Dry Divide by Ralph Moody

but shouted before he got there, and turned back. There was no doubt that he planned to work that day, for it couldn’t have been later than quarter-past-four. “Well?” Doc asked, as much as to say, “Are we going to work or not?”
    â€œLet’s go do it,” I told the fellows, “but stay away from Hudson, and don’t blow up if he yells at you. If he wants to start trouble, let him start it with me; I’m the one he’s mad at.”
    A lamp was lit in the kitchen, and as we went to the windmill to wash we could see Hudson eating at the table. He came out and headed for the barn just as we finished washing. Breakfast was on the table, the door to the next room stood slightly ajar, and the house was deathly still. We filed in, took our places, and had begun eating in silence when I heard the jumble of a panicked horse’s hoofs in the yard. It was followed by Hudson’s voice, swearing and angry, and by a rhythmic cracking of the blacksnake. We all sat with our mouths full, but not chewing, as the sounds went on for a full two minutes or more. A moment later Hudson streaked past the windmill on Kitten, and I caught a glimpse of him through the window, spurring viciously, and beating her with the doubled blacksnake. After a few minutes, Doc mumbled, “Let’s get out of here.”
    I was the last in line, and was just leaving the kitchen when Judy called in a frightened voice, “Bud.” As I turned she came running across the kitchen to me, clutched my shirt sleeves hysterically, and told me, “Bud, you got to get away from here! You got to get away quick! Myron will kill you. He says he’s going to learn you and Kitten a lesson you’ll neither of you never forget, and he’s learnt Kitten hers a’ready. If you’re here when he brings the horses in he’ll get you sure.”
    Judy had on her working clothes, with the cap pulled so far down that I couldn’t see her face, so I put my hand under her chin and turned it up to me. “No, he won’t, Judy,” I told her. “You just stop and think a minute. In the first place, he wouldn’t dare to touch me with the crew around; he knows Paco would kill him. In the second place, he doesn’t dare touch me anyway. He didn’t know the others were awake when I rode in last night. If he wanted to catch me alone, he’d have laid for me when I was putting Kitten into the corral. He’ll do a lot of yelling, and trying to egg me into starting something, but that’s as far as he’ll go.”
    She still clung to me, and her lips trembled as she said, “You don’t know him, Bud. He’s a’ready beat up . . .”
    â€œI know all about it,” I broke in. “Bones told me last night. Things are going to be all right, and I’m going to stay right here, maybe till the end of the month. I won’t let him start any trouble—not if he cusses me till sundown. Now you run along and get some breakfast; the boys are waiting for me.” As I said it, I leaned over, kissed her on the forehead, and went out.
    The other fellows were standing in a knot by the corral gate, Jaikus jabbering to Old Bill, Gus and Lars looking stolid, and Paco leaning on a pitchfork. When I was halfway across the yard, Doc called to me, “Let’s get away from here. Crazy or not, this man isn’t safe to be around.”
    I didn’t answer him till I reached the gate, then said, “It’s up to you fellows. I can’t tell you what to do; I can only tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to stay right here. If we leave now we’ll brand ourselves as yellow; if we stay, Hudson will brand himself that color.”
    Then, to give them a little chance to think, I turned to Paco, told him there’d be no need of the pitchfork, and asked if he’d like to milk the cows for the señora. When I turned back, Gus and Lars