the community.