Free Blue Bonnet by Fay Risner Page B

was smaller.
    “All right, Boss. That wound is
lookin' real good so far.” Hunker rubbed his chin as he thought.
“Tell ya what, ya want to go around to all the line shacks and make
a list of what we need for repairs for the buildings and corrals.
We need to work on them before winter gets here.”
    “Sure, I can do that,” Bat said
eagerly.
    “Just be careful not to bump that
bad leg. Burns are hard to heal, and that one is takin' its own
sweet time,” Hunker said.
    “I'll be careful.”
    “It might take all week to get
from one to the other of those line shacks. Take yer time. Be sure
to take paper and a pencil with ya to write down what ya need to
order,” Hunker instructed.
    “Since the west end is the
farthest away, how about after I check the line shack I ride the
fence line as long as I'm there. I should be back by Friday
afternoon. Don't ya think?”
    “Reckon so,” Hunker
agreed.
    The distance between the line
shacks were a day. By the time Bat got to the north one and looked
around, it was time to spend the night. The next morning, he rode
for the east shack and the next day to the south shack. The only
left one more. It would take two days by the time he rode along the
fence line on the way to the line shack.
    The time on horse back, Bat spent
watching the scenery and animals at play. The steers appeared to be
fat and sassy this summer. Just the way he liked to see
them.
    About noon on Thursday, Bat rode
up on a hole in the fence. Not a pile of wire weighed down by the
snow or knocked down by deer hooves. Bat dismounted and tied Blaze
to a scrub tree while he looked around. The barbed wire was pulled
back out of the way up against the fence line, making the gap
wide.
    Bat walked from the gap into the
neighboring ranch, checking out three sizes of boot prints walking
on cattle tracks. Some of his cattle went through that gap driven
by rustlers. The land belonged to Lim Withman. He'd have to do
something about this. He was willing to overlook a beef missing
once ever so often to feed the Withman younguns, but Lim couldn't
get away with rustling cattle.
    It took Bat an hour to repair the
gap, before he rode to the line shack. By the time he looked around
there to see what needed repaired, it was supper time. He warmed a
can of beans and turned in early.
    In the middle of the night, Bat
woke up to the sound of dogs yapping. He listened a minute and
decided maybe he better go check. The dogs might be chasing his
cattle. He didn't want them to stampede through the fence. His beef
would get all cut up.
    Bat decided he didn't want to take
the time to saddle his horse. He'd go on foot since the dogs
sounded close. He carried his rife for a long range shot at them.
Just over a knoll an eighth of a mile from the line shack, three
dark figures on foot and a pack of dogs were running six of Bat's
steers through a hole in the fence. He slipped up as close as he
dared and watched. He recognized the long strides of the taller of
the rustlers. It was Lim Withman and his boys back for more
steers.
    Bat didn't see how he could do any
good by himself on foot. One shot and they were bound to scatter.
Besides, he didn't have the heart to shoot Lim or his younguns.
He'd ride back to the ranch for help and go in on Lim, look around
and drive the cattle back through the gap in the wire they left
from.
    It would take a few hours to get
back to the ranch so Bat headed out right away. The night was dark,
but he knew the way like the back of his hand.
    By the time dawn was breaking, Bat
rode to the barn. The cowhands were getting ready to leave. Hunker
said, “Ya back already, Boss?”
    “I ran into a problem, and I need
some men to go with me over to Lim Withman's place. Last night, I
spotted him and two of his boys rustling cattle on foot with their
pack of dogs near the west line shack. Weren't the first time,
either. I fixed one gap in that west fence yesterday a mile from
the line shack and figured it was Lim drove off them