“How’d you like to have the job of crossing a hundred thousand borregos and half of ’em with lambs, when the rio was on a bender? I’ve seen some of these sheepmen wadin’ around up to their chins for two weeks, tryin’ to float twenty-five hundred head across the river––and there wasn’t turkey buzzards enough in the country when they got through.
“Last year they had the sand bars up around Hidden Water lined with carcasses two deep where they’d jest naturally crowded ’em into the river and let ’em sink or swim. Them Chihuahua Mexicans, you savvy. After they’d wore out their shoes and froze their marrow-bones wadin’ they got tired and shoved ’em in, regardless. Well, if this warm weather holds we’ll be able to git our rodér good and started before the sheep come in. That’s one reason why I never was able to do much with these sheepmen,” he added. “They hit me right square in the middle of the round-up, Spring and Fall, when I’m too busy gatherin’ cattle to pay much attention to ’em. I did plan a little surprise party last year––but that was somethin’ special. But now you’re on the job, Rufe,” he continued reassuringly, “I’m goin’ to leave all sheep and 80 sheepmen strictly alone––you can bank on that. Bein’ as we are goin’ to try the expeeriment I want to see it done right. I never made a cent fightin’ ’em, that’s a cinch, and if you can appeal to their better natures, w’y, go to it! I’d help you if I could, but bein’ as I can’t I’ll git out of the road and give you a chanst.
“Now I’ll tell you how it’ll be,” he continued, turning in his saddle and hooking one leg over the horn, “the boys’ll come in for the rodér to-morrow or next day; we begin to gather on the first, and it takes us about a month. Well, we look for the sheep to come in on us at about the same time––first of April––and we ain’t been fooled yet. They’ll begin to stack up on the other side any time now, and as soon as the water goes down they’ll come across with a rush. And if they’re feelin’ good-natured they’ll spread out over The Rolls and drift north, but if they’re feelin’ bad they’ll sneak up onto Bronco Mesa and scatter the cattle forty ways for Sunday, and bust up my rodér and raise hell generally. We had a little trouble over that last year,” he added parenthetically.
“Well, I’ll turn over the house and the grub and the whole business to you this year and camp out with the boys under the mesquite––and then you can entertain them sheepmen and jolly ’em up no end. They 81 won’t have a dam’ thing––horse feed, grub, tobacco, matches, nothin’! Never do have anythin’. I’d rather have a bunch of Apaches camped next to me––but if you want to be good to ’em there’s your chanst. Meanwhile, I’m only a cow-punch pullin’ off a round-up, and your name is Mr.––you’re the superintendent of the Dos S. Your job is to protect the upper range, and I begin to think you can do it.”
There was a tone of half-hearted enthusiasm about this talk which marked it for a prepared “spiel,” laboriously devised to speed the new superintendent upon his way; but, not being schooled in social deceit, Creede failed utterly in making it convincing.
“That’s good,” said Hardy, “but tell me––what has been your custom in the past? Haven’t you been in the habit of feeding them when they came in?”
“Feed ’em?” cried Creede, flaring up suddenly. “Did I feed ’em? Well, I should guess yes––I never turned one away hungry in my life. W’y, hell, man,” he exclaimed, his anger growing on him, “I slep’ in the same blanket with ’em––until I become lousy,” he added grimly.
“What!” exclaimed Hardy, aghast. “You don’t mean to say––”
“No,” interrupted Creede ironically, “I don’t mean to say anythin’––not from now on. But while we’re on the subject and to avoid any future misunderstandin’ 82 I might just as well tell you right now that I can’t see nothin’ good in a sheepman––nothin’! I’m like my cat Tom when he sees a rattlesnake, my hair bushes up clean over my ears and I see hell, damnation, and sudden death!”
He rose up, frowning, on his mighty horse and gazed at Hardy with eyes that burned deep with passion. “If every sheep and sheepman in Arizona should drop dead at this minute,” he said, “it would simply give me a laughin’ sensation. God damn ’em!” he added passionately, and it sounded like a prayer.