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.I want to avoid all violence.And yet when my guests come Iwant to feel that they will be safe from danger or fright or even annoyance.May I not rely wholly upon you, Stewart? Just trust you to manage theseobstreperous cowboys and protect my property and Alfred's, and take care ofus--of me, until this revolution is ended? I have never had a day's worrysince I bought the ranch.It is not that I want to shirk my responsibilities;it is that I like being happy.May I put so much faith in you?""I hope so, Miss Hammond," replied Stewart.It was an instant response, butnone the less fraught with consciousness of responsibility.He waited amoment, and then, as neitherStillwell nor Madeline offered further speech, he bowed and turned down thepath, his long spurs clinking in the gravel."Wal, wal," exclaimed Stillwell, "thet's no little job you give him, MissMajesty.""It was a woman's cunning, Stillwell," said Alfred."My sister used to be awonder at getting her own way when we were kids.Just a smile or two, a few sweet words or turns of thought, and she had whatshe wanted.""Al, what a character to give me!" protested Madeline."Indeed, Iwas deeply in earnest with Stewart.I do not understand just why, but I trusthim.He seems like iron and steel.Then I was a little frightened at theprospect of trouble with the vaqueros.Both you and Stillwell have influenced me to look upon Stewart as invaluable.I thought it best to confess my utter helplessness and to look to him forsupport.""Majesty, whatever actuated you, it was a stroke of diplomacy,"replied her brother."Stewart has got good stuff in him.He was down andout.Well, he's made a game fight, and it looks as if he'd win.Trustinghim, giving him responsibility, relying upon him, was the surest way tostrengthen his hold upon himself.Then that little touch of sentiment about being your kind ofcowboy and protecting you--well, if Gene Stewart doesn't develop into anArgus-eyed knight I'll say I don't know cowboys.But, Majesty, remember, he'sa composite of tiger breed and forked lightning, and don't imagine he hasfailed you if he gets into a fight."I'll sure tell you what Gene Stewart will do," said Florence."Don't I know cowboys? Why, they used to take me up on their horses when Iwas a baby.Gene Stewart will be the kind of cowboy your sister said he mightbe, whatever that is.She may not know and we may not guess, but he knows.""Wal, Flo, there you hit plumb center," replied the old cattleman."An' Icouldn't be gladder if he was my own son."X Don Carlos's VaquerosPage 82 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlEarly the following morning Stewart, with a company of cowboys, departed forDon Carlos's rancho.As the day wore on without any report from him,Stillwell appeared to grow more at ease; and at nightfall he told Madelinethat he guessed there was now no reason for concern."Wal, though it's sure amazin' strange," he continued, "I've been worryin'some about how we was goin' to fire Don Carlos.ButGene has a way of doin' things."Next day Stillwell and Alfred decided to ride over Don Carlos's place, takingMadeline and Florence with them, and upon the return trip to stop at Alfred'sranch.They started in the cool, gray dawn, and after three hours' riding, asthe sun began to get bright, they entered a mesquite grove, surroundingcorrals and barns, and a number of low, squat buildings and a huge, ramblingstructure, all built of adobe and mostly crumbling to ruin.Only one greenspot relieved the bald red of grounds and walls; and this evidently was madeby the spring which had given both value and fame to Don Carlos's range.Theapproach to the house was through a wide courtyard, bare, stony, hard packed,with hitching-rails and watering-troughs in front of a long porch.Several dusty, tired horses stood with drooping heads and bridlesdown, their wet flanks attesting to travel just ended."Wal, dog-gone it, Al, if there ain't Pat Hawe's hoss I'll eat it," exclaimedStillwell."What's Pat want here, anyhow?" growled Alfred.No one was in sight; but Madeline heard loud voices coming from the house.Stillwell dismounted at the porch and stalked in at the door.Alfred leapedoff his horse, helped Florence andMadeline down, and, bidding them rest and wait on the porch, he followedStillwell."I hate these Greaser places," said Florence, with a grimace."They're so mysterious and creepy.Just watch now! They'll be dark-skinned,beady-eyed, soft-footed Greasers slip right up out of the ground! There'll bean ugly face in every door and window and crack.""It's like a huge barn with its characteristic odor permeated by tobaccosmoke," replied Madeline, sitting down beside Florence."I don't think very much of this end of my purchase.Florence, isn't that DonCarlos's black horse over there in the corral?""It sure is.Then the Don's heah yet.I wish we hadn't been in such a hurryto come over.There! that doesn't sound encouraging."From the corridor came the rattling of spurs, tramping of boots, and loudvoices.Madeline detected Alfred's quick notes when he was annoyed: "We'llrustle back home, then," he said.The answer came, "No!" Madeline recognizedStewart's voice, and she quickly straightened up."I won't have them inhere," went on Alfred."Outdoors or in, they've got to be with us!" replied Stewart, sharply."Listen, Al," came the boom of Stillwell's big voice, "now that we've buttedin over hyar with the girls, you letStewart run things."Then a crowd of men tramped pell-mell out upon the porch.Page 83 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlStewart, dark-browed and somber, was in the lad.Nels hung close to him, andMadeline's quick glance saw that Nels had undergonesome indescribable change
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