Read Online Zane Grey by To the Last Man - Free Book Online Page B

his huge head with its upstanding tawny hair like a
mane, and in the speech and force that betokened the nature of his
heart. He was not as old as Jean's father. He had a rolling voice,
with the same drawling intonation characteristic of all Texans, and
blue eyes that still held the fire of youth. Quite a marked contrast
he presented to the lean, rangy, hard-jawed, intent-eyed men Jean had
begun to accept as Texans.
    Blaisdell took time for a curious scrutiny and study of Jean, that,
frank and kindly as it was, and evidently the adjustment of impressions
gotten from hearsay, yet bespoke the attention of one used to judging
men for himself, and in this particular case having reasons of his own
for so doing.
    "Wal, you're like your sister Ann," said Blaisdell. "Which you may
take as a compliment, young man. Both of you favor your mother. But
you're an Isbel. Back in Texas there are men who never wear a glove on
their right hands, an' shore I reckon if one of them met up with you
sudden he'd think some graves had opened an' he'd go for his gun."
    Blaisdell's laugh pealed out with deep, pleasant roll. Thus he planted
in Jean's sensitive mind a significant thought-provoking idea about the
past-and-gone Isbels.
    His further remarks, likewise, were exceedingly interesting to Jean.
The settling of the Tonto Basin by Texans was a subject often in
dispute. His own father had been in the first party of adventurous
pioneers who had traveled up from the south to cross over the Reno Pass
of the Mazatzals into the Basin. "Newcomers from outside get
impressions of the Tonto accordin' to the first settlers they meet,"
declared Blaisdell. "An' shore it's my belief these first impressions
never change, just so strong they are! Wal, I've heard my father say
there were men in his wagon train that got run out of Texas, but he
swore he wasn't one of them. So I reckon that sort of talk held good
for twenty years, an' for all the Texans who emigrated, except, of
course, such notorious rustlers as Daggs an' men of his ilk. Shore
we've got some bad men heah. There's no law. Possession used to mean
more than it does now. Daggs an' his Hash Knife Gang have begun to
hold forth with a high hand. No small rancher can keep enough stock to
pay for his labor."
    At the time of which Blaisdell spoke there were not many sheepmen and
cattlemen in the Tonto, considering its vast area. But these, on
account of the extreme wildness of the broken country, were limited to
the comparatively open Grass Valley and its adjacent environs.
Naturally, as the inhabitants increased and stock raising grew in
proportion the grazing and water rights became matters of extreme
importance. Sheepmen ran their flocks up on the Rim in summer time and
down into the Basin in winter time. A sheepman could throw a few
thousand sheep round a cattleman's ranch and ruin him. The range was
free. It was as fair for sheepmen to graze their herds anywhere as it
was for cattlemen. This of course did not apply to the few acres of
cultivated ground that a rancher could call his own; but very few
cattle could have been raised on such limited area. Blaisdell said
that the sheepmen were unfair because they could have done just as
well, though perhaps at more labor, by keeping to the ridges and
leaving the open valley and little flats to the ranchers. Formerly
there had been room enough for all; now the grazing ranges were being
encroached upon by sheepmen newly come to the Tonto. To Blaisdell's
way of thinking the rustler menace was more serious than the
sheeping-off of the range, for the simple reason that no cattleman knew
exactly who the rustlers were and for the more complex and significant
reason that the rustlers did not steal sheep.
    "Texas was overstocked with bad men an' fine steers," concluded
Blaisdell. "Most of the first an' some of the last have struck the
Tonto. The sheepmen have now got distributin' points for wool an'
sheep at Maricopa an' Phoenix. They're shore waxin' strong an'