The Fighting Shepherdess

Even the sound of hoofs did not rouse the herder from his deep absorption. His hands were hanging at his sides, and his mouth was partially open. He was staring towards the east with unblinking eyes, and with as little evidence of life as though he had died standing.

"What are you looking at, Davis?"

He whirled about, startled.

"I was calc'latin' that Nebrasky must lay 'bout in that direction." He pointed to a pass in the mountains.

"A little homesick, aren't you?" Her voice was ominously quiet.

"Don't know whether I'm homesick or bilious; when I gits one I generally gits the other."

"You were wondering just then what your wife was doing that minute, weren't you?"

Her suavity deceived him and he grinned sheepishly.

"Somethin' like that, maybe."

"You are married, then?"

The herder began to see where he was drifting.

"Er--practically," he replied ambiguously.

"So you lied when you joined the Outfit and I asked you?"

The herder whined plaintively.

"I heerd you wouldn't hire no fambly man if you knew it."

"When I make a rule there's a reason for it. 'Family men' are unreliable--they'll quit in lambing time because the baby's teething; they'll leave at a moment's notice when a letter comes that their wife wants to see them; their mind isn't on their work and they're restless and discontented. I knew you were married the first time I found you with your sheep behind instead of ahead of you."

"You can't understand the feelin's of a fambly man away from home." He rolled his eyes sentimentally. The subject was one which was dear to the uxorious herder. He pulled out the tremolo stop in his voice and quavered: "You feel like you're goin' 'round with nothin' inside of you--a empty shell--or a puff-ball with the puff out of it. You got a feelin' all the time like somethin's pullin' you." He looked so hard towards Nebraska that he all but toppled. "Somethin' here," he laid a hand on his heart, approximately, "like a plaster drawin'. Love," eloquently, "changes your hull nature. It makes lambs out o' roughnecks and puts drunks on the wagon. It turns you kind and forgivin' and takes the fight out o' you. It makes you--"

"Maudlin! And weak! And inefficient!" Kate interrupted savagely. "It distracts your thoughts and dissipates your energy. It impairs your judgment, lessens your will power. It's for persons who have no ambition or who have achieved it. For the struggler there's nothing worth bothering with that doesn't take him forward."

"That's a pretty cold-blooded doctrind," declared the shocked herder. "If 'twant for love--"

"If 'twant for love," Kate mimicked harshly, "you wouldn't be indulging in a spell of homesickness and leaving your sheep to the coyotes! Sentiment is lovely in books, but it's expensive in business, so I'm going to fire you. Bowers will be here with the supply wagon to-morrow, so I'll take the sheep until he can relieve me. I'll pay you off and you can walk back to the ranch or," grimly, "take a short cut through the Pass up there--to 'Nebrasky.'"