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Updated: June 15, 2025
At last as the sun sank low, throwing its fiery glare in his eyes, he saw the familiar figure against the sky Creede, broad and bulky and topped by his enormous hat, and old Bat Wings, as raw-boned and ornery as ever.
Six cents in stamps was the final solution of the problem, and as his pocketbook contained only four he stuck them on and awaited his partner's return. "Say, Jeff," he called, as Creede came in from the pasture, "have you got any stamps?" "Any which?" inquired Creede suspiciously. "Any postage stamps to put on letters." "Huh!" exclaimed Creede.
An hour passed and the sheep had bedded together in silence, each standing with his head under another's belly, as is their wont, when the four horsemen, headed by Jeff Creede himself, appeared suddenly on the distant mountain side, riding hard along the slope.
As they struggled up the opposite bank after a final slump into a narrow ditch Creede looked back and laughed merrily at his bedraggled companion. "How's that for high?" he inquired, slapping his wet legs. "I tell you, the old Salagua is a hell-roarer when she gits started. I wouldn't cross there this afternoon for a hundred dollars.
He grinned broadly as he concluded this running fire of jest, but his partner remained serious to the end. "Well," he said, "I guess I'll go down to Moroni in the morning, then." "What ye goin' down there for?" demanded Creede incredulously. "Why, to buy a stamp, of course," replied Hardy, "it's only forty miles, isn't it?"
Say," he exclaimed, changing the subject abruptly, "what was that name the old man called you by when he was makin' that talk about sheep Roofer, or Rough House or something like that?" "Oh, that's my front name Rufus. Why? What's the matter with it?" "Nothin', I reckon," replied Creede absently, "never happened to hear it before, 's all.
The big cowboy fixed his eyes upon him eagerly. "Did they go around?" he asked incredulously. "Jasp and all?" "Sure," said Hardy. "Why?" For a long minute Creede was silent, wrinkling his brows as he pondered upon the miracle. "Well, that's what I want to know," he answered ambiguously.
My father has become so discouraged with the way things are going that he has given the entire Dos S Ranch to me if I can manage it. Now I know that you both have quit because you don't approve of my father's orders about the sheep. I don't know what your plans are but I want to get a new superintendent, and that's where I need your assistance, Mr. Creede."
She was attired in a stunning outing suit of officer's cloth, tailored for service, yet bringing out the graceful lines of her figure; and as Hardy mumbled out his greetings the eyes of Jefferson Creede, so long denied of womankind, dwelt eagerly upon her beauty.
And what days those were for Jefferson Creede! Deep and devious as was his knowledge of men in the rough, the ways of a woman in love were as cryptic to him as the poems of Browning.
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