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Updated: May 7, 2025
The cattle roam free on the open ranges, while calves grow into yearlings, yearlings become two-year-olds, and two-year-olds mature for the market. On the Cross-Triangle and similar ranches, three or four of the steadier year-round hands only are held.
The man who had ridden away so hurriedly, a moment too soon for Patches to see him, was, without doubt, driving the mother of the calf to a distance that would effectually separate her from her offspring. But while he was so sure in his own mind, the Cross-Triangle man as it had so often happened before had arrived on the scene too late.
"I don't think that I would raise that question, if I were you, Larry considering all the circumstances." On his way back to the Cross-Triangle, Patches walked as a man who, having determined upon a difficult and distasteful task, is of a mind to undertake it without delay. After supper that evening he managed to speak to Kitty when no one was near.
It was the same afternoon that Patches had so unexpectedly found Helen and Stanford in their Granite Basin camp. Kitty and the professor had driven in the buckboard to Simmons for the mail, and were coming back by the road to the Cross-Triangle, when the man asked, "Must we return to the ranch so soon?
How did you know where to find me? Where is the Cross-Triangle Ranch? How many miles is it to the nearest water? Is it possible for me to get home in time for supper?" Looking down at him she laughed as only Kitty Reid could laugh. "You're making fun of me," he charged; "they all do. And I don't blame them in the least; I have been laughing at myself all day."
When you come to think about it, it must be so. One way or another every man that takes what he ain't earned has to pay for it." "Who is he?" asked the visitors of Curly and Bob, as they went for their horses, when the meal was over. The Cross-Triangle men shook their heads. "Just blew in one day, and the Dean hired him," said Bob.
He went on through the corral, and slowly, as one having nothing else to do, climbed the little knoll from which he could watch the riders in the distance. When the horsemen had disappeared among the scattered cedars on the ridge, a mile or so to the west, the Dean still stood looking in that direction. But the owner of the Cross-Triangle was not watching for the return of his men.
"You shut up on that line," came sharply from Curly. "Phil ain't turnin' us down for nobody. I reckon if Patches is fool enough to want to ride to the Cross-Triangle to-night Phil ain't got no reason for stoppin' him. If any of you punchers wants to make the ride, the way's open, ain't it?" "Now, don't you go on the prod, too," soothed the other. "We wasn't meanin' nothin' agin Phil."
The Dean always insists that the hardest man in the world to talk to is the one who always has something to say for himself. "Why," he continued, with a burst of honest feeling, "if I was ever to bring one of them things home to the Cross-Triangle, I'd be ashamed to look a horse or steer in the face."
The Cross-Triangle Ranch?" "Sure," the cowboy smiled and pointed into the distance. "Those red spots over there are the roofs. Jim Reid's place the Pot-Hook-S is just this side of the meadows, and a little to the south. The old Acton homestead where I was born is in that bunch of cottonwoods, across the wash from the Cross-Triangle."
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