CHAPTER XIII
A FIGHT ALMOST LOST
Dad Frazer was not overly friendly toward the young man from Omaha who had come out to learn the sheep business under the threat of penalties and the promise of high rewards. He growled around about him continually when he and Mackenzie met, which was not very often, owing to their being several miles apart. Tim had stationed Dad and his big band of sheep between Mackenzie and Joan, leaving the schoolmaster to hold the frontier. No matter for old man Reid’s keenness to have his son suffer some of the dangers which he had faced in his day, Tim seemed to be holding the youth back out of harm’s way, taking no risks on losing a good thing for the family.
Reid had been on the range about two weeks, but Mackenzie had not seen a great deal of him, owing to Tim’s plan of keeping him out of the disputed territory, especially at night. That the young man did not care much for the company or instruction of Dad Frazer was plain. Twice he had asked Mackenzie to use his influence with Tim to bring about a change from the old man’s camp to his. In Mackenzie’s silence and severity the young man found something that he could not penetrate, a story that he could not read. Perhaps it was with a view to finding out what school Mackenzie had been seasoned in that Reid bent himself to win his friendship.
Dad Frazer came over the hills to Mackenzie’s range that afternoon, to stretch his legs, he said, although Mackenzie knew it was to stretch his tongue, caring nothing for the miles that lay between. He had left Reid in charge of his flock, the young man being favored by Tim to the extent of allowing him a horse, the same as he did Joan.
“I’m glad he takes to you,” said Dad. “I don’t like him; he’s got a graveyard in his eyes.”
“I don’t think he ever pulled a gun on anybody in his life, Dad,” Mackenzie returned, in mild amazement.
“I don’t mean that kind of a graveyard; I mean a graveyard where he buried the boy in him long before his time. He’s too sharp for his years; he’s seen too much of the kind of life a young feller’s better off for to hear about from a distance and never touch. I tell you, John, he ain’t no good.”
“He’s an agreeable kind of a chap, anyhow; he’s got a line of talk like a saddle salesman.”