W-W-W-, shucks!" Reddy Brant backed defiantly into the corral fence and glared at big Jim Burns, owner of the X. L. ranch, and Piegan Waugh,the tall, bronzed sheriff of Lehmi. Waugh rubbed his chin and grinned at the freckled boy.
"Y' betcha, you've got to do it Reddy," he stated, and Jim Burns nodded and looked grave.
"Betcha he has, Piegan."
"Aw-w-w!" Reddy dug his heel savagely into the dirt and glared at them with his blue eyes. "School? What for?"
"Learn something," replied Waugh. "Want to be ignorant like us?"
"Stick inside from nine o'clock in the morning 'till four in the afternoon?" shrilled Reddy, "I'd rather be able to do sign talk with a flathead or swing a loop like poor old Baldy Hammond could than to read the biggest hook in the world. Anyway I hired to punch cows—not books."
"Dog-gondest little argufier I ever seen," declared Burns, helplessly. "Reckon we better spank him, Piegan!"
"Spank me?" gasped Reddy, "Me?" His right hand clenched into a knotty fist, and Burns and Waugh looked surprised and startled at his hostile attitude. "Start spanking!" he gritted. "Not while I can fight."
"Cut that out!" yelped Burns, "Dog-gone you, Reddy! You've associated with men too much. Some day you'll git yourself into a fine hot scrap and git a shiner, won't he Piegan?"
Waugh smoothed his mustache to conceal a smile and a quick look of understanding passed between him and the boy. He had taught Reddy how to take care of himself.
"Uh-huh," grunted _Waugh, "Sure will, Jim. He'll go to school, though, cause I want him to."
"Well," Reddy unclenching his fists and grinning a little as he took a deep breath. "Well, if you say so, Piegan. I hate to—honest to gosh!"
Reddy rode to the Lemhi school house the next morning. The one-story shack used as a school house sat a quarter of a mile from the town, as though the inhabitants were ashamed of their seat of learning. Twelve crude benches on either side, a rusty stove and a pine table for the teacher completed the furnishings. A sort of built-in closet was to be used as a dressing room for the teacher.
This was Lemhi's first school, and Reddy arrived early on the opening day. The teacher was the only one there, and she glanced up as Reddy's spurs rattled across the threshold.
"Good morning."
Reddy stared at her, reached up slowly, pulled off his sombrero and held it in his hand. Reddy had seen pictures of women like her in a magazine, but she was the first one he had ever seen in the flesh.
He stared at her, and his first thoughts were that her cheeks were like the sunrise on the Cabinet peaks, sort of pink and gold, and her eyes matched the skies above those snow—clad peaks. She was no taller than he, and likely lighter.
"Good—gosh!" Reddy had started to slide into a seat but had sat on the floor instead. He got up slowly and sat on the bench. Her eyes were laughing at him, when she said:
"Isn't it a lovely morning?"
"Uh—huh," he granted, looking around the room. "Yes'm. I sort of reckon you read the signs right. Is this the school house?"
"Yes. I am Miss Ashton, the teacher. Would you mind telling me your name?"
"Red Brant. Ma named me Robert, but hair like mine won't even let Bob horn in, Ma'am. You been teaching very long?"
"This is my first school, Robert. You've been to school before?" ~
"Seven times eight is fifty-six," grinned Reddy. "I'll start in where I left off."
THE timid entrance of more pupils precluded further conversation, so Reddy sat there and watched them file in.
"Mexicans, Injuns and worse than that!" grunted Reddy to himself.
"Looks more like a council than a school."
Five little girls, one a half-breed, and twelve males completed the enrollment. The Mexican boys, almost grown men, sat sulkily together and scowled at the teacher. Reddy scowled at the Mexicans. Reddy hated Mexicans, although he swore by Miguel Herrera, Waugh's Mexican deputy. "Mig's a Mexican," admitted Reddy, "but he ain't working at it."
The little teacher, visibly nervous, glanced over her flock and tapped on the table. She called the little girls one by one to come up to her, and when she had finished with them she called the nearest one of the big Mexicans, who slouched up to her with a sneer on his dirty face.
"Your name, please," she requested, kindly. The Mexican wet his thick lips and answered her in Spanish. The other two laughed aloud at the cleverness of their swarthy compatriot.
"Please speak English," she requested, "What is your name?"