Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About Vernonia eagle. (Vernonia, Or.) 1922-1974 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 13, 1936)
VERNONIA EAGLE. VERNONIA, OREGON GUNLOCK RANCH b Copyright Frank H. Spearman CHAPTER I WAS the Fourth of July, anti I T Sleepy Cat—that sunawept little desert town bordering on the Very Bad Lands of the arid Southwest— was dusty. Dust was not unusual In Sleepy Cat; to be dusty was Its normal condition; when not dusty. Sleepy Cat was dead. "But you needn't he scared of this kind of dust,” explained Doctor Carpy, who, sitting wltn his feet up against the porch handrail of his Sleepy Cat hotel, was talking to Jane Van Tambel. “It's not dirt, this dust—not like your Chicago dust. It’s clean volcanic ash that drifts up from the Spanish Sinks. “But toward sundown when the ash settles over the Superstition Hauge and the sun shines through It, the air shows every color of the rainbow. That snow on Music moun tain”—Dr. Carpy pointed—“looks pink and red and purple. You’ll like It out here.” Jane disagreed vigorously. “Oh, no! It’s going to be awfully lone some after city life,” she declared positively. “You’ll never be lonesome In Sleepy Cat—unless you're good,” observed the doctor cynically. “Oth erwise you’ll find things generally hum in Sleepy Cat.” “It certainly Is lively today,” con ceded the dissatisfied city girl. It was. Horsemen, not a few of them cowmen, clattered up and down Front street and River street, chiefly to hear their own noise. And a mob of miners and prospectors from Thief River had come up for the celebration and the horse races. “Been out on the Fairgrounds yet?” asked the doctor, continuing bls chat with Jane. “Seen any of the races?” “I saw the Indian races this morn ing—such .vipping and yelling! And those Texans that rode Into town yesterday—they yelled louder than the Indians.” “That outfit has Just delivered four thousand head of cattle to the Cunlock Agency. They checked them in yesterday. Some old-time Sleepy ('alters tn that hunch—Hen ry Sawdy and John Lefever made the drive with the outfit—all the way up from the Rio Grande. Hel lo.” exclaimed the doctor lazily, “here comes Sawd.v now,” A rather tall man, well rounded out. somewhat bow-legged, strongly built and confident, if not aggres sive, in manner, was coming up the wooden steps leading from the side walk to the hotel office. Carpy hniled him. Sawdy poised under an overwhelming sombrero, 'urned and walked toward the doctor and his guest. “Henry!” exclaimed the doctor. “Yon blamed old longhorn, I never looked to see you back in Sleepy Cat." "Ain’t no warrants out agin me. are there?” asked Sawdy In calm, blunt, hut spirited fashion. “There must be one or more agin you down along the Rio Grande. Henry,” retorted the doctor, “or you wouldn't be so far from the tinkle of the guitar with winter coming on Meet Miss Van Tam bel — newcomer since you went south. Mr. Sawdy, Miss Jane.’’ Hat in hand, Sawdy stared: "Miss Van Tambel?” he echoed. “Did I get the name right?” he asked as Jane nodded to his greeting. “You got it right.” remarked Car py dryly “Well,” returned Sawdy, swallow ing. “If you could get a few more newcomers like this. Doc, you’d have a live town. She's no relation to—" “Gas Van Tambel? Yes,” nodded Carpy, easily antlclpatlve. “She's his daughter—only daughter; only child? in fact" SaWdy swallowed again. “Well, Hl say any man might be proud to WNU Service claim her. I used to work for your father, is he alive yet?” “Alive, yes,” interposed Carpy, “but a sick men. Have you had a horse race this morning, Henry?” asked Carpy In teasing fashion. Sawdy snorted. “Hintin’ at that sell yesterday, eh? No horse race at all.” he went on angrily. “It was Just a plain steal. Doc—beggln’ par don, miss—a steal put up by this saloon keeper, Boland, and a crook ed cowman, McCrossen, and that Thief River butcher, Clubfoot.” Jane started. McCrossen was the Van Tambel foreman at Gun lock Ranch. “Tell us about that race,” Inter posed Carpy. “Well,” began the cowman reluc tantly, “night before last we bedded the herd down about three miles be low Thief River town. About sun down Clubfoot rode Into camp on a good-lookin' bay mare. I didn’t see him, I was on guard. He said he he was on bis way up to Sleepy Cat. John Lefever, our foreman, invited him to take supper and bunk for the night. “He said he was a prospector go- ln’ out on the Gunlock range. He started talkin’ horses and said he wanted to sell bis pony—claimed he had the fastest mare along the Sinks. He blowed about that pony until John got touchy about Ills own little chestnut gelding, and John finally promised him a race when we got to Sleepy Cat. Nobody In our bunch not havin’ seen the fel low's horse run, John waited till everybody got to sleep and takes Clubfoot's mare off her picket rope for a tryout. Shucks! She bad no speed at all. “Next day they arranged the race, and we boys put up our dough— every dollar in the outfit. What do you think of us for suckers? When the race started, that cussed pros pector—beggin' your pardon, miss— run In a ringer on us—another bay mare, looked exactly like the one he rode into camp. That mare run like a streak—covered five hundred yards before John's gelding got his feet picked up. Then we got the story. “Clubfoot turned out to be a side swipe for this saloon keeper Boland here.” “Henry, I thought you and John were too wise to get stung like that How you going to get even? Smash ing glassware won’t do It.” “I don’t know, Doc, I don’t know.” “Henry,” observed Carpy, “what you mean is you know but yon won’t tell.” “The races ain’t all over yet. Then there's the ropin' and throw in’-—” Carpy nodded. “—'nd the trick riding. All 1’11 say Is—” Sawdy hesitated. ‘ Say all you want to before tills young lady. She won't spill. I’ll guarantee her,” said Carpy. “Well, If that's so, miss—and you certainly look up to the brag— I’ll say McCrossen, that new fore man of yours, was In on that skin- nln’ we took—at least, we think so. That's nothin' In the world against you.” Jane spoke frankly: “Oh, I'm glad. Mr. Sawdy, you don't bring me into it, for I really don’t know any more about It than a babe unborn.” “I hear McCrossen Is quite a rid er,” observed Sawdy tentatively. “That’s what everybody says," re- “I Suppose You’ve Been Cleaned by This Sleepy Cat Bunch." turned Jane. “He certainly is won derful In the saddle." Sawdy nodded wisely, as If mere ly to say, "It Is well.” “Sawdy,” demanded Carpy, “what you got up your sleeve?” “Nothin’ at all, Doc—not a thing in the world.” “You can’t fool me, you old desert rat,” persisted Carpy. “Well, Doc, since you're so smart, will you back what I’ve got up my sleeve for fifty dollars? Will you do It, Doc? I’ve Just come from Jake Spotts’ place. He lent me fifty—” Carpy reached into his trousers pocket and drew out a roll of bills. “Go along, you critter!” he ex claimed indignantly. "I might have known your long-winded story would fair of a county bigger than most eastern states. A gathering of horsemen, cowmen, mining men, railroad men, gamblers, prospectors, desert rats milled about. On an occasion such as this, when a local celebration combined with the arrival of a goodly outfit of cow men, there was reason to look for ward to a lively round-up by propri etors of thirst parlors, gamblers, clothiers, merchants, and barbers. On this particular Fourth of July there was every reason but one for such a hope—the cow outfit had been thoroughly skinned by the ad vance guard of Sleepy Cat sharpers in the person of Harry Boland and Clubfoot and Company. In consequence the Circle Dot boys, as Sawdy’s outfit was known, made no especial contribution to the Fairgrounds festivities; they were present but not betting. Sawdy, long-faced and solemn, neglected to pull at his sweeping mustachlos—a sure sign of mental depression. John Lefever, rotund and naturally jolly, Circle Dot fore man, only whistled softly. The noon train from Medicine Bend brought a few more visitors to the Fairgrounds. These made just about a load for Jim McAlpin’s bus. To one Medicine Bend man, Jim paid particular deference, calling him frequently by his first name. The moment McAlpin's favored passenger had paid his fare, tipped the Scotch liveryman ‘generously, and walked toward the grandstand, McAlpin confided to those about him that this was the celebrated Harry Tenison, big-time gambler from Medicine Bend, who talked of opening a place in Sleepy Cat. Sawdy and Lefever were in moody confab behind the grandstand when the dapper Tenison approached, picking his steps with disgust through the dust. Sawdy’s eyes lighted on the new arrival first. He gave a great start. “Harry 1” he cried. ‘For the love o’ women 1 Of all men you’re sent this minute from heaven.” “How much is this goln’ to cost, Henry?” asked Tenison, pausing to dust his shoes with an Immaculate silk handkerchief. Lefever, too, beamed on Tenison. “Harry!” he shouted. For .he love o’ Mike, how come?” “Two of you,” commented Jeni son calmly. “The clouds are gath erin’. I suppose you’ve been cleaned by this Sleepy Cat bunch and want me for a pay-off.” “Harry,” murmured Sawdy, lower voiced and very sober. “I’ll admit I couldn't have said it better myself. Come this way. Talk low.” The three found a quiet spot back of the grandstand. The story of the cowmen was soon told. It went into sympathetic and unhesitating ears. As with all gamblers who play big, Tenlson's mind was soon made By two o’clock that day the Fair up. “I don’t bank much on sure grounds were sizzling hot and tre things; but you two seem to know mendously crowded. Frontier Day what you’re talkin’ about. How celebration was combined with the much do you boys want?” national holiday and the county (TO BE CONTINUED) cost me money. But I didn't look for It to be fifty dollars.” "Make It a hundred, Doc," ven tured Sawdy In his rich, persuasive voice. “Not on your life, Henry. You’ll lose this, anyway.” "We get paid tomorrow—cough up for me.” “Go hang I I haven’t got It to spare. Want to do some betting myself.” Jane held out her purse. “Why, here, Mr. Sawdy. There’s over fifty In this that I'm sure I don't need. Take It.” Sawdy stared dumbfounded. “I couldn’t do that, young miss. I couldn’t." Jane, still smiling, had opened tier purse, taken from It five gold eagles, and held them out. “If you refuse to let me accommodate you, It won’t be much of a compliment to me." she protested. “I know blamed well I ought not to do it," muttered the big fellow. “Doc—what shall I do?” “Take it 1” said Carpy grulfly. “You'll lose It—then you can work it out for,Jane on the ranch this summer—she’s running things out there while her father’s sick.” Sawdy reluctantly let the trim young lady drop the gold pieces Into his horny hand—she laughing. “But if you go to work at Gun lock,” remarked the doctor, "make no mistake. Keep off the grass. Don’t aspire to the hand of this young princess. I’ve got a bld in there myself.” “Why, doctor!” exclaimed Jane, all rosy in protest and rising to go. “Just the same, girl, any man that bids for you lias got to face a ma jor operation at my hands. Will you be back for dinner?" he asked of Jane as she made ready to leave. "We’re having watermelon today.” "Vm not going to miss that. But I must go over to Rubido’s to order some supplies. By the way, I for got to ask: What shall I do with that medicine you gave me last time?” "Throw It out the window and ride horseback. You’re coming along wonderful for six weeks out here.” “Hold on, miss. Just a minute, please,” begged Sawdy as the party broke up. “You’ll be at the Fair grounds this afternoon for the races?” “Of course 1’11 be there," respond ed Jane pertly. “You’ve done me a kind, good turn. I want to do you a good one. This goes for this old medicine man, too.” Sawdy nodded toward the doctor. "What Is It?" asked Jane coolly Sawdy was solemn. “You won’t neither of you spill it? All right Don’t bet no money on the trick ridin' this afternoon.” “Small girl for a big job, as the Indians would say.” Presenting GUNLOCK RANCH FRANK H. SPEARMAN r gripping ... enthralling ... a racing story of love and hate in the western mountains ... That was old Doc Carpy *s opinion of Jane Van Tambel, Eastern girl who came to Sleepy Cat to manage her ailing fath er’s ranch. But Jane proved herself capable. You’ll follow with in tense interest this truly unusual Western novel written by a master of Rocky Mountain fiction, Frank II. Spearman. You'll be swept into fic tionland by the intense story of a girl who found START IT IN THIS ISSUE!! that her father was a despised crook, and that his mortal enemy was the man she loved! Such was the situation facing Jane Van Tambel as her struggle for hap piness began. Read how she battled both man kind and cruel nature, how she fought another war within her own heart ... a war between one force that told her to love BiL Denison and another that asked her to respect an unde serving father.
