Free the Drift Fence (1992) by Zane Grey Page B

fence, an' wuss'n hell when we get it done."
    "Bud, is the Diamond game to build that drift fence?" queried Jim, with sarcasm.
    "You bet your life it is," flashed Bud.
    "Are you going to stick together?"
    "Wal, we reckon nothin' but death can bust the outfit."
    "If I left it to a vote, how many of you would be for building the fence?"
    "Boss, we've already voted. This mawnin'. An' Hack was the only fellar to drop a black mark in the hat. Leastways, we think it was Hack."
    "I'm glad to hear that. Now how do you stand on the moral issue?"
    "Boss, I don't just savvy."
    "You're all cattlemen in the making. Is it right or wrong?"
    "Wal, fact is, we're not all shore. But the most of us believe that Mr.
    Traft knows more an' sees farther, an' wouldn't never do no homesteader or little cattleman a low-down trick. We're goin' to believe he's right an' stand by him."
    "But you all think he shouldn't have saddled this job on to a tenderfoot nephew?" queried Jim, penetratingly.
    "Wall, I--I reckon we do," replied Bud, growing red in the face.
    "There!" cried Jim, triumphantly, to his amused uncle. "See what you've done!... Come, Bud, I'll walk down to the bunk-house with you."
    He found half a dozen of the boys there, but missed Curly Prentiss. Hack Jocelyn lay on a bunk under a window, the light of which showed him rather badly bruised up. He had one black eye, which he endeavoured to hide.
    "Hack, you get your job back, but it was a half-hearted apology," said Jim.
    "Boss, I'd never give in but fer this low-down lousy outfit," replied Jocelyn. "An' I'm tellin' you straight I won't dig no fence-post holes.
    I'll cut an' haul posts. I'll cook an' wash, an I'll pack water an' run errands."
    "Hack, you don't look like you were sorry you insulted me."
    "Boss, I don't reckon it no insult. I was only bein' funny. But you shore do wear nice store clothes, don't you?"
    "Can't I wear overalls all week and put on clean shirt and pants without being a dude?" inquired Jim.
    "Wal, it depends on the pants an' the shirt."
    "Matter of taste, eh? Well, I'll wear out my St. Louis clothes pronto."
    Jocelyn peered hard out of his unclosed eye at this new specimen of range foreman, and then gave up with a disgusted grunt.
    Next morning before sunrise the Diamond rode out upon their momentous adventure. Thirty saddle and pack horses, one four-horse wagon hauling wire and tools, and the chuck-wagon, made quite a cavalcade. Ring Locke saw them off, but Traft did not show up. Locke's last word was one of commendation at Jim's wise move to pitch the first camp five miles out of town. Jim intended to drop bales of wire all along the way, then work back from camp.
    By the time that camp was pitched Jim imagined he was at the head of the weirdest rodeo ever given in the West. But the only argument he had was with Curly, who took violent exception to the ragged, bony old mustang Jim chose to ride.

the Drift Fence (1992)

    "But I'm tellin' you," protested Curly, at length. "He'll eat out of your hand till he gets a chance to kick your brains out. Thet ain't no hots fer the boss of the Diamond. It's an orful disgrace."
    "You'll have to put up with a lot, Curly," said Jim, patiently. "I can ride this nag."
    "Ride him! There ain't no cowpuncher in this outfit who can do it."
    "But, Curly, I have ridden him."
    "He's only foolin'. Boss, he'll pile you up aboot tomorrow."
    Jim started the work just after noon hour and it beat any circus he ever attended. He dug the first hole himself, with his cowboys gaping around.
    "There!" he exclaimed, in satisfaction.
    "Whoopee!" yelled Hack Jocelyn, in stentorian voice. "Boys, heah's the grave of the Diamond!"
    His fellow cowboys whooped so wildly in reply that Jim felt constrained to believe Jocelyn's pessimistic augury. Then, under Jim's orders, they set to work, and they yelled and swore, and kept up a constant harangue with one another. Jim had three of them dragging in long poles, which were cut into seven-foot lengths, five