Free Prospector's Gold and Canyon Walls (1990) by Zane Grey Page A

replied the widow sighing. "But since he's gone we have just about managed to live."
    "Wal, wal! Now I wonder what made me ride down the wrong trail. . . . Mrs. Keetch, I r eckon you could use a fine, young, sober, honest, hard-workin' cowhand who knows all there is about ranchin'."
    Monty addressed the woman in cool easy speech, quite deferentially, and then he shifted his gaze to the dubious face of the daughter. He was discovering that it had a compelling charm. She laughed outright, as if to say that she knew what a liar he was! That not only discomfited Monty, but roused his ire. The sassy Mormon filly!
    "I guess I could use such a young man," returned Mrs. Keetch shortly, with her penetrating eyes on him.
    "Wal, you're lookin' at him right now," said Monty fervently. "An' he's seein' nothin' less than the hand of Providence heah." The woman stood up decisively. "Fetch your horse around," she said, and walked off the porch to wait for him. Monty made haste, his mind in a whirl. What was going to happen now? That girl! He ought to ride right on out of this canyon; and he was making up his mind to do it when he came back round the house to see that the girl had come to the porch rail. Her great eyes were looking at his horse. The stranger did not need to be told that she had a passion for horses. It would help some. But she did not appear to see Monty at all.
    "You've a fine horse," said Mrs. Keetch. "Poor fellow! He's lame and tuckered out. We'll turn him loose in the pasture."
    Monty followed her down a shady lane of cottonwoods, where the water ran noisily on each side, and he trembled inwardly at the content of the woman's last words. He had heard of the Good Samaritan ways of the Mormons. And in that short walk Monty did a deal of thinking. They reached an old barn beyond which lay a green pasture with an orchard running down one side. Peach trees were in bloom, lending a delicate border of pink to the fresh spring foliage.
    "What wages would you work for?" asked the Mormon woman earnestly.
    "Wal, come to think of thet, for my board an' keep. . . . Anyhow till we get the ranch payin'," replied Monty.
    "Very well, stranger, that's a fair deal. Unsaddle your horse and stay," said the woman.
    "Wait a minnit, ma'am," drawled Monty. "I got to substitute somethin' fer thet recommend I gave you. . . . Shore I know cattle an' ranchin' backward. But I reckon I should have said I'm a no-good, gun-throwin' cowpuncher who got run out of Arizona."
    "What for?" demanded Mrs. Keetch.
    "Wal, a lot of it was bad company an' bad licker. But at thet I wasn't so drunk I didn't know I was rustlin' cattle."
    "Why do you tell me this?" she demanded. "Wal, it is kinda funny. But I jist couldn't fool a kind woman like you. Thet's all." "You don't look like a hard-drinking man."
    "Aw, I'm not. I never said so, ma'am. Fact is, I ain't much of a drinkin' cowboy, atall." "You came across the canyon?" she asked. "Shore, an' by golly, thet was the orfullest ride, an' slide, an' swim, an' climb I ever had. I really deserve a heaven like this, ma'am." "Any danger of a sheriff trailing you?" "Wal, I've thought about thet. I reckon one chance in a thousand."
    "He'd be the first 'one I ever heard of from across the canyon, at any rate. This is a lonesome, out-of-the-way place--and if you stayed away from the Mormon ranches and towns--"
    "See heah, ma'am," interrupted Monty sharply. "You shore ain't goin' to take me on?"
    "I am. You might be a welcome change. Lord knows I've hired every kind of a man. But not one of them ever lasted. You might."
    "What was wrong with them hombres?"
    "I don't know. I never saw much wrong except they neglected their work to moon around after Rebecca. But she could not get along with them, and she always drove them away."
    "Aw, I see," exclaimed Monty, who did not see at all. "But I'm not one of the moonin' kind, ma'am, an' I'll stick."
    "All right. It's only fair, though, to tell you there's a risk. The young fellow doesn't