Bud’s young jaw tightened stubbornly. “He can’t 98 get nothin’ on me,” he stated. “It’s this way. When help begun to get shy a couple of months ago—that’s when he started his business of gittin’ rid of the men one way or another—Tex must of hinted around to Miss Mary that I was goin’ to quit, for she up an’ asked me one day if it was true, an’ said she hoped me an’ Rick wasn’t goin’ to leave like the rest of ’em.”
He paused, a faint flush darkening his tan. “I dunno as you’ve noticed it,” he went on, plucking a long spear of grass and twisting it between his brown fingers, “but Miss Mary’s got a way about her that—that sort of gets a man. She’s so awful young, an’—an’—earnest, an’ though she don’t know one thing hardly about ranchin’, she’s dead crazy about this place, an’ mighty anxious to make it pay. When she asks yuh to do somethin’, yuh jest natu’ally feel like yuh wanted to oblige. I felt like that, anyhow, an’ I was hot under the collar at Tex for lyin’ about me like he must of done. So I tells her straight off I wasn’t thinkin’ of anythin’ of the sort. ‘Fu’thermore,’ I says, ‘I’ll stick to the job as long as yuh like if you’ll do one thing.’ She asks what’s that, an’ I told her that some folks, namin’ no names, was tryin’ to make out to her I wasn’t doin’ my work good, an’ doin’ their best to get me in bad.
“‘Oh, but I think you’re mistaken,’ she says, catchin’ on right away who I meant. ‘Tex wouldn’t 99 do anythin’ like that. He needs help too bad, for one thing.’
“‘Well,’ I says, ‘let it go at that. Only, if yuh hear anythin’ against me, I’d like for yuh not to take anybody else’s word for it. It’s got to be proved I ain’t capable, or I’ve done somethin’ I oughta be fired for. An’ if things gets so I got to go, I’ll come to yuh an’ ask for my time myself. Fu’thermore, I’ll get Rick to promise the same thing.’
“Well, to make a long story short, she said she’d do it, though I could see she was still thinkin’ me mistaken about Tex doin’ anythin’ out of the way. He’s a rotten skunk, but you’d better believe he don’t let her see it. He’s got her so she believes every darn word he says is gospel.”
He finished in an angry key. Stratton’s face was thoughtful.
“How long has he been here?” he asked.
“Who? Tex? Oh, long before I come. The old man made him foreman pretty near a year ago in place of Bloss, who run the outfit for Stratton, that fellow who was killed in the war that old Thorne bought the ranch off from.”
“What sort of a man was this Thorne?” Buck presently inquired.
“Pretty decent, though kinda stand-offish with us fellows. He was awful thick with Tex, though, an’ 100 mebbe that’s the reason Miss Mary thinks so much of him. She took his death mighty hard, believe me!”