Lodge gave him an appraising look and said, “That’s good.”
“Work’s work, and it’ll be a while till some of these other jobs come in. And without Buchanan and Cronin, I’m going to have to scrape up a few more. But there’s work. I’m not worried about that. It’s just a little later.”
“Sure. And you’re young. You’ve got plenty of time to catch up. This trouble won’t last long.”
Fielding held his gaze on the older man. “You think it’s trouble, then?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have put it so certain. I don’t know how much trouble there’ll be. Maybe part of it depends on the resistance.”
“You mean, whether Selby lets ’em run all over him.”
Lodge pursed his lips and nodded. “Him, and others. Like Roe, just to look close by. But there’s others farther out, and up on the flats, too.”
“You think Cronin wants it all, then?”
As he took a slow look around, Lodge set his hat cockeyed for ventilation. Then he said, “Here’s how I read it. The range and the whole cattle business in this part of the country has made a slow comeback since the big die-up of ’eighty-six, ’eighty-seven. But the numbers are up, and you told me yourself it looked like a good calf crop this year.”
“From what I’ve seen.”
“Well, we can figure on the basis of what we’ve seen and what we know close at hand. Selby’s got about eighty head of cows, and most of them calved out. Roe’s got half that much or more. Now, let’s say there’s half a dozen others on that same scale. Add it all up, and what’s it come to?”
Fielding looked up at the underside of his hat brim. “Almost five hundred cows, plus calves.”
“That’s right. And from what I’ve heard, which may or may not be the straight truth, this fella that Dunvil would call a mucky-muck would like to bring in about that many more himself.”
Fielding cocked his head. “Really?”
“That’s just what I heard. Thinkin’ to bring ’em down from the Powder River Basin. One of his English investor friends has got that many to sell.”
“That sounds like a big move for this bit of range.”
“It does to me, too. But as long as the grass is free, a man could make himself a pile while the gittin’s good.”
“So in order to do that, he pushes out some of the small operators.”
Lodge set his hat back on straight. “That’s what it seems like. Push out one or two, make examples of ’em, and hope the others get the idea.”
“It does make sense if you add it up,” Fielding said. “He brings in a new foreman, and they go to work on someone who would be a good example.”
“That was my tip-off. Like we said the other day, he’s just a bit slick for your average foreman. And nobody knows him from around here. Chances are, he’ll stick around long enough to do what he was brought in for, and then he’ll be gone.”
Fielding sorted out what he had just heard. “Seems to me like a big idea for someone.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s a big thinker,” said Lodge. “Most of these ideas have already been proven.”
“I guess so.”
“Especially the idea that a man can get away with what he wants if he’s in a good position. You take the case of that woman they hung over on the Sweetwater. The ones that did it got off scot-free, and a couple of ’em ended up with some nice pieces of land to boot. That’s no news. But you see, they had connections. Same with those over on Powder River, in Johnson County. They get a hired gun and a foreman both, and when they don’t get everyone that way, they bring in a small army. Everyone knows that, too. The ones behind it had money and political influence, and they never had to answer for a bit of it.” Lodge took a deep breath and settled down. “I’d better not get started on that. Makes me mad every time I think of it. But the point is, when the big operators pull stunts like that and get away with it, someone else figures he can do it, too. Bad part is, he probably can.”
Fielding narrowed his eyes for a second. “You think Buchanan is thick with him?”
Lodge stroked his beard. “I don’t think he’s in on it, at least in the business aspect. But when it comes right down to it, these fellows stick together. Even when one of ’em doesn’t believe in what the other’s doin’, he stands behind him, maybe a ways back, but it’s part of the code. If you’re in the club, you don’t renege unless the other man has done somethin’ that everyone can see is rotten. Otherwise, you can’t count on someone else when you need it. Like we said a little while ago.”
Now it was Fielding’s turn to take a deep breath. “So you think Buchanan is hangin’ back.”
“I’d guess.”
Two thoughts crossed in Fielding’s mind. “Say,” he began, “who’s this snooty blond fellow I saw at Buchanan’s yesterday? He came bouncin’ in on a light-colored horse, no hat, all red in the face.”
“Eyes that look like gooseberries?”
Fielding laughed. “That’s him.”
Lodge smiled, to appearances not displeased with his own humor. “The gentleman is named Cedric. I call him Cedric the Saxon, come to court the Lady Rowena.”
Fielding’s brows came together. “Who’s that?”
“Oh, those are characters from Sir Walter Scott. Actually, he doesn’t court her in the story. The resemblance is in name only. The young blade you met is one Cedric Tholes, as I’ve heard it.”
“I didn’t actually meet him. He snubbed me rather well, as they say.”
“I can imagine. Anyway, he’s British, which shouldn’t surprise you, and he’s stayin’ at the Argyle. He’s the son of one of Cronin’s business associates. Plays polo when he’s not among the uncivilized.”
“Good for him. We won’t miss him when he goes back.” After a second, Fielding added, “I was wondering where he came from. Now it makes sense. She’s probably the closest thing to his idea of class that he’s going to find around here. Wonder what her father thinks of him.”
“No tellin’. But Joe Buchanan’s no fool.” Lodge smiled as he wagged his head. “Just a mucky-muck.”
“Well,” said Fielding, “if there
“Let him take care of himself. He’s not going to waste any sympathy on you.”
“Oh, no. He’s shown that.” Fielding’s thought came back around to a point that had been skipped over earlier. “How about you?”
“How about me?” Lodge widened his eyes.
“What I mean is, how do you play into this bigger plan as you see it? Do you think they’ll try to push you out, too?”
Lodge gave a backward wave. “I don’t count for much. I’ve got twenty-three cows and seventeen calves, if I get ’em all branded. If they ran me out, they could use this place for a line camp, but there’s better ones to be had before they get to me.”
“That’s good.”
The deep brown eyes had a playful cast to them as Lodge said, “One of the many advantages of having so little.”
Fielding glanced at the two sorrels in the corral. “You’ve got something, and you’ve worked for it,” he said.
“Oh, yeah,” Lodge answered, getting serious like before. “It’s not much to someone else, but it is to me. I make light of it because it’s mine, but I won’t let someone walk all over me. I know what these sons of bitches are like, and I’ll call ’em on it.”
Fielding nodded in agreement.
Lodge went on. “That’s the problem with Selby. I don’t mean to say anything against him, but I think he might bend too easy. ’Course, maybe he knows how to stay out of trouble better than I do.”
“He seemed to be stickin’ up for himself the other day.”
“That’s true. We’ll see how far it goes.” Lodge stood up, moved out of the shade, and looked up at the sun. “It’s early yet,” he said.
Fielding rose from the bench. “I suppose you have work to do.”
Lodge shook his head. “Not much at the moment. I was goin’ down to bring in the horses when you showed up. I got that done.” He squared his shoulders. “I was plannin’ to take a little ride and check on my stock. I can
