“They’d be sure to believe us,” Bradshaw commented skeptically. “Old Nate Younger wouldn’t let a Kansas cow graze on the Half Diamond H for the price of it. Leastways not one of Hinman’s.”
“He’s maybe changed his mind,” said Carver. “I’ll ride down and see.”
He headed for the home ranch of the Half Diamond H, located on a branch of Cabin Creek some miles above that stream’s confluence with the Salt Fork of the Arkansas. Younger met him halfway, a rider having already reported the presence of the herd.
“Now just what are you doing with a bunch of Joe Hinman’s cows in the quarantine strip and messing along the edge of my range?” he demanded. “You’ve rode for me on enough different occasions to know better than that.”
“They just came fogging down here of their own accord,” Carver testified. “And I came after them.”
“I’ll see that you get plenty of help when it comes to running them back,” Younger offered. He waved an arm toward a group of approaching riders. “Here come my boys now. I’ll throw ’em in behind those cows and jam them back across the line and scatter ’em over the whole west half of Kansas; or else take charge and hold ’em till I can get a detachment sent up from Fort Darlington to keep the whole mangy layout in quarantine till they’re fined more’n their market price. I’ll——”
“I wouldn’t adopt either one of those courses you just mentioned Nate,” Carver counselled. “If a patrol jumped us I was going to proclaim that Joe was short of range and that you, being an old friend of his, had volunteered to run this bunch on your leases till the grass greened up next month. That was my idea.”
“I’ve got another idea that beats yours all to hell,” Younger retorted. “About fifteen years back a bunch of my stuff drifted off in a storm and fed out a few sections of Joe Hinman’s land that had blowed clear of snow. He thought I’d shoved ’em on there to eat him out. This is the first real good chance I’ve had to play even for what shape he left those cows of mine in after hazing ’em at a run through a foot of snow. What I’ll do to this bunch of Box T steers will be sufficient.”
He motioned his grinning riders to fall in behind him as he headed up country with Carver.
“Then it does look as if I’d soon be out of a job,” Carver said, “if you go and mess up my detail. Maybe you’d take me on for the summer.”