The Cass County Sun (Linden, Tex.), Vol. 49, No. 28, Ed. 1 Tuesday, July 8, 1924 Page: 7 of 8
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THE CASS COUNTY SUN
Mils m
'
% y
ZEN of
the Y. D.
qA Novel of the Foothills
•a?
By ROBERT STEAD
Author of
"The Cow Puncher " — " Thi
Homesteader*"—"Neighbor*," etc.
Copyright br ROBERT STEAD
-YOU WILL BE STOPPED"
8TNOPSIB. — Transley's hay-
cutting outfit, after stacking
8,000 tons. Is on Its way to the
big Y.D. ranch headquarters.
Transley is a master of men and
circumstances. Linder, foreman.
Is substantial, but not self-asser-
tlve. George Drazk. one of the
men. Is an Irresponsible chap
who proposes to every woman he
meets. Transley and Linder dine
with T.D. and his wife and
daughter Zen. Transley resolves
to marry Zen. Y.D. Instructs
Transley to cut the South Y.D..
"spite o' h—I an' high water"
and a fellow named Landson.
Drazk propose* to Zen and Is
neatly rebuffed.
CHAPTER II—Continued.
George dropped behind, and an
amused smile played on the foreman's
face. Be had known Drazk too long
to be much surprised nt anything he
might do. It was Drazk's Idea of gal-
lantry to mnke love to every girl on
wight. Possibly Drazk had managed
to exchange a word with Zen, and his
Imagination would readily expand that
Into a love scene. Zen! Even the
placid, balanced Linder felt a slight
leap In the blood at the unusual name
which suggested the bright girl who
had come Into his life the night be-
fore. Not exactly Into his life; It
would be falrtr to say she had touched
the rim of Ms life. Perhaps she would
never penetrate It further; Under
rather expected that would be the
case. As for Drazk—she was In no
danger from hltn. Drazk's methods
were so precipitous that they could be
counted upon to defeat themselves.
Below stretched the vnlley of the
South Y.D., almost a duplicate of Its
northern neighbor. The stream hugged
the fert of the hills on the northern
side of th? valley; Its ribbon of green
and geld was like a fringe gathered
about she hem of tfcelr skirts, lie-
yond tile stream lay the level plains
of the valley, and miles to the south
rose ti e next ridge of foothills. It
vaa from these interlyir.g plains thnt
Y.Ii expected his thousand tons of
hay. ,
Linker's appreciative eye took In
the ecime; a scene of stupendous sizes
and magnificent distances. As he
slowly turned his vision eastward a
speck in the distance caught his sight
and brought him to his feet. Shading
his e.ves from the bright afternoon
sun he surveyed It long and carefully.
There was no doubt about it; a hay-
ing outfit was already at work down
the valley.
Leaving his team to manage them
selves Linder dropped from his wagon
end Joined Transley. "Some one has
beat us to it," he remarked.
"So I observed," said Transley.
"Well, It's a big vnlley, and If they're
satisfied to stay whers they are there
should be enough for both. If they're
not—"
"If they're not, what?" demanded
Linder.
"You heard what Y.D. said. He
said: "Cut It. spite o* h—I an' high
water,' and I always obey orders."
They wound down the hillside un-
til they came to the stream, the horses
quickening their pace with the smell
of water In their eager nostrils. It
was a good ford, hrond and shallow,
with the typical bowlder bottom of
the mountain stream. The horses
crowdori Into It, drinking greedily with
n sort of droning noise caused ny the
bits In their mouths. When they had
satisfied their thirst they raised their
heads, stretched their noses far out
and champed wide-mouthed upon their
hits. •
After a pause In the stream they
drew out on the farther bank, where
were open spaces among cottonwood
trees, and Transley Indlcnted that this
would be their camping ground. Al
ready smoke was Issuing from the
chuck wagon, and In a few minutes
the men's sleeping tent and the two
stable tents were flashing hack the
afternoon sun. They carried no eat
Ing tent; Instead of that an eating
wagon was backed up against the
rhnck wagon- nr"t the men were
served In It. Th«* had not paused
for a midday meal; t* «r"ok had pro-
vided sandwiches of bread and roast
beef *o dull the edge of their appe-
tite. Mid now all were kpen to fall to
as soou us the wetcoiue clanging of
the plow-colter which hung from the
end of tlie chuck wagon should give
the signal.
Presently this clanging filled the
evening air with sweet music, and the
men Died with long, siouchy tread Into
the eating wagon. The table ran
down the center, with bench seats at
either side. The cook, properly gaug-
ing the men's appetites, had not taken
time to prepare meat and potatoes,
but on the table were ample basins of
granlteware Mulled with beans and
bread and stewed prunes and canned
tomatoes, pitchers of sirup and con-
densed milk, tins with marmalade
nnd jam, and plates with butter sadly
suffering from the summer heat. The
cook filled their granite cups with hot
tea from a granite pitcher, and when
the cups were empty filled them again
and again. And when the tables were
partly cleared he brought out deep
pies filled with raisins and with evnp-
<*ated apples and a thick cake from
which the men cut hunks as generous
as their appetite suggested. Transley
had learned, what women are said to
have learned long ago, that the way
to a man's heart Is through bis stom-
ach, and the cook had carte blanche.
Not a man who ate at Transley's table
but would have spilt Ms blood for the
boss or for the honor of the gang.
The meal was nearlng Its end when
through a window Llnder's eye caught
sight of a man on horseback rapidly
approaching. "Visitors, Transley," he
was able to say before the rider pulled
up at' the open door of the covered
wagon. «
He was such a rider as may still
be seen In those last depths of the
ranching country where wheels have
not entirely' crowded Itoraance off of
horseback. Spare and well-knit, his
figure had a suggestion of sllghtness
which the scales would have belled.
Ills face, keen and clean-shaven, was
brown as the August hills, and above
It his broad hat sat In the careless
dignity affected by the gentlemen of
the plains His leather coat afforded
protection from the : eat of day and
from the cold of night
"Good evening, men," he said, cour-
teously. "Don't let me disturb your
meal. Afterwards perhaps I can have
u word with the boss."
"That's me," said Transley, rising.
"No, don't get up," the stranger pro-
tested, but Transley insisted that he
bad finished, and, getting down from
the wagon, led the way a little dis-
tance from the eager ears of its occu-
pants.
"My name is Grant." said the strang-
er; "Dennison Grant. I am employed
by Mr. Landson, who has a ranch
down the valley. If I am not mistaken
you are Mr. Transley."
"You are not mistaken," Transley
replied.
"And I am perhaps further correct,"
continued Grant, "In surmising that
you are here on behalf of the Y.D.,
and propose cutting my In this val-
ley?"
Your grasp of the situation does
you credit." Transley's manner was
that of a man prepared to meet trou-
ble somewhat more than half way.
And I may further surmise," con-
tinued Grant, quite unrutlled, "that
Y.D. neglected to give you one or two
points of Information bearing upon
the ownership of this land, which
would doubtless have been of Interest
to you?"
Suppose you dismount," said Trans-
ley. "I like to look a man In the >ace
when I talk business to him."
"That's fair." returned Grant, swing-
ing lightly from his horse. "I have a
preference that way myself." He ad-
vanced to within arm's length of
Transley and for a few moments the
two men stood measuring each other.
It was steel boring steel; there was
not a flicker of an eyelid.
"We may as well get to business,
Grant," said Transley at length. "I
also can do some surmising. I sur-
mise that you were sent here by Land-
son to forbid me to cut hay in this val-
ley. On what authority be acts I
neither know nor care. I take my
orders from Y.D. Y.D. said cut the
hay. I am going to cut It."
"You are not I"
Transley's muscles could be seen to
go tense beneath his shirt.
"Who will stop me?" he demanded.
"You will be stopped."
"The mounted police?" Thero was
contempt In his voice, but the con-
tempt was not for the force. It
was for the rancher who would ap-
peal to the police to settle a "friend-
ly" dispute.
"No. I don't think It will be neces-
sary to catl In the police," returned
Grant, dropping back to his pleasant,
casual manner. "You know Y.D., and
doubtless you feel quite safe under
his wing. But you don't know Land-
aon. Neither do you know the facts
of the case—the right and wrong of It.
Under these handicaps you cannot
reach a decision which Is fair to your-
self and to your men."
"Further argument Is simply waste
of time," Transley Interrupted. "I have
told you my Instructions, and 1 have
told you that.I am going to carry them
out. Have you had your supper?"
"Yes. thanks! All right, we won't
argue any more. I'm ndt arguing now
—I'm telling you. Y D. nas cut hay
In this vnlley so long u* *t Uik* tw
owns It, and the other ranchers began
to think he owned It. But Landson
has been making a few Inquiries. He
finds that these are not public lands,
but are privately owned by speculators
lr^ New York. He has contracted with
the owners for the hay rights of these
lands for five years, beginning with
the present season. He is already cut-
ting farther down the valley, and will
be cutting here within a day or two."
"The trout ought to bite on a flue
evening like this," said Transley. "I
have an extra rod and some flies. Will
you try a throw or two with me?"
"I would be glad to, but I must get
back to camp. I hope you land a good
string," and -so saying Grant remount-
ed, nodded to Transley and again to
the men now scattered about the
camp, and started his horse on an easy
lope down the valley.
"Well, what la It to be?" said Lin-
der, coming up with the rest of the
boys. "War?"
"War If they fight," Transley re-
plied, unconcernedly. "Y.D. said cut
the hay; 'spite o' h—1 an' high water,"
he said. That goes."
Slowly tho great orb of the sun sank
until the crest of tbe mountains
pierced Its molten glory and sent it
burnishing their rugged heights. In
the east the plains were already
wrapped In shadow. Dp the valley
crept the veil of night, hushing even
the limitless quiet of the day. The
stream babbled louder In the lowering
gloom; the stamp and champing of
horses grew less Insistent, the cloud-
lets overhead faded from crimson to
mauve to blue to gray.
Transley tapped the ashes from his
pipe and went to bed.
CHAPTER III
"How about a ride over to the South
Fork this afternoon, Zen?" said Y.D.
to his daughter the following morn-
ing. "I Just want to make sure them
boys Is hittln' the high spots. The
grass Is gettln' powerful dry an' you
can never tell what may happen."
"You're on," the girl replied across
ttie breakfast table. Her mother
looked up sharply. She wondered If
the prospect of another meeting with
Transley had anything to do with
Zen's alacrity.
"I had hoped you would outgrow
your slang, Zen," she remonstrated
gently. "Men like Mr. Transley are
likely to Judge your training by your
speech."
"I should worry. Slang Is to lan-
guage what feathers are to a hat—
they give It distinction, class. They
lift It out of the drab commonplace."
"Still, I would not care to be dressed
entirely In feathers," her mother thrust
quietly.
"Good for you. Mother I" the girl ex-
claimed, throwing an arm about her
neck and planking a firm kiss on her
forehead. "That was a solar plexus.
Now I'll try to be good and wear a
feather only here and there. But Mr.
Transley has nothing to do with It."
"Of course not," said Y.D. "9*111,
Transley Is a man with snap In him.
That's why he's boss. So many of
these ornery good-for-notbln's is al
ways wishln' they was boss, but they
ain't wlllln' to pay the price. It costs
somethln' to get to the head of the
herd—an' stay there."
"He seems firm on all fours," the
girl agreed. "How do we travel, and
when ?"
"Better take a democrat, I guess,
her father said. "We can throw In a
tent and some bedding for you. as
we'll maybe stay over a couple of
nights."
'The blue sky Is tent enough for
me," Zen protested, "and I can surely
rustle a blanket or two around the
camp. Besides, I'll want a riding
horse to get around with there."
"You can run him beside the demo-
crat," said her father. "You're gettln'
too big to go campin' promisc'us like
when you was a kid."
"That's the penalty for growing up,"
Zen sighed. "All right. Dad. Say two
o'clock?"
The girl spent the morning helping
her mother about the house, and cast
ing over in her mind the probable de-
velopments of the near future. She
would not have confessed outwardly
to even a casuul Interest in Transley,
but Inwardly she admitted that the
promise of another meeting with him
gave zest to the prospect. Transley
was Interesting. At least he was out
of the commonplace. His bold direct-
ness had rather fascinuted her. He
had a will. Her father had always ad
mired men with a will, and Zen shared
his admiration. Then there was Lin-
der. The fierce light of Transley's
charms did not blind her to the glow
of quiet capability which she saw In
Linder. If one were looktng for a hus-
band, Linder had much to recommend
him. He was probably less capable
than Transley, but he would be easier
to manage. . . . But who was
looking for a husband? Not Zen. No,
no, certainly not Zen.
Then there was tfeorge Drask,
whose devotions fluctuated between
"that Pete-horse" and the latest fe-
male to cross his orbit. At the thought
of George Drazk Zen laughed outright.
Sb« hud played with him. She bad
mad* a monkey of him, and be de-
served all he bad got It was not the
first occasion up a* which Zen had let
herself drift with tbe tide, always
sure of Justifying herself and discom-
fiting someone by the swift, strong
strokes with which, at the right mo-
ment, she reached the shore. Zen
liked to think of herself as careering
through life In the tame way as she
rode the half-broken horses of her fa-
ther's range. How many such a horse
hud thought that the lithe body on his
oack was something to race with, toy
with, and, when tired of that, fling
precipitately to earth I And not on«
of those horses but had found that
while he might race and toy with his
rider within limitations, at the last
thbt light body was master, and not
he. . . . Yet Zen loved best tho
horse that raced wildest and was hard-
est to bring into subjection.
That was her philosophy of life so
far as a girl of twenty may have a
philosophy of life. It was to go on and
see what would happen, supported al-
ways by a quiet confidence that In any
plncb she could take care of herself.
She had learned to ride and shoot, to
sleep out and cook In the open, to
ride the ranges after dark by Instinct
and the stars—she had learned these
things while other girls of her age
learned the rudiments of fancywork
and the scales of the piano.
Her father and mother knew her
disposition, loved It, and feared for It
They knew that there was never a
rider so brave, so skillful, so strong,
but some outlaw would throw him at
last. So at fourteen they sent her
east to a boarding school. In two
months she was back with a letter of
expulsion, and the boast of having
blacked the eyes of the principal's
daughter.
"They' couldn't teach me any more.
Mother," she said. "They admitted it.
So here I am."
Y.D. was plainly perplexed. "It's
about time you was halter-broke," he
commented, "who's goln' to do It?"
"If a girl has learned to read and
think, what more can the schools do
for her?" she demanded.
And Y.D.. never having been to
school, could not answer.
The sun was capping the Rockies
with molten gold when the rancher
and his daughter swung down the foot-
hill slopes to the camp on the South
Y.D. Strings of men and horses re-
turning from the upland meadows
could be seen from the hillside as they
descended.
Y.D.'s sharp eyes measured the
scale of operations.
"They're hittln' the high spots." he
said, approvingly. "That boy Transley
Is a hum-dlnger."
Zen made no reply.
"I say he's a hum-dlnger." her fa-
ther repeated.
The girl looked up with a quick flush
of surprise. Y.D. was no puzzle to
her, and If he went out of his way
to commend Transley he had a pur-
pose. .
"Mr. Transley seems to have made
a hit with you. Dad." she remarked,
evasively.
"Well, I do like to see a man who's
got the goods in him. I like a man
that can get there. Just as I like a
horse that can get there. I've often
wondered, Zen, what kind you'd take
up with, when It came to that, an'
hoped he'd be a live crlttur. After
I'm dead an' burled I don't want no
other dead one spendin' my slmoleons."
"How about Mr. Linder," said Zen.
naively.
Her father looked up sharply. "Zen."
he said, "you're not serious?"
Zen laughed. "I don't figure you're
exactly serious, Dad, In your talk about
Transley. You're Just feeling out.
Well—jet me do a little feeling out.
How about Linder?"
"Llnder's all right." Y.D. replied.
"Better than the average, I admit. But
he's not the man Transley Is. If he
was, he wouldn't be workln' for Trans-
ley. You can't keep a man down, Zen.
if he's got the goods In lilm. Linder
comes up over the average, so's yon
can notice It, but not like Transley
does."
Zen did not pursue the subject. She
understood her father's philosophy
very well Indeed, and, to a large de-
gree, she accepted It as her own. The
only quality Y.D. took off his hat to
was the ability to do things. And
Y.D.'s Idea of things was very con-
crete; It had to do with steers and
land, with hay and money and men.
It was by such things he measured
success. And Zen was disposed to
agree with him. Why not? It was
the only success she knew.
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' ■
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indigestion
In the next installment Zen
arrives in Transley's camp and
plays the foreman against the
boss. What complications do
you foresee?
(TO BE! CONTINUED.)
"Three Teacker, Three"
A teacher asked: "How many kinds
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Three pupils held up their hands.
She chose one to reply.
"Well, Isidore, how many kinds of
flowers are there?"
"Three, teacher."
"Indeed? And what sre tneyr •
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W. N. U., DALLAS, NO. 27-19P4.
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Banger, J. E. A. & Erwin, W. L. The Cass County Sun (Linden, Tex.), Vol. 49, No. 28, Ed. 1 Tuesday, July 8, 1924, newspaper, July 8, 1924; Linden, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth340743/m1/7/: accessed July 18, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Atlanta Public Library.