He turned his horse back toward the State line and left Carver to solve the problem as best he might. Their present stand was in the quarantine belt, a strip some miles wide which paralleled the State line; this to protect the stock of the Kansas cowmen from Texas fever and other contagious afflictions so prevalent among the trail herds brought up from the south. All southern cattle must be held in this quarantine area until declared free of all disease before proceeding on their northward course to market. This was the off-season for the pastoral transportation of trail herds from the Texas cow country, and the only official intervention against which Carver must guard was the possible appearance of one of the infrequent cavalry patrols sent out from old Fort Darlington on the southern extremity of the Strip.
The unowned lands were tenanted only by a few big cow outfits whose owners had made satisfactory arrangements with the Cherokees, paying their tribute in the shape of grazing fees, a custom so long established that it was recognized by Federal authorities, and government agents now collected the money and passed it on to the territory tribes.
Carver stood his turn on first guard and as he rode round the herd he pondered the problem in hand and sought for a solution which would give him an insight into Hinman’s purpose. It was not so much from the authorities but from the common themselves that he might expect prompt interference. Those who leased range in the Strip did not often wait upon the slow process of official intervention when outside brands encroached upon their interests but took the law into their own hands at once. Hinman was well aware of that condition, Carver reflected. He circled the herd and sang to soothe his charges on the bed ground. Off across he could hear the voice of another night guard raised in song. He produced his one last coin and studied it in the moonlight.
“Little lonely dollar, you must mount up to a million,” he chanted. “And we’ll mount the first step upward if only I can fathom what Hinman expects of me. He don’t care a dime about saving taxes on this bunch, and he knows that I can see the costs will outweigh the profits two to one even if everything goes through without a quiver. He and Nate Younger, while they get along personal, have been whetting their tomahawks for each other as far back as I can remember. Now he leads us down here due north of the center of old Nate’s leases and stresses the point that I can maybe trade deals with any outfit off to the south—and Nate the only possible one I could deal with from this point. What time I haven’t worked for Hinman, I’ve been working for Nate, and Old Joe knows that Nate’s the best friend I’ve got outside himself. Now what’s he aiming at?”
His shift on guard duty was half over before he found the slightest ray of light on the problem.
“Joe must know that Nate will pounce down on us right off,” he mused. “If they open the Strip for settlement, like Joe predicts, then Younger will be forced out of the game. Now just why does Hinman provide him with this opportunity for a big final disturbance with all the odds on Nate’s side? He couldn’t have done it accidental and it appears more and more like he’s deliberately throwing himself wide open.”
His mind traveled back over the events of the day and settled upon the scene which had transpired near the town well just prior to his departure.
“There now,” he suddenly remarked. “That’s sure enough the answer. Bart and Mattison didn’t want to carry that altercation to a finish but neither one would back down with folks looking on. These two stubborn old pirates are likely in a similar frame of mind. It’s always seemed to me someway, that they didn’t either one feel half so hostile toward the other as they made it appear. Joe’s giving Nate one final chance to show his hand—to take a whack at him or quit, hoping to cancel this old feud before Nate’s crowded out. He didn’t send me down here to keep out of trouble but shoved me right into it, knowing I’d do my best to make it as light as possible when it came. That’s all the idea I’ve got to work on.”
The men breakfasted in the first light of day and the cows were allowed to scatter through the breaks on the far side of the creek.
“You boys hold ’em within fair limits,” Carver instructed Bradshaw. “I’ll join you up here this evening. If a patrol should jump you by any off chance, you just explain that you’re driving them down to the Half Diamond H and laid over here a day to rest them.”