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A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil





The
Tin Box
A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
by
Jerome Aredell Williams
VANTAGE PRESS • NEW YORK
WASHINGTON • CHICAGO · HOLLYWOOD


GRAD
828
whаччі:
FIRST EDITION
Copyright, 1958, by JEROME AREDELL WILLIAMS
Published by Vantage Press, Inc.
120 West 31st Street, New York 1, N.Y.
Manufactured in the United States of America


grad
41157084
dive
5-15-02
Chapter One
ALTHOUGH IT WAS NO LARGER THAN A WOMAN'S
hand, a little tin box was destined to play a tremendously im-
portant role in the life and love of June Meredith, as it
plunged violently over the cliff and into the stream, two hun-
dred feet below. Sinking momentarily, it shot back to the sur-
face and quickly floated away on the swiftly flowing waters of
the partly dry mountain stream.
Dodging here a log, and there a protruding rock-with
which the bed of the small stream was studded-plunging over
falls, bumping against the rugged sides of the mountains, it
floated day and night.
Finally emerging from the mountainous terrain, it floated
into the flat, brushy country where recent heavy rains had
turned the small tributaries into raging streams. Riding the
crest of these flood waters, the little box was buffeted by float-
ing debris, finally to be whirled out of the swiftly flowing
current and picked up by backwaters that overflowed into a
stagnant lagoon where it came to rest behind a grassy knoll
when the rains ceased and the flood waters receded.
Now, let us go back for a moment to the origin of the little
box, and its importance in June's life.
For a long moment, June Meredith stared at the contract
that lay on the table before her. A feeling of hopelessness
came over her as, with fingers that trembled slightly, she
reached for the pen. With a sigh of resignation, she signed the
two copies and shoved them across the desk.
With a smile of satisfaction, Robert Chandler, president
and sole owner of a real estate and development company that
bore his name, reached for the papers. After signing them and
affixing his seal of office, the stocky, clean-shaven, slightly


10
The Tin Box
graying executive handed one copy to June, and placed the
other in a drawer of his desk.
With a quick motion of her hand, June threw her blond
curls over her shoulders and rose from her chair. Wade Lucas,
the squat, freckled cowboy-ranch owner and neighbor of
June's who had accompanied her to the realtor's office, noted
the expression of despair on the dimpled, childish face, as she
turned to him and said: “Let's be going, Wade."
Signing contracts was a new experience for June. Having
been reared a carefree child of the range, she had spent most
of the twenty years of her life astride her cow ponies, by her
father's side. She knew nothing of responsibilities until the
tragic death of her parents placed the burden of running a
large ranch directly upon her slender shoulders.
“You don't seem so happy over the signing of that contract,
June,” Wade remarked as they got into their car and started
for home.
“No, Wade. I'm not at all happy," she replied. “In fact,
should I ever be forced to yield to the terms of that agreement,
I would just about be ruined.”
“That's serious.” Wade was deeply concerned. “How did
you happen to get tied up like that? Would you tell me some-
thing about it?
"It's a long story, Wade,” she said, as her thoughts went
back to the drouth years of the early 30's, when the first link
had been forged in a chain of circumstances that had culmi-
nated in her being coerced into signing the contract.
June's father, Tom Meredith, of the fourth generation of
Merediths to own the historic old Meredith ranch, with its
thousands of acres of verdant grazing lands and its thousands
of head of purebred cattle, had been hard hit by this severe
West Texas drouth.
Because of the scant rainfall during that period, much of
the rich valley land that had formerly grown grass and other
vegetation with such abundance had become arid wasteland
and was being blown away by the dust storms which plagued
that section.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
11
For the first time since the founding of the ranch by the
Meredith pioneers, many years ago, Tom Meredith had been
forced to mortgage the old landmark, to obtain money to buy
feed and drill additional water wells in an attempt to sustain
his fine herds until the rains (which threatened each day)
would fall, and relieve the situation. But the clouds came and
went, and the situation became more desperate each day as
additional hundreds of acres of grazing lands wilted in the
blistering sun.
To make matters worse, the mortgage, which had been re-
newed twice, was due for the third time. The real estate com-
pany that held the lien had been advised by an oil company
of the possibility that there might be oil on the ranch. They
were, therefore, anxious to get the land and were threatening
to foreclose.
It was during this desperate situation that Tom Meredith
said to his wife at the breakfast table one morning: “Ann, it
looks like we're going to be forced to sell some of the cattle
to lift the mortgage on our home.”
“What did the company say when you asked them for a re-
newal yesterday?” his wife asked anxiously.
“Said they couldn't stand another renewal; that they had
given me two already, and that I shouldn't expect another,
also, that they would have to protect their investment by fore-
closing if I don't meet the notes.”
"That doesn't seem fair, Tom,” his wife complained. “I
know of several people who have had their notes extended
from time to time by that company. Why should they be so
anxious to take our home without giving us an equal chance?”
"I can't understand it,” her husband said. "There are peo-
ple right around here who are not even keeping up the inter-
est on their notes, and they are not being foreclosed. For the
past several months, they have given me every reason to be-
lieve that they were expecting to extend my notes. And now,
to about face so suddenly, when I have so little time left, is
beyond me.
“I tried to reason with them,” he continued. "Told them


12
The Tin Box
that my cattle were not ready for market, and to sell them at
this time would mean to sacrifice them. I tried to explain to
them that should a rain fall within the next ten days or within
a couple of weeks, my cattle would pick up to the extent that
I wouldn't have to sell so many of them to meet my obliga-
tions.”
“Did you tell them about those men who have been testing
out those oil instruments on some of the ranches around
here?”
“Yes. But they give very little credence to anything those
fellows say. They say there is no such thing as being able to
locate oil from the top of the ground; that the only real test is
the drill, and that it is too expensive to risk at this time, here.
They said that so far as oil is concerned, we might as well for-
get about that.”
“What can we do?” His wife looked at him inquiringly.
“There is only one thing left for us to do. If we are to save
our home-which also means the saving of most of our live-
stock-we will have to pick out the best of our herd and send
them to market.”
“Had you thought of trying to borrow the money from
some of the ranchers around here?”
“Yes, I had. But they all face about the same situation that
we do. I've talked to several of them during the past few
weeks, to see if any of them had that much cash. I talked to
Hiram Lucas in town yesterday, but he said he couldn't pos-
sibly raise that much cash. He said he thought Wade might
have it. But since June so coldly turned down Wade's proposal
of marriage, I'd hate like blazes to approach him for a loan.”
“No, I wouldn't mention it to Wade. Not if there is any
other way to get the money," his wife agreed.
“It was in anticipation of just such an emergency that for
the past several months I've been picking up my best steers
and putting them in the three-mile pasture, where I can get
them on short notice. I've got about six hundred head of the
best ones in the herd in that pasture now. And I'm sure they
will bring more than the twenty thousand dollars I owe. I told


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
13
Chandler yesterday that I have enough choice steers in that
pasture to take care of the mortgage. And if they wouldn't,
I'd sell every hoof and horn I own before I'd let him take my
home. I figure those steers should bring around thirty-five dol-
lars each."
"When do you plan to sell them?”
"Well, I've got until Friday before he can file suit for fore-
closure. So I'm going to start Jack and the boys out tomorrow
to bring them in. With the two trucks, I can haul forty head
to the yards at a load and make three loads a day. That'll give
me five days to get them on the market. And I'm sure they
will be sold as fast as I can get them in there.
"In the meantime, I'm going in, perhaps tomorrow, and ar-
range with Randall Scott to take care of the sales as fast as
they come in. The last ones will be on the market Wednesday
morning, and Thursday, which will be the last day before our
days of grace expire, I'll go in, pay off the mortgage and get my
papers.
"I want to go in with you, Tom,” his wife said. “I want to
get a few things that we've been needing so long for the house.
And I also want to witness the clearing of our home.”
"All right, Ann. I was just going to ask you if you didn't
want to go along."
Chapter Two
FOR MORE THAN A MONTH, OL SCOUTS OF THE
Bluge Oil Corporation, one of the largest oil companies doing
business in the state, had been prospecting on the ranch. The
company's laboratory had started elaborate tests of sample
cores of earth brought in by the field operators, had made a
thorough study of charts obtained from instruments used in


14
The Tin Box
the tests, and sent a report of their findings to the executive
office of the company, when one of the executives called on
Robert Chandler, in his office on the second floor of the Chan-
dler building, a three-story office building on the main street
of the little mountain town of Labesia.
“Good morning, Robert,” Jim Robertson, president of the
Bluge Oil Corporation, said as he entered the real estate office.
“Good morning, Jim,” the realtor greeted him, smiling.
“Sit down.” Robertson drew up a chair to the end of the desk.
“I have some very interesting news for you,” he began. “We
have just finished the analysis of the core samples taken from
the Meredith ranch and the study of the charts brought in by
our field crews, so I am ready to make a final report that the
prospects for an oil field of major potentialities on the ranch
are very flattering. These charts," he continued, as he un-
rolled half a dozen charts and maps and spread them out on
the desk, “were made on widely scattered locations of the
ranch, and practically every test proved extremely encourag-
ing. I am willing to gamble that on the Meredith ranch will
be discovered one of the greatest and most productive oil
fields in the entire state.”
“Well, I'll say that's interesting news.” Chandler beamed.
“Do you think you'd be willing to gamble on a test if, say, I
owned it?”
"I'm ready to locate and proceed with a thorough test any
time the papers can be drawn and executed,” the oil executive
assured him.
“At about what depth do you think oil might be found
there?” Chandler asked.
"Very shallow. I'd say that the first pay sand should be
found not deeper than nine hundred to a thousand feet.”
“Then that should make wildcatting extremely economical
-as wildcatting goes—and take a great deal of risk out of the
venture," the realtor surmised.
“Yes, such prospects are very attractive to oil producers.
When did you see Tom Meredith?”


16
The Tin Box
dollars per acre bonus alone will amount to almost twenty-five
times what the ranch is costing you. And besides,” Robertson
continued, “you will be getting twenty-five thousand acres of
good, rich gulf coast land that in itself may be worth a for-
tune.”
“Yes, I'll admit your offer sounds pretty good. But we'll go
into further detail if and when I get possession of the ranch,”
Chandler said.
When Jim Robertson left the realtor's office, Chandler
turned and gazed out the window in the direction of the Mere-
dith ranch. “I'll name my own terms, once I'm in possession of
that gold mine,” he mused with a throaty laugh. “I've always
wanted to be in a position to dictate terms to these big boys,
and now that I'm going to get that chance, don't think, Jim
Robertson, that you or anyone else is going to say what you'll
give me. You're going to ask me for terms."
Placing his feet upon the window sill, he leaned back in his
swivel chair and, with his thumbs stuck in the armholes of his
vest, closed his eyes and allowed his imagination to soar to
exalted heights as he mused: “Robert Chandler. Real estate
broker, oil magnate with a capital O. Guess that'll make these
big boys who said I'd never make a go of this business sit up
and take notice.”
It was a beautiful fall morning in the mountainous section
of West Texas. Although no rain had fallen since spring, yet
the air was pregnant with a crisp, penetrating tang that
seemed to imbue nature with new life. Everywhere the ranch-
ers were busy getting in their feed, and redistributing their
livestock to the best advantage, in preparation for the antici-
pated hard winter months ahead..
Tom Meredith had arisen at four o'clock-his usual hour-
and after having given his foreman Jack Doyle (“Uncle Jack,”
as he was affectionately called by everyone in that area) final
instructions on just what herds to gather (from which the
steers that were to be sold would be selected), was in his car
and on his way to the stockyards at Labesia. He was in a sul-
len, defiant mood as he drove over the treacherous mountain


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
17
road with its many sharp turns and steep grades, as it par-
alleled Sawaya Creek, a partly dry mountain stream. “That
scoundrel may think he'll take my home, but he'll never do it
as long as there's life in my body," he said to himself.
His troubled thoughts drifted to a huge, crudely fashioned
cross, constructed of rocks, in the front yard of the Meredith
ranch home. That cross was a shrine to the many generations
of the Meredith family. And a legend was connected with it
that every Meredith related with pride. Josiah Meredith, a
Tennessee farm boy, so the legend went, was seized with a
wanderlust. Leaving his beloved Tennessee hills, he drifted to
Texas, where he volunteered to join the army of stout-hearted
pioneers, who were fighting desperately to wrest their free-
dom from the Mexican government. After the victorious bat-
tle of San Jacinto, where Texas' independence was born, he
again sought adventure. Purchasing a horse from a rancher
near the battle grounds, he set off across the prairie. Arriving
at Indianola a few weeks later, he joined up with a wagon
train, bound for Mexico, through San Antonio. At San An-
tonio he bade adieu to the wagoners, and headed in the gen-
eral direction of California.
After more than a month of travel, he came upon a spot that
was so beautiful and arresting that he stopped. Turning in his
saddle, he viewed the panorama before him.
The spot where he stood was a clearing of about five acres.
Situated on a general slope, it was encircled by giant oak
trees that grew in such a perfect circle they might have been
planted by man. A hundred yards to the west, a lazy brooklet
trickled peacefully along, between banks of wooded grandeur,
from which there rose a beautiful valley to meet a chain of
forest-covered foothills a mile away. A mountain range be-
yond cut off his further view to the west. Some miles to the
south, the terrain began a gentle ascent to a plateau rimmed
by a continuation of the range of mountains that cut off his
view to the west.
To the north, a vast expanse of wooded valleys, hills and
towering mountains extended as far as the eye could see. It


18
The Tin Box
was early fall, and various shades of yellow, red and brown
intermingled with the green foliage. The place seemed to
abound with game, for as he sat there on his horse, a flock of
wild turkeys that were feeding on nuts and berries along the
brook became inquisitive, and approached within a few feet
of the intruder before wandering off across the stream, while
herds of deer could be seen grazing in the valleys. “This,” said
Josiah to himself, “is my Eden, the end to my wanderings.”
Dismounting, he gathered rocks together, and with them fash-
ioned a huge cross.
Kneeling at the foot of the cross, he implored Almighty
God to bless this spot, and to give him the strength and cour-
age to make this his home. And that it might always be a home
for the Meredith generations.
Arising, he mounted and reined his horse in the direction
from which he had come. Retracing his route, he marked the
trail by the hills, streams and trees, drawing a map on a sheet
of paper, that he might be able to find it again. At the end of
each day's journey, he cut a number on a tree. And if there
were no trees near, he would gather rocks and with them
fashion a number, thus indicating the number of days he had
traveled on his return.
Back in Tennessee, he told his childhood sweetheart of the
wonderful new world he had found in the west and asked her
to join him in a pioneering adventure to this land of enchant-
ment. She consented; in the following spring they were mar-
ried, and started back to Texas together. Finally arriving, they
built their home near the cross of rocks, which became a
shrine. And as each succeeding generation came into posses-
sion of the ranch, they knelt at the cross and beseeched Al-
mighty God to help them to carry out the wishes of Josiah
Meredith.
Tom Meredith recalled the “legend of the cross” as he
thought: “To think that as long as this ranch has stood in the
name of Meredith, a name that has always meant honor and
leadership in the community, that I, of the fourth generation


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
19
to call it my home, must suffer the humiliation of sacrificing
this family heirloom. Never! Never!” he shouted aloud.
When the rancher reached the commission house of Ran-
dall Scott and company, to which he consigned all his live-
stock, it was yet early. Because of the continued drouth, and
the dust storms that had already started to blow, many of the
ranchers were anticipating an unusually hard time in keeping
their herds together and averting heavy losses during the com-
ing months. Many of them had obtained loans on their land
or livestock, and as their notes came due, in an effort to econo-
mize in the upkeep of their ranches during the winter, were
rushing their cattle-those that had withstood the drouth in
fair shape-to market.
The offices and sales pens of the various commission com-
panies doing business at the Labesia stock yards were bee-
hives of activity. Many buyers of other cities and states,
having heard of such unusual bargains to be found at that
yard because of the emergency, were there to take advantage
of the situation, and to buy and ship to their places these
drouth cattle, to be fed and marketed later, when conditions
had improved and the flow of cattle to market been checked.
“Good morning, Randall,” the rancher called to Randall
Scott, a cattle broker who sat at a desk busily going over some
business transactions of the day before.
“Why, good morning, Tom.” Scott, a tall, lean suntanned
middle-aged ex-rancher, whose spurred boots were as much a
part of his dress as his shirt or trousers, showed surprise as he
arose to shake the rancher's hand. “What brings you to town so
early this morning?”
"Oh, just felt like taking an early morning ride,” the
rancher replied.
“Ah, come now, Tom. This is entirely too early for you to
be here unless you're having something brought in. You're
always busy around the ranch at this time of morning.” Look-
ing straight into the rancher's eyes, Scott continued: “Tom,
you look worried. Come, tell me what's on your mind. Some-
thing's bothering you.”


20
The Tin Box
“Yes, you're right,” the rancher admitted. “Something is
bothering me, Randall. I haven't been able to sleep for nights.”
“That serious?” Scott was deeply concerned. “Why, I never
knew you to worry like that, Tom. What's the nature of your
troubles?”
“My ranch.”
“Your ranch? I don't understand,” Scott was puzzled.
“Randall, I've never told you this,” the rancher said soberly,
"but I'm about to lose my ranch.”
“What did you say, Tom?” Scott asked in amazement. “Do
you mean it?”
“Yes, I do. As I said, I've never told anyone except my wife,
not even my daughter June.
"I borrowed twenty thousand dollars on my ranch three
years ago, to pay taxes and buy feed to try and save my cattle
until enough rain fell to bring the range back to normal. I
hoped to be able to take care of the notes as they came due
by selling off some of the cattle as they rounded into shape.
But, because of the prolonged drouth, they have been in no
shape to sell, and I have hesitated to sacrifice them, except a
few head at a time now and then, to meet the interest on the
notes and take care of the upkeep of the ranch.
“I've had the notes renewed twice, and I went the other day
to see about having them renewed a third time, but there was
nothing doing. Said they would have to have their money, or
would be forced to foreclose.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” Scott said sympathetically. “Who
holds the lien on your ranch?”
“Robert Chandler.”
"I see. And he wouldn't give you a third renewal? Why, I've
known him to renew notes half a dozen times.”
"So have I. And that's why I went to him for the loan, in-
stead of the government. I figured he'd give me every chance
to pay off the mortgage if conditions got serious with me. But
for some reason he seems anxious for his money."
“You know, Tom,” Scott said as he leaned back and clasped


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
21
his hands behind his head, “for some reason, I've never liked
that fellow.”
“Oh, Chandler's all right. After all, it was his money I bor-
rowed. And I guess he needs it. He's given me a pretty fair
chance to pay off the lien, and of course, it's not his fault that
it hasn't rained.”
“Yes, of course that's the business way to look at it. But per-
sonally, I've just never been able to like him. I don't know,
but sometimes you meet a man and for some unexplainable
reason you just can't like him. Not that he has done anything
to you, you just don't trust him. There is something about
him that doesn't appeal to you, and that's the way it is with
me about him.
“I don't know of anything he's ever done that wouldn't
stand investigation, but I've always felt that if given a chance
(where he thought he might get away with it), he wouldn't
be above taking advantage of a situation. What do you intend
to do about the situation, Tom?”
“There's only one thing I can do; sell enough of my cattle
to take care of it.”
“But that means to sacrifice them, Tom. Cattle are way
down and dropping every day. Unless your cattle are in
mighty good condition, you'd have to sell many a head to
bring you twenty thousand dollars," Scott warned him.
“The market seems active enough this morning, Randall.
And cattle usually bring a fair price on an active market such
as this,” the rancher argued.
“While, generally speaking, that is true, yet you'd be sur-
prised to know at what prices some of these cattle are chang-
ing hands,” Scott said. “Suppose we walk down to the sales
pens for a few minutes,” Scott suggested. “We might be able
to witness the sale of some of these cattle.”
The sales yards where livestock was received, bought and
sold was a rambling affair covering about ten acres and con-
sisting of many stock pens of various sizes ranging from small
ones that would hold from one to four head up to much larger
mighty gopwenty thousaactive enough on an activ


22
The Tin Box
ones built to accommodate, without crowding, a hundred
head or more.
Scattered throughout the yards were the scales on which
the livestock was weighed. And the entire setup was criss-
crossed by a system of corridors or runways, through which
the animals were moved from one pen to another or to the
scales.
Along one side of the yards was a long receiving platform
up to which a number of trucks were backed, discharging their
loads of livestock, while on another side were several carloads
of cattle sidetracked on a spur, waiting to be unloaded.
When the two men reached the yards, business was in full
sway. Cattle and other livestock were being moved from every
section of the yards to the scales, after salesmen and buyers
had agreed on prices.
The din of lowing cows and bawling calves made conversa-
tion difficult. As the men reached the first runway near the
spur, a herd of mixed cattle was being driven up a ramp and
into a railway car. One large bull refused to take the ramp,
and turned and charged one of the handlers. The stockman,
always wary and alert when handling cattle, sprang to the
fence, where he held on with one hand while he gave the
animal a sharp rap across the nose with a staff he carried in
the other.
"That's one thing about these Brahmans," Scott remarked,
"they may be as gentle and docile as lambs, ordinarily. But
once you get them aroused, they'll charge anything in sight.”
“Yes, they're fine cattle, but very mean at times,” the
rancher replied.
As the men reached the sales pens of Randall Scott and
Company, several buyers were looking over a pen of a hun-
dred choice steers. A salesman was endeavoring to sell the
entire lot to a buyer who seemed particularly interested in
them but was unable to agree on a price. “That's Felix Hob-
son, buyer for a large Kansas firm,” Scott informed the
rancher. “He started buying at this yard only about a month
ago. He usually pays a little more than the market quotation.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
23
Suppose we step up a little closer,” Scott suggested. “Maybe
we can hear what he's offering on those steers.”
“Yes, I know that prices are dropping, Mr. Hobson,” the
salesman argued, “but these are choice steers. There are not
many steers like these coming to the market these days. These
steers should bring not less than three and a half to four cents
per pound.”
"Three or four cents,” Meredith said in a low voice. “Do
you think that salesman will let those steers go for as little as
four cents?”
"I think he'll take less than that,” Scott replied.
“They are choice steers, all right,” the buyer agreed, “and
it's a pity that such animals are not bringing much more than
four cents. But as you know, the market on choice steers is
only two cents. However, I'm willing to go a little above the
market, and give you two and a half cents, but that's my limit.”
“Well, all right, Mr. Hobson,” the salesman said. “You're
getting a bargain."
“Oh, Mr. Hobson,” Scott called as the buyer and salesman
turned away from the pen, “I want you to meet a friend of
mine, Tom Meredith. Tom, this is Felix Hobson.” Greetings
were exchanged. “Mr. Meredith is a breeder of fine cattle.
His ranch is out twelve miles north of here.”
“Do you mean the Tom Meredith who is known all over
the country for his fine herds?” Hobson asked.
"Yes. Mr. Meredith has an enviable record as a breeder of
some of the finest thoroughbred cattle to be found anywhere,”
Scott said.
“Do you have anything on the yards this morning?” the
buyer asked.
"No, nothing this morning,” Meredith replied.
“Tom is expecting to have quite a herd on the yard within
the next few days. I'll let you know just what day he'll start to
send them in,” Scott told the buyer.
“Good, and I'll be here if it is at all possible,” Hobson said.
“You see, Tom," the broker said when they were again in
his office, "in a situation such as confronts us now, because


24
The Tin Box
of the drouth and the resultant shortage of feed, many of the
ranchers, like you, are forced to sacrifice their stock to meet
some emergency. Anything sold under such circumstances is
always bought at a bargain, and it is such cases that these buy-
ers are looking for now. I'll tell you right now that they are
looking for bargains only. When are you expecting to send
your cattle in?”
"I expect to send the first ones in Saturday. Using my two
trucks, I can put a hundred and twenty head in here each day
for five days. That will be six hundred head. And stretching
them over a period of five days, I figure you can get a better
price on them than you could if they were sold in one lot.”
“Yes, without doubt. But get them in within the week, be-
cause the way prices are dropping, there's no telling where
they'll be by another week.”
For six months, Jack Doyle and his cowhands had worked
the mountains and valleys of the vast Meredith ranch, picking
up the best steers to be found, and putting them in the three-
mile" pasture—so called because of its distance from the ranch
home-where they would be available on short notice in just
such an emergency. And it was from these cattle that Tom
Meredith had instructed the foreman to bring enough to the
pens for a day's hauling, just before leaving for Labesia that
'morning.
Doyle had sent some of his men on ahead, and as he fol-
lowed on half an hour later, he met two of the men returning
at a stiff gallop. Stopping when they met the foreman, they
held a brief conference, then turned and rode hurriedly back,
while the foreman reined his horse around and hurried back
to the ranch, and to the telephone.
Meredith and Scott had just completed arrangements for
handling the cattle as they were brought in, and the rancher
had arisen from his chair and started to leave the office to
return to the ranch, when the telephone rang.
“Is this the Scott Commission Company?" came the excited
voice of Uncle Jack, in answer to Scott's hello.
“Yes.”


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
- 25
erer
“Is Mr. Meredith there?”
“Yes, just a moment. It's Jack. He wants to talk to you,
Tom," Scott said as he handed the receiver to Meredith.
“Wonder what he wants,” the rancher asked curiously.
"Don't know. Sounds like he's excited.”
"Hello, Tack?” the rancher spoke into the mouthpiece.
“Yes, Mr. Meredith. Somebody has driven all those steers
out of the three-mile pasture.”
"What's that?” the rancher asked excitedly.
"Somebody has let the fence down and taken horses and
scattered those steers everywhere. Come on out as soon as you
can. I've got the boys rounding up what we can find.”
“All right, Jack, I'll be right out."
"Something wrong, Tom?” Scott asked as the rancher hung
up the receiver.
*"Yes, there is. Jack says that somebody has let those steers
out that I had planned to sell.”
“That's strange. Who do you suppose did it?”
"I have no idea. I can't understand why anyone would want
to interfere with them.”
“You didn't, by any chance, mention having those steers in
that pasture, to Chandler, did you?" Randall asked as if sus-
pecting something.
“Why, yes, I did. When he refused to renew my mortgage,
I remarked that if it came to the worst, that I had enough
choice steers in that pasture to take care of the debt. You don't
think he had anything to do with it, do you?” Meredith asked,
seemingly much perturbed.
“Does he know the location of your three-mile pasture?"
“Yes, he does. When I first made application for the loan, he
came out, and I showed him most of the ranch, including that
pasture.”
"Well, then I'm afraid to say. But I wouldn't put it above
him. Since he's acting so differently in your case from what
he's been known to do in extending leniency to others who
have borrowed money from him and have gotten behind with
their notes, it may be that he's got something up his sleeve


26
The Tin Box
vallca,
that you don't know about. Since this has happened, you're
going to have to change your plans. How long do you think it
will take to regather those steers?”
"It depends on how badly they're scattered.”
“If what you tell me is true, then we're going to have to
work in a hurry, because we haven't much time left to beat
that deadline,” Scott warned.
“That's right, and I was just thinking about that. It'll take
at least three days to get them together again. I may have to
take anything I can find, if they're badly scattered. And three
days would make it Thursday, just one day before the dead-
line.”
“In that case, you would have to sell many more head than
the six hundred planned. And that would be an awful sacrifice
at this time,” Scott said.
“Yes, it will. I'm going to get on out there and see how
many we can get back together," the rancher said as he started
for the door.
"How about getting them to the yards?” Scott asked.
"You can't haul that many cattle with two trucks in one
day.”
"That's right. That's another problem. Can you get me
some trucks around here?”
“Yes, I think so. I think I can get the Phillips' line. They
have eight large trucks. And with your two, we should get
them here in plenty of time. I'll have them at your ranch
early Thursday morning."
Tom Meredith lost no time getting back to the ranch. Uncle
Jack, with two saddled horses already loaded into a light
truck, was waiting. Driving to the three-mile pasture, they
drove along the public road that skirted the fence for some
distance until they came to the spot where a truck had turned
off, and across the fence, apparently the night before.
About a hundred yards beyond where the road came in to
parallel the fence was a gate. Driving through the gate, Uncle
Jack and the rancher unloaded the horses, and rode back to
where the truck had entered the pasture the previous night.


A Story of Texas AS
Cattle and Oil
27
Taking up the trail, they followed it a short distance to
where it had stopped and unloaded three horses, in a clump of
trees. As they followed the horses' tracks, inspection showed
that where they came upon the bedded cattle, they fanned out
and started the entire herd moving. Driving them more than
two miles, they let down another fence that separated the
three-mile pasture from the “wild mountain" pasture of
twenty thousand acres, noted for its almost complete inac-
cessibility because of the wildness and roughness of the ter-
rain.
The night had been clear, with a full moon, and when the
marauders crossed the fence with the cattle, apparently they
gave them a scare, because for the next hundred yards or more
the hoofprints were of running horses and cattle scattering in
all directions among the rocks and undergrowth. “It beats
me,” Meredith said, as they sat on their horses, looking at the
scattered hoof prints. “Can't see who would do a thing like
that. Evidently they didn't want to steal them, because they
brought them here and gave them a scare. Looks like pure
meanness. I don't believe I've got any enemies around here.”
"I don't think it was anyone that belongs around here,”
Uncle Jack said, “because all the ranchers around here know
where the gates are. And whoever it was missed both gates by
only a few hundred yards. It was somebody that has been over
the place once or twice, or someone who had been directed
how to go.”
"That does sound logical,” the rancher agreed.
Cowboy yells, and the sharp rap of quirts on leather chaps
gave evidence that some of the riders were beating the bushes
a short distance away. And in a few minutes five of the cow-
hands came out of the brush driving about seventy-five head
of steers before them. Meredith and Doyle galloped out to
meet them, and gave them a hand in getting the cattle through
the gate.
“Did you see any more of them?” the boss asked, when the
men had closed the gate behind the steers.


28
The Tin Box
“Yes, sir, we saw a good many more, but they were scattered
all through the brush," one of the men replied.
"It'll take every bit of a week's hard riding to get the rest
of them steers out of them catclaw thickets,” the foreman said.
“Yes, I suppose it will, and I haven't got a week to spare,”
the rancher said thoughtfully. “I think the best thing for us
to do is to put all hands in here and work all the steers we
can out of the brush tomorrow, and the next day we'll work
the valley pasture to make up what we're short.”
With an early start, and hard riding the following day, the
men succeeded in recovering about half the steers from the
mountain pasture, and the next day was spent working the
valley pasture, from which enough cattle were gathered to
make up nine hundred head, which Meredith felt should
bring more than enough to take care of the lien.
At the suggestion of Uncle Jack, the cattle were put into a
three-hundred-acre pasture that was kept for saddle horses,
only a mile from the ranch house. “I tell you, Mr. Meredith,"
the foreman said, as the gate was closed behind the herd, “I
believe it would be a good idea to let some of the boys stand
guard around these cattle tonight. Of course, there might not
be any danger of any of 'em gettin' out, but I believe we'd all
sleep a lot better if we knew they were safe.”
"I think that's a mighty fine idea, Jack,” Meredith agreed,
“because I certainly don't want them to get out again; I'd just
about be ruined if they did.”
“I'll take two or three of the boys and come back down
here right after dark, and kind of lay along near the fence,
where we can see anybody that comes along the road. And
about midnight, some of the other boys can come down and
relieve us,” the foreman suggested.
The first part of the night, with Uncle Jack and three of
the boys standing watch, passed without incident. And
promptly at midnight Uncle Jim, one of the oldest hands on
the ranch, arrived with three men to take over, the first watch
returning to the bunkhouse.
Uncle Jim's watch split up in pairs, a quarter of a mile


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
29
apart. Hiding their horses in the woods nearby, the men con-
cealed themselves behind the trees or rocks near the fence.
Uncle Jim, with Forest Adams, took the post farthest from
the ranch house. The two men talked an hour or more before
getting drowsy. It was about two o'clock when Adams thought
he heard a car slowing down about a hundred yards from
where they were concealed. Uncle Jim was sound asleep, snor-
ing loudly. Knowing how quick he was to get excited when
awakened suddenly, Adams decided not to disturb him until
he was sure his hunch was well founded. He didn't have long
to wait, however.
A full moon in a cloudless sky lit up the road almost like
day. Peering around the large rock behind which he was con-
cealed, Adams saw a truck pull off the road and stop at the
fence. In the bed of the truck, he could see the heads of three
horses. Three men got out of the truck and started to work at
the fence. In a few minutes, two of the men stood on the
slackened wire while the third started walking off towards a
clump of trees followed by the truck, driven by a fourth man.
When the truck had crossed over the wire, the two men started
walking along behind it.
Adams waited until the two men had gotten about fifty
yards from the fence before he shook Uncle Jim by the shoul-
der. “Wake up, Jim," he said in a low voice.
“Huh?” Uncle Jim said sleepily.
“Wake up!” Adams shook him violently, “There's a truck
driving into the pasture.”
"A truck? Where? Where?” he said loudly, as he jumped
up. Adams pulled him back down behind the rock. The two
men following the truck heard the voice and stopped mo-
mentarily, then started to run toward the truck.
Uncle Jim by this time was wide awake. “Halt!” he shouted,
pulling his .45 from the holster. He fired when the men failed
to stop. The driver heard the shot and immediately speeded
up and started to turn the truck around. The man walking in
front of the truck ran back, jumped upon the running board


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
31
ate neighborhood the following day revealed nothing that
might indicate who the men were.
Long before daybreak the following morning the Meredith
ranch was astir, and by sunup the men had moved the cattle
to be sold from the pasture to the pens. A batch of about a
hundred head was cut into the chute pen, and all was in readi-
ness to start loading when the trucks would arrive. .
“You know, Mr. Meredith,” Uncle Jack began in his lazy,
droll way of speaking, as they stood looking through the fence
at the cattle, “it's a doggone shame to sell these cattle now.
They're in no shape for market. They've got no weight nor
quality.”
“I know that, Jack. But under the circumstances, I've just
got to sell some of them. And considering what they've come
through, they're in pretty fair shape.”
“What I mean by no quality, Mr. Meredith, take that black
Angus steer over there, for example, the one right behind
that muley cow, nearest the chute gate," Uncle Jack ex-
plained, as he pointed out a gaunt, black steer of the Angus
breed-a fine specimen, had he been in good flesh. “If that
steer was fat, he'd bring you at least nine or ten cents a pound
if he could be held until this rush of cattle to market is over
or slows down some, and things get back to normal. That steer
would weigh twelve hundred pounds, but in the shape he's in
now, he won't pull over eight hundred, and the way they say
prices are dropping at the yards now, I'm willing to lay
you a month's pay, he won't bring more than three or four
cents at the most; a loss of around seventy-five or seventy-six
dollars on the one steer. Now multiply that,” Uncle Jack con-
tinued, “by the eight hundred and fifty or nine hundred head
you're going to send in, and you've got a loss of around-well,
let's see,” he said as he studied for a moment, trying to calcu-
late some figure reasonably close to what the loss would be.
Then pulling off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair as he
said: “Well, you've got a terrible loss.”
“Yes, I've figured that. But when you've got to do some-
thing, you've just got to do it. I've tried to think of some way


32
The Tin Box
to avoid this sacrifice, but I'm at my wit's end,” Meredith said.
The sun was only a few minutes high when the first truck
came into sight, followed closely by others, eight in all. Giant
red trucks, capable of carrying almost unbelievable loads up
the steep mountain grades, and with bodies built on them in
which twenty-five to thirty head of grown cattle could be
hauled in comfort.
As soon as the first truck arrived, it swung around and
backed up to the loading platform. In the meantime, the cow-
boys had cut from the main herd a batch of twenty-five grown
cattle to make up the first load. These were rushed through
the chute and up the ramp into the truck. As fast as one truck
was loaded and pulled away on its way to the stockyards,
another pulled in, the chute gates were raised and another
bunch of twenty-five or thirty that had been cut from the
main herd were cut through the chute and were on their way
to market. By fast work and co-operation on the part of the
cowboys and truck drivers, the last of the nine hundred head
were in the trucks and on their way to market by two-thirty
in the afternoon. Tom Meredith climbed into his car and, ac-
companied by Uncle Jack, trailed the last truck to the yards.
Randall Scott had notified all the big cattle buyers who
customarily bought at that yard that the choicest of the Mere-
dith herds would be put on the auction block that afternoon
and must be sold. By three o'clock, there were buyers from
all parts of the state and as far away as Chicago around the
pens into which the cattle were being unloaded.
Shortly after three o'clock, the last truckload pulled up to
the platform, the end gates were unlatched and slid aside and
the last of the nine hundred head had joined those that had
been brought in earlier.
Preparations were about complete for the auctioneer-who
had been brought from the stockyards at Chicago and was
known wherever livestock was sold in large quantities-to take
the stand. Buyers were beginning to mill around restlessly as
time grew near for the sale.
Although the cattle were gaunt, they were an impressive


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
33
herd showing a strain of expert breeding for which the Mere-
dith ranch had been famous for generations.
It had been decided and agreed upon between Meredith
and Scott that the cattle would be sold in a lump. Two things
made this imperative: first, they must be sold as quickly as
possible, so that the rancher would be assured of the money,
as the following day would be the last day of grace. After that,
Chandler could not be compelled to accept payment on the
notes if he wished to foreclose. Second, by selling them in one
bunch, only those buyers would be induced to bid on them
whose checks would be instantly honored without question.
As this was a case of emergency, every precaution was taken to
avoid any hitch that might result in failure to procure the
money to pay off the indebtedness and save the ranch.
As Clem Johnson, the auctioneer, took the stand, a hush
fell over the buyers who were crowded as close to the stand
as space would permit. “Gentlemen," he began, "we have in
these pens today a herd of nine hundred head of mixed cattle
-steers and cows-from the Meredith ranch, a few miles out
north of here. It will not be necessary for me to tell you of the
quality of these cattle. A glance at the pens will reveal to you
the many years of constant effort and success of the Meredith
generations in building a line of purebred cattle, that for
years have been known throughout the state, and wherever
cattle are raised, as one of the finest herds of purebred cattle
to be found anywhere in this country. These cattle look gaunt
and thin because of the severe drouth of the past few years-so
do all the rest of the cattle in this section. But that in no way
detracts from their value as stockers and feeders. Put these
cattle where they can get plenty of good grass and water, and
in two months' time you won't recognize them as the same
bunch. Now these cattle are going to be sold this afternoon.
And when I say 'sold' I don't mean that they are going to be
given away. I am now ready to receive bids on these cattle.
What do I hear?"
Instantly the buyers went into action. Shouts of "I'll pay
one and a half," "I'll pay one and three quarters,” “I bid two


34
The Tin Box
cents," and so on, came from the group of buyers. Above these
bids could be heard the steady drone of the auctioneer's
chant: “One and three, one and three. Who'll make it two?
Who'll make it two cents a pound for this herd of purebred
cattle from the famous Meredith ranch?”
"Two cents,” came from a bidder near the back of the
group.
"I hear two, I hear two. Who'll make it two and a quarter?
Who'll give two and a quarter cents?"
“Two and a quarter,” came from Wade Lucas, a neighbor-
ing rancher. Competition in the bidding was keen until it
reached two and three quarters, and there it stalled. Mere-
dith and Scott were standing together near the auctioneer's
stand. “Looks like it has stuck at two and three-quarters,
Tom,” Scott remarked as he looked at the rancher, who
seemed to be lost in his thoughts.
"Oh-yes. What did you say, Randall?”
“I said that it looks like it has hung up on two and three-
quarter cents,” the broker repeated.
“Is that all they are offering?” he asked in puzzled surprise.
“That's all so far.”
The auctioneer continued his steady drone: “Two and
three, two and three-quarter cents. Do I hear three? Two and
three once, two and three twice."
“Three cents,” came from the buyer of a large Kansas cattle
brokerage firm.
"Three cents, three cents, I'm offered three cents a pound.
Who'll make it three and a quarter? Do I hear three and a
quarter? Are you through, gentlemen? Three cents once, three
cents twice, all done? Sold for three cents a pound to Mr.
Felix Hobson of Kansas.”
“Do you think three cents will bring enough to clear my
ranch, Randall?" the rancher asked uneasily.
“Yes, I'm sure it will, and some over,” the broker assured
him.
“I sure hope it does. I had hoped for at least three and a


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
35
half, but I guess I'll have to be satisfied with what I can get as
long as it puts me out of debt."
The morning following the auction found the rancher and
his wife up unusually early. After a light breakfast, he pro-
ceeded to look after his usual business around the ranch,
while his wife busied herself with the housework and getting
ready for the city. It was somewhat of a thrill for her as she
did not go to town very often. And today the trip meant more
to her than usual. For not only did it mean a chance to look
around, but she had planned to buy some things for the house
with some of the money, provided there was any left after
the debt had been paid. And most important of all, she would
be present and witness the cancelation of the lien on her home
that had caused her so many sleepless nights during the last
three years.
And for Tom Meredith, this was to be the day of days. A
day that would transfer the ranch from the red to the black
side of the ledger; a day that would return to his mind that
state of tranquility, security and freedom from worry that he
had enjoyed up until three years ago. A day when he could
return from the city to a debt-free home. Then too, there had
been talk around the ranch of a new car to replace the present
one, which had given such faithful service during the past
eight years, and which he felt was not so safe on the dangerous
mountain roads. It had been worked over time and again by
the ranch hands, and even now, its brakes needed relining,
which he planned to have done when he had the more impor-
tant business out of the way.
Still another reason for wanting a more modern automo-
bile was that their only child, June, who had finished school
the past term, was home. Besides wanting her to have a car in
which she could feel safe to drive on the roads, her parents
wanted her car to rate on a par with the automobiles of any
of the girls of the city. So it had virtually been decided that
after the purchase of the household goods planned for the day,
the next thing to be considered was a new automobile.
It was with a feeling of satisfaction, of a day to be well spent


36
The Tin Box
that Tom Meredith and his wife Ann (leaving June with her
Aunt Harriet, a buxom spinster of some sixty years and the
sister of Tom Meredith) climbed into their car and started
for the stockyards at Labesia, where he planned to pick up
the check for the cattle sold the day before.
It was an unusually still morning for late fall in that section
of West Texas. The humidity was low and the heat stifling
as they drove along, carefully picking their way over some of
the rougher, more treacherous parts of the road. “I'll be so
glad, Tom, if we can get a new car,” Ann Meredith said to
her husband. “I'll feel so much safer for June on these danger-
ous roads. I don't see why the county or the state doesn't do
something to make this road safer for people to travel. Look
down the side of the mountain, there, a sheer drop of at least
two hundred feet to the bed of the creek. If a car ever got out
of control at a place like that, there would be nothing except
Almighty God that could save you. And that's not the only bad
place. There are many, some of them worse than that.”
“Yes, that's true, Ann. But this road isn't traveled by so
many people, and of course the county or the state, or the
federal government can't afford to go to a lot of expense to
fix up a road unless it is traveled by a large number of people,
more than travel this road. You know, it takes a lot of money
to build a road around among these mountains," Meredith
said.
“Yes, I suppose that's true. I hope there'll be nothing in
the way that might upset our plans to pay off the debt and
get it off our minds,” his wife said thoughtfully.
“Of course there won't,” her husband assured her. “Mr.
Hobson, who bought the cattle, is known all over this country.
His check is honored without question anywhere. All that had
to be done was to weigh the cattle, then multiply the gross
weight by three cents a pound, and they had already started
to weigh them when I left the yards yesterday.
“You'd be surprised, Ann, to see how some of those cattle
weighed. Some of those cows that I had figured wouldn't
weigh more than seven hundred pounds, were pulling eight


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
37
hundred, and more. And at three cents per pound, I believe
we'll have enough left after the debt is paid to tide us over
nicely this winter.”
"Three cents a pound,” Mrs. Meredith said, as if talking to
herself. “Three cents a pound for purebred cattle. I remem-
ber when you sold the same breed of cattle for ten, even
twelve cents. Three cents a pound. It's hard to believe.”
When the rancher and his wife reached the broker's office,
Randall Scott was not in, but came in a few minutes later.
“Good morning, Tom. Oh! Good morning, Mrs. Meredith,
you're looking fine this morning,"Scott commented.
"Good morning, Mr. Scott. Yes, I'm feeling very well this
morning. How are Mrs. Scott and the children?”
“Just fine. Say, you should see how those kids have grown
since we moved to town. You'd hardly know them. Why don't
you and Tom sell out the ranch and move to town, Mrs. Mere-
dith? I'm sure you and June would like it here, and Tom could
come right in here with me. I'm doing very well as it is, and
with Tom in here with me, he knows so many of the ranchers
in this section, I'm sure we would do a mighty big business,"
Randall suggested earnestly.
"Oh, I could never do that,” promptly replied Mrs. Mere-
dith. “I could never get used to city ways, and I know Tom
would be plumb uneasy here in town. And besides, there is
the old home that has been in the family for so long. I know
Tom would never be the one to part with it."
"Yes, I know how you feel about the ranch. Parting with
the old landmark would be like losing one of the family,”
Scott said.
“It looked for a while like we were going to lose one of the
family," the rancher broke in with a chuckle.
"Well, Tom, I'm sure you and Mrs. Meredith are anxious
to know how the sale of the cattle came out. I believe you're
going to get a pleasant surprise. Those cattle outweighed any-
thing I've ever seen, for the condition they were in. Mr. Hob-
son laughingly remarked that you must have fed them cement
before sending them in. Your check, minus all expenses, comes
salu,


38
The Tin Box
to twenty-three thousand three hundred and thirty-six dollars,
and seventy-eight cents, and here you are, sir.” ,
Tom Meredith reached for the check with trembling fing-
ers. “Thank God, and thank you, Randall,” he said as he
placed the check in his billfold. “And now, Mr. Robert Chan-
dler, I've got business to settle with you," he added, with a
defiant, determined look in his eyes.
Chapter Three
THE WEATHER WAS SHOWING SIGNS OF CHANGE
when the rancher and his wife left Randall Scott's office.
Clouds had begun to form in the north, and were becoming
more dense each minute. Already the leaves on the trees had
begun to sway and flutter with a slight breeze that had begun
to stir. “Looks like we're going to have a change in the
weather,” Mrs. Meredith remarked as they climbed into their
car.
“Yes, it looks so,” her husband replied. “Looks like a
norther may blow up,” her husband said as he turned his eyes
searchingly toward the north. “We may have an early, hard
winter. I would like to see this heat relieved, but I kind of
hate to see the northers because of the dust. And I'm afraid
the dust storms are going to be unusually severe this year,
because of the extremely dry summer.”
"I hope the norther stays off until we get back home. I
don't particularly relish driving that road in a dust storm,"
his wife said, looking toward the north uneasily.
"Oh, I hardly think it will come before we get back home,”
the rancher said reassuringly.
Robert Chandler was alone in his office when the rancher
and his wife entered, about two o'clock in the afternoon.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
39
Chandler had expected Tom Meredith earlier in the week,
and as the days passed and he failed to show up with the
money, Chandler grew more hopeful each day that he would
not be able to raise it. He wanted the ranch worse than any-
thing else, and as the days of grace grew to a close so that
foreclosure proceedings could be instituted, he became de-
fiant, and determined that if there was any way, fair or foul,
that he could get possession of the coveted property, he would
not hesitate to push it to the limit. So, it was while he was in
this covetous mood, with his back to the door and his feet on
the window sill, gazing hopefully out the window in the di-
rection of the Meredith ranch, that the Merediths entered.
“Good evening, Mr. Chandler," Tom Meredith said. Chan-
dler started, then wheeled around in his swivel chair to face
the one man in all the world he had hoped he would not face
that day. A sarcastic half-grin came over his face as he spoke.
“Why good evening, folks,” he said hesitatingly. “I'd begun
to think I wouldn't see you today.”
“Oh, yes, we're here, and ready to do business,” the rancher
asserted.
“The heck you say! You mean that you're ready to pay
me that twenty thousand dollars?”
(Chandler was hoping against hope that the rancher had
come with a plea for leniency, perhaps with a small part of
the payment which he had already made up in his mind that
he would not accept. Only the full twenty thousand dollars
would be accepted, and that only if no way around it could be
found. He had figured that to raise twenty thousand dollars
would be next to impossible for any rancher in that section
at that time. So it was with a mixed expression of defiance and
anxiety that he faced the Merediths.)
"That's just what I mean,” the rancher assured him as he
reached into his pocket for his billfold and handed Chandler
a check. “Now I'll just endorse this check to you, and you can
give me your check for thirty-three hundred and thirty-six
dollars.”
Chandler reached for the check with hallucinations of a


40
The Tin Box
murder shooting through his evil mind. Scrutinizing the check
closely, desperately trying to think of some way by which the
transaction might be delayed past the zero hour, he thumbed
it nervously, then turned it over and looked at the blank side,
and glanced at the clock on the wall. In a flash, he thought he
saw a way by which the settlement might yet be avoided.
The banks will be closing in another twenty minutes, he
thought. The check being drawn on an out of town bank, he
will hardly be able to cash it today, he reasoned. Then looking
up at the rancher, he said: “Why, this is not your personal
check. Who is this Felix Hobson?" (To make sure there would
be no chance for delay in the transaction, Scott had had Felix
Hobson make the check payable to Tom Meredith instead of
to the commission company, feeling that because of the widely
known business activities of Felix Hobson for the Kansas firm,
his check would be instantly honored, even above the check
of the commission company.) “Why, Mr. Hobson is the man
who bought my cattle yesterday,” the rancher replied, a puz-
zled expression on his face.
“Well, I don't know him; never heard of him before,” Chan-
dler said as he continued to finger the check.
“Why, Mr. Hobson is one of the most widely known cattle
dealers in this country. His check is good at any bank,” Mere-
dith argued.
“Maybe so, but I don't know him. I may be a poor business
man, but I'm not chump enough to accept his check for
twenty-three thousand dollars and give you my check for
thirty-three hundred dollars on it. Our agreement calls for a
cash settlement by five o'clock this evening, and that is the
only settlement I'll make,” he asserted as he pitched the check
back across the desk and busied himself with other papers.
Tom Meredith was bewildered. It was obvious that Chan-
dler was deliberately trying to avoid a settlement. Randall
Scott's words of a few days before, expressing his opinion of
Chandler, rang in the rancher's ears.
“What are you going to do, Tom?" his wife asked as they
reluctantly walked out of the office.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
“I don't know what to do,” he replied.
Mrs. Meredith looked at her husband anxiously. "It looks
to me like Mr. Chandler don't want to accept payment,” she
said.
“It's very plain that he doesn't,” the puzzled rancher re-
plied, as he searched his brain for some explanation for Chan-
dler's strange actions. “Chandler, for some strange reason, is
deliberately trying to put off the releasing of the mortgage
until after five o'clock. Then he can foreclose and take our
home. If we both leave his office, he may go away and not
return in time to transact this business. Now you go back in
that office and stay there with him. I'm going to see what I
can do.” Mrs. Meredith turned and went back into the office,
while her husband went out upon the street.
When Tom Meredith reached the sidewalk, a perceptible
change had taken place in the weather. It was apparent that a
norther was coming, and that it would not be long before it
would be upon them. Already a yellowish haze, forerunner of
a duststorm, was hanging over the streets. The rancher looked
at his watch. It was fifteen minutes past two o'clock. The
banks would be closing in another fifteen minutes. He would
have to work fast. Standing for a moment, he looked up, then
down the street. Then stepping from the curb, he crossed to
the other side.
The Morrison State Bank, an institution with which he had
done business in more prosperous years, was just a block
away. Walking into the bank, he stepped up to one of the
tellers. “Good evening, Mr. Wilkes," he said.
“Why, good evening, Mr. Meredith. Where have you been
keeping yourself? It's been some time since I've seen you in
here."
“Well, I haven't had occasion to visit any of the banks very
often for the past few years. We ranchers have been so hard
hit by the continued drouth that I suppose that if the banks
had to depend on us to stay in business, they'd all be closing.
Say, Mr. Wilkes, I'm up against a problem, and I wonder if
you can help me.”


42
The Tin Box
“I'll do what I can, Mr. Meredith. What is it you want me
to do?”
"It's this check,” he said as he handed the Hobson check to
the teller. “You see, I owe Robert Chandler practically all of
it, but he refuses to accept the check, and insists on a settle-
ment in cash, and I've got only until five o'clock to get it.
After that, he will have the right to foreclose and take my
ranch. I wonder if you would cash it for me.”
The teller took the check and looked at it closely. “That's
a pretty big check, Mr. Meredith,” he observed. “You don't
have an account with us at this time, do you?”
“No, I don't.”
“Well, I'm afraid,” the teller said regretfully, as he handed
the check back to the rancher, “I won't be able to do anything
for you. You see, it is drawn on an out-of-town bank, and
given by a man who has no account here, and whom this bank
does not know. Were it a small check, we might be able to
help you. But on a check that size, we could not possibly take
the risk. I'm sorry, Mr. Meredith,” the teller said as he reached
for a deposit slip offered by another depositor.
Leaving the bank, Meredith stepped into a drugstore,
where he sought a telephone booth. Dropping a nickel into
the slot, he called Randall Scott's office. Scott picked up the
receiver when his phone rang. “Scott Commission Company,”
he said.
“Hello, Randall?” It was the voice of Tom Meredith.
"Yes, Tom.”
"Listen, Randall, I'm in trouble. That doggone skunk
Chandler is trying to take the advantage of me. He is trying to
put off the settlement until it is too late. I don't know what
to do.”
"How can he do that? You've got the check from Felix Hob-
son to make the payment with, haven't you?”
“Yes.” The rancher then explained to Scott what had taken
place in Chandler's office a few minutes before.
"I see. You remember what I told you about my feelings
towards Chandler, the other day, don't you?”
w can he do that? with, haven't you?**t what had taken


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
“Yes, and I realize now that you had the right hunch,” the
rancher said.
“I tell you what you do, Tom,” Scott suggested, “Where
are you now?”
"I'm at the Wilson Pharmacy,” the rancher said.
“Well, you stay around there until I call you back.”
Randall Scott replaced the receiver on its cradle, then lifted
it again and dialed a number. After completing this call, he
rang the Wilson Pharmacy, where Meredith was awaiting the
call.
“Tom, take that check over to the City National Bank and
ask for Mr. Cockrell, the cashier. Explain to him as you did to
me. I think he will fix you up."
It was only a few minutes before closing time when the
rancher stepped into the bank. Mr. Cockrell's desk was
pointed out to him by a teller.
“Sit down, Mr. Meredith,” the cashier greeted him with a
smile and a handshake. “I hear you are having a little trouble."
“Yes, I am.” The rancher explained to the cashier the trou-
ble he had had in trying to make the settlement.
“I see,” the cashier said when Meredith had finished. “Let
me see that check. Uh huh. Felix Hobson. Stockmen and
Farmer's National Bank, Kansas City," he read in an under-
tone. "Why, I can't see why Chandler wouldn't accept that
check. Felix Hobson's checks are good anywhere. However,
we'll fix that up all right. Mr. Scott tells me that he wants the
cash, that cash is the only settlement he'll take.”
"Yes, that's right,” the rancher confirmed.
“Then if it's cash he wants, the cash he shall have,” the
cashier mused. “Now suppose I give you twenty one-thou-
sand dollar notes, and a check on the bank for the remaining
thirty-three hundred dollars.”
“That will be all right, Mr. Cockrell, but suppose you give
me the twenty thousand in cash, and a receipt for the deposit
of the rest,” the rancher suggested.
“That'll be fine. And we will be mighty proud to have you
as a patron of this bank.”


44
The Tin Box
Pressing a button, the bank executive summoned a messen-
ger, who, after being instructed and given some papers, went
away and returned in a short while with a small package
which he handed to the cashier. Opening the package, Mr.
Cockrell counted out twenty one-thousand dollar notes which,
together with an account book showing a deposit of thirty-
three hundred and thirty-six dollars and seventy-eight cents
and a book of blank checks, he handed to the rancher, who
signed a receipt for the money.
The banker asked if he wanted a guard to accompany him
to the realtor's office. “No, thank you, Mr. Cockrell. It's just
two blocks down the street, and I don't think anyone will hold
me up between here and there."
"Well, let us hope they don't, anyway,” the cashier smiled
as he shook the rancher's hand.
When Tom Meredith stepped out of the bank, the norther
had struck. The wind had already attained a velocity of
twenty to twenty-five miles an hour, creating a dust storm that
from all indications would be a severe one. The clouds of
yellowish silt were rolling in, covering everything with grit.
People on all sides were closing their doors and lowering their
windows in an effort to keep it out. Visibility already had been
reduced to about two blocks.
The rancher hurried to Chandler's office, where he found
the realtor sullen and defiant. He did not look up as Meredith
approached his desk. “Well, I'm ready for the settlement,”
the rancher asserted.
“Have you got the cash?” Chandler looked up.
-"Yes,” the rancher replied in a firm voice.
"All right, let me have it,” he demanded.
“Where are the papers, the mortgage I signed?” Meredith
asked.
“My attorney has them in his office.”
"Well, get him over here with them. I want to get this thing
settled so I can get home before this storm gets much worse."
Chandler lifted the receiver and dialed the office of Jules
Bromberg. Then replacing the receiver, he said: “They say at
ey has them in with them. I wa gets much of Jules


48
The Tin Box
“I suppose you're right. We'd better keep driving. I guess
I'm just a little more nervous than usual.”
They were approaching a particularly dangerous section of
the road. The narrow road, at that point, had been carved out
of the side of the mountain, and was barely wide enough for
cars to pass. There was a slight incline for a few feet leading
from the road, then an almost sheer drop for two hundred
feet or more, to the rock-strewn bottom of the partly dry
stream that ran parallel with the road, which curved sharply
around the mountain side.
They had just reached this spot when suddenly around the
curve, and right upon them, appeared the lights of another
car. Meredith swerved his car sharply to avert a collision. His
wife, in a highly nervous state, screamed and threw her arms
around him, hampering his chances of pulling the car back
onto the road. He tried to shake her off, but she clung des-
perately to him. The front wheels of the car struck the incline.
Not being able to use his arms freely to steer the car, he re-
sorted to the brakes. The car was picking up momentum on
the sloping mountain side. In desperation, he stamped on the
brakes, but the faulty brakes failed to hold.
Frantically, he tried to fight free of his wife, pleading with
her to release him that he might yet stop the car, but she only
clung tighter. And then-the dull, sickening thud of steel
against stone, as the car hurtled end over end down the side of
the mountain, to come to rest badly battered and partly sub-
merged in the stream below.
The driver of the other car, which was occupied by three
men, looking in his rearview mirror, saw the Meredith car
plunge from the road. Stopping the car, the men quickly
found a place where they climbed down to the car. Mrs.
Meredith had been thrown clear of the car as it plummeted
down the side of the mountain, and had landed on a ledge,
while her husband, being caught in the wreckage, was carried
to a watery death in the car.
When the men reached the rancher's wife she was breath-
ing heavily. Horribly broken, she was mortally injured. As


50
The Tin Box
well-known residents of that section, and that if they had any
papers with them, they were very likely to be in the car and, of
course, ruined, he began to inspect very diligently the course
of the plunge, pointing out to those who came near him just
where the car left the road and went over the precipice.
He seemed greatly interested in the course taken by the car,
going over it foot by foot until he reached the cliff, and trying
to show anyone who seemed interested how the tragedy
might have been averted.
Retracing his steps from the edge of the cliff, he scrambled
down the side of the mountain at the nearest possible descent
to the water's edge, where he made a minute inspection of the
ground near the partly submerged automobile.
Having satisfied himself that the receipt was in the car and
ruined by water, he returned to his office and sat down to
collect his thoughts, and to determine the best way to proceed
with the foreclosure, which he felt that he would now be safe
in filing. However, there was the possibility that the receipt,
if found, might be deciphered even though water-soaked. So
he decided that, for the time being at least, he would just sit
and watch developments.
Chapter Four
TUNE AND AUNT HARRIET WERE GREATLY
shocked by the tragic accident. A few days after the burial,
Randall Scott, who had looked after all arrangements, called
at the ranch. Aunt Harriet and June were sitting on the front
porch.
"I came out to see if I can be of any assistance,” he said as
he came upon the porch.
"Thank you, Mr. Scott,” June said, “I'm very glad you came.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
51
I want to thank you for doing so much for us in arranging
the funeral details.”
“I was mighty glad to help,” he said.
“Mr. Scott,” June began slowly, seemingly endeavoring to
find words that would not offend, yet would clearly reveal her
feelings towards the funeral arrangements. “I do not wish to
appear ungrateful, but it seems to me that the entire arrange-
ments were rather unpretentious or, may I say, cheap for a
man of my father's standing. Don't you think so?”
“I'm awfully sorry, June, if the arrangements were unsatis-
factory. But knowing your father and mother as I did, how
extremely modest they were and that they never cared for
anything elaborate, I felt that they would have wanted it
that way.”
“I'm sorry if I have offended you, Mr. Scott,” June apolo-
gized. “I didn't mean to.”
“Not at all,” he smiled, reassuringly, “I'm glad you men-
tioned it. By the way, June, there's a business matter that if
you haven't attended to already, I believe should be looked
after right away,” he suggested.
June listened closely as he continued: “A few days before
your father's death, he told me about a financial obligation he
had to meet, in the form of a mortgage on his ranch. He-"
“A mortgage?” June interrupted in surprised alarm, “You
mean a mortgage on this ranch, our home?”
“Yes,” Scott replied.
"Father never told me about any indebtedness on the place.
And of course, I never asked him. I just took it for granted
that he had sufficient means to meet his obligations."
"It came as quite a surprise and shock to me, too,” Scott
said.
“Of course," June said, “I realized that the ranch hasn't
been any too prosperous during the past few years because of
the drouth, but I never dreamed of anything so drastic. Did
you know about it, Aunt Harriet?”
"Only a few days ago," Aunt Harriet replied. “That was the
reason your father sold those cattle.”


52
The Tin Box
“I was about to suggest,” Scott continued, “that you go in
and talk with Mr. Cockrell, cashier at the City National Bank,
and find out how your father's account stands there. And
then”
“But Father did all his business with the Morrison State
Bank," June said.
"Not for some time," Scott informed her. "And then I
believe I would see Mr. Robert Chandler, president of the
Chandler real estate and development company,” Scott con-
tinued. “He held the mortgage against your father's ranch. I
feel sure that your father paid off the lien, as that was his
purpose in going to town that day. But as no papers were
found on him, I believe it will be a good idea to talk to Mr.
Chandler, to be sure.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Scott. I'll go to town first thing in
the morning.”
June's first stop was at the City National Bank. She asked
for Mr. Cockrell, and was shown to his office by a messenger.
The cashier greeted the two women. “Won't you sit down?”
He smiled.
“I am June Meredith,” June said as she sat down, "and this
is my aunt, Miss Harriet Meredith.”
"You are the daughter of Tom Meredith,” the cashier said.
“Yes, I am.”
“May I offer my condolences, Miss Meredith?”
“Thank you, Mr. Cockrell."
“That was an awful accident, a terrible tragedy," he said
sympathetically. “I talked with your father on the day of the
accident, and he seemed so happy that he would be able to
clear his ranch of debt. And just to think that such a thing
could happen. I suppose I was one of the last persons to talk
with him before he went over to Mr. Chandler's office to pay
off the mortgage. He was in a big hurry to get home before
the dust storm got too severe.”
“Did he cash the check for the full amount?” June asked.
“No, he took only enough to satisfy the mortgage which


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
53
was, I believe, twenty thousand dollars. The rest he left here
on deposit.”
“Did he get an account book, or anything to show the de-
posit?”
“Yes, I gave him an account book showing the full deposit,
also a check book. I understand that there were no papers
found on him.”
“No, there were no papers in his pockets,” June replied.
“Possibly he left them with Mr. Chandler. I believe I would
see Mr. Chandler as soon as possible,” the cashier suggested.
“I am going there now," June said as she and Aunt Harriet
rose to leave.
Robert Chandler was sitting at his desk, in deep thought,
when the two women entered his office. His conscience was
bothering him, and he had begun to worry. He couldn't de-
cide whether to institute foreclosure proceedings at once, or
to await further developments. The car was still in the stream,
and might contain evidence that could cause him a great deal
of trouble, should it be found after he had foreclosed on the
ranch or attempted to do so. So he had about decided to play
a waiting game and let June make the first move.
“Good morning. Are you Mr. Robert Chandler?” June said
as they entered the office.
“Why-er-yes.” Chandler sprang to his feet. He was deeply
impressed with June's youthful beauty. Although in his early
fifties, Chandler had never married. Yet he had a profound
weakness for women. And as June stood before him, dressed
in deep mourning, he was quick to notice the blond curls that
fell about her shoulders, the round, dimpled, childish face,
from which rouge was conspicuously absent, the slender,
pointed fingers of well-kept hands. “What can I do for you?”
he stammered.
"I'm June Meredith, and this is my Aunt Harriet.”
"Oh, yes. Won't you sit down?”
"I'm trying to learn something of my father Tom Mere-
dith's activities on the day of his death,” June said.


54
The Tin Box
“I'll be glad to tell you all I can, Miss Meredith,” Chandler
replied.
"I have talked with Mr. Scott, who attended to the sale of
my father's cattle, and to Mr. Cockrell of the City National
Bank. My father paid off the lien on his ranch on the day he
met his death, didn't he?” she asked
"Your father came here that evening with a check signed
by a Felix Hobson, and drawn on an out-of-town bank. The
check was for more than the amount of the lien, and Mr.
Meredith suggested that he endorse the check to me, and that
I give him my personal check for the difference, which was
more than three thousand dollars," Chandler explained. “This
I refused to do, acting on my rights to demand a settlement in
cash as is specified in our agreement. Of course, I would gladly
have accepted your father's personal check for any amount.
But I felt that there was too great a risk in putting out twenty-
three thousand dollars on a signature I didn't know. So Mr.
Meredith left my office, and returned in about thirty minutes,
bringing the twenty thousand dollars in cash.
“Unfortunately, the papers pertaining to the transaction
were all in the hands of my attorney, and he was out of the
city that day. Naturally your father wanted all papers when
he paid the lien, so we agreed that he would come in and
complete the payment the following day. And, too, the dust
storm was getting worse every minute, and Mrs. Meredith
seemed very nervous and anxious to get home," he explained.
"Then he must have had the money with him when he
went over the cliff,” June surmised.
“I understand there were no papers of any kind in his pock-
ets. Do you suppose the money and other papers, if he had
any on him at the time, could be still in the car?” Chandler
asked.
"That's the only place they could be. There was nothing
found at the scene of the accident,” June informed him.
“Do you plan to have the car removed from the water and
searched?” Chandler was curiously interested.
“I suppose I'll have to. That's the only way I can get the


58
The Tin Box
right of foreclosure now that the way is clear, aren't you?”
"I've got a time set for that,” Chandler replied as he turned
and looked out the window.
“But I thought you were anxious to get possession so we can
close our deal and get busy,” Robertson protested.
“I haven't made a deal with anybody concerning that ranch
yet,” Chandler retorted.
Robertson sat for a moment in deep thought. “That was
certainly a bad accident, wasn't it?" he said, eying Chandler
coyly.
“Pretty bad,” Chandler said as he picked up and started to
open a letter that had come in the morning mail. “You know,”
he continued, “ever since Tom Meredith was killed, these oil
companies have been worrying me to death, wanting to know
when I expect to take possession of that ranch, and wanting
the first chance at leasing it,” he said after he had read the
letter.
“No money or papers were ever found after the accident,
I understand,” Robertson said, pretending to ignore Chan-
dler's last remark. “I've often wondered what became of
them."
"So have I," Chandler retorted. “He could have lost the
money, or spent it. I understand that they were figuring on
buying a new car, and other things.”
“You know,” Robertson took the offensive, “that was a pe-
culiar coincidence.”
“What was so peculiar about it? Anybody is likely to have
an accident, especially in one of these dust storms."
“That's true. But what I mean by peculiar is there being
only the two cars on that section of the road and that they
should meet at that particular spot, the most treacherous spot
on the entire road.”
“What are you driving at, Jim? Do you mean to insinuate
that I—"
"I don't mean to insinuate anything," Robertson snapped.
“Well, be more explicit in your conjectures,” Chandler
warned.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
59
“I know a man who is a close friend of one of the men that
was in the other car. Kind of underworld characters, I believe
he said they were," Robertson remarked, looking past Chan-
dler and out the window.
“Yeah? Well I don't know any of them,” Chandler replied
curtly as he started to look through another stack of mail.
“Well, when you've started foreclosure proceedings, I'll
come back and talk with you about the lease,” the oil executive
said as he rose to leave.
"All right. I'll let you know when I'm ready for you.”
It was about a month after the accident when Robert Chan-
dler, with his attorney Jules Bromberg called at the Meredith
ranch. Aunt Harriet met them at the door, invited them into
the living room, and then went out to find June, who was
looking after some business about the ranch. “That crook
Chandler and another man are here to see you,” she told June.
“Oh!” June started nervously. “Tell them I'll be right in,"
she said as she started to her room to change her dress.
“Good morning,” June said as she entered the door wearing
a freshly laundered blue house dress, with white collar and
cuffs. Her beautiful, childish face beamed beneath her curly,
blond locks dangling about her shoulders.
“Good morning, Miss Meredith.” Chandler sprang to his
feet, his mouth open, charmed by the image of beauty before
him. “This is Mr. Bromberg, my attorney,” he said. Brom-
berg, who was about forty years old, was squat, with curly,
black hair. He had a wide mouth with thin lips, and a long,
pointed nose. He was nattily dressed in a gray business suit.
"How do you do?” he said as he rose and bowed. June offered
her hand. .
"You are charming this morning,” Chandler said, still
charmed by the girls innocent beauty.
“Thank you, Mr. Chandler.” June smiled graciously.
"Miss Meredith, I hardly know how to begin," Chandler
said, pressing the tips of his outstretched fingers together and
picking his words slowly and carefully. “I have news for you
which you may have expected and which may, at first, be un-


60
The Tin Box
pleasant and somewhat of a shock.” June listened attentively,
expressing deep concern, as Chandler continued: “Because
the mortgage on your ranch has not been paid, and as you
have made no further effort to pay to safeguard my invest-
ment I will be forced to foreclose.”
June gasped in surprise. She had been expecting some kind
of approach for settlement from Chandler, but hadn't ex-
pected anything so drastic. “Do you mean that you are going
to take my home away from me, knowing the position I'm in,
and after my father made every effort to pay you, on the day of
his death?” June asked in astonishment.
"That is about the substance of it, Miss Meredith. Of course,
it's very unpleasant to me, I assure you, but business is busi-
ness, and unless one protects his investments, he cannot hope
to remain in business," he said.
“I have only about three thousand dollars, left me by my
father. I am willing to pay you that to avert a foreclosure until
I can sell more of my father's cattle to pay you the full
amount,” June said.
"I'm sorry, Miss Meredith. But I have waited so long for
your father to settle this debt that I find it impossible to wait
any longer.”
“But what am I to do?” June pleaded anxiously. “With
winter almost here and the cattle to look after, and I have so
little money and no place to go. How am I to get through the
winter?"
"You won't have to worry about that for some time, Miss
Meredith. You can stay right here until the winter is over, and
by that time I may have a very attractive proposition to offer
you. I am negotiating for a tract of fine ranch land down near
the gulf coast that I might let you in on at a bargain,” he said.
"And in the meantime, you can rest assured that you will not
be disturbed until after the winter months are over.”
“But how much will I have to pay to stay here?” June asked.
“Not one penny. I realize your predicament and am anxious
to do everything within my power to help you."
"I don't believe he is such a bad sort, after all," Aunt Har-


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
61
riet, who had stood in the doorway during the conversation,
said when the men had gone. “He may be all right."
Feeling secure in his belief that the receipt had been thrown
into the water and possibly mashed into the mud by the car,
where it would never be found, or that perhaps it had floated
away into oblivion, Chandler felt that the way was now clear
for instituting foreclosure proceedings against the estate, and
that he was well on his way to becoming one of the country's
wealthiest men.
Robert Chandler was of the vain type, craving immense
wealth, and distinctive notability. To be known as one of the
country's richest citizens was not enough for him. He craved
prominence and leadership in other fields besides real estate
and oil. He had long dreamed of being a rancher of the first
water, a cattle king. He felt that the title of cattle baron, an-
nexed to those of real estate broker and oil magnate (which
he felt were already within his grasp) would give him the de-
sired prominence.
Although he had seen very few of the Meredith purebred
cattle, he had heard enough about them to be convinced that
they were among the finest in the country, and he wanted
those herds. He would soon be ready to play his trump card-
to bid for those cattle through the trickery which he had used
so well in the past.
A few days after Chandler's visit to the Meredith ranch with
his attorney, June was notified of the suit for foreclosure.
Since she had no money or grounds upon which to contest the
suit, it was decided in Chandler's favor, and he gained posses-
sion of the coveted estate. And the title to the vast Meredith
ranch, heirloom of generations of Merediths, passed into the
name and into the keeping of Robert Chandler.
A short while after the foreclosure, Jim Robertson again
called on Chandler in his office. “Jim, I told you I'd let you
know when I was ready for you,” Chandler snapped some-
what heatedly as the oil executive came into his office.
“Oh, well,” Robertson said, with a shrug of his shoulders,


62
The Tin Box
e
V
"I thought there would be no harm in dropping in for a little
friendly chat.”
“No, no, no harm done, but I'm pretty busy this morning.”
"Not too busy to talk with an old friend, are you, Robert?"
Jim said with a sly wink. “You didn't seem to be so busy when
I came in. Looked to me like you were taking a nap."
“Maybe I was. But that doesn't signify that I haven't plenty
of work to do. What do you want, Jim?" Chandler asked
sternly.
“Well, Robert,” Jim said slowly, “I see by the papers that
you have taken possession of the Meredith ranch, and I
thought perhaps you had forgotten to call me.”
“No, I haven't forgotten you. I'm just not ready to go into
any business deal with you yet. Besides, I may want to nego-
tiate with somebody else; maybe get a better offer on that
lease.”
“Listen, Chandler.” (Jim Robertson assumed a firm, busi-
ness-like attitude, and it was obvious that he was irked at
Chandler's endeavor to forestall any attempt to bring him to
terms.) “My company, at your request, went on that property
under false pretenses and spent thousands of dollars sounding
out the possibilities of finding oil there. We made our report
to you with the verbal agreement that we were to get the lease
if and when you got possession of the ranch. Now we are ex-
pecting you to stick to your part of the agreement."
“I've had a better offer than you made me, Jim. And as we
have no signed agreement, I'm seriously considering accept-
ing that offer,” Chandler said defiantly.
“What have you been offered?”
"I've been offered a bonus of ten dollars an acre. You of-
fered me five, and that waste land down near the gulf coast.
Now there is nothing in the world I can do with that land.
I've got more land now than I need, and any more would be
just that much more to pay taxes on."
“Chandler,” Robertson said, stiffening, "I don't do busi-
ness with men whose word is not dependable. I didn't figure
that it would be necessary to have an agreement signed before


64
The Tin Box
He knew that any evidence in these men's hands would enable
them to apply greater pressure for bigger pay checks for their
silence, which, since he had become a respectable citizen, was
indeed golden. And he knew that anything in these men's
possession was for sale, even that receipt-if they had it.
Robertson was watching the reaction closely. Chandler had
not spoken either to affirm or deny these inferences. And his
silence was more convincing to Jim Robertson than all the
words he could have spoken. “Now, I'm not interested,” Rob-
ertson continued, “in the papers or the money, whichever it
was that Tom Meredith had on him at the time of his death.
I'm only interested in securing a lease on the Meredith prop-
erty. The rest I can forget about.”
Chandler was in a quandary. He wanted to be free to bar-
gain with as many companies as he could, to exact every
penny he could for a lease on the valuable property. Yet he
could not afford to make new enemies. He would have to play
ball with Jim Robertson and he must in some way investigate
the new angle.
Hot flashes shot through his body, and beads of perspiration
appeared on his arms and forehead as for the first time in his
life he felt himself cornered.
Feeling that this was the psychological moment to feign an
abrupt end to the conference, Robertson rose to leave. “Well,
I'm getting back to the office,” he said.
“What's the hurry, Jim? Sit down,” Chandler insisted.
"I see you are very busy, so I don't want to take your time.”
“Oh, what I have to do can wait."
Robertson knew he had the whip hand. He knew nothing
about the Meredith accident, its cause, or the men who were
responsible for it, that was not public knowledge. He was
playing a hunch, and was getting results beyond his fondest
hopes. He was now beginning to believe that the accident
was premeditated, and that Chandler knew more about it
than he had admitted. “Jim," Chandler said as he faced Jim
Robertson squarely, “I would like to know what became of
that check book and account book that Meredith got from the


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
bank on the day of his death. No doubt the money is with
them, wherever they are. You told me some time ago that you
knew a personal friend of one of the men that caused the
wreck. Do you think you can get that information for me?"
“Yes, I think so. But before I put myself to any trouble, I
must be assured of an agreement on the lease.”
"All right. I'll make up a lease right now," Chandler said
as he started to place paper in his typewriter.
“No,” Robertson interrupted, “but here's what you can do:
give me a signed statement, showing the terms of the lease,
and I will have it transferred to our regular form. In the mean-
time, I'll give you my check for fifty thousand dollars earnest
money, and will pay you the balance of the bonus when the
lease is signed, and the twenty-five thousand acres of gulf
coast land transferred."
“All right, Jim.” Chandler wrote out a copy and handed
it to Robertson, who looked it over closely. Both men then
signed the two copies, and Robertson stuck one copy in his
coat pocket and rose to leave.
"Be sure and get that information for me as soon as you can,
Jim,” Chandler called as Robertson left the office.
"Oh, yes. Right away,” Robertson said.
Chapter Six
ROUTINE ON THE MEREDITH RANCH WENT ON AS
usual, as the remainder of the winter passed. Because of the
scarcity of funds, and the fact that she would have to vacate
in the spring, June was forced to economize in every possible
way. She began by discharging some of the help around the
place, keeping only as many as Uncle Jack thought would be


66
The Tin Box
absolutely necessary to attend to the ranch work through the
winter.
Chandler was a frequent visitor at the ranch. Sometimes he
brought friends, but more often he came out alone. He went
for horseback rides over parts of the ranch, and June, being
an expert horsewoman, often rode with him.
Besides wanting to do everything possible to retain the
good will and favor of Chandler-her position made that nec-
essary-she thought he was genuinely interested in her wel-
fare and was being especially nice to her for sympathetic rea-
sons. And, too, she had begun to like him and to look forward
with pleasant anticipation to his increasingly frequent visits.
Winter had broken early that year, and although there had
been some severe cold snaps and some snow, the cattle on the
Meredith ranch had wintered well, with but few lost because
of the cold.
As March came in, and the spring grass began to shoot up,
Uncle Jack took his cowhands and began moving the cattle
from the feed pens and winter pastures, to the grazing lands
farther away, just as had been done all through the years.
On a beautiful morning in early March, Chandler called
at the ranch house unusually early. However, everyone was up
and about his duty. Aunt Harriet met him at the door. “Good
morning, Miss Meredith,” Chandler greeted her in a very
pleasant manner.
* "Good morning, Mr. Chandler. My, but you are out early
this morning.”
“Yes. It is such a beautiful morning that I just couldn't
resist the temptation for an early morning ride. Where's
June?"
“Oh, she's around here some place. Come in while I go see
if I can find her.”
“Thank you. If you don't mind, I think I'll just sit out here
in the swing. This early morning air is so invigorating out here
in the country.”
Chandler took a seat in the porch swing while Aunt Harriet
went to look for June. This is something for which I have


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
67
'
always longed, he thought as he sat idly swinging to and fro,
a nice ranch home where I can come and rest, away from the
turmoil of a busy world. A place where I can bring my friends
(those who can see eye to eye with me, and are willing to
listen) and here plan my business deals without being inter-
rupted by busy-bodies.
He looked out across the valley where a herd of cattle was
grazing on the short green grass. To keep it like this, he
thought, to keep these cattle on the ranch just as they are, and
my cup of gratitude will be running over and my life com-
plete.
“Good morning, Mr. Chandler,” June awoke him from his
dreams.
“Good morning, Miss Meredith. I'm so glad to see you look-
ing so well this morning,” he said as he rose and bowed low.
“Thank you. What brings you out so early?” June asked
curiously.
“It is such a splendid day I couldn't resist coming out and
perhaps taking an early ride. Would you favor me by taking
an early morning jaunt with me?”
“Yes, I'll be delighted. But I haven't had my breakfast yet.
Won't you have breakfast with us? It's just about ready." June
nodded her head towards the dining room.
"Thank you.” Chandler followed her into the dining room,
where Aunt Harriet had added an extra cover for him.
The three of them sat down to enjoy an early morning
breakfast, while horses were being saddled for Chandler and
June. Chandler had bought a fine, gaited saddle horse, which
he kept at the ranch. June, as usual, rode one of the many cow
ponies.
“We are going out to enjoy some of this crisp air and beau-
tiful scenery on the Meredith ranch this morning and maybe
talk over a little business,” Chandler explained as breakfast
progressed.
“What is the nature of the business, may I ask?” Aunt Har-
riet inquired.
“Pertaining to cattle. You see, I want to be of every assist-


68
The Tin Box
ance to Miss Meredith in deciding what disposition to make of
her cattle, when she must decide on some course," Chandler
explained.
"Does she have to decide right away?” Aunt Harriet ex-
pressed concern.
"Oh no,” he quickly assured her. “You know I told you, Miss
Meredith, that you need not worry as there would be no
change made right away. And of course, Robert Chandler's
word is as good as his bond. But inevitably, as you must real-
ize, something must be done sooner or later. And I've always
found it to be a good policy to be prepared by anticipating
events that might occur.”
“Mr. Chandler is right, Aunt Harriet,” June said. “We all
know that you and I can't stay here forever. It was very con-
siderate of him to permit us to stay here through the winter.
And we mustn't impose on his good graces by expecting him
to allow us to remain here indefinitely.”
The cool, invigorating air was sweet with the perfume of
currant blossoms as June and Chandler mounted their horses
and rode away from the ranch house. The sun was just peep-
ing over a clump of trees that stood in Meredith Gap, a pass
between two high hills overlooking the ranch house. It was a
typical spring morning in mountainous West Texas. Birds
were singing everywhere, seemingly glad to welcome the
spring after the long winter months.
Spider webs of every description were spread on the grass
or hung from the low tree limbs by the thousands. And the
dewdrops collected on them, flashing their changing colors
in the rays of the sun-purple, yellow, green-resembled mil-
lions of tiny diamonds on all sides as they rode down into a
beautiful valley, a short distance from the house, where June
had played since a child.
Large herds of the Meredith pureblood cattle were grazing
there, paying no attention to the riders. June, with her khaki
riding habit, leather boots, and large cowboy hat set off by
her curly blond locks and dimpled cheeks, was an imposing
picture that would have made any man's heart waver.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
69
Skirting the valley for a short distance, they came to a rocky
knoll near a large tree. “Suppose we dismount here, and talk
awhile," Chandler suggested.
"All right,” she replied with a laugh. Chandler dismounted,
and started around to assist her as she sprang to the ground
with a laugh, just as he reached her side. “You are beautiful,
June,” he said as he looked at her admiringly. “So lithe and
young, so full of life and the joy of living."
Some of the cattle, upon seeing the riders dismount, be-
came frightened and trotted off to a safe distance, stood for a
moment with heads held high, then started to circle the riders
until they got them in the wind, sniffed for a moment then
moved off slowly and resumed grazing. “You know, June-you
don't mind my calling you June, do you? Calling you Miss
Meredith is so formal; seems to put such a distance between
us.”
“That's perfectly all right. I like for people to call me June,"
she replied with an alluring smile.
“As I was going to say,” he continued, as they walked over
and sat on the knoll, “I sometimes envy people like you, who
seem so gay and full of life, with so much to live for. I never
had the means nor the opportunity to enjoy my younger days.
“Being reared in a tenement house, surrounded by the
worst environment that the big city had to offer, with no
parents to direct or look after me (being taken in charge
when a baby by an old woman who hoped to use me in her
business of pilfering), I came up the hard way.
“Every morning when I awoke on the pallet of filthy straw,
sacks and old discarded clothing that I was able to get hold of,
piled in a corner of the low tenement attic-where I was sur-
rounded by every conceivable piece of rubbish gathered from
the streets and gutters—it was just the beginning of another
day. No different from the day before, or the day to follow, as
far as I could see.
"Just another day in which I would be forced to battle for
bread if I was to survive. A day in which my lying down that
night on the filthy pallet with hardly enough to eat, or with


70
The Tin Box
the pangs of hunger gnawing at my soul so that I could not
sleep, depended on whether I might be able to sneak into a
grocery store and, while the storekeeper was busy waiting on
customers, grab an apple out of the box and bite a piece out
of it before the clerk saw me and threw something at me. Just
another day in the procession of misery in which my very
existence depended on my being able to outwit or outsteal
many others in the same deplorable circumstances. It was
simply a case of 'get what you could, in any way you could get
iť. Or if we were lucky, we might be able to feign a fight just
as a fruit peddler came along, upsetting his cart and making
away with enough of the fruit partly to appease the pangs of
hunger.
"These early lessons,” he went on, "learned from hard
knocks, imbued within me and in many other unfortunates
like me a deep hatred for society and all the things for which
it stands.
"Being denied those things which others enjoyed, there
was cultivated within me a will to destroy those things; to
cause others to suffer by being deprived of those things which
I was denied.”
June listened with sympathetic understanding. “You have
indeed had an unpleasant life, Mr. Chandler,” she said, “but
since you have become one upon whom fortune has smiled, a
prominent, leading citizen of the community, with means to
obtain anything you might desire, how do you feel towards
society, and the things for which it stands?” she asked.
"As I said, I'm afraid my early lessons have been indelibly
stamped on my character, and that urge to ‘get anything in
any way you can get iť keeps bobbing up."
“Don't you try to fight against it?”
“Yes, very hard,” he said thoughtfully. “Sometimes I think
that if I had a home and a family, children to play with and
to guide, that my mind might be taken away from the daily
task of trying to wrest something from a cold, heartless world.”
Having excited June's emotions, Chandler reasoned that he
had won her sympathy and confidence, and he was now ready


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
71
to try on the unsuspecting girl a carefully planned piece of
master strategy, that of entering into some kind of transaction
by which he could get control of the Meredith cattle.
"Sometimes I reminisce over my early life and get all ex-
cited,” he said. “But sometimes one has to tell his troubles,
things that are burdening his heart, to someone he feels he
can trust, and in whom he has confidence.”
“I'm glad you have confidence enough in me, Mr. Chandler,
to have given me the inside story of your early life,” June said.
“Just call me Robert. I like that so much better.”
"All right, Robert,” June said with a sly laugh.
“Shall we be riding?” he suggested.
“When you're ready.”
They mounted and struck off at a brisk canter across the
valley and up over a narrow path that led across the hills.
Reaching the summit of one of the highest peaks, they
stopped. The hills from that point gave a commanding view
of the ranch house, lying so peaceful in the valley below. As
June looked down upon this familiar scene, memories of her
childhood crowded into her mind; memories of the days when
she had not a worry or care, of the days when her home was
safe, she thought, for all time to come. Of the days when her
father was considered one of the wealthiest men in that part of
the country, and from all indications, would remain so.
As those memories came vividly back to her, she turned her
head from Chandler, and touching her horse, started back
down the path. Tears were trickling down her cheeks as she
rode ahead so he could not see her face. When he finally rode
abreast of her, she had dried her eyes, but they were still red.
“You've been crying, June. What's the matter?” he asked.
"Oh, nothing,” she replied. “I suppose I just have weak
moments, maybe thinking about what you have just told me
about your early life.”
“I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to arouse your sympathies,”
he apologized.
"I guess I'm rather tenderhearted. Memories sometimes


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
73
"About six hundred miles, I'd say."
“How much do you want an acre for it, and how could I
pay for it?” June inquired.
“The price would be very reasonable to you. And if you
should be interested, I'm sure a way could be found by which
you can obtain possession of it with very little trouble.”
“I greatly appreciate that, Mr. Chan-er Robert,” June
said with a twinkle in her eye. “Won't you come in?" she in-
vited, when they had dismounted back at the ranch house.
“No, thank you, June. I'll be getting on back to the city.
Give that matter about the gulf coast land some thought. And
if you care to, within the next few days we'll go down and
look it over,” he said as he walked away towards his car.
When Chandler reached his office, Jim Robertson was
waiting for him. “Good morning, Robert. I've been waiting
around here for the past hour. You must have forgotten our
appointment,” he said, somewhat irritated.
“No, I hadn't exactly forgotten it. I've been out to my ranch
for a little fresh air, and Miss Meredith and I took a horseback
ride. The time passed so quickly, that I didn't realize it.”
"Well, that's fine,” Robertson said with sarcasm. "How are
you getting along with June?”
"What do you mean, Jim?" Chandler asked, a tone of re-
sentment ringing in his voice.
“Oh, nothing. Perhaps I should have asked how you are
getting along with your ranch.”
"Now that sounds better; makes more sense,” Chandler
said, softening somewhat.
“I've got these lease papers all ready to be signed,” the oil
company president said.
After carefully looking over the lease, Chandler pronounced
it satisfactory, and it was signed by the two men. “When do
you expect to get busy out there?” Chandler inquired.
“Oh, perhaps in a month or two.”
"A month or two! Why, I thought you could hardly wait to
get a lease on the place,” Chandler protested. “I want some


74
The Tin Box
action out there. I want to know what I've got. I may have
just a white elephant on my hands.”
“No, I hardly think that. I hope not, anyway. You know
that to start a wildcat for oil in an unexplored territory, where
the terrain is as rough as the Meredith ranch, requires time to
make preparations. However, I'll get at it just as soon as pos-
sible.”
It was several days later, while June and Uncle Jack were
riding among the cattle, that Uncle Jack inquired: “What
about that place down near the gulf coast that this feller Mr.
Chandler is going to take you to look at, Miss June?”
“I don't know yet, Uncle Jack; won't know until I see it.”
"How are you going to buy it, if it suits you?” he asked
curiously.
"I can't answer that either. Mr. Chandler said that if it
suited me, there is a way by which I can get possession of it
without much trouble. I'm leaving that worry to him.”
“I'd do a little worrying myself if I were you, Miss June. I've
seen a right smart, and I've met all kinds of people, but I ain't
never seen nobody that was so all fired anxious to help some-
body they just met.”
“What do you mean, Uncle Jack? Why, Mr. Chandler is the
finest kind of a gentleman. He has been so kind and con-
siderate of me ever since my parents died, doing everything
he can to make things easy for me. And you know as well as I
that we are staying here now solely on his mercies. How can
you think that he doesn't mean weli?”
“I hope you'll excuse me, Miss June. Maybe I oughtn't to
have said what I did after all he has done for you. But I can't
help thinking that if he is so interested in your welfare and
wants to be so nice to you, why did he foreclose and take your
home and refuse to give you a chance to sell some of your
cattle to pay off the mortgage, like you offered to do?”
“It was only a matter of business. He explained that. After
all, he had renewed the mortgage twice, and we couldn't ex-
pect him to go on renewing it forever.”


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
75
"I guess you're right. I'm sorry I said anything," Uncle Jack
apologized.
"I'm grateful for the interest you have in my welfare,”
June assured him.
It was one morning in early April that an automobile bear-
ing three men drove up to the Meredith ranch. Uncle Jack
met them at the corral gates.
“How do you do? This is the Meredith ranch, I believe,"
one of the trio asked.
“Yes. What can I do for you gentlemen?” the foreman
drawled.
“We are field officials of the Bluge Oil Corporation,” the
speaker explained, “and we came out this morning to look over
the property to decide where to locate our first wildcat.”
“Wildcat?” The old foreman stood, his eyes blinking as he
looked the official in the eyes. “You want to locate a wildcat?”
“Perhaps you don't understand," the man laughed. “We
are going to pick out a spot on which to drill our first oil well,
or 'wildcat,' as it is known to the oil industry.”
For a long moment Uncle Jack was speechless, his eyes
blinking faster, his mouth open. “Jumping Junebugs,” he said
when he had recovered from the shock sufficiently to speak.
"You mean you're going to dig for oil here on this place?"
he sputtered.
“That's right,” the spokesman assured him.
“Well, I'll be darned. Mister, you'd better go up to the
house there and see Miss June. She's the boss 'round here.”
“All right. Say, how about getting some horses to ride? Mr.
Chandler said we could get horses here.”
"Well, you'd better see Miss June. Mr. Chandler has one
horse here, and I guess maybe Miss June'll let you have two
more.”
"Thanks,” the official said as the trio drove on towards the
house. Aunt Harriet was hoeing around some flowers near the
front gate as the men drove up.
“Good morning. I would like to see Miss June Meredith,”
the spokesman said as he raised his hat. June was on the back


76
The Tin Box
porch, but came around to the front when she heard the car
stop. “Are you Miss June Meredith?” the official asked as the
men raised their hats.
“Yes, I am.”
"We are officials of the oil company that is going to develop
this property," the man explained.
“I don't understand,” June replied, puzzled. “I don't own
this place any more. It belongs to Mr. Robert Chandler, a real
estate man in Labesia.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Does he know about this?” June asked with mounting
curiosity.
"Oh, yes. He told us to talk with you before proceeding to
spot a location, as he didn't want to disturb you any more than
was necessary with our work.”
"I see. How long has Mr. Chandler known about this?”
"Oh, he's known about it for some time. You see, my com-
pany secured the lease from him last fall.”
“Last fall!” June asked in astonishment. “Why, he only took
the place away from me in December.”
“Ķes, I know. But we were ready to close the deal as soon as
he took possession.”
“Strange that he never said anything about that to me," she
complained.
“Mr. Chandler said that we might get some horses from
you to ride. We are not going far.”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course. Just wait here a minute and I'll
have my foreman get them ready for you.”
The men stood around while June went down to the corrals
to locate the foreman. “Uncle Jack,” she called.
“Yes, Miss June. Here I am, 'round here at the saddle
house.”..
"Uncle Tack,” flustered and bewildered, June spoke in whis-
pered tones when she had found him, “these men are from
an oil company, and were sent out here by Mr. Chandler to
select a location to drill an oil well.”
“Yes’m,” the foreman replied as he curried off the horses


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
77
for the men to ride. “They stopped here and talked to me, and
I figured you'd lend 'em the horses, so I went ahead and
caught'em."
“That was right, Uncle Jack, but I don't understand this
whole thing. They say Mr. Chandler knows about this, and
has known about it since last fall, and that he was ready to
lease the place to them when he foreclosed.”
“That ain't so hard to understand, Miss June,” the wise old
rancher replied.
"But for an oil company to risk spending a lot of money
prospecting for oil. They always make tests to find out if there
is likely to be oil beneath the surface before staking a loca-
tion for a well.
“With the precision instruments that have been perfected,”
she explained, “they can almost be assured if there is oil
beneath the surface. I can't understand why they would risk
drilling a wildcat well here without making some kind of test.”
“It all comes very clear to me, Miss June. Since those men
talked to me a few minutes ago, I've been doing some think-
ing. You remember when those men were out here with those
trucks last September? You know they told your father that
they were considering putting in some kind of an irrigation
project somewhere below here, and if your father would let
them put down some wells here on the ranch, they would
build a dam over there on that dry creek, and your father's
cattle would be sure to get plenty of good water the year
round? Well, they were making them tests then."
June remembered those silvery painted trucks that stayed
on the ranch for more than a month, drilling shallow holes,
and moving from one spot to another to “test the depth of the
water.”
"I'm beginning to see, Uncle Jack," June said after a long
moment's thought, “beginning to see the whole thing. And
why Mr. Chandler was so anxious to get possession of the
ranch without allowing me a final chance to pay off the lien
and save my home.”
The horses were saddled and led to where the men were


78
The Tin Box
waiting near the house. “All right, gentlemen, here you are,”
Uncle Jack said as he handed the reins of a horse to each man.
“These horses are not wild, are they, mister? I don't feel
like getting thrown off this morning," one of the men said as
he awkwardly prepared to mount.
“No. You'll find 'em gentle as lambs,” the foreman assured
them.
The men rode away from the house and across the valley
to the hills. June sought Aunt Harriet as soon as she could get
back to the house. “What did they want?” Aunt Harriet asked
in a gruff voice as June came up to where she was sitting on
the back porch shelling corn for the chickens. June explained
all she could of what Uncle Jack had reminded her about the
trucks that came on the ranch to "test for water.” “The dirty
crook. I knew there was something crooked about that slink-
ing scoundrel,” she blurted. "He knew all along that there
was oil here. That's why he was in such a hurry to take this
place. Just as I told you, June, if you'd had that scoundrel's
office searched, you'd have found those papers of your fa-
ther's.”
"It's too late now, Aunt Harriet. We mustn't let on that we
suspect anything at this time," June cautioned.
“Yes, I know. But it's going to be mighty hard for me to
hold my tongue the next time I see him. I'd just love to give
him a tongue-lashing, a piece of my mind."
“I feel the same way, Aunt Harriet. But we can't afford to
say too much," June said.
A few days before the arrival of the machinery for putting
down the first wildcat, Robert Chandler called at the ranch.
As usual, he was met by Aunt Harriet who, try as she might,
could not conceal her feeling of resentment towards him for
the “dirty tactics” she thought he had used in obtaining pos-
session of the ranch.
"How do you do, Aunt Harriet. Where's,”
"I'm Miss Meredith, if you don't mind,” she snapped.
“Oh, why, of course. I'humbly beg your pardon,” he apolo-
gized, bowing low. “Where's Miss June?”


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
79
"She's about here some place. I haven't time to hunt her.”
June heard the exchange of words and came to the door.
“Good morning, Miss Meredith,” Chandler spoke, raising his
hat.
“June, please,” she reassured him with a smile.
“Well then, June it shall be. I was at a loss to know just how
to address you, since your aunt seemed to become offended
when I addressed her in my usual way.”
“You'll have to overlook Aunt Harriet, as she's somewhat
upset over unexpected developments here on the ranch,” June
explained.
"You mean the prospective oil development?”
“Yes.”
"I meant to tell you about that, but upon second thought
I thought it best to refrain from disturbing your peace of mind
as long as possible,” he explained.
“It came as a great shock to me," June said. “I never
dreamed that anyone would risk money prospecting for oil on
this place,” she said, looking Chandler straight in the eyes.
“Well, these oil companies will risk almost anything in
hopes of finding the black gold. Somehow or other they got
it into their heads that there might be oil here, so they started
worrying me to let them make a try for it. I had nothing to
lose, so I told them to go ahead,” he explained.
“When do you expect them to start operations?" June asked.
“Most any time now. I'm expecting the derrick and machin-
ery for putting down the first hole to arrive any day.”
“I see they have driven a stake at the edge of the valley,
down there. My father always seemed to have a hunch that
there might be oil there. But he was never able to interest
any of the oil companies enough for them to look it over,”
June said dejectedly.
“Yes, sometimes it's mighty hard to get them interested.
Then again they'll worry you to death to get a lease on your
land. I suppose it's just their way of doing business," Chandler
said as he started back to his car.


80
The Tin Box
Chapter Seven
. IT WAS IN EARLY MAY THAT THE BLUGE OIL
Corporation began moving in their equipment for drilling
their first wildcat oil well on the Meredith ranch.
The starting of this well was destined to set in motion a
chain of events that would mean so much, yet so little to
Robert Chandler; a well that meant so little, yet would mean
so much to June Meredith.
The five flatcars loaded with the derrick, boilers, drilling
machinery, drill stem and casing, were set on the nearest sid-
ing, twelve miles from the Meredith ranch. The steel derrick
was first unloaded, carted to the location, and set up in short
order. Then the heavy boilers, three of them, were unloaded
onto eight-wheel wagons and, drawn by sixteen horses each,
began their precarious journey over the dangerous mountain
road.
Reaching the location without mishap, they were unloaded
near the derrick. While the crew was connecting up the boil-
ers, the giant steam pumps (mudhogs, as they are known to
the oil-field roughneck) arrived, and then the last load of
drill stem and casing were unloaded on pipe-racks that had
been built by the derrick crew.
By this time all machinery had been put in place and con-
nected up, and all was in readiness to make the test for the
black gold that the precision instruments had indicated lay
beneath the surface of the vast ranch.
Then came the moment when all was in readiness to "spud
in," and the first bit was screwed onto the drill stem.
This was indeed a momentous occasion, and a thrill for
Robert Chandler, who was on hand early to watch the begin-


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
81
ning of what he hoped would be the fulfillment of his dreams.
The well was located at the edge of the valley that skirted a
high, tree-covered hill, half a mile from the ranch house.
There was a clearing that extended from the house to the foot
of the hill, through which the derrick could be seen.
Aunt Harriet, June and Uncle Jack Doyle stood together
on the back porch of their home that morning, the only home
that any of them had ever known, the home that they all felt
was yet rightfully theirs. It was a still morning in the middle
of May when, as they stood there, the first sounds of the drill-
ing machinery reached their ears.
As they gazed towards the rig, clouds of white steam rose
from the boilers and from the steam engine that operated
the rotary and was silhouetted against the dark green foliage
of the trees on the hillside beyond. June turned her head as
she wiped away a tear that was stealing down her cheek.
Memories of her childhood were crowding into her mind in
profusion. It was just about that spot where the derrick stood
that she used as a starting point to race her pony to the house
when she was a mere slip of a girl. It was near that spot that
she had lassoed and dragged to death the timber wolf after
chasing him across the valley on her favorite cow pony Rex.
Event after event followed in quick succession in which that
spot marked an important happening in her childhood. She
was happy then and felt secure, never dreaming that in the
very near future she must undergo the sacrifices and heart-
aches that were now her lot.
Aunt Harriet was grim. She too could remember events
about the valley, even more numerous than could June, for she
too had been brought up there.
Uncle Jack, the old ranch foreman, was heartbroken. His
grandfather started working for the Meredith pioneers many
years ago. And down through the generations, the name of
Doyle had been synonymous with that of Meredith. Many
Doyles had grown up on the Meredith ranch, to drift away
and become top hands on ranches throughout the cow coun-


82
The Tin Box
try, but all through the years there remained a Doyle as fore-
man of the Meredith ranch.
"It's a plumb shame, Miss June,” he said as he noticed the
faraway look in June's eyes, “to see how these dirty crooks go
about beating honest people out of their homes."
“Yes, it is, Uncle Jack," June said, “but I suppose that's the
way many of them get rich.”
"It ain't going to do him no good, mark my words,” Aunt
Harriet prophesied. “The dirty scoundrel ought to be hung
up by the heels and smoked.”
The three stood silent for a moment as the steady clang of
the drilling machinery came to them across the still valley.
Then, turning away, each went in pursuit of the day's work.
The drilling of this first wildcat was tough from the begin-
ning. Numerous breakdowns of the drilling rig were en-
countered. Besides the rocky formation being exceedingly
tough, which required a frequent change of bits, the crews
were plagued with loose boulders which often dropped into
the hole when the drill stem was withdrawn.
After a month of drilling in a tough formation, at eleven
hundred feet, the drill passed through several feet of shale
and onto another rock. After grinding away at this rock for
several days, it passed into a soft formation.
The drilling crews had been watching the slushpits closely
for several days for any signs of oil, as it was getting down to
about the depth that the testing devices indicated that oil
might be present.
“I believe we've got something here," Pete Sour, driller on
the four P.M. to midnight shift remarked as he observed glob-
ules of oil appearing on the “returns.” “I believe we'd better
pull out and take a core and see what we've struck,” he said as
the drill dropped rapidly for several feet.
The “Kelly joint” was unscrewed from the drill stem, and
set aside, then Slim, the derrickman climbed to the tripple
board to handle the elevator at that end. The bail of the eleva-
tor was then hooked to the traveling-block and the clamp was
securely fastened to the drill stem. The dinkey (steam en-


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
83
gine) then began its laborious task of drawing out the string
of pipe. After the bit was removed, the core barrel was
screwed onto the drill stem and lowered into the hole. When
it was pulled out, it contained several feet of heavily saturated
oil sand.
Chandler, who was watching the well closely, was on hand
when the core was taken. Jumping in his car, he started for
Labesia. As he was passing the ranch house, he saw June in
the front yard. Slamming on the brakes, he skidded to a
screeching stop. “I've got it, June, I've got it!” he shouted
wildly.
“You've got what, Robert?" she asked curiously.
"Robert? Er-umph, don't you think ‘Mr. Chandler' would
be more appropriate? It would sound more dignified, I'm
sure.” This abrupt change in his manner towards June com-
pletely unarmed her. For a moment she was chagrined. “All
right then, Mr. Chandler, what is it you've got?” she asked
with a tinge of sarcasm.
“Oill Oill Can't you understand? Oill” he gestured wildly.
"I've struck it rich! It's going to be a gusher! I'll bet there's a
hundred feet of oil sand in that well.”
June was stunned, speechless for a long moment. Finally
she seemed to realize what he had said. “So you've struck oil.
My father always thought it was there,” she said.
Feeling that there was a possibility of making a well, Sour
ordered the tubing run. Then began the job of “washing in.”
The well showed strong gas pressure, forcing the water back
against the pressure of the pumps several times, and the fire-
man had to increase the pump pressure to hold the gas in
check. “You'll have to watch her pretty close,” Sour said to
Sam Bottomly, driller on the graveyard shift, as he came on
duty. “She's been acting up on me. That back pressure is
plenty strong.” Bottomly knew from the strained chug, chug
of the powerful mudhogs that they were working against tre-
mendous pressure. Suddenly the gas pressure ceased and the
globules of oil disappeared from the returns. “Must have been
just a gas pocket,” Bottomly observed. “Go up, Jerry,” he said


86
The Tin Box
top where it watched the spectacle from the safety of the
branches.
The colt, awakened by the conflagration, ran to its mother
and lay close against her shoulder as she took off across the
valley.
At the ranch, the saddle horses in the corral ran to the far-
thest corner, where they stood closely huddled, with their ears
pricked, and watched the fire intently, while the milk cows,
separated from their calves for the night, mooed uneasily.
Both Aunt Harriet and June, as well as most of the men on
the ranch, were awakened by the blowout. Having slipped on
their robes, the two women were standing on the back porch
looking towards the well when the gas became ignited. Sev-
eral of the men hurriedly donned their clothing and went for
the well in a run.
The fire by this time was burning furiously. As the earth
continued to crater, the derrick had again assumed its upright
position and stood defiantly, enveloped by the yellow flames
of the burning gas amid the red flames of the burning oil
that sent great billows of grayish-black smoke rolling and
twisting heavenward to form a dark path across the starlit sky.
As the intense heat of the burning gas continued to eat at
the heavy beams and girders, the derrick rocked crazily from
side to side. And as the earth continued to cave, it lurched to a
dangerous angle, the heavy crownblock falling and burying it-
self in the oil-soaked ground, leaving the derrick held by a
guywire silhouetted grotesquely against the grayish-black
smoke.
Holding this position for a moment, it seemed to go into
convulsions, to shudder from top to bottom like a living thing
in its death agonies. And as the supporting beams yielded to
the terrific heat, it settled-a mass of warped, twisted steel.
The men who had gone over to the well hurried back to tell
Aunt Harriet and June what had happened. “It seems that
the devil has taken charge here, since Chandler took our
home,” Aunt Harriet said.
When news of the blazing gasser reached Labesia, it cre-
ened tied bedste to


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
87
ated an excitement such as had never been seen in that West
Texas cow town. The local weekly newspaper ran an extra
with a picture of a burning oil well, and screaming headlines
that covered most of the front page, announcing the discov-
ery of oil on the Meredith ranch.
Excitement soared to fever heat. Oill The magic word was
on every tongue, and was the chief topic of interest wherever
two or more persons of that section met. Oil! The “liquid
gold” that had done so much towards alleviating hard times
in other sections of Texas and had been such a boon to the
great state generally, had been found in West Texas. At last
the dry, arid “dust bowl” had been blessed with something
that neither drouth nor dust could affect. Now the ranchers
who had been so hard pressed during the past few years be-
cause of the unprecedented drouth could pay off their debts
and have enough left to put them on easy street for the rest of
their lives.
It wasn't long before the oil entourage began to move in.
Every train, every bus, every automobile brought them in.
The roads were crowded with every conceivable contraption
of transportation. Even hitchhikers, men and women, were
thumbing their way to the pot of gold supposed to lie at the
foot of every rainbow that is anchored in an oilfield town.
The one small hotel was soon filled to capacity, as was
every available room. Accommodations were at a premium.
Business in the little town grew by leaps and bounds. Small
grocery stores, barber shops, restaurants, machine shops, and
even small hotels (with their bevy of blondes and brunettes,
ready to welcome the roughnecks after pay day) seemed to
spring up like mushrooms overnight.
Oil brokerage houses, and headquarters for many of the
major oil companies, were established in every building that
could be rented or bought. Most of the big companies, many
of which had been watching the wildcat closely, lost no time
in getting their scouts in the field in an effort to sew up every
available lease.
Ranchers were awakened at all hours of the night by oil


88
The Tin Box
scouts from the oil companies or those dealing in leases, and
offered bonuses in attractive, sometimes fabulous figures, to
induce them to sign on the dotted line. For experience had
taught those in the oil game that to make money in an oil
boom, one must work fast.
Leases changed hands often, sometimes a half dozen times
in a day. And at each sale, a handsome profit was realized.
Many of the ranchers, some of whom had not paid their
taxes or the interest on their mortgages for years, hurried to
the banks to borrow money, that they might clear their debts
and be enabled to handle their property to the best advant-
age.
The oil companies began immediately to rush rigs and other
equipment into the oil field, and the rather short siding on
the railroad at Labesia, which heretofore had been ample to
serve the ranchers for shipping out their cattle and to serve
the little town in general, now found itself inadequate to take
care of the suddenly increased business of the oil field.
The siding was filled with cars that were being unloaded
day and night. And many cars were carried on to nearby
towns and spotted until space was available at Labesia.
The unloading and transporting of the machinery from
Labesia to the Meredith oil field went on day and night. Every
production company that was fortunate enough to secure a
lease within a dozen miles of the discovery well was anxious
to get set up and start drilling. The roughnecks worked in a
frenzy to get the machinery placed as soon as it arrived on lo-
cation.
Heavy rains that had fallen during the winter and early
spring had turned many of the ordinarily dry spots into quag.
mires. And men sweated and swore as they mercilessly applied
long cruel whips to the backs and sides of their teams, twelve
or sixteen straining horses or mules to the hitch, as they swung
them in a half circle from right to left to right and back
again in an effort to “break out” the eight-wheel wagons
that became bogged down to their axles with the heavy ma-
chinery.


90
The Tin Box
found, which as she reasoned could in no way benefit her.
Her worries bore heavily on her mind. She realized that
now, since the discovery of oil on the ranch, she must vacate,
as the oil company was already making use of parts of the
ranch home for the storing of machinery and as living quarters
for their men. She had no idea what she was going to do, or
what she could do.
Chandler stopped in one morning on his way to the oil field
for a little chat with June and Aunt Harriet. "Good morning,
June,” he called as she came in from the garden. “Just thought
I'd stop in for a little chat.”
“I'm glad you did,” June replied. “How are you getting
along with your oil field?”
“Oh, just fine. We are expecting to bring in two more today
or tomorrow, just as soon as we can complete facilities for
taking care of the oil,” he said.
“It must be a wonderful feeling to know that you are secure
and have no worries, Mr. Chandler. A few years ago I enjoyed
that feeling of security; it seemed that nothing could happen
that could in any way threaten my peace of mind and cause
me to worry.”
“Well, all of us have our worries at some time in our lives.
You were carefree and happy in your childhood. Now, in
your maturity, you are experiencing some of life's worries,
while in my childhood days, I never knew a moment of happi-
ness. Now, I feel that my worries are over. I suppose that's a
way that nature has of putting the lives of us mortals on a
parity,” he said.
"Maybe so. But I can't understand why nature should over-
balance the scales against me," June moaned bitterly.
"Perhaps that's just the way you look at it. Who knows but
that some day you'll have oil wells, and be just as secure as I
am today?”
“Mr. Chandler, I've been wanting to talk to you about my
cattle. I realize that I can't stay here and impose on you for-
ever, so I would like to come to some definite decision as to
their disposition."


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
91
"Have you given any thought to the proposition I men-
tioned to you some time ago?” he asked."
“Yes, and I am anxious to learn something about it.”
"Well, I can tell you in a very few words just what I have
in mind. In the transaction with the Bluge Oil Corporation
that has a lease on part of this ranch, I accepted a tract of
twenty-five thousand acres down near the gulf coast as a part
of the bonus I received for this lease. As I told you before, it
has a beautiful stream that traverses it, almost cutting it in
half. Most of it is good grazing land. Now here is what I am
willing to do.
“Of course, the land has no mineral value, so the company
transferred it to me in fee. I am willing to sell you the west
half of that tract, twelve and a half thousand acres together
with all mineral rights, for five dollars an acre, which would
amount to only sixty-two thousand five hundred dollars. You
would have to make a very small down payment, say two thou-
sand dollars. You can do that, can't you?” he asked.
“Yes, I suppose I could,” June replied hesitatingly.
“Very well, then," he continued. “The division fence, sepa-
rating your half from mine, I will build at my own expense.
It will traverse the tract from north to south. The river will be
wholly on the east half, although in several places it will run
parallel with and very close to the fence.
“On the west side of the tract there is sometimes a scarcity
of water, I understand. There are numerous small lakes, or
ponds that ordinarily hold water. But in case of a severe
drouth, all stock must depend on the river for water. There
are several ravines and some small lagoons that could be
dammed and would hold water for long periods after an over-
flow. Or water could be pumped into them from the river in
an emergency. I will also embody in the contract that I will
drill on your land, at my expense, ten water wells, making
diligent effort to procure fresh water. Of course, just to make
it a business deal, I will have to have security. So you might,
if you have nothing else to offer, just give me a lien on your
cattle. And in the meantime, if you want to leave your cattle


94
The Tin Box
“I realize that,” Uncle Jack agreed, “but sometimes we
lose by trying to save. But I guess he'll do the right thing. I
hope so, anyway."
The afternoon of the following day found June, Aunt Har-
riet and Robert Chandler well on their way to Avera. The
rather slow train left Labesia at two o'clock and was due to
reach Avera at seven the next morning.
Aunt Harriet, as usual, was very much peeved and fretting
over the breaking of her rest and, as she referred to it, "traips-
ing all over the country on some wild-goose chase.”
June was deeply thoughtful as the train rolled along, while
Chandler's thoughts were divided between his scheme to get
the Meredith cattle, and the fear that something might go
wrong at his oil field while he was away.
Since Jim Robertson had informed Chandler that he was
unable to get anything definite on the three men involved in
the Meredith accident, Chandler felt that they could not have
taken the papers, so he therefore no longer worried over the
probability that they would ever be found.
At seven o'clock the following morning, the train pulled
into Avera. The trio got off and sought the small hotel, where
they had breakfast. After breakfast, June and Chandler went
in search of the livery stable, while Aunt Harriet stayed at
the hotel to try and catch a wink of sleep after all night on
that “rattletrap” which had done neither her rheumatism nor
her temperament any good.
As they entered the livery stable office door, the proprietor,
a tall, lanky Texan, with a handle-bar moustache and a heavy
coat of tan acquired from many years of exposure on the cattle
range, was sitting at his desk. He rose, doffed his hat and
spoke.
“Good morning, folks. What can I do for you this morning?”
"I'm Mr. Chandler. Real estate and oil man from West
Texas. And this is Miss Meredith," Chandler said.
“Well, I'm mighty glad to meet you both,” the proprietor
said as he reached for Chandler's hand. “Ain't often I have
the opportunity to shake hands with a oil man. I been readin'


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
95
right smart 'bout that oil field they found up there on that
Meredith ranch. Say, you don't happen to be no kin to that
Tom Meredith that lost that ranch, do you, Miss?”
“Yes, that was my father,” June replied.
“Well, I swan. That was a terrible thing. I understand that
none of the money or the papers that your father was supposed
to have had on him, was ever found.”
“Yes, that's right. We never found any record of any busi-
ness transacted by my father that day.”
“That's too bad. Then you lost your ranch, and they found
oil on it.”
“Yes," June said.
Chandler stood listening with growing discomfort and un-
easiness.
“We came here to rent a couple of saddle horses to go out
and look over some land I own a short distance out of town,"
he interrupted.
“Some saddle horses? Well now, let's see," the proprietor
said thoughtfully as he twisted his moustache. “I don't bring
my horses in from the pasture before around ten o'clock; sel-
dom I have a call for a horse before that time. But I'll tell
you what I've got here. I've got two horses that a couple of
fellows were supposed to ride yesterday evening, but didn't
ited; got some racing blood in him, and is a mighty fast horse.
The other is just a ordinary stable horse. If you want 'em, you
can have 'em.”
“How much do you charge for your horses?" Chandler
asked.
“Oh, I rent'em all day for three dollars apiece.”
“Where can we see them?” June asked.
“Right back here, Ma'am.” The proprietor led the way to
the back of the stable where the horses were in their stalls.
“Now, here is the frisky one,” he said as he stopped before a
beautiful brown horse, whose long, well-muscled legs and
thighs and trim neck gave evidence that a great deal of racing
blood flowed in his veins. “Just as gentle as a cat,” he said as


96
The Tin Box
9
he stroked the trim neck and lifted one of the animals hind
feet.
“Yes, I see he's gentle, all right,” June said as she stood ad-
miring the beautiful animal.
“You being the daughter of Tom Meredith, I know you can
handle a horse," the proprietor said with a knowing smile.
“Yes, I suppose I can handle him all right. That is, if Mr.
Chandler here doesn't want to ride him.” June smiled pleas-
antly as she looked at Chandler. I
"No, I'll take the other one,” he said. “You have a trailer
here that you can load the horses into, haven't you?” he in-
quired.
“Oh, yes. And there's a garage right next door whe
can rent a car if you don't have your car with you.”
“That's fine. Now how soon can you have them ready?"
"Oh, 'bout half an hour.”
“Now you make all arrangements for the car and every-
thing, and have them around to the hotel as soon as you can,”
Chandler ordered as they left the stable.
In less than half an hour, a car pulling a trailer into which
the two horses were loaded stopped in front of the hotel. Aunt
Harriet, June and Chandler got in, and told the driver to drive
them to the Patton tract.
The Patton tract, as it was familiarly known in that section,
was a semiwooded, semiprairie tract of twenty-five thousand
acres, through which the beautiful Sawaya River flowed. The
eastern half of it was more or less open prairie land, and it was
on this part, near the center of the tract, that the river flowed.
The western half was more or less hilly and contained no
water save a few shallow ponds and marshes that usually
went dry during a drouth of any duration.
The tract was under grazing lease to a stock man, Cyrus
Johnson, who had a few sheds and a bunkhouse built on it
near the river. On the morning that the car pulled away from
the hotel, carrying the trio to inspect the land, the foreman
of the Johnson ranch, which adjoined the Patton tract on the
south, walked down to the corrals where Bill Shearn, a hand-


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
97
some, fearless young man of twenty-three years, tall, erect and
weighing a hundred and ninety pounds, had just tossed his
lariat over the head of one of the broncs that stood closely
huddled in a corner of the catch-pen.
Bill was one of the top cowhands of the Johnson ranch,
whose duty it was to ride pasture. “Say, Bill,” the foreman
called as Bill pulled the spirited bronc away from the herd.
“Bill, Ramón was riding near the cow sheds over on the Patton
tract yesterday, and said he saw a horse with a piece of barbed
wire hung in his tail. He said it was cutting up his sides pretty
bad when he switched his tail and had his sides all bloody.
Ramón said that he made a run at him, but the horse was too
fast; he couldn't catch him. You'd better go over that way this
morning and look for him before the flies blow him. Ride a
horse that can catch him.”
Bill thought for a moment as he brushed back his black
hair, and wiped his clean-shaven face with his red bandana.
"I guess I'd better ride old Gotch, if I've got to catch a horse
this morning,” he said as he pulled the rope off the horse he
had caught.
Old Gotch, a long-legged, heavy, powerfully muscled red-
roan horse, was exceptionally fleet for a horse of his weight.
He acquired the name “Gotch” because of the condition of
his right ear, the end of which was dropped by gotch ticks
? when he was a colt. “And say, Bill,” the foreman called as
Bill mounted," you know that the lease on that Patton tract is
just about up, and I understand that it has been sold to an oil
man up at Labesia. I also learn that he is coming down here
sometime soon to look it over. So kinda keep your eyes open
while you're over there, and see if you can see any indication
of them having been there yet.”
“All right,” the cowboy said as he reined Gotch in the direc-
tion of the cowsheds on the Patton tract.
The car carrying the trio and pulling the trailer rolled up
to the bunkhouse. June and Chandler got out of the car, while
Aunt Harriet decided she would just sit a minute before get-
ting out. The driver dropped the trailer gate and backed the


98
The Tin Box
horses out. After he had tightened the cinches, he handed
the reins of the brown horse to June and offered to assist her
to mount. But she swung up before he could reach her. “I see
you are used to getting on a horse,” he commented.
“Yes, I have ridden some,” she smiled.
"Mr. Brown, the stable owner, told me that he didn't think
to tell you that sometimes this horse shies at things on the
ground, and to watch him," the driver cautioned June.
"Thank you,” she said reassuringly, “I think I can handle
him all right.”
The driver walked around looking among the sheds, while
Aunt Harriet remained in the car, as she didn't want to be
bitten by one of those rattlesnakes that she had been told were
six feet long and were so plentiful around here.
Chandler and June rode for more than two hours, covering
a great deal of the land, stopping occasionally to view the sur-
rounding country from some particularly advantageous point.
Chandler had pointed out to June, as nearly as he could guess,
just about where the fence would be built that would separate
her half from his. June seemed to be favorably impressed and
said she thought she would like the place.
They were returning to the car and were riding along a cow
trail that led between two small knolls. June was in the lead
and had just reached a spot where the trail made a sharp turn
around a large rock when suddenly, right under the nose of
her horse, a large rattlesnake whirred and sprang at the
horse's leg. The horse became badly frightened. He suddenly
stopped, wheeled and bolted, almost with the same motion.
So swift and sudden were his actions that June, taken by sur-
prise, was almost thrown off. She screamed and managed to
pull herself back into the saddle, but she had dropped the
short reins.
The horse by this time was crazy with fright. Running with
head high, he was gaining speed with every bound, and was
heading towards the river, only a quarter of a mile away. The
short reins were dangling from the bits, just out of June's
reach as she leaned as far as she could over on the neck of the


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
99
animal, in a desperate attempt to recover them. Chandler, on
the slower horse, was galloping along clinging to the pommel
and yelling “Whoa! Whoa!”
Bill Shearn had just ridden upon a bunch of wild horses and,
seeing one that answered the description of the one with the
wire in his tail, rode around them to inspect the bronc at
closer range.
“Yep, that must be him, Gotch,” he said as he stroked the
neck of his mount. “Sore sides, dried blood and all. But he's
lost the wire. Looks like we're out of luck so far as horse rop-
ing goes today.”
He had just started to move on towards the river when he
heard the shrill scream of a woman, followed by the clatter
of flying hoofs. “That sounds like a runaway, Gotch," he said
as he pulled up on the reins. “I wonder who on earth would
be out here.” Gotch stopped and, pricking up his ears, turned
his head in the direction from which the sounds were coming.
Then suddenly, from out of the hills, only a few hundred feet
from them, shot a horse, racing madly towards a high bluff on
the bank of the river, with a woman trying desperately to re-
cover the reins. “This looks like a job for us, Gotch," Bill said
as he leaned forward in the saddle, and the powerful horse
was off in a flash.
Bill recognized the stable horse instantly, and realized it
was no ordinary horse he had to overtake. Reining his horse
towards a spot between the runaway horse and the river, he
hoped to turn the horse, so that he might have a longer run in
which to catch him. But the flying horse beat him to the spot
by only a few feet, and continued on towards the river. It then
became a horse race, with the stable horse not only running
from fright but also responding to his racing instinct to beat
the other horse to the wire.
For a hundred yards it was a hard race, with the nose of
Gotch at the flank of the other, and although Bill urged Gotch
on with his spurs, he was unable to gain enough to grab the
reins, or to pull June from the saddle.
The river was looming up, little more than a hundred yards


100
The Tin Box
away. And over the tall grass and weeds, June could see its
murky waters on the far side. She closed her eyes and prayed
as the madly racing horse seemed to bring the river rapidly
to her.
There was a sheer drop of more than twenty feet to the
water, at the point to which the horse was heading. And Bill
knew that the tall grass and weeds would prevent the horse
from seeing the bluff in time to avoid what would probably
be a death plunge for both horse and rider. He realized that
something must be done, and done quickly.
Calling to June to hold tight, he took down his lariat. With
this rope, Bill had “crossed up” many heavy steers. But he
knew that the combined weight of horse and rider, and the
short distance in which he would have to stop, would be the
most severe strain to which it had been put. And he could only
hope that it would stand this, its crucial test. Making a small
loop, he whirled it once or twice over his head, then gave it a
toss. As the loop settled over the head of the racing horse, Bill
gave it a quick jerk as he didn't want it to slip too far down
on the animal's neck.
The cowboy kept his horse going for a few feet after the
rope began to tighten, not taking the chance of letting the
powerful Gotch "set up” to resist the sudden pull that would
come against the saddle, were he to stop suddenly. “Tight,”
he said to his horse as he pulled up lightly on the reins and as
the stable horse began to wheeze and slacken his speed. Gotch
shied slightly to one side and dug in. The rope sang as the
strain of the weight of the horse came against it and stopped.
The frightened horse stood trembling on the edge of the
bluff. June's face was milky white as she tried to speak.
“You've saved my life,” she finally said.
“Just sit quietly a minute, Ma'am, till I get him away from
the bluff,” Bill said with an assuring smile. “I've got him now.”
Taking up as much slack as the rope would permit, Shearn
turned his horse and pulled the other away from the bluff.
Then, turning Gotch to face the stable horse again, he took up
the rope until he could touch the nose of the trembling horse.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
103
"Edward Shearn. They called him Ed.”
“I've heard my father speak of him many times. He often
wondered what became of him.”
"He drifted off down here and went to work on the Johnson
ranch. Died about five years ago. Why are you buying this
land, with all the land you have up there? Getting over-
stocked?”
"No. I've lost my ranch,” June said remorsefully.
“You did? How did that happen?”
June related in a few words just what had taken place.
“And you say this man Chandler took your place?"
“Yes. That's why I'll have to move my cattle.”
Aunt Harriet climbed out of the car when she saw the three
approaching. "What happened?" she asked when she saw that
June was riding a different horse. June introduced Bill Shearn,
then told about the runaway, putting stress on the heroic part
the cowboy played in saving her life.
“God sent you out here this morning, young man," Aunt
Harriet averred. “And where was the gallant Mr. Chandler
all this time?” she asked in a tone of mockery.
"Oh, he was behind, hollering for help. His horse couldn't
keep up with mine,” June explained as she looked at Chandler
with a sly laugh.
“No, my old plug couldn't do any better than a gallop," he
said.
Bill exchanged saddles and helped the driver load the two
horses back into the trailer.
“Well, I'll be riding along. I'm glad to have met you all,”
he said as he raised his hat and started to ride away.
"We'd be glad if you would come up to Labesia and visit
us sometime,” June said, as he touched his spurs to Gotch.
“Thanks. Maybe I can,” he said as he rode off.


104
The Tin Box
Chapter Eight
THE TWO OIL WELLS THAT CHANDLER HAD EX-
pected had been washed in, and were now in production. The
oil was being run into storage tanks, pending the completion
of a pipeline from the field to the railroad.
Everyone felt that with the pipeline completed so that oil
could be loaded out in tank cars the real boom would get
under way.
The Bluge Oil Corporation had sublet several tracts of the
half of the ranch on which it held a lease to various oil opera-
tors, and already there were many new drilling rigs ready to
spud in.
Robert Chandler was a busy man. He felt an air of impor-
tance, of responsibility for the success of the Meredith oil
field, as it had been named. Early morning and late evening
found him somewhere in the field. Occasionally he stopped
by the ranch house to talk with June.
One day in the early summer he stopped by. June had just
got in from a ride among her cattle. “Well, June," he said, “I
thought I would stop by this morning and see what we can do
about your cattle. I don't think we should put it off any
longer.”
“Yes, I want to know just what I'm to do,” June replied.
“When can you get them together so we can get some kind
of a line-up on them?” he asked.
“I am going to brand next week. That should be a good
time.”
Uncle Jack had everything in readiness for the spring
roundup and branding, and early the following Monday
morning the Meredith outfit, together with a dozen extra


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
105
hands borrowed from adjoining ranches, started out with in-
structions from Uncle Jack to “bring in everything."
For a week, men moved from section to section of the vast
ranch, working from daylight till dark gathering the herds
from the mountains and valleys. At the end of the week, they
felt that every head had been accounted for.
As the cattle were gathered, they were put in the valley
pasture near the place where the first oil well was drilled. On
the morning that the branding was to get under way, Chan-
dler was on hand early. Saddling his horse, he rode out to
where the cattle were being “loose-herded” by a dozen cow-
boys.
There was an extra heavy crop of unusually fine calves to
be branded. As the work got under way, a half dozen of the
best rope hands were kept busy riding through the herd, rop-
ing and dragging the calves near the fire, where they were
After four days of hard work, the branding was finished,
and the herd carried to the pens where they were run through
the chutes and counted by Chandler and Uncle Jack, the
count being a few more than eight thousand head, all told.
The cattle were kept under herd while June and Chandler
reached an agreement on the contract that Chandler's at-
torney had drawn. The agreement said in part “that Robert
Chandler did sell and convey to June Meredith, the west half
of the Patton tract of twenty-five thousand acres, near Avera,
Texas, the price to be paid by June being five dollars per acre,
or a total of sixty-two thousand, five hundred dollars.” June
was to make an initial payment of two thousand dollars, and
to have immediate possession.
The yearly payment of ten thousand dollars was to be made
As security, June would give a blanket lien on "all the cattle
she owned.” She would be at liberty to move the cattle if she
desired, or if asked to do so by Chandler. But under no cir-
cumstances would she be allowed to sell or otherwise dispose
of them without the approval and consent of Chandler.


108
The Tin Box
“And Uncle Jack Doyle is still with you. I've heard my
father speak of him many times. He was foreman for your
father when I was born, so they say.
“I'm going to try and get a layoff for a few days some
time this fall. And if I do, I shall take advantage of your
kind invitation. In the meantime, please accept my
thanks for your letter.
Sincerely,
William (Bill) Shearn."
June treasured this letter from Bill Shearn highly. Not only
was she indebted to him for her rescue, but she had experi-
enced a feeling of admiration for him when first she had a
chance to look at him after the runaway. Tall, erect and strong,
he impressed her as being one of the handsomest men she
had ever met. In helping her from the saddle, he had given
her a sense of security the instant he touched her arm. She felt
that she would be willing to trust her life in his hands. And
it was with pleasant anticipation that she began to look for-
ward to the visit that she felt sure he would make.
Shortly after signing the agreement with June, Chandler
called at the office of the Bluge Oil Corporation. “Say, Jim,"
he addressed the president, you've got a water-well drilling
outfit, haven't you?”
“Why, yes. Why?” he asked curiously.
Chandler explained his part of the agreement with June,
specifying the drilling of the water wells. “I've started on the
fence, and I want to get the wells down so I'll be through with
my part of the agreement,” he said.
“Do you want me to put down the wells?” Robertson asked.
“Yes. What'll you charge me?”
“Oh, I don't know. I'll make it reasonable, though.”
“When can you get started?”
“Any time you're ready."
"At about what depth can water be found down there in
the coast country?" Chandler asked.
“Usually sufficient water for cattle can be found in that


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
109
section anywhere from forty to eighty feet. But I believe if I
were you, and wanted to assure Miss Meredith of plenty of
water for her cattle the year 'round, I'd figure on going down
at least a hundred and fifty feet,” Robertson suggested.
"How long will it take to do that job?”
“With the drilling outfit I'll send, we should put down a
well in a day. And not more than three days at the longest.”
"Well, suppose you send the outfit down there next week,”
Chandler suggested.
It was about the middle of July that a well crew, with a rig
capable of drilling to a depth of several hundred feet, was
dispatched to Avera by the Bluge Oil Corporation. The rig was
unloaded from the flatcar and carted out to the Patton tract,
where it was set up and operations begun at once. The crew
worked diligently, testing each location that had been marked
for the wells. As each test was completed, the casing was
driven below the surface, capped and sealed. On the log of
each well was written: "Brackish. Unfit for livestock.”
In a month, the crew had drilled the number of tests agreed
upon, and made a final report to the company. A few days
after receiving the report, Robertson called on Chandler.
“Robert, I have some startling reports relative to the water
wells we've drilled on that land,” he told Chandler.
“Startling in what way?” Chandler asked curiously.
The oil official then explained to Chandler, and showed
him the logs of the wells.
"Well, I'll be-" Chandler said in astonishment. “Now that
brings on more complications."
“I can't see why that should complicate matters,” Robert-
son disagreed. “You have a lien on the land and the cattle,
and you tell me the girl can't sell anything without your ap-
proval. Then how is she ever to pay the land out if you don't
approve the sale of her cattle? Looks like a cut-and-dried case
to me.”
"Of course," Chandler said thoughtfully, “It wouldn't com-
plicate matters to look at it from a strictly business stand-


110
The Tin Box
point. But after all, June is a fine young girl, so I'd hate to
just clamp right down on her and take everything she's got
without pretending to give her a chance.
"Of course, I know and you know there is no way in the
world for her to pay for that land so long as I hold a lien on
her only source of income. I've got plenty of time, and a set
time to close in on her, that is if she doesn't get saucy and
force me to do it sooner.”
“Then how are you going to arrange to get water, since
you've obligated yourself to see that she gets plenty for her
stock?”
"Oh, well, I'm not compelled to get water. My agreement
calls for a diligent effort, and that I have already made.”
“But you know," Robertson protested, “she has your word,
and you could never convince her that she can't get fresh
water. Because after all, there are water wells on all the
ranches around there.”
"I'll tell you what I can do." Chandler thought for a min-
ute. “I can build a lane from her land to the river so her cattle
can get water until we can see further."
“That should work all right,” Robertson agreed. “Now back
to the wells. What do you want me to do about the problem
this discovery has created?”
"I don't know. We're all pretty busy right now. So I don't
think it would be a good idea to take on anything more. That
business can wait,” Chandler decided
“That's what I thought,” Robertson agreed, "but I didn't
know what you would want to do about it. You'd better not
let anyone tinker with those wells. The crew drove the casings
below the surface, capped and sealed them, and spread clay
over and around them, to look as if the holes were abandoned.
And as long as nobody gets nosey and starts to investigate,
everything will be all right,” Robertson warned.
“I'll see that nobody disturbs them,” Chandler assured him.
Although June had economized in every possible way, she
found herself faced with mounting indebtedness and a rapidly
dwindling bank account at the City National Bank. The ex-


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
111
INC
pense of operating a large ranch for more than a ye
gether with the expense incurred by the death of her parents,
had taken a heavy toll of the small amount of cash left by her
father.
Her agreement with Chandler specified a down payment
of two thousand dollars on the land at Avera. But realizing
that such a payment would impose an almost insurmountable
obstacle on her in meeting other and more urgent expenses,
she prevailed upon him to accept half that amount. This he
reluctantly agreed to do, with the understanding that she
would not be given possession until the other half was paid,
and that to be at the earliest possible moment.
After more than a year, however, she not only had been
unable to pay the remaining thousand dollars, but ran greatly
behind with her pasture rent.
Confident she would not be able to meet these payments,
and wishing to appear lenient (since he reasoned he had noth-
ing to lose by allowing conditions to remain as they were),
Chandler bided his time to strike, and take not only the land
he had sold her, but the cattle as well.
These financial worries bore heavily on June's mind. “I can't
see how we are to make ends meet much longer, Aunt Har-
riet,” she worried as she pondered her almost depleted cash
balance and growing indebtedness. “I don't know anyone
from whom I might borrow enough money to release the
mortgage on my cattle.”
"Have you tried Wade Lucas?" Aunt Harriet asked.
“No, I'd hate to ask him," she complained.
"He couldn't do anything but say no. And you know how
crazy he's always been about you. He might lend you the
money."
"That's just it. He might come with another proposal of
marriage.
“Well, you wouldn't have to accept it,” Aunt Harriet argued.
"No, of course I wouldn't have to accept him, but-well, I
believe I'll see him. Maybe he will help me," she decided.
ome


112
The Tin Box
In answer to June's summons, Wade drove up to the Mere-
dith ranch the following day. Greeting him warmly, June
ushered him into the living room. “I'm glad you came over,
Wade," she said. “I want to talk to you about my contract with
Mr. Chandler.” June then explained to him her financial dif-
ficulties, and asked him to lend her enough money to re-
lease the mortgage on her cattle, that she might handle them
as she saw fit.
“May I see your contract?” he asked. After studying the
document carefully, he said, “Why, June, you haven't got
anything here. The mortgage on your cattle is so tied up with
the purchase of that land down on the coast, that you can't
pay one without paying the other. And that land isn't worth
what you're paying for it.
"I've got it on reliable authority that that oil company
acquired that whole Patton tract for a dollar an acre, and then
sold you half of it for five dollars. I don't believe anybody will
lend you five times what that land is worth.”
“Then, you wouldn't lend me any money on this contract?”
she asked.
“No. Of course, as far as lending you money is concerned,
I'll lend you every dollar you want on your word of honor.
But I won't lend money on that contract. I'm sorry, June."
Wade sat for a long moment as if in deep thought. “Why
don't you marry me, June, and forget about this whole thing?
You know I've always loved you, and will do anything to make
you happy,” he proposed.
“Do I have to give you my answer now, Wade?” she asked
after a moment's hesitation.
“N-0-0. But-"
“You see, Wade," June interrupted, “I'm not sure that I
have the kind of love for you that I want to give my husband.
When I marry, I want to love my husband with an all-consum-
ing love, a feeling born of love for its own sake. Not a mere
gesture, born of the necessity of self-preservation, as would
be the case if I were to marry you at this time.”


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
113
“I'm sorry you see it that way, June. I'm sure, even if you
don't love me now, you would soon learn to love me, once we
were married. However, if that's the way you feel, I suppose
there's nothing I can do about it. But I won't give up hope,
he sighed.
“I do love you, Wade, as a gentleman, and a friend of many
years' standing. But I'm sure you understand. You wouldn't
want a girl to marry you just to save her face.”
“No, I suppose not. But what I'm concerned about, June, is
that you're going to fool around until it's too late, then be put
off this place with nothing and nowhere to go," he prophesied.
“That may be. But I know that my father could never rest in
his grave if I deserted what he worked so hard to build up
without trying to save it. I may lose it, but not without a fight,”
she said.
"If I could just get you to see things as I see them," he
argued. “As my wife, all worries for you and Aunt Harriet
would be over. There could be only happiness and a guarantee
of security for you for the rest of your life," he pleaded.
"None of us can be too certain of our security, Wade," she
quickly responded. “Not so long ago I felt the same way. Felt
that as the daughter of Tom Meredith, I would forever be
secure and free from worries of any kind. But today I realize
the fallacy of that dream and find myself wholly dependent
and at the mercy of a man I despise, and who I know will
sooner or later evict me from my home.'
“I'm sorry, June,” he said sympathetically, “I didn't mean
to revive unpleasant memories."
"That's perfectly all right. Sometimes I believe it's good for
one to be forced to face realities.”
“Well, if you need money at any time, June, just let me
know," he said as he rose to leave.
“Thank you, Wade.”
It was late summer that Bill Shearn, while in Avera one
day, received another letter from June, which read:


114
The Tin Box
“Dear Mr. Shearn:
Your letter of June twentieth found me anxiously
awaiting a reply. I am glad to learn that you might ar-
range for a few days off this fall, and will visit us.
“We are having our annual rodeo and fat stock show
here at Labesia, from September tenth to the twelfth in-
clusive. I understand there will be some very valuable
prizes offered, which means that there will be very keen
competition. We have a rule here that only members of
the association may participate, but any member may
invite guests to compete in the name of his ranch.
“I wish you could come up and compete in the name
of the Meredith ranch. We would all enjoy it, and I know
you would get a big kick out of it.
“We have a wonderful bunch of boys here, and I'm
sure you'd enjoy being with us. So try and arrange to do
so.
"Hoping to receive a favorable reply, I am,
Sincerely yours,
June Meredith.”
Shearn folded the letter and stuck it in his jacket pocket.
"A rodeo,” he said to himself. “That sounds mighty interesting.
Don't know but what I'd like to get in on that.”
Bill was a keen lover of horses and anything pertaining to
horse performances. He loved sports and keen competition,
and was considered one of the best cowhands in the coast
country. Being an expert with a rope and a rider who had few
equals, he rarely missed a chance to take part in any rodeo
that was held in the coast section, within reasonable distance
of the Johnson ranch. “Let's see,” he thought. “Today is the
twentieth of August. That will give me about two weeks to
get limbered up and arrange to get off.”
When he reached the ranch, he sought the foreman right
away. “You say you want to get off on the fifth for about ten
days?” the foreman asked when Bill had spoken to him. “Why,
yes, I think we can arrange it. But where are you going?”


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
115
"I got a letter from Miss Meredith this morning, and she
says there is going to be a rodeo up at Labesia, starting on
the tenth and lasting for three days. She asked if I wouldn't
like to get in on it with her outfit,” Shearn replied.
"Now look out, Bill,” the foreman cautioned him good-
naturedly. "I believe you're getting kind of sweet on that
Meredith girl. First thing you know, you'll be leaving us and
going up there to take charge of her ranch, and maybe throw
poor old Jack Doyle out of a job. That's the second letter
you've got from her, ain't it?”
“Yes, but it's nothing like that, Pete. Although she's a
mighty nice gal, and mighty pretty, I'm in no way getting
sentimental over her. You see, I'd like to see what that part of
the country looks like, and see the place where I was born,
Bill explained.
"I know, Bill. I was just kiddin'. But do you think you could
have any luck with them Meredith horses? You don't know
anything about them,” the foreman warned.
"Oh, I guess I can handle 'em all right. I know there must
be some good horses on a ranch that size.”
“Yes, I'm sure there is. But you know how it is with the men
in an outfit. They always pick the best horses for themselves
(of course, you can't blame them for that) and a stranger
coming in that way would have to take what's left. And I'm
afraid you couldn't make a very good showing under such
conditions. I think you'd better take some horses with you,
at least three, anyway. We don't want you to let the coast
country down.”
"I sure appreciate that, Pete. And you can just bet I'll never
let you down,” Bill said determinedly.
“That's fine, Bill. Of course you're going to meet some
mighty tough competition up there in that West Texas coun-
try. They say there are no better punchers made than those
around that part of the country," the foreman said.
“Yes, I know they're plenty tough, but I'll do my best.”
The next two weeks were busy ones for Bill. Although he
rode and roped as part of his daily routine, yet he felt that a


116
The Tin Box
little extra practice would stand him in good stead in a case
of extremely keen competition. So he practiced diligently, as
he not only wanted to make a good showing for his section
of the state, but, more important to him, he wanted to give a
good performance as an invited guest of June Meredith.
A few days before the annual rodeo was slated to start at
Labesia, Bill Shearn loaded his horses into a small cattle truck,
and headed towards the West Texas cow town, pulling up at
the corrals on the Meredith ranch two days later. He got out,
kicked and stretched his legs, and went back to speak to the
horses. “Well, here we are,” he said as he stroked the shoulder
of one of the horses. “Pretty place, ain't it?
June was busy washing the breakfast dishes when she
looked out the kitchen window and saw the truck. And when
Bill got out, she instantly recognized him. She came in a half
run to meet him, drying her hands on her apron as she came.
"Well, this is indeed a pleasant surprise," she said as she
offered her hand.
"Thank you. I'm mighty glad to get here. Sure was a long,
dusty trip,” he commented.
"When did you leave Avera?”
“About ten o'clock day before yesterday. I had to drive so
slow after I hit the mountains.”
“Yes, it's mean driving, and very dangerous in places,” June
said thoughtfully, as her thoughts went back to the tragic
death of her parents.
“You sure have a pretty place here, Miss Meredith,” Bill
said.
“Yes, I did have a pretty place,” June said remorsefully.
"Oh, yes. I understand.”
"Oh, you've brought some horses to help me out. Isn't that
wonderful!” she exclaimed in childish glee.
“Yes, ma'am. I don't feel that they're as good as your horses,
but I know them better.”
“Come and carry them around to the stable.” Bill climbed
into the truck, and June jumped in beside him. “I guess you've


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
117
got some mighty good hands with your outfit, Miss Meredith,”
he said.
“Yes, we have some very good boys. Most of them were
reared here, or have been with us for a long time," she replied.
“I imagine there's some keen competition in the rodeos
pulled off around here,” he said.
“Yes, sometimes the events are keenly contested. But you
need have no fear. I don't believe any of then can beat you
roping,” she said earnestly.
“Well, I'm not so sure about that,” he said with concern.
“Uncle Jack,” June called to the old foreman as they drove
into the horse lot. “Here's Bill-er, I mean Mr. Shearn.”
“Why didn't you let it go like you first said it?” Bill rep-
rimanded her.
“I did want to, but I didn't know if you would like it.”
"I'd like it better that way; makes me feel more at home.”
"All right, Bill,” she smiled. “Uncle Jack, meet Bill Shearn,”
June introduced them when Uncle Jack came up. The men
shook hands. “This is the young man to whom I owe my life,”
she said as she looked admiringly at Bill.
“We are mighty proud of you, Mr. Shearn. From what
Miss June tells us, she had a mighty close call down there in
your part of the country.”
“Yes, she did," was Bill's only comment.
“Let's take your horses out,” the foreman suggested.
“Oh!” June exclaimed, “There's my horse, the horse that
saved my life!” She ran up and threw her arms around Gotch's
neck and gave him a big kiss on the nose.
“Yes, I brought Gotch along. He's a pretty good horse, one
of the best we've got,” Bill commented.
“You can put them right here in this pen. Plenty of shade
and water here. And you'll find some feed in that crib,” Uncle
Jack told Bill.
"Thanks,” Bill said as he pulled the halters off the horses.
The horses lay down and wallowed, then got up, shook them-
selves violently, and went to the trough for water. "I guess
they're kinda dry. I only watered’em once yesterday,” he said.


118
The Tin Box
"Miss June tells me that you are one of Ed Shearn's boys,”
Uncle Jack remarked.
“Yes, that's right,” Bill said.
“Why, I knew your father for years. He worked here for Mr.
Meredith for a long time. And if I'm not mistaken, you were
born here."
“Yes, that's what my father said. Well, I'm mighty glad to
see my birthplace.”
“Come, let's go up to the house,” June said as she started
away, “I know you must be tired and hungry after that long
trip."
Bill washed up and ate the hearty breakfast that June pre-
pared for him. “I'm sure you must want to lie down and rest
awhile after so long a drive," June said when Bill had finished
breakfast, “but before you do, come and let me show you
around the place.”
While Bill was being shown around the place by June,
Chandler drove up. “Good morning, June,” he said. “Oh, I see
we have our cowboy hero with us this morning,” he added sar-
castically. Bill bit his lip as June gave him a cautioning glance.
“Yes, Mr. Shearn came up to take part in our rodeo this week.”
"Well, if he's in as good trim as he was when we first met
him, he should have no trouble taking first prize,” Chandler
remarked lightly.
“I'm sure that we all hope he is," was June's curt reply.
"Well, June,” Chandler began hesitatingly, you know that
your third monthly pasturage fee is due today. And that,
added to the seven hundred dollars that you owe for the pre-
vious two months, leave you owing me one thousand and fifty
dollars on pasturage alone. Add that to the thousand dollars
you've never paid on the down payment on the land at Avera,
and you owe me two thousand and fifty dollars. Are you ready
to meet those payments this morning?”
“Why, no, I'm not,” she replied, leading him away from
Bill. “You see, Mr. Chandler, the only way I have to pay you
is by selling my cattle. And I'm afraid they aren't in as good
condition as they should be to bring a top price. And as you


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
119
won't permit me to sell any of them until you think they're
ready, I don't have the money today."
"Well, do you think you can raise five hundred dollars of it?
I will accept that until you can do better."
“Could you wait on me until a little later, about the four-
teenth, Mr. Chandler? You see, Mr. Shearn is here, and I
wouldn't want him to know of my financial embarrassment,"
she pleaded.
"Yes, I guess I can, June. But I'll expect some kind of settle-
ment soon,” he warned.
Although June had led Chandler a few steps away from
Bill, who pretended not to be listening, he had heard most of
the conversation; enough, at least, to tell him that she was in
financial difficulties. When Chandler had gone, and he had an
opportunity to get away from June, he sought Uncle Jack, who
was doing some work on a windmill down by the pens. “Listen,
Uncle Jack. You don't mind if I call you Uncle Jack, do you?"
he asked.
“Why, no, son, I'd rather like it,” Uncle Jack said with a
twinkle in his eye.
“What kind of a man is this fellow Chandler?” Bill asked
curiously.
“Why, I don't know. We've just known him around here
for a short while, since he took the place away from Miss June.
Why do you ask?”
"I was up at the house with Miss Meredith awhile ago,
when he came to her and asked her about paying pasture fees.
She tried to coax him away out of hearing, but I couldn't help
hearing some of their conversation. Seems, from what I could
hear, she owes him around a thousand dollars rent, and he
won't let her sell any cattle so she can pay him. Do you know
anything about that?”
“Yes, I do, son,” Uncle Jack replied confidentially. “Of
course you know Miss June wouldn't want you to know any-
thing about this, but I think it's such a shame, I'm going to
tell you anyway. Now whatever you do, don't say anything to
her about what I'm going to tell you,” Uncle Jack continued.


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The Tin Box
"I think Chandler's a skunk, if you want my opinion of him.
I think he's crookeder than a barrel of snakes.”
“That was the first impression I got of him. But what makes
you think he's crooked?” Bill asked.
“Because I've never been satisfied as to the circumstances
surrounding the death of June's parents.”
Uncle Jack then went on to tell of the tragedy that resulted
in the death of Tom and Ann Meredith. Bill listened very at-
tentively while Uncle Jack related what he knew.
“That was peculiar," Bill said when Uncle Jack had fin-
ished. “Were the three men who were responsiốle for the ac-
cident ever suspected of robbing the bodies?”
"Yes, they were questioned by the sheriff, but they had no
papers on them, and there was no proof that they took any-
thing."
"Now, coming back to the money Miss Meredith owes him
for pasturage. It looks like a well-planned scheme to take her
cattle,” Bill said.
"Yes, that's what I'm thinking. I warned Miss June about
signing that contract; told her she ought to have a lawyer pass
on it, but she didn't have much money. And then again,
we're staying here on his kindness. So there wasn't much else
she could do."
“Do you think he would try to take her cattle if she failed
to pay that pasture rent?” Bill asked, deeply concerned.
"In my opinion, there's nothing he wouldn't do,” Uncle
Jack asserted.
“What kind of an outfit do you have here?” Bill asked.
"As good as there is in these parts," Uncle Jack replied
proudly.
“How much prize money is there at stake for the rodeo?”
“More than five thousand dollars," Uncle Jack said, looking
at the young man questioningly. “Why do you ask?”
Bill then went into a low, earnest conversation with Uncle
Jack. That night, every cowhand on the Meredith ranch was
requested to meet in the bunkhouse at midnight. After intro-
ducing Bill to the men as a guest of the Meredith ranch who


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
121
would compete in the rodeo, Uncle Jack disclosed the reason
for the meeting. “Men,” he said, “I want each of you to pledge
that you will do your best.” Each man then rose and, with a
grim, determined expression on his face, walked up and sealed
his pledge with a handshake with Uncle Jack and Bill Shearn.
When Bill left June to seek Uncle Jack, she went into the
house and called Wade Lucas on the phone. “Wade, I'm des-
perately in need of two thousand dollars by the fourteenth of
this month. That will be next Tuesday. Do you think you can
let me have it?”
“What is the occasion, June?” he asked.
“Mr. Chandler is pressing me for payments I can't make,"
she explained.
“I see,” Wade said after a moment's hesitation. “Yes, I
think I can let you have it. I'll call you on the thirteenth. In
the meantime, you may rest assured you will get it."
"Thank you so much, Wade," she said as she hung up the
receiver.
Chapter Nine
THE ANNUAL FAT STOCK SHOW AND RODEO HELD
at Labesia each fall was a three-day affair, and was an event
to which the cream of the outfits of that entire section of the
state looked forward with eager anticipation. The finest live-
stock of the surrounding country was brought to the fair
grounds, and put on exhibition, as well as the choicest farm
products grown in that region.
There were prizes amounting to thousands of dollars
awarded each year for the best displays. But the event in
which there was the most interest and the keenest competition
was the rodeo, held in the afternoon of each day.


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The Tin Box
That section of West Texas being given over chiefly to cat-
tle-raising, there were some very large cattle ranches, and
some very fine outfits; each was very jealous of the reputation
of its ranch, and wanted it to be known as the best. There
were always some very spectacular and courageous displays of
horsemanship and ability on the part of the cowboys. And this
year was to be no exception.
It was a rule of the Labesia Fat Stock Show and Rodeo As-
sociation, that the ranches of the outfits participating in the
rodeo furnished the horses, but the prize money won by the
contestants in competition was their own.
Although Chandler had made every effort to thwart June's
plans, she had succeeded in placing some of her finest pure-
blood cattle on exhibition. The Meredith herds were always
blue-ribbon winners in one or more divisions, and this year
they were as good as ever or better. And June was in hopes
that they would bring her much-needed cash.
The Labesia fair grounds, where the stock show and rodeo
were held each year, was about a mile from the small town. It
was a beautiful valley of about two hundred acres. On the
north and east, a range of hills formed a semicircle halfway
around the valley, their sheer walls forming a natural enclo-
sure. On the south and west of the valley, a mountain stream,
Sawaya Creek, emerged from the hills and ran in a semicircle,
thus completing the enclosure except for a space of two hun-
dred yards where the stream veered away from the hills, leav-
ing a pass through which the valley was entered. The fair
grounds and stock pens were built in the pass.
Across the stream, and farther to the south, a wooded slope
followed the general outline of the creek and extended to a
range of foothills some three miles away.
Competition was unusually keen this year. Rains that had
fallen during the late winter had caused an abundance of early
spring grass, and frequent spring showers had kept it growing
until the ranges were in splendid shape, and the cattle were in
better flesh generally than they had been in several years.
Since the death of June's father, Wade felt that he should


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
123
exhibit a greater interest in June's welfare than that of a
family friend. Feeling that sometime, perhaps in the near
future, they would be married, he felt a sense of responsibility
in seeing that her interests were protected. This being the
first year that she was burdened with the responsibility of the
circle-bar's participation in the rodeo, Wade felt that he
should be of all possible aid to her. So, on the opening day of
the show, he called by early in the forenoon on his way to the
fairgrounds.
All preparations for the participation of the circle-bar out-
fit in the Rodeo and Fat Stock Show had been completed by
June and Uncle Jack the day before.
Bill had loaded his horses in his truck and stopped by on
his way to the fairgrounds to pick up June, when Wade drove
up. “Good morning, June,” he said.
"Oh, hello, Wade. Shake hands with Mr. Shearn. This is
Mr. Lucas, Mr. Shearn.” June introduced the two men, who
shook hands warmly. “Mr. Shearn is the gentleman you've
heard me talk so much about, that I met while down at Avera,”
she said.
“Miss Meredith tells me,” Wade said, looking admiringly
at Bill, “that was a pretty lucky throw you made at that horse."
“Yes, it was,” Bill said, “and just in the nick of time.”
“You must be a pretty good rope hand,” Wade surmised.
"Oh, fair, I guess,” Bill replied.
“Wade is one of the top rope hands of this section,” June
said, smiling at Wade. “He has won first money in the steer
tiedown for the last four years, I believe. Hasn't it been four
years straight, Wade?”
“Yes, I believe it has,” Wade admitted, with an air of pride.
“That's interesting,” Bill remarked. “I like to work in a
rodeo with good men.”
“Going in this morning, June?” Wade asked.
“Yes, a little later.”
“I guess I'll just wait for you,” he said.
“No, Wade. I wouldn't want to detain you.”
“It won't be any trouble, June,” he assured her.


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"Thank you, Wade. I'll come on in a short while with Mr.
Shearn. He is my participating guest, and I feel that I should
show him the courtesy of accompanying him to the fair-
grounds. I'm sure you understand, Wade,” she said.
"All right, if that's the way you want it, June,” he sighed
dejectedly. “And Mr. Shearn is going to compete with your
outfit. Perhaps we can lay a little side bet, Mr. Shearn.”
"Maybe,” Bill said unconcernedly. “On what event?"
"Take your choice," Wade said with a sarcastic, cutting
glance. “And for the amount, make it for whatever you think
you can stand. I'll cover every penny you can beg, borrow or
steal,” he said as he climbed into his car and drove away.
“Hmmm. Wade seems to be upset,” June observed. “I never
knew him to make such a cutting challenge to anyone."
“Perhaps he's disappointed because you didn't go in with
him,” Bill said.
"Perhaps so. But that's no reason for being so rude and in-
sulting.”
The opening day of the fair found a large crowd on hand.
Since oil had been found at Labesia, there had been a steady
influx of oil field workers and their families, and others who
usually flock to a newly discovered oil field. The population
had almost doubled within a year, as an oil field town. Money
was plentiful, as was evidenced by the many side bets made on
the rodeo contestants. The usual rodeo events were spread
out, in this particular rodeo, over the three-day period. Each
day saw new events that were not contested on either of the
other days.
On the first day, the calf roping, goat roping and wild cow
milking events were held. Promptly at two thirty, the parade
of the cowboys and cowgirls got under way around the fair
grounds. The circle-bar (as the Meredith ranch was widely
known) had several men slated to compete in each event.
The second day saw the steer bulldogging, steer riding and
wild mare milking contests, while the third day was always
reserved for the big events-bronc busting, and the roping and
tying of heavy steers.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
127
fit, who had drawn fifth place on the card, had placed third in
time, and Wade Lucas, son of the cattle king Tyrus Lucas,
who was known throughout the West as peerless at steer rop-
ing, was away out in front, his time being just three seconds
short of the world record for roping and tying a three-year-old
steer.
Nine of the contestants having competed, the announce-
ment came over the loud speaker: "For the last contestant on
the program, we have Bill Shearn, of Avera, down near the
gulf coast. As I told you yesterday and the day before, Mr.
Shearn is competing as a guest of the Meredith ranch. He will
ride his own horse, however.”
"That's that cow puncher from the coast country, that took
first money in the calf roping, ain't it?" one of the Lucas clan
remarked to another.
“Yeah, he's all right on roping calves,” the second puncher
replied, “but from the showing he made bulldogging that
steer, he ain't so hot when it comes to handling this heavy stuff.
With the time Wade made, I don't figure we've got any worry
about him.”
There was silence as Bill, astride the magnificently pro-
portioned horse Gotch, took his place beside the chute gate
out of which the steer would come.
The animal was extremely nervous, walking around in the
small pen, his chin rubbing along the panel fence, and charg-
ing anyone who came near the pen. Uncle Jack spoke to Sam
Harris as the two stood watching every move made by Bill or
the steer. “Well, looks like it's up to him, now," Uncle Jack
remarked. “That time turned in by young Lucas is going to
be mighty hard to beat.”
“Yes, that was within a few seconds of the world's record,"
Sam replied.
“I'm afraid we've lost this money," he continued, “Bill seems
to have a pretty good-looking horse there, but I don't think
he'll have much luck with that long-legged steer. Too bad that
Jim got sick at the very time we need him most. We might
have had a chance with him.”
remarket; Well, looks watching everume Jack spoke to larg-


128
The Tin Box
ing a broad grua «What's he doing that his horse.” Bill had
"Yes, I hate it on account of Miss June,” Uncle Jack
sighed. “I was depending on this event.”
“Say, cowboy,” Nathan Miller, one of the oldest punchers
on the Lucas outfit, started to heckle Bill, “why don't you just
call it a day, and forfeit this event? There ain't no chance for
you to beat that time Wade made.”
"Yeah," another member of the Lucas team blurted, "that
horse is going to give out trying to catch that steer.”
Bill took the ribbing goodnaturedly, his only response be-
ing a broad grin as he sat complacently awaiting the opening
of the chute gate. “What's he doing there now?” Sam Harris
was excited. “He's pulling the bridle off his horse.” Bill had
leaned over, unfastened the throatlatch and slipped the bridle
off the horse's head. Calling two men from the Meredith crew,
he instructed them to hold their hands over Gotch's eyes.
“I'll be goldurned,” Uncle Jack spoke disgustedly, “I hope
he's not going to try some fancy stuff and ruin what little
chance he would have.”
The crowd was awed as they watched this act. Never before
had they seen a horse ridden in a roping contest without a
bridle, and all were eager to see just how the horse would per-
form.
June was thrilled beyond words. She felt confident that
Bill knew what he was doing, even if he chose to rope off bare-
back.
A sigh of relieved suspense went up from the crowd when
the gate was opened and the steer came out. Stopping mo-
mentarily to dip his horns at a couple of cowboys, who im-
mediately took to the fence, he raised his head and with long
bounds headed for the brush across the creek.
Gotch stirred nervously as the sounds of running feet
reached his ears. He tried to free his head from the men who
were holding their hands over his eyes but quieted down, how-
ever, when spoken to by Bill.
With his lariat coiled and fastened to the saddle by the
lariat strap, Bill's every move was of extreme confidence.
When the steer had reached the hundred yard flag, the field


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
129
it, the the animal sed over his hont of the steer.
judge raised the white flag and the men turned Gotch loose.
In an instant the horse had spotted the fleeing steer and, with
ears laid back, charged after him. Before anyone could realize
it, the great horse was swiftly bearing down upon the flying
steer. The animal swerved sharply to one side, but too late;
Bill's noose had settled over his horns. With a deft flip of his
hand, Bill laid his lariat down in front of the steer, the animals
front feet passing over it. Almost with the same motion that
Bill cast the noose, he swung from the saddle. The riderless
horse veered to a side, turned to face the steer and braced
himself against the pull of the rope. The steer went high into
the air when he reached the end of the rope. Turning a half-
flip, he landed on his back with such force that he was com-
pletely stunned. Bill was on him in an instant, tying him and
raising his hands quickly. A great shout went up from the
crowd when the time keeper announced Bill's time as five
seconds faster than the time made by Wade, and a new world
record.
When Bill rode back to the pens, he was pulled from his
saddle and carried upon the shoulders of the men of the circle-
bar, while June rushed from the stands and, with tears of joy
streaming down her cheeks, threw her arms around the neck
of the great horse and kissed him on the nose again and again.
The following morning, June told Uncle Jack that she
wanted all the men of the ranch to be her guests at dinner
that night, in appreciation of the way they had upheld the
reputation of the circle-bar in general, and to show their ap-
preciation to Bill Shearn in particular, who for the first time
had brought the honors of the steer-roping contest to the
Meredith ranch.
“Aunt Harriet, you'll be around near the house most of
today, won't you?” June asked as they were removing the
breakfast dishes from the table.
“Why, yes. Why do you ask, June?”
“Wade is coming by to lend me some money to pay Mr.
Chandler. He said he would call before he came, and I don't
want to miss the call,” she explained.
reputation
Pill Shearn in pansteer-roping


130
The Tin Box
“I see. I'll be in hearing distance of the phone if he calls,”
Aunt Harriet said.
June busied herself out around the stables and corrals most
of the morning, looking after her stock that was being re-
turned from the fair grounds and coming in every so often to
inquire if Wade had called. It was about one o'clock in the
afternoon that she began to worry about the delayed call. “I
wonder why Wade doesn't call,” she worried.
“Are you sure he's going to let you have the money?" Aunt
Harrietasked somewhat doubtfully.
“Why, er, yes. That is, I'm reasonably sure of it. I don't
think he'd lead me to believe so if he had no intention of
keeping his promise.”
It was four o'clock when June again inquired about the
call.
"I don't know what to think,” she worried. “I don't know
what I'll do if he doesn't lend me the money. Mr. Chandler
is expecting his pasture fee, and the balance of the note that
is past due. And I don't have anything like that much money.
I think I'll call him."
Upon calling the Lucas ranch, June was informed that
Wade had left that morning for his ranch at Avera. She
quickly became despondent. “I don't know what I'll do now,"
she said despairingly. “I had depended so much on his help-
ing me. I don't know what Mr. Chandler will say when I can't
pay him all his money."
“You haven't said or done anything to make Wade angry,
have you, June?” Aunt Harriet asked.
"No, not that I know of. Unless he became offended when
I went to the fair grounds with Bill, the other day. But I can't
believe he'd take that seriously. I explained to him, and I'm
sure he understood. I can't believe he'd be that stupid.”
At eight o'clock that evening, dinner had been served the
cowboys. Aunt Harriet sat at the foot of the long table, June
occupied the hostess' seat with Bill occupying the seat of the
guest of honor, and Uncle Jack sitting on June's right.
With dinner finished, June rose to speak. “Boys,” she began,


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
131
“It is with a heart full of gratitude and thankfulness that I
am honored to serve you here tonight. You have more than
upheld the good reputation of the Meredith name in com-
petition and true sportsmanship. And you have gone even
further by setting a new world record in one of the events.”
A round of applause interrupted her after that statement.
Continuing, she said: “Each and every one of you crowned
himself with glory in the particular event in which he took
part. I want right here-and I'm sure every man of the ranch
will join me-to give a special vote of thanks to Mr. William
Shearn, our special guest, for his magnificent performance in
the name of our ranch.
“I am happy to tell you that our cattle won more than a
thousand dollars in prizes. I don't wish to appear remorseful,”
her eyes were filling with tears as she fought to control her
emotions-“but as most of you know, this may be the last time
this outfit will compete in the Meredith name. However, we
won't go into that as I would not want to burden anyone else
with my worries.
“In closing my little talk to you, I want to thank each and
every one of you from the bottom of my heart for your per-
formance in the rodeo, and for the way you have stood by me
since the death of my parents.” Tears trickled down her cheeks
as she defiantly threw her head back and sat down.
Uncle Jack then rose and called on Bill Shearn for a few
words. Bill rose slowly and awkwardly. “I feel honored,” he
said, “to have had the opportunity and the privilege of work-
ing with such a fine bunch of men as I find here on the Mere-
dith ranch. And I want to congratulate Miss Meredith on her
good fortune in keeping such men, who are not only true
sportsmen in the truest sense of the word, but are each and
everyone tops in their profession.
“If I, in my feeble effort,” he continued, “have contributed
anything worth mentioning to add to the laurels won by the
men of the circle-bar, then I am glad, and sorry that I could
not do more.” As Bill started to sit down, Sam Harris called
to him, “Say, Bill, me and everybody else, I believe, is curious


132
The Tin Box
to know why you pulled the bridle off your horse yesterday.
Was that some kind of a stunt?”
"No, Sam,” Bill replied earnestly, “I never stunt, and I
most certainly would not on so serious an occasion. You see,
Gotch is a very nervous horse, high-strung and wanting to go
all the time. In roping, where the contestant is allowed to
break with the steer, I don't pull the bridle off him, but under
the rules you have here-which also apply in many other
rodeos,giving the animal a hundred-yard jump, the horse
would have to be held. And to restrain him with the bit up-
sets him. That's why I blindfold him.”
Uncle Jack then rose, and turning to June, said: “Miss June,
I have a duty to perform that has been thrust upon me by
Bill and the boys of the ranch. I don't know just how you will
feel, but to make the boys happy, we all want you to say you'll
do what we ask. Will you do it?”
“Anything I can. I don't believe you'd ask me to do anything
you know I can't do.”
"That's fine," Uncle Jack smiled. “The prize money won
by the boys of the ranch, including side bets made by several
of them, amounts to eighteen hundred dollars. Mr. Shearn
made some side bets with Wade Lucas on the steer roping,
which, with the prize money he won, brought his winnings
up to a thousand dollars. That brings the total up to twenty-
eight hundred dollars.” Uncle Jack drew a roll of bills from
his pocket and held it in his hand. “The boys all collected
their money today, and have turned it over to me. Now, Miss
June, we all know your circumstances. Mr. Shearn overheard
your conversation with Robert Chandler the other day.
There's not a man in this outfit that wouldn't give his right
arm for you. So it will make us all mighty happy if you will
accept this money.” Uncle Jack took June's hand and placed
the roll of bills in it. June jumped to her feet quickly, and
tried to put the money back in his hand. “Why, Uncle Jack,"
she seemed terribly upset, “I couldn't do that! I can't take
these boys' money that they've worked so hard for. I appre-
ciate” June's voice was drowned out by cries from the men:


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
133
"We don't want it! We won't have it! We were fighting for
you!” and so on. With tears streaming down her cheeks, June
agreed to accept the money only after the men had promised
her that she could return it when she got “on her feet.” The
love and loyalty of "her boys," as she affectionately called
them, for her in this her hour of distress, unleashed her emo-
tions. Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed bitterly.
“Now, Miss June, don't try to say anything more.” Uncle
Jack tried to console her as he placed his arm affectionately
about her shoulders. Many a bandana was pulled from a
pocket and dabbed at the moist eyes of a range-hardened cow-
boy. Because they all knew that with the mortgage she had
signed, only by a miracle could she hope to save her cattle or
the land she had bought.
The following morning, Bill had loaded his horses into his
truck and was preparing to leave, and June was standing by
the truck talking to him when Chandler drove up. “Well,
June,” he said without the customary greeting, "have you
got my money?"
“Yes. I'll go and get it for you. Wait just a moment, Mr.
Shearn,” she said as she started for the house. Returning, she
counted out to Chandler the pasture fees and the thousand
dollars she owed on the down payment on the gulf coast land,
and received a receipt for the payment. “Looks like you've
had a lot of luck somewhere," Chandler remarked as he placed
the money in a small wallet.
“Yes. Through the kindness of Mr. Shearn and the boys
on the ranch, who gave me all the money they won in prizes,”
she told him.
"Well, June,” Chandler said, “I'm sorry to inform you that
my efforts to get a water well on that land at Avera have failed.
I have fulfilled my obligations; I have made diligent effort,
so I consider my part of the agreement fulfilled.”
"How am I to water my cattle when I take them down
there?” June asked, very much concerned.
“That is not my worry," he snapped. “Mr. Shearn has helped


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The Tin Box
you so much in the past, maybe he can help you get water
for your cattle.”
“Has your drilling outfit moved from down there?” Bill
asked.
“Yes. All through.”
“If they gave up those wells, why didn't they pull the cas-
ings?” Bill looked Chandler straight in the eye.
“Why-uh-er they did pull the casings. What makes you
think they didn't?” he stammered.
“Because I was riding over there just before I came up
here, and I uncovered two of the places they had drilled, and
I found that they had driven the casings just below the surface
and had capped and sealed them.”
Chandler flew into a rage. “What business did you have nos-
ing around those wells? You stay away from around there, or
June is going to regret it,” he warned. “Furthermore, this is
my ranch, and when you leave here this time, don't ever let
me catch you around here again.”
“Mr. Shearn is my guest. You can't insult him like that,”
June asserted.
"You keep out of this, June,” Chandler warned. “Remem-
ber, it is because of my sympathy that you are here. I can put
you off this place any time I want to."
“Don't say anything to him, Miss Meredith,” Bill cautioned
her. Chandler started his car and drove away towards the oil
field, leaving June and Bill standing in silence.
"He seems to think he has you at his mercy,” Bill remarked
questioningly.
“Yes, he has,” June replied ruefully. “You see, Mr. Shearn,
after my parents were killed, and there was nothing left to
show that father had paid the debt on our home, Mr. Chandler
took advantage of me and foreclosed, despite my pleadings
for a little more time so I could arrange to avert the foreclo-
sure. When he took the ranch, that threw Aunt Harriet and
me out of a home, and deprived me of a place for my cattle.
Knowing this, he then took further advantage by selling me
the land at Avera and taking a lien on my cattle as security,


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
135
with a clause in our agreement that prevents me from selling
any of the cattle without his approval and consent.”
“How did you let him get you tied up like that?” Bill asked.
“It all happened so suddenly, I didn't have time to think.
And thinking wouldn't have done much good anyway. Be-
cause, as I said a moment ago, I was out of a home for myself
and cattle and was therefore obligated to him and completely
at his mercy.”
“Didn't any of your neighbors offer to help you?” Bill in-
quired.
“My neighbors at that time were in about the same fix as
I was. Most of them were in debt and in fear of losing their
own homes. Of course, since oil has been found here, many of
them have become wealthy, and some have offered to help me
if a way could be found that their money could be protected.
But the contract he holds makes it impossible for anyone to
help me, and no one knows that better than Robert Chandler,
who seems to have plotted to take everything I have.” June
turned her head to wipe away a tear.
“I'm awfully sorry to hear that, Miss Meredith. I didn't
know there was a man living who was low enough to take
advantage of the circumstances of which you were a victim,
for his own gain,” Bill said angrily.
"Neither did I,” June said remorsefully. "He was so nice
and considerate of our welfare following the tragedy. He
wanted to do everything to help us. He seemed so fair that
I trusted him to write the agreement concerning the land at
Avera and my cattle, feeling that he would do nothing that
would be to my disadvantage.”
“He no doubt had it all mapped out, to get not only your
ranch, but your cattle as well. I hope some day you'll have the
opportunity to give him back some of the medicine he's forc-
ing you to take now,” Bill said in a tone of revenge.
“That hardly seems possible," June said despondently.
“Well, I guess I'd better be moving. I've got a long drive
ahead of me,” Bill said as he climbed into the truck.
“Mr. Shearn, I feel that I can never repay you for all you


136
The Tin Box
have done for me. I shall always owe you a debt of gratitude,"
she said as she offered her hand. Bill took it between his own
for a moment.
“I'm glad for anything I can do to help you. You have my
address, and any time I can be of help, don't fail to let me
know. Good-bye, Miss Meredith,” he said as he moved off
slowly.
"Thank you. Good-bye, Mr. Shearn.”
Chapter Ten
A MADLY JEALOUS HEART WAS SAVAGELY POUND-
ing in the bosom of Wade Lucas as he drove away from the
circle-bar ranch on the opening day of the livestock show
and rodeo. His feelings wounded by June's refusal to accom-
pany him to the fair grounds on opening day, as she had done
for years, he was beginning to awaken to the realization that
there could be another man in June's life. Having been child-
hood sweethearts and almost constant companions since they
were children, they accepted each other as their proper es-
corts, and as it was a generally accepted conclusion in that
section that such companionship should lead to matrimony,
Wade could not picture anyone as a rival for June's affections.
June had told him of her thrilling experience at Avera and
her rescue by Bill. And to Wade it seemed she rather liked
to talk about it. And now, since meeting Bill, he could not
blame her for what he called a temporary infatuation, for he
reluctantly admitted to himself a secret admiration for the
handsome cowboy.
Being confident that he had few if any peers as an all-round
cowboy in that section of West Texas (and it must be ad-
mitted that the West Texas cowboy is as good as they come),


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The Tin Box
home. His gang had read in the newspapers about his remark-
able feat in the rodeo, and were waiting to give him a gala
welcome home. Cyrus Johnson, owner of the ranch, was the
first to greet him. “Well, Bill, we are all mighty proud of
you. I knew you were good, but I would never have believed
that you or anyone else from the gulf coast could go up there
and win out over those West Texas cowboys. They have the
reputation of being the best in the country.”
"Thanks, boss,” Bill said with an appreciative smile. "I
was glad that I was able to uphold the reputation of the gulf
coast country, and I think I had a great deal of luck, too, in
drawing a very wild steer, one that could really run. You know
that kind is made to order for Gotch," he said, giving credit
to his favorite horse.
“Yes, I know. The faster they run, the better Gotch likes
them. Tell me, how is June Meredith getting along since the
death of her parents?” the rancher inquired.
“Not so good, Mr. Johnson,” Bill replied despairingly. “She
is really up against it, and stands a good chance of losing
everything she has. That fellow Chandler who took her ranch
pretends to be allowing her to stay there through sympathy.
But I believe he is after her cattle. Then I think he will put
her off the place with nothing."
“Is that so? Why do you think that?” The rancher seemed
deeply concerned. Bill then told him what he had learned
from June and Uncle Jack while at the ranch. “Why, the dirty
scoundrel,” Johnson blurted when Bill had finished. “I'm
glad you went up there, Bill,” he added after a moment's
thought.
About two weeks after Bill's visit to Labesia, June received
a letter from Avera, in a handwriting that was not familiar
to her. Opening the letter, she first glanced at the signature.
It was signed, Cyrus Johnson. The letter read:
“Dear Miss Meredith:
I trust you will forgive this very unconventional act on
my part, of writing to offer aid to an absolute stranger.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
139
But Bill Shearn, who has just returned home from a visit
to your ranch, has told me some things that I regret very
much to learn about the trouble you are having with that
fellow Chandler. Although you do not know me per-
sonally, yet your father and I were the best of friends. We
grew up together. Your father, Tom Meredith, once did
me a great favor. And had it not been for him, I
would not be where I am today. I was in a predicament
very much like-as I understand-the one you find your-
self in now. He came to my aid and helped me. He would
never allow me to return this favor, and I haven't been
able to catch him in a position where I could force him to
accept it. Now, since he has gone, I feel that the least I
can do is to offer my assistance to his daughter, who has
been placed in a like position.
"I understand that you are in no position to meet the
next payment on the land you have contracted to buy-
and which I have under lease here at Avera. If you will
accept a favor from an old friend of your father, I will be
glad to lend you enough money, without interest or se-
curity, to meet this note. If you will accept this offer,
write me, and I will have Bill run me up there.
Sincerely yours,
Cyrus Johnson.”
When June had finished reading the letter, she carried it
out to Aunt Harriet, who was working in the garden. “Aunt
Harriet,” she called as she approached the older woman. Aunt
Harriet straightened up and peered over her glasses at her
niece. “I have just received this letter from Mr. Cyrus John-
son, you know, the man that Mr. Shearn works for down at
Avera. He is offering to help me. Here, you read the letter,”
she said as she handed the unfolded letter to her aunt.
“Offering to help you? What did you say the man's name is,”
she asked.
“Cyrus Johnson,” June repeated.
"I wonder if that's the Cyrus Johnson who lived here so


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
141
Johnson, a tall, portly man with gray hair and moustache, and
a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes, as he took both her
hands in his and stood surveying her from head to foot. “You
haven't changed a bit since I last saw you more than forty
years ago," he remarked in his humorous, good-natured style.
“You haven't changed either, Cyrus, except that you've got-
ten considerably heavier around the middle," Aunt Harriet
said.
"You aren't so streamlined yourself,” he retorted, which
brought a hearty laugh. “And this is June,” he said as, turning
to her, he took both her hands in his and, holding them at
arm's length, gazed long and searchingly into her face. “So
much like your mother when she was your age,” he observed
in a fatherly tone. “Blond hair, round, dimpled face, eyes blue
as the skies, and your father's high, broad forehead. Looking
at you, I can see the two of them."
Bill had stood back while his boss was being greeted by
Aunt Harriet and June. “I'm so glad to see you,” June said
as she held out her hands to Bill, while Aunt Harriet and
Cyrus started walking towards the porch. “I've thought of you
so often, and all the nice things you have done for me. Seems
that I am getting further in your debt.”
“Don't mention it, Miss Meredith. I'm glad to do anything
I can.”
“Won't you come into the house?” June said. “I know you
both must be very tired after that long drive. When did you
leave Avera?”
“We left about ten o'clock yesterday morning; stopped over-
night with a friend of Mr. Johnson's, about halfway here. Left
there early this morning, "Bill replied.
"You made good time, considering the mountainous terrain
on this end of the trip,” June commented.
“June, take them into the front room while I go and pre-
pare supper. I know they must be famished," Aunt Harriet
directed as June and Bill reached the porch where the two
older people stood talking.


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The Tin Box
“Won't you come in, gentlemen?” June said as she led the
way into the large living room.
"It has been more than forty years since I sat in this room,"
Cyrus Johnson said as he glanced about the room, noting the
antique furniture, the enlarged portraits of the Meredith
pioneers perched on easels, large paintings of vast herds of
cattle, the roundup, the rodeo, and other phases of ranch life
that adorned the high walls. “But it seems only yesterday. My,
my! How I remember the pleasant hours I've spent sitting
here talking with your mother and father. Seems that I spent
as much time here with them as I did at my own place, up
near town.”
“Yes, I've heard Mother and Father speak of you so much,
Mr. Johnson,” June said, “but I never thought I'd have the
opportunity to meet you. Father said that you had moved
down near the gulf coast somewhere, and that he had lost
track of you.”
“Yes, I sold my ranch here and bought up a lot of that cheap
land down at Avera. There was nothing much down there
then; not much water for my cattle except during the winter
months. And we had to haul our home water supplies from
the river by ox team, until we could put down some wells. I
had pretty tough going for several years; like to have lost all I
had, and I believe I would have had it not been for your
father.”
"Funny how things have changed down there since that
time,” Bill said. “I've heard lots of the old-timers tell of the
trouble they had getting water for their cattle years ago. Now
we have overflows quite often.”
"Oh, Jack," Aunt Harriet called to the old foreman as he
rode by the yard on his way to the corrals. “Get down and
go into the parlor and see who's in there.”
Uncle Jack dismounted, threw the reins over the saddle-
horn and gave his horse a slap on the hip. The horse went in
a trot for the corrals, while Uncle Jack went into the house.
“Well, you old son-of-a-gun!” he exclaimed as he recognized
Cyrus Johnson who sat facing the door.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
143
“Well, bless my buttons if it ain't Jack Doyle!” Johnson
said as he rushed across the room into Uncle Jack's arms. “I
never dreamed I'd see you again, Jack. How have you been
getting along?”
“Oh, I've been doing all right, Cyrus. How have you been
getting along? They tell me you've got a mighty fine layout
down in the coast country. Martha and me talk about you a
great deal at times, and have often wondered if you were still
alive.”
“Did you say Martha?” Cyrus asked sheepishly.
“Yes, my wife, Martha. You knew her. Martha Thompson.”
“Did you marry Martha Thompson? Where is she?”
"Down at the house, there by the old sorghum mill. Come
and go down there with me. I know she'll die with surprise
when she sees you. You come too, Bill. That is if,” Uncle
Jack cast a sheepish glance at June.
“He can go with you,” June blushingly replied. “I'll go out
and help Aunt Harriet with dinner.”
“Now, Jack, don't you keep Cyrus and Mr. Shearn down
there too long. We'll have supper ready in about thirty min-
utes,” Aunt Harriet called to the old foreman, when she saw
the three men leaving together.
“I won't keep them long. I'm taking Cyrus down to surprise
Martha.”
“Yes, I know she's going to be surprised. And Jack, you and
Martha come up and sit and talk awhile tonight when you
get through at home.”
"I'd already figured on that, Harriet,” Uncle Jack replied.
Martha Doyle was very much surprised when her husband
came to the kitchen door, accompanied by two men. “Martha,
know who this is?” Uncle Jack asked as his wife came out on
the back porch. One glance at Cyrus Johnson, and her mem-
ory traveled back over the years. “Well, of all people, Cyrus
Johnson. I thought Jack slipped something into that mixture
he fixed for my headache awhile ago. Now I'm seeing things.”
“How are you, Martha? My, my, but you're looking well,”
Cyrus commented.


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“Looks sort of like she did forty years ago, don't she, Cyrus?"
Uncle Jack said.
“Yes, and just as sweet,” Cyrus retorted.
They all laughed when Martha recalled how Cyrus used
to “cut around her until Jack beat his time. “Those were the
good old days,” Cyrus laughed in his jovial, good-natured way.
They were reminiscing over old times when June spoke:
“Aunt Martha, I hate to take your company away, but Aunt
Harriet has dinner ready.”
"Oh, June, we didn't see you. That's all right, honey, you
just take them right on, and Jack and I will be up after a
while.”
June and the two men started for the house. June and Bill
lagged behind, and Cyrus understandingly said: “You young
lovebirds take your time. I'm going to eat Harriet out of house
and home.”
“Isn't he nice? So jolly and good-natured. I just love him,”
June remarked as the older man walked away from them.
When the group had finished dinner and talked for a short
while, Johnson suggested that they proceed with the business
that was the purpose of his trip. “Now, June,” he began, “I
would like for you to tell me just what your obligations and
your arrangements are with Mr. Chandler.”
June proceeded to give a general explanation, interrupted
occasionally by Aunt Harriet, who insisted that she give the
most minute details, of events as they occurred from the time
of the accident that claimed the lives of her parents, including
the signing of the contract giving Chandler a lien on her
cattle.
"Have you a copy of the contract, June?” he asked.
“Yes, I'll get it for you.” She went into her room and soon
returned with the contract. Moving her chair closer to him,
she unfolded the document and placed it before him. Uncle
Cyrus (as he had instructed June to call him) put on his
glasses and started to read the instrument. As he continued
to read, the expression on his face began to change, first from


146
The Tin Box
Chandler took undue advantage of Miss Meredith in having
her sign such a contract? I believe any court would take into
consideration the state of her mind at that particular time-
having just gone through a most trying ordeal, having had no
experience in transacting such business matters, and not hav-
ing benefit of counsel other than Chandler's attorney, who
was definitely working in behalf of his client. I don't believe
she was capable of safeguarding her own interest. Of course,
as far as the foreclosure of the ranch is concerned,” he con-
tinued, “there is nothing that can be done about that, as the
time had expired, and he had every legal right to take the
property. But as for the lien on the cattle, I believe that should
it ever be brought before a court, the agreement would be
invalidated.”
“I don't know how that would work out, Bill,” Johnson
replied thoughtfully. “Of course, such a case could be brought
up only on the state of the plaintiff's mind at the time she
signed the agreement. And of course, it would be left to the
judge or jury to say. But I do know one thing. If I were on a
jury, and such a case should come before me, I would fight
tooth and nail to have such a contract invalidated.
“How much are you behind in your payments, June?” he
inquired.
"Five thousand dollars; just the note that was due last week
on the land. You see, through the kindness of Mr. Shearn and
my own boys, I was able to pay the pasturage fee up to the
first of last month. Also, the thousand dollars I owed on the
initial payment on the land at Avera.”
“Did you say “through the kindness of Mr. Shearn?' Do you
mean Bill, here?” Johnson asked curiously.
“Why, yes. Didn't he tell you? Mr. Shearn and my boys here
at the ranch loaned me all the money they won in the rodeo,
which enabled me to take care of my overdue obligations.”
“Well, he has never said anything to me about that; too
modest I suppose,” he said as he looked at Bill with a smile of
approval.
"It was no more than anyone would have done,” Bill said.


148
The Tin Box
riet, Aunt Martha and Uncle Jack each gave their respective
versions of the accident.
“I have never been able to understand it,” Cyrus Johnson
said. “From the account of the accident, as I read it in the
papers, I have never been able to make head or tail of it. It
has always seemed to me that there is something missing-
something lost or misplaced of which no one is aware, and
that must be found before the mystery that shrouds the case
can be cleared up.
“I understand that Tom was given the cash at the bank,
and left there, presumably for Chandler's office, to relieve
the mortgage."
“Yes, that's what Mr. Cockrell, the cashier of the bank, told
us," Aunt Harriet said. “And Chandler admitted that Tom
came back to his office with the money. But he said that they
agreed that he was to come back the next day to complete the
transaction, as Chandler's lawyer was out of town, and the
papers were locked up in his safe.”
"That doesn't sound right to me,” Cyrus said doubtfully.
“Tom Meredith was too good a business man to have acted so
stupidly. Knowing that was the last day of grace, he would
never have left that office without having made some definite
disposition of that mortgage. Or if he was unable to make a
settlement that evening, he would have demanded an exten-
sion of time in black and white. And I don't believe he would
have left town with that much money on him.”
“That's the way we felt about it," Uncle Jack agreed. “But
we searched all around the scene of the accident thoroughly,
even each side of the stream for a mile down. And we dragged
the bottom, thinking that if he had any money or papers on
him, they might have got wet and sunk to the bottom. We
even thought at one time that he might have left the money
with someone else after leaving Chandler's office, and that
after he died, that person just kept silent about it.”
“That's possible, but I don't believe any of Tom's friends
would have kept the money and allowed June to lose the


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
149
ranch. I will always believe there is a hidden mystery about it,
and that some day, in some way, it will be found." ;
As June and Bill reached the porch on this still autumn
evening, the activities of the oil field were evident in every
direction. A hundred yards from the ranch house, down just
back of the corrals, the main road leading into the oil field was
being traveled by a continuous stream of wagon teams, trucks
and automobiles that never seemed to stop day or night.
Lighted derricks, with strings of lights extending from the
floor to the crown-block, more than a hundred feet from the
ground, were dotting the valleys and mountain sides as far as
the eye could see. Gas flares gave an eerie aspect to the sur-
roundings as they loomed out of the darkness in every direc-
tion.
The clang, clang of the drilling machinery became so noisy
at times that conversation was almost impossible. The puff,
puff of the powerful mudhogs was deafening as they forced
the mud and water through thousands of feet of drill stem to
the bit that was twisting its way down, down, down, probing
into the very bowels of the earth in its search for liquid gold.
The young couple sat down in the swing, and after a few
minutes of conversation, June, who on Bill's previous visit had
been so jolly and conversational, tonight fell into a strange
silence. As she sat there peering at the gas flares through the
darkness, she realized for the first time how helpless she was.
She had thought that the contract she had signed giving
Chandler a blanket lien on her cattle was only, as his at-
torney had explained to her, to protect her. And only when
Uncle Cyrus had read and explained the contract to her, did
she awaken to the fact that she had signed away her right to
control her own cattle, and had placed herself entirely at his
mercy.
So engrossed was she in her thoughts that she forgot for the
time being that Bill was beside her; she snapped to attention
with a start when she realized that he was saying something to
her. “You must forgive me, Mr. Shearn. I didn't mean to be
nversation, juunal, tonight there through th


150
The Tin Box
impolite. I must have been dreaming. Would you repeat what
you were saying?” she apologized.
“Why, er-yes. Yes, of course,” Bill stammered. “I said that
there is so much noise here, I don't see how you can sleep.”
“I can't sleep at times,” she replied, with a trace of emotion.
"Sometimes I lie awake at night listening to the noise from
the oil field and recalling what my father used to say. He used
to read descriptions of the ground, sand mounds and other
surface marks that are sometimes indicative of oil, and often
talked with geologists about the prospects of oil being found
around here. He always believed it was here, and used to say
to me: ‘June, sometime we are going to have an oil well right
here in our back door. Then all our troubles and worries will
be over.' Well, we've got the oil well in our back door all right
but it has only meant more troubles and worries for me.”
Bill made no reply, but he thought deeply. Here was this
beautiful young woman, in the flower of her youth, having
her charm, her youth, her very life crushed by this ruthless
tyrant in his greed for wealth and more wealth. How helpless
she seemed, and so little he could do for her! How small, how
unimportant, how insignificant he must seem to her! He
wished for the moment that he could disappear, that he was
not sitting beside her in the swing. It was with great relief
that he heard chairs being moved, and the approach of the
older people to the porch. “Well, Bill,” Uncle Cyrus said as
he, Uncle Jack and Aunt Martha Doyle paused at the steps,
"we'd better be going so we can get some sleep. We've got a
hard drive ahead of us tomorrow.
Aunt Martha had prepared sleeping quarters for the guests,
and when they had gone, Aunt Harriet and June went back
into the house.
June did not fall asleep immediately upon retiring, but lay
awake pondering her future course of action and searching for
a solution to her problems. The money that Uncle Cyrus
would give her in the morning would be used to pay the note
past due, but what about the subsequent notes, she worried.
What about the payments that would be due in late winter


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
151
when her cattle would be in no condition for market? What
about the rest of the notes that would follow in such rapid
succession until the land at Avera was paid for?
Suppose Chandler should take advantage of the clause in
the contract-as Uncle Cyrus predicted he would-that gave
him virtual control of her cattle, and should refuse to permit
them to be sold, even though they were fat? The contract she
had signed gave him every right to do so. Then, since she had
no other source of income, how was she to meet her obliga-
tions at all?
Although she was accepting the money from Uncle Cyrus
as a loan, she could not, would not continue to accept charity.
That was certain. These unsolvable problems, rushing con-
fusedly through her brain, created a fog through which she
could not see, just as the dust storms to which she had become
so accustomed. Weary and tired from trying to think, she
finally fell asleep.
A six o'clock whistle in the oil field awoke her with a start
the next morning. Dressing hurriedly, she went out into the
kitchen where Aunt Harriet had breakfast about ready.
"Good morning, Aunt Harriet. I overslept myself,” she said,
as the older woman looked up.
“Good morning, June. You didn't sleep so well last night.
I could hear you all through the night, rolling and tumbling
in your bed. That young man must have spoken some very
endearing words of love to you last night,” Aunt Harriet said,
with a twinkle in her eye.
“No, Aunt Harriet,” June said slowly, “not that. Last night
I realized for the first time how insecure and helpless we are
here.”
After a good night's rest and an early breakfast with Jack
and Martha, Uncle Cyrus and Bill were ready to start back
home. Stopping by the house to tell Aunt Harriet and June
good-bye, they drove on to Labesia. Leaving the little moun-
tain town, they drove on home, stopping one night with
friends.
Several days after Uncle Cyrus’ visit to the Meredith ranch,


152
The Tin Box
June stopped Chandler as he passed the house on his way to
the oil field. “Good morning, June. What's on your mind this
morning?” he inquired.
“I want to give you a check for the payment on the land at
Avera, that was due a few days ago," she said as she handed
him a check.
“Oh!” he gasped in surprised disappointment. “Where did
you raise this money?”
“Mr. Johnson, an old friend of my father's down at Avera,
loaned it to me."
“What security did you give him?” he asked uneasily.
“None. He wanted no security.”
“I see,” he said as he started to drive away. "You seem to
have made quite a hit down there.”
“I'll take a receipt, if you don't mind," she reminded him.
“Why, yes. I like to have forgotten,” he said as he wrote out
and handed her a receipt.
For the next few days, Robert Chandler did some very
serious thinking. He was puzzled. When he first approached
June about the land deal, he felt that she would never make
the first payment on the land or pasturage on the cattle. But
now, through what seemed to him to be pure luck, she had
met all obligations with comparative ease. He wanted that
land at Avera back. Although he had charged June five times
as much as the oil company had paid for it, yet, to judge
from the report of the water-well contractor, the land was
worth more than the land of the Meredith ranch.
With the development of this land, he surmised, he would
become one of the country's wealthiest men. His boyhood
dream of some day becoming a tycoon of finance, a money
power, would be fulfilled. But suppose this lucky girl should
continue to meet the notes until all the payments had been
made, he thought. No, she couldn't do that. He'd see that
she didn't. He still had a trick up his sleeve. He'd resort to
the trick he had relied on so successfully in the past, that of
gaining people's confidence, and inducing them to become
negligent about meeting their obligations to him, and then


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The Tin Box
turn out all right. She was almost out of money, and there
were the long, hard winter months coming on. She surmised
that since Chandler had shown a change of heart, she would
be able to handle her cattle without interference from him,
and as she had about eight hundred choice steers that would
be ready for market in early spring, she felt that she could
live without being so cramped for feed for her livestock, and
household necessities for Aunt Harriet and herself. So she
went to the City National Bank in Labesia and borrowed
enough money to carry her through the winter and until
such time as she figured her steers could be marketed, giving
as security, her one-fourth undivided interest in her cattle.
As winter set in and the first northers of the season began
to blow, there was much activity on the Meredith ranch. Be-
cause of the lack of cash, June had not been able to store suf-
ficient feed for her livestock. But now, with the money bor-
rowed from the bank, she lost no time in seeing that there
was ample feed for all the stock that would not be able to for-
age enough to sustain themselves through the winter.
Trucks of the ranch were kept busy far into the night haul-
ing hay and grain until all of the bins and lofts were well filled.
She was particularly anxious that the cattle to be marketed in
the spring should be well fed. For it was upon these she was
depending to pay off the two notes that would be coming due
in the fall of the coming year, the money borrowed from the
bank and other bills, such as her account at the grocer's, and
her employees, who were being paid only a small part of their
monthly wage.
The winter that year was unusually severe and kept the ten
men, to which June had been compelled to cut her force, ex-
tremely busy looking after the poor stock. Because she had
not obtained the money to purchase feed before the winter
had set in, her losses from the severe weather were heavier
than usual. However, those that were fed in time came
through in fine condition, and began to round out in early
spring, and by all indications would be in fine flesh by market
time.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
155
There was ever-increasing activity in the oil field through
the winter months. Robert Chandler, having made somewhat
of a study of the oil game and being guided to some extent by
his attorney, was wise enough to map off in sections the half
of the ranch not under lease to the Bluge Oil Corporation.
By leasing the various blocks to different companies, he
created keen drilling competition. So spring found the field
in full blast.
Chandler was a very busy man, spending much of his time
in the oil field, as well as in his real estate office in town. He
seldom stopped at the ranch house while passing. Sometimes
he would call out a cheerful “hello” to June and Aunt Harriet.
Sometimes he would pass them without so much as raising his
head. June reasoned that he had so much important business
on his mind that he had no time to think of them while pass-
ing. Aunt Harriet contended, however, that it was a bad sign.
With the limited funds left by her father getting precari-
ously low, June was again faced with a financial problem in
which she could not see her way out. Although her creditors,
the merchants from whom she purchased food and other sup-
plies for the ranch, were sympathetic and uncomplaining,
she realized that some effort must be made to meet at least
some part of her mounting obligations. And too, her person-
nel at home, the men who looked after the cattle and other
chores that came up daily around a large ranch, although they
too realized her predicament, and refrained from ever men-
tioning money matters, she felt that they needed every penny
she owed them. It was worry over this situation that
prompted her to speak to her aunt as they were finishing
breakfast one morning.
“Aunt Harriet, I've been worrying a great deal about my
obligations, and about the agreement I signed with Mr. Chan-
dler concerning my cattle. He has been acting so strange to-
wards us lately, and it's getting so near time to sell the cattle
I've fed all winter. I certainly don't want him to be in an un-
friendly mood when he has to approve of their sale. I don't


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know what I'd do, should he interfere with me,” she said
thoughtfully.
"I'm so desperately in need of money that I've about de-
cided on a course. However, I want your advice.” Aunt Har-
riet listened attentively as June continued: “You remember
that shortly after the death of Father and Mother, Mr. Chan-
dler told me that should I ever decide to seek employment,
there would be a job for me in his office. I think I'll men-
tion it to him the next time he stops in.”
"Well, June." Aunt Harriet thought long before continuing,
"Of course I know we are up against it here, and I know your
parents would never have thought of allowing you to accept
such a job, much less to seek it, but as you say, we are badly
in need of funds, so I can see no harm in such a move."
"I'm glad you see it that way, Aunt Harriet. I'll remind him
of it the next time he stops in."
June didn't have long to wait. Seeing her in the front yard
the following morning, Chandler stopped in on his way to
the oil field. It was a beautiful morning, typical of spring in
that part of West Texas. Chandler was out early, and seemed
in a happier mood than she had seen him for some time.
“Good morning, good morning, June,” he said, raising his hat
high above his head, a broad grin on his face. “Isn't this a
beautiful morning?” he said as he took a panoramic view of
the surrounding landscape. “You just can't beat West Texas
for beauty in the spring.”
“You seem very happy this morning, Mr. Chandler," June
said, managing a faint smile.
“Happy? Why shouldn't I be happy? Why shouldn't every-
body be happy on a beautiful spring morning?” he beamed.
“With the trees budding, flowers blooming, birds singing,
everything imbued with new life. It's time for the world to
be happy and sing. I feel like I'm sitting on top of the world
this morning."
"Sorry I can't share your happiness,” June said dejectedly.
“I used to be happy when the outlook for me looked bright.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
157
But now it seems my whole future is clouded. I'm never able
to see any sunshine."
“You talk like you're blue, June,” he said feigning surprise.
“Come on, snap out of it. You shouldn't be discouraged. You
have youth, beauty, everything to make you laugh and be gay.
"God never meant for any of us to be discouraged or blue.
Of course, sometimes our vision becomes so clouded by our
earthly worries and cares that we can't see the bright things in
life, but remember this: the sun is always shining if we will
only open our hearts and minds so that it can shine into our
lives," he said with seriousness.
“I wish I could see it that way," June moaned.
“You must see it that way, June. You must see life as that
bird up there sees it,” Pointing up, he directed June's atten-
tion to a mockingbird perched on a bare limb at the top of a
large cottonwood tree. The bird was warbling as if to burst
its throat. As they watched, it would fly straight up into the
sky and come down again to the same spot, never ceasing for a
moment to fill the air with sweet notes from a happy little
throat. “We would do well to take a lesson from that bird,"
Chandler said. “No doubt many times during the cold, bleak
months that have just passed that bird went hungry, and was
not able to find enough food to keep his little body warm. But
was he blue because he couldn't see any good coming his way?
No. Nature guided him. His instinct told him that this beau-
tiful day was coming and to be ready to enjoy it when it came.
And that's just what he's doing.”
They stood and watched the bird as it flew to a higher limb
on another tree. “I sometimes believe," Chandler continued,
"that if man would forget his ill-gotten gains and seek the
love and guidance of God, God would reveal to him the many
good things in store for him, and that all this fighting, lying
and stealing from each other the things that belong to God
would cease in the human race," he said thoughtfully.
“I suppose we do worry too much over conditions that are
beyond our control,” June said.
“Yes, I'm sure we do. And I believe we would all be a lot
metimes bar.gotten gains him the many


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better off if we would take a new grip on ourselves, and seek
to find out what God would have us do. Well, I guess I'd better
be getting along," he said as he turned to leave.
“Oh, just a moment, Mr. Chandler,” June said hesitatingly.
Then reminding him of the offer he once made, she asked,
“Does that offer still stand?”
Chandler was obviously surprised and very much pleased
at June's inquiry. “You bet it does, June, any time you want it.”
“I need it now. I'm running pretty low on funds, and I
have some obligations to meet. I can't see my way out without
help."
“Now, don't you worry about obligations, June,” the de-
lighted Chandler smiled. “Just tell me when you want to
come to work, and I'll take care of all those obligations."
“Oh, I can take care of them if I have a job.”
“Very well. Just as you like. And I will see to it that you
are paid enough to meet not only your obligations, but will
have enough to do whatever you want beside.”
“What would that job pay?” June asked excitedly.
"How will a hundred dollars per week do to start with?”
Chandler smiled.
"A hundred dollars a week?” June asked in astonishment.
“Why I wouldn't expect to get that much. I never knew that
secretaries were paid that much money."
“They aren't, generally, but a good one is worth it. And
when we get better acquainted, the sky will be the limit.”
June was visibly puzzled at this generous offer on the part
of Chandler, and could think of no protest as he continued:
“I know you're under financial strain, June, and I've wanted
to help you for a long time. But you've never given me the
opportunity. A hundred a week is what it will be if you want
the job. And I'll arrange a nice place for you to stay in town.”
June thought for a long moment before she spoke. “I want
the job, all right. But I'll have to talk with Aunt Harriet be-
fore I can accept it."
“All right. Suppose you talk it over, and let me know when
I come out in the morning.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
159
“That's an awful lot of money to pay a secretary, June,”
Aunt Harriet said when June told her about the offer Chan-
dler had made. “That man's up to no good. Mark my words.”
“Yes, I know the offer seems unreasonable, but as I need
the money so badly, I think I should accept it. I can take care
of myself.”
“All right, June. But you watch every move that snake ?
makes, because that's just what I believe he is, a snake in the
grass,” Aunt Harriet cautioned.
Chandler had arranged with friends of his in Labesia for
accommodations for June; she declined, however, and ac-
cepted the invitation of Mrs. Scott, the cattle broker's wife, to
stop with them while in the city. She liked her position and
enjoyed working for Robert Chandler, who seemed over anx-
ious to please her and make things as pleasant for her as pos-
sible.
The one small florist in Labesia was given a standing order
to see that a fresh bouquet of the most expensive flowers the
shop could get was on June's desk each morning before she
arrived for work. And a box of the finest chocolates carried
by the Labesia pharmacy was delivered to her home each
evening after office hours, as ordered by Chandler.
Chandler lived at the hotel, and often took June to lunch or
dinner with him in the dining room there. Things were begin-
ning to brighten up a bit for her, the first rays of sunshine she
had been able to see since the death of her parents.
Each week she applied the greater part of her salary to the
retirement of her indebtedness to her creditors in Labesia,
or to paying up the back salaries of some of the men on the
ranch. “If I can just keep this job long enough,” she thought,
“I can clear the debt on my cattle and meet all my other
obligations."
It was at about this time that Chandler approached her one
afternoon. “June,” he said, “There are some things I would
like to go over with you, if you will have dinner with me at the
hotel tonight.”
“Why, yes, Mr. Chandler,” she agreed.


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"Everything is ready for you, Mr. Chandler," the clerk in-
formed him as he and June walked into the hotel lobby that
evening.
“All right, we'll go right up,” he replied. June was puzzled
at this reply, and wondered if she had heard correctly.
“This way, June," Chandler said as he started for the stair-
way instead of the dining room.
"Where are you going, Mr. Chandler?” she asked.
“Up to my apartment. I'm having dinner served to us up
there tonight. We can have more privacy, so we can talk,” he
explained.
"I can see no reason why we can't talk in the dining room,"
June protested. “We have in the past."
“Yes, I know. But people are always staring at you in the
dining room. I like privacy sometimes,” he argued as they
stood at the foot of the stairs.
“Let them stare,” June said firmly. "No, Mr. Chandler. I
won't go up to your apartment.”
“Very well, June, if that's the way you feel about it, we'll
be served in the dining room."
The meal was not an enjoyable one. Hardly a word was
spoken, as each seemed to sense what was in the other's mind.
"It's only two blocks home, Mr. Chandler,” June said when
they reached the sidewalk, and Chandler started towards his
car. “And I believe I'd prefer to walk-alone.”
“What are you doing coming home alone, June?” Mrs. Scott
asked as June came up on the porch. “Where's Mr. Chan-
dler?”
“I left him at the hotel.” June then explained Chandler's
actions a short time before.
"I've been looking for something like that,” Mrs. Scott as-
serted, “and if I were you, June, I'd quit right now.”
“I can't afford to quit now, Mrs. Scott. I'm just beginning to
see my way clear. I can continue working for him and still
keep him in his place,” June assured them.
“I hope you can, June, but I don't like his actions tonight,"
Mrs. Scott said.
S.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
161
The cordial relations that had existed between employer
and employee at Chandler's office since June started to work
were visibly strained during the following week. Hardly a
word, except on strictly business matters, was spoken. June
was cognizant of this, and endeavored to be as pleasant and
agreeable as Chandler would allow. She sensed that he was
not pleased and was in a generally hostile mood. However,
because of her financial circumstances, she was determined to
hold on to her job, if it were at all possible.
It was on Saturday afternoon that he called her into his
private office. “June,” he said, “I just wanted to tell you that
I'm going to have to dispense with your services.”
June was upset. She had hoped that the unpleasant situation
would straighten itself out without such drastic actions on the
part of Chandler. “Why, what's the matter, Mr. Chandler?
Hasn't my work pleased you?" she asked.
“Yes, your work is all right,” he admitted.
“Then why am I being discharged?” .
“Frankly, our relationship hasn't been as pleasant during
the past few days as I would like. There seems to have been a
slight misunderstanding between us.”
"If I've done anything to offend you, I'm sorry,” she said
anxiously. “Of course, I realize that my services are not worth
the salary you're paying me. But I need the work so desper-
ately, I would be willing to work for much less than my pres-
ent salary,” she pleaded.
"No, I'm afraid I won't need you any longer, as Miss Win-
born will be here to take her old job back Monday. So you
can consider our business associations terminated.”
When June reached her room at the Scott home that after-
noon, she was despondent. Since she had been working for
Chandler, she had begun to see a way out-a ray of sunshine
through the black clouds of despair that had hung so heavily
over her life for more than a year.
Except for the one incident at the hotel, Chandler had
always conducted himself as a gentleman when in her pres-
ence. And she liked to be around him, to be associated with


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
165
“You may do as you think best. Of course, I'm not thinking
of any personal danger. And if you want to continue here,
I'll see that you get every possible protection,” Scott assured
her. “I've notified Chicago p blice of the threat, and they're
looking up this Tony Perelli.”
June decided that for the safety of both Scott and herself
it would be best for her to resign her position. And so again
she found herself with mounting debts and no income.
A few days after the call from Chicago, the police of that
city reported that they had no Tony Perelli listed on their
records, but upon checking the records of a large eastern city,
they found that a few years back there was a gang boss of that
name who operated a bootleg liquor and narcotic trade on the
east side, but that when the prohibition act was repealed, he
had disappeared, and was presumed to be dead. The person
making the call no doubt used the name of Perelli to instill
fear into the hearts of his victims.
Chapter Eleven
TWO OF THE VAQUEROS ON THE JOHNSON RANCH
at Avera, returning from riding pasture one evening, reported
to their foreman that they had found some strange cattle on
the ranch, near the Lucas pasture fence. “They are Black
Angus cattle," Juan Ramírez said, “and have a circle-bar brand
on the left hip. I don't know any brand like that around here."
“Neither do I," the foreman said. “How many did you see?”
“We counted twelve cows and calves,” José Gonzales said.
“And you say they had a circle-bar brand on their left hip?”
“Yes.” Juan squatted down and drew the brand-a bar
within a circle-on the ground with his finger. Bill, who had
just unsaddled his horse, walked over and looked at the brand.


166
The Tin Box
see
man
"Have you seen that brand anywhere, Bill?” the foreman
asked.
“Yes. That's Miss June Meredith's brand, up at Labesia."
“Miss Meredith, at Labesia?” The foreman was puzzled.
“Yes. And the Black Angus is her breed of cattle, Bill re-
plied.
“Wonder what they're doing down here, and in our pas-
ture?" the foreman asked curiously.
"I'm wondering myself,” Bill said. “I'd like to have a look
at those cattle.”
"You'd better ride over that way in the morning, Bill, and
see what you can find out,” the foreman said.
Bill pondered far into the night over what the Mexican cow-
boys had found. From their description of the cattle and the
brand, there could be no doubt that they were from the Mere-
dith herd. But how? Why? What were they doing at Avera?
And in the Johnson pasture? This was what puzzled Bill. June
had never said anything to him about moving any of her
cattle to Avera. And he felt that she would have, had she
planned such a move. And he had heard of no one at Avera
having bought any of the Meredith cattle.
Bright and early the next morning, Bill was riding the Lucas
pasture fence. Just about where the Mexican cowboys had re-
ported seeing the stray cattle the evening before, Bill came
upon them; twelve cows and calves. Inspecting them closely,
he was convinced they were from the Meredith ranch.
After riding the division fence for some distance, to see if it
had been let down to drive the cattle in, he returned to the
ranch.
“Did you see those cattle?" the foreman asked.
“Yes."
"Do you think they are Meredith cattle?”
“Yes. There's no doubt about that,” Bill said.
"How, and why, do you figure they got into our pasture?”
the foreman asked.
“I have no idea,”Bill said. “I can't figure it out.”
“Bill,” the foreman looked searchingly at the cowboy, “we


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
167
won't say anything to Mr. Johnson about this yet. We'll just
keep our eyes open and see if we can't solve this mystery."
Several days after the stray cattle were found on the John-
son ranch at Avera, two of the fence riders, Sam Harris and
Jim Buckley, of the Meredith ranch at Labesia, stopped to
look over a herd of grazing cattle in a valley at the foot of a
mountain. “There's a big, old white-faced black cow that usu-
ally runs with this bunch that I haven't seen for several days,”
Harris said to his partner as they rode through the feeding
cattle. “I remember her because she's got a roan calf, an odd
combination.”
“Yes, I remember that cow. She's got one of the best calves
in the herd,” Jim replied. “I don't believe I've seen her
lately, either. And since you've mentioned her, there's another
cow that I don't believe I've seen for some time. She's a young
cow, about three years old, black, and with horns that set out
and back. She also has a good calf.”
"I guess they're around here in these bushes some place, or
maybe they have gotten into some of the other pastures. Let's
take a little look around before we go in,” Harris suggested.
The men rode for about thirty minutes, looking over the
cattle that were familiar to them on this range. “You know,
there are several head that I miss out of this bunch,” Jim said
as the men rode through the herd. “We'll ask Jack or Roy
tonight. Maybe they've seen them over in the East Fork, or
Mountain pastures.”
Inquiry around the bunk house that night failed to reveal
any trace of the missing cattle. “Sam, I'll tell you what you'd
better do," Uncle Tack said, when informed of the cattle being
missing. “You and Jim ride that pasture good tomorrow. Take
two more men with you so you can give it a pretty good going
over."
Hard riding by the four men the following day failed to
locate any of the missing cattle. “We'll take the crew tomor-
row, and throw all the cattle in that section together. It could
be that they've been overlooked,” the foreman said.
Daylight the following morning found a crew of ten men


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riding the West Fork pasture from which the cattle was miss-
ing. And by three o'clock that afternoon, they had pretty well
combed that area, and had thrown the cattle-a few more than
a thousand head-together in an opening near the foot of a
mountain. “Now, Sam," Uncle Jack said, “you and Jim look
through these cattle closely, and see if you can locate the cows
you miss.”
For more than an hour, the two men crossed and criss-
crossed through the herd until they were confident that they
had seen, individually, every animal there. “They are not
here, Uncle Jack,” Sam reported as he rode out of the herd to
Uncle Jack who was helping to loose-herd the cattle. “I miss
at least a dozen cows, most of them with their calves.”
“That's funny,” Uncle Jack said, puzzled. “Maybe they're
in some of the other pastures. Tomorrow we'll ride the East
Fork pasture, and then the Mountain pasture. We'll keep on
till we've covered every foot of ground they could possibly be
on. We'll either find them or we'll know they've been stolen.
I haven't heard of any cattle-rustlers around here lately.”
“Neither have I,” Harris said.
For the next ten days, Uncle Jack and his cowboys were in
the saddle from early morning till late at night, riding pasture,
throwing together and inspecting the herds that ranged the
various areas of the vast ranch. “I can't see where on earth
they can be," Uncle Jack said as they came in to the ranch one
evening. “We've covered every herd on the ranch, and we ain't
found hair nor hide of 'em yet.”
"I've been trying to think of some place they could be. But
it seems to me we've been everywhere I can think of,” Sam
said.
“Do you think we ought to tell Miss June?” Jim Buckley
suggested.
"No, I don't believe we should just yet,” Uncle Jack advised.
“Not until we're positive they're gone. To tell her might
cause her to worry, and there's a possibility they might show
up yet. However,” he continued, “I believe we ought to in-
quire among the neighbors, especially the Lucas ranch, as the


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
171
cattle have a way of getting away. In fact, such an occurrence
is the reason for my call.”
“I don't understand. What do you mean?” Chandler was
curious.
"I understand,” Wade continued, “that you have a lien on
all the cattle owned by Miss June Meredith.”
“Yes, I hold a mortgage on her cattle," Chandler confirmed.
“Well, I think it only fair as one cattle man to another
prospective cattle owner, to tell you that I dropped by the
Meredith ranch this morning on my way to town, and learned
that some of June's cattle are being missed off the ranch.”
“What!” Chandler straightened up and leaned forward
across the desk, very much excited. “Do you mean those cattle
are being stolen off my ranch? How did you find out?” Wade
then told him about the inquiry made by the cowboy, and of
his conversation with Uncle Jack that morning. “I'll go right
out there and look into this. I'll get to the bottom of it, and
if there's anything crooked going on, I'll—”
“There may not be anything to it," Wade interrupted. “I'm
just telling you what I heard, so you might keep your eyes
open. You know we've had visitors recently from the coast
country that no one here knows much about. And it could be
that those cattle are finding their way down towards Avera.”
“I thought that cowpunching Romeo had something up
his sleeve besides coming here to take part in a rodeo. I'll
bet you anything that,"
“Now, let's not be too hasty to pin suspicion on anyone. If
what you're thinking is true-and I'm thinking the same thing
--he'd have to have help, possibly from someone on the ranch.”
“Do you think that old man Jack Doyle could be mixed up
in this? Or possibly June?" Chandler eyed Wade anxiously.
"I wouldn't say,” Wade said thoughtfully. “I'll tell you
what. As you may know, I own a ranch joining that of old
Cyrus Johnson, boss of that cow puncher who was up here.
Next week, I'm shipping some cattle down there, and I'll
keep an eye open while I'm down there. I may learn some-


172
The Tin Box
thing. And in the meantime, if I were you, I'd keep my eyes
open, and my mouth shut," Wade suggested.
After resigning her position with the cattle company, June
returned to the ranch, and again assumed active control. The
steers that had been fed through the winter would soon be
ready for market, and she started to think about seeking a
buyer for them and also of how to handle them best without
interference from Chandler.
She reasoned that if she could get an unusually good offer
for them before mentioning the sale to Chandler, he would be
less apt to object to the sale.
It was at about this time that one day early in June a car
came up the road past the corrals and turned in at the ranch
house. A middle-aged man wearing the conventional cow-
boy's garb got out and stood for a moment beside the car. He
was tall, and had a heavy coat of tan. He looked about him for
a moment, then walked to the house and up on the porch.
Aunt Harriet met him at the door.
"Good morning, Ma'am,” he greeted her as he raised his
hat. “I'm Felix Hobson, cattle buyer. I would like to see Miss
June Meredith.”
“I'm her aunt," the older woman replied.
"I understand that your niece has a fine bunch of fed steers
that are about ready for market. I'd like to see them. I might
be able to take them off her hands," he said.
“Won't you come in, Mr. Hobson?" Aunt Harriet said as
she opened the door wider and stepped aside.
“Thank you."
“Now, you just have a seat while I go and call June.”
In a few minutes June came in. After introducing himself,
he said, “I heard about your steers, so I took the liberty of
coming out and asking you to permit me to make you an offer
on them.”
"I'm glad you came, Mr. Hobson. I have about eight hun-
dred head of threes and fours that will be ready for market
about the middle of the month,” she said.
"Have you had any offers on them yet?” he asked.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
173
“No, I haven't told anyone about them. How did you learn?”
she asked.
“From Mr. Scott, at the stock yards. You see, I bought some
cattle from your father, more than a year ago. And I was
asking Mr. Scott if you were going to sell any cattle this year.
He told me that you had fed a bunch through the winter, and
he figured they were about ready for market. Are they where
I might see them, Miss Meredith?”
“Yes, they are in a pasture, right off from the oil field
there."
“How can I get to them? Can I drive?”
“Yes, you can drive, but it's a little rough for a car. I have
some horses up, if you would prefer to go horseback," June
suggested.
Thank you, that will be much better,” he agreed. “Have
you anyone you might send along to show me the way?”
“Uncle Jack, my foreman, will go with you. If you will
excuse me, I'll go down to the stable and tell him.”
"Why can't I just go along with you, and we can go from
there
After helping June into his car, Hobson drove down to the
corrals where some of the men were roaching up a bunch of
the cow ponies. “Uncle Jack!” she called as she and Hobson
walked up to the “catch pen." The foreman came out to meet
them. After introducing the men, June said, “Uncle Jack,
Mr. Hobson wants to look at those fed steers. Will you show
them to him?”
“Why, yes, sure,” Uncle Jack replied. “Are you the Mr.
Hobson that bought them circle-bar cattle at the stockyards
more than a year ago?" Uncle Jack asked.
“Yes, I bought those cattle, and a mighty fine bunch they
turned out to be," the buyer said.
"Well, you're going to see a bunch of steers now that are
far better than anything you got in that herd.” The foreman
nodded his head convincingly.
“I wouldn't be a bit surprised," Hobson said, a smile of
pleasant anticipation on his face.


176
The Tin Box
hundred pounds average. Why, Aunt Harriet, that will make
them bring me more than a hundred thousand dollars.
“That will enable me not only to pay Mr. Chandler all I
owe him and clear the land I bought, but it will also release
my cattle from his control. And too, I will have enough to pay
back the money I borrowed from the bank, pay my bills at
the grocers, pay my boys here what I've been owing them so
long, and still have money left.
“I tell you, Aunt Harriet, that money I borrowed to feed
those steers was the best investment I could have made.”
Aunt Harriet did not seem to share June's enthusiasm over
such bright prospects. “You know, June, you've got to get
Chandler's consent before you can sell those steers," she re-
minded the girl.
“Yes, I know, Aunt Harriet,” she said thoughtfully, her
joy of a moment before fading rapidly. “But I know he won't
object to that offer. He couldn't. Nobody could be that mean,”
she said pleadingly. “I'll see him when he comes out in the
morning.”
“I only hope he doesn't block the deal,” Aunt Harriet said
despairingly.
The calling of June's attention to the terms of the contract
put her in a quandary. So much depended upon the sale of
those cattle going through. Not only would it enable her to
pay all her bills, but would also give her a good credit rating
at the bank. It seemed that her future hinged on the consum-
mation of this deal.
She tried to dismiss from her thoughts any idea of Chan-
dler's objecting in any way. She kept saying to herself: He
won't stop this sale, he can't, I won't let him. Yet that clause
in the contract, which gave him virtual control of all her cattle
and the last word in anything pertaining to their disposal,
persisted in coming before her.
She slept very little that night, lying awake most of the
night trying to devise some means by which she might over-
ride any objections he might make. She thought about what
Bill Shearn had said about the weakness of the contract. Sup-


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
177
pose she should ask the courts to declare the instrument in-
valid on the grounds that Bill had suggested. She had no
money with which to fight Chandler, and suppose the court
should decide against her, and declare the contract valid.
What would she do then? No, the court proceedings were out.
She would tell him she was going to sell, and that was all there
was to it. She felt confident he could find no ground upon
which to base an objection.
Although Chandler usually came out around ten o'clock
each morning, June began looking for him long before that
hour. She stayed on the front porch, and each car that came
in sight going into the oil field she was sure was his car. Long
before ten o'clock she had given him up, fearing he would not
come out at all that day.
Along about his usual time, she saw a car approaching that
she instantly recognized as the Chandler automobile. She
sprang from the swing and ran down near the corrals, where
the road passed nearest the house.
Chandler seemed in a great hurry that morning. Speeding
up his car after he had passed over the cattle-guard at the
corrals, he was driving faster than usual when he reached the
spot where June stood. Her heart was pounding wildly as she
called and beckoned him to stop. Slamming on the brakes, he
came to a screeching, skidding stop, several yards past her,
waiting there until she ran up to the car. “Good morning,
Mr. Chandler,” she greeted him with an uneasy smile.
“Good morning, June.” Chandler spoke with a tone that
seemed to chill her through.
“Mr. Chandler, I would like to talk to you a few minutes if
you have the time to spare,” she said in a pleading voice.
“I'm a very busy man, June. But I guess I can spare a min-
ute to hear what you've got to say. What do you want to see
me about?”
“Well,” she hesitated, as if afraid to speak, “you know that
the payment on my land at Avera and the pasturage on my
cattle will be due in about a week. And I want to pay back the
money I borrowed from the bank. And I have some other bills


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The Tin Box
eva
I must pay. And my boys haven't been paid in several months.
And—”
“Come to the point, June,” he snapped impatiently, "I'm
in a hurry."
"Well,” she continued, as she nervously picked at her finger
nails, “my steers are in fine condition now, and Mr. Hobson
was out to look at them yesterday, and offered me a good price
on them so I'm going to sell. I just wanted to inform you."
“How much did he offer you?" Chandler asked.
“Ten cents at the pens.”
"Ten cents is not enough. And besides, those steers are in
no shape for market now," he said curtly.
“But, Mr. Chandler, Mr. Hobson is offering me two cents
above the best market quotations, and I've got to sell them,”
she argued.
“No, June, I've got an interest in those cattle, and I don't
intend to see them given away. And furthermore, you might
inform Mr. Hobson that those steers can be sold only when I
say, and tell him when he wants to buy any of the Meredith
cattle, to see me first.”
“But how am I to pay you, Mr. Chandler? You know I have
no other way to get any money,” she pleaded, tears trickling
down her cheeks.
“That's not my business. Perhaps your cowboy friend Mr.
Shearn can again come to your aid. He's helped you so much
in the past,” he retorted sarcastically.
After a moment's silence, June said: “I understand that
should our agreement be brought before a court, it might be
nullified.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, coming suddenly to atten-
tion. “On what grounds?”
“That I was in no condition, mentally, to safeguard my own
best interest when I signed it,” she explained with growing
confidence.
“Who told you that?” he demanded.
"Mr. Shearn, for one.”
“I see. So he's been buttin' into my business again," he said


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
179
angrily. “Well, let me tell you something. Regardless of what
your cowboy Romeo says, that contract is legal. It was drawn
by Mr. Bromberg, a licensed, practicing attorney, who ex-
plained it to you. You signed it with your eyes open, and in
full possession of all your faculties. So you can just forget
about any court,” he snapped. “Well, I've got more important
things to do than to sit here and listen to you rant,” he said
as he started his motor and drove off.
With clinched fists and quivering lips, June stood and
watched Chandler drive off towards the oil field. Then she
turned and started walking towards the house-slowly, at first,
then faster, until she was almost in a run when she stepped
upon the porch. Without saying anything to Aunt Harriet,
who was standing near the porch, she rushed into her room
and slammed the door behind her. After hesitating momen-
tarily, Aunt Harriet followed. June was lying across the bed,
sobbing bitterly, when her aunt slowly opened the door.
“What's the matter, June? What did Chandler say to you?"
she inquired anxiously.
"He's the most despicable, hateful, meanest man I've ever
seen. I hate him,” she cried.
“But what did he say? What did he do?" Aunt Harriet de-
manded.
June then told her of the conversation with him. “Just as
I suspected he would do," Aunt Harriet commented when
June had finished.
“What am I to do, Aunt Harriet? Can't he see what he's
doing to me? Does he want to force me to beg on the streets?
Hasn't he a heart at all?" she sobbed.
When Chandler drove away from June, he was gloating
over his competency as a shrewd business man. He knew that
if he blocked the sale of the cattle, she could not retain the
land at Avera. And to recover this land, with its rich poten-
tialities, would make him the money power he had always
dreamed of being.
As he drove past cattle that were grazing near the road, his
mind soared to new heights of ecstasy. Sir Robert Chandler,


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
183
he wants to start dividing the cattle early Monday morning,
and wants to get all my boys to help him. Will you work with
him?”
“Why, sure, Miss June, if you want me to.”
"He said he could get plenty of help without you all, but he
would use my men to help me out,” she said.
"Don't you believe that, Miss June. That scoundrel couldn't
get a real cowhand nowhere in this country to help him steal
your cattle," Uncle Jack asserted, “but I believe it will be a
good idea for us to do the work, so we can look out for your
interest.”
“Yes, I thought about that too. Then you will have all the
boys ready early Monday morning?”
“Yes, Miss June," Uncle Jack said.
Chandler was at the ranch early on the following Monday
morning. Stopping his car under a large oak tree near the
cattle guard, he walked on to the corrals where the men were
busy saddling their horses. He was bedecked in complete cow-
boy garb-ten-gallon hat, rawhide chaps, duck jacket, and
high-heeled boots with silver-roweled spurs; a red bandana
handkerchief tied around his neck completed his dress. “You
look like a real cowboy this morning, Mr. Chandler, one of
the boys commented.
"Well, I might have to be a cowpuncher one of these days,"
he jokingly replied. “If one of you boys will saddle my horse,
we'll get going.”
“How'll we work this division?” Uncle Jack asked as they
rode away from the corrals.
“I was just going to ask you for a suggestion," Chandler
replied.
"Well, I believe the best way would be to work a section at a
time. Bring out everything as we go along, and dump them in
this three-thousand-acre pasture here, near the pens. Then
when we've got 'em all, we'll start counting them through
the chutes.
“And I think it would be a good idea to cut Miss June's
eight hundred head of fed steers out before we start cutting,


184
The Tin Box
That miscalves goinc curth animale can let themates,
so they won't be jostled around so much. Then we can cut
your twenty-four hundred head of the first through the chutes,
as your three-fourths of that count. Then we can let them run
wild, switching out every fourth animal to Miss June, cows
with suckling calves going as one animal.”
“That might work. We'll see when we get them all to-
gether,” Chandler said.
Because of the rough, mountainous terrain, cattle driving
was slow and difficult. The men worked hard for weeks, comb-
ing every foot of the vast ranch to be sure they would overlook
none of the cattle. Uncle Jack had instructed the men to "comb
every inch of the ranch with a fine tooth comb” because, as he
explained, it was apparent that sooner or later June must give
up the ranch and move her cattle elsewhere. And any cattle
overlooked and not counted would fall to Chandler. So the
boys made sure that all cattle were gathered for the count.
After weeks of strenuous riding, Uncle Jack was satisfied
that all cattle were accounted for, and preparations were
made for the count and division.
The stock pens on the Meredith ranch were an expansive,
rambling array of pens of various sizes, and were built on the
slope of a beautiful wooded hill, where there was an abun-
dance of shade. Along the edge of the slope ran a small creek
or ravine from which the terrain rose gradually to a chain of
foothills a mile away.
To assist with the division, Uncle Jack had obtained several
hands from the Lucas ranch, which lay several miles beyond
the foothills.
Before the count began, Chandler rode up to Uncle Jack
and said “Doyle, I believe we'd better count all these cattle
through the chutes before we start dividing them. I'd like to
get a look at them, and know just how many there are.”
"All right, Mr. Chandler. But it will just mean double work
and expense.”
“Well, I don't mind the expense, and as you fellows have
nothing else to do, I'm sure you don't mind the extra work. It
might help June out more."


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
185
When all was in readiness for the count, some of the men
were detailed to bring the cattle in from the pasture in small
herds to keep the pens full, while the rest of the hands, in-
cluding Chandler and Uncle Jack, kept them moving in a
steady stream through the chutes, and out into a smaller pas-
ture. Chandler and Uncle Jack did the counting, Chandler
using a small counting gadget, and Uncle Jack keeping the
count in his mind, cutting a notch on the fence with his pocket
knife for each hundred head counted. The men stopped at
irregular intervals to compare their counts. When all had been
counted, there was a difference of four head. Uncle Jack made
the count eighty-four hundred and four head, while Chandler
made it exactly eighty-four hundred. After some argument,
rather than make a recount, Uncle Jack suggested that they
toss a coin for the four head. Chandler agreed, and Uncle Jack
won.
The count settled, the men began to make ready for the
division. June had not ridden with the men while the cattle
were being gathered, but now she had donned her purple
corduroy riding suit, black hat, boots and leather chaps, sad-
dled her favorite cow pony Beaver (a beautiful blaze-faced
sorrel with flax mane and tail), and was riding at Uncle Jack's
side.
"Well, I guess we're about ready to begin cutting 'em back
through the chutes to divide 'em," Uncle Jack said to Chan-
dler as the latter rode up to where he and June were sitting
on their horses.
“I don't think I want them run through the chutes for divi-
sion,” Chandler stated. “I want them scattered out where I
can see them.”
“But it will take an awfully long time to cut them in the
open,” Uncle Jack said.
"Well, I'm paying for it. And as long as I don't kick, I
can't see any reason why you should,” Chandler replied curtly.
“All right, it's your money," Uncle Jack retorted.
“I think I still have a few cattle in this herd, Mr. Chandler,"


186
The Tin Box
June protested, “and I think we should have something to say
about how they're divided.”
“But you must realize, June, that by far the greater part of
them belong to me. So I believe I should have first say about
the division. Now what about your cattle?” he asked. “I would
suggest that you cut yours away from mine, and leave them in
this five-hundred-acre pasture, where they won't get mixed up
again. And where you can get at them quick, should you want
to move them.”
"All right, but this is a rather small pasture for the two
thousand head I'll have left. And besides, there isn't much
grass in it,” she protested.
"Oh, I think it will take care of them all right. There's
more grass in here than you think,” he said unconcernedly as
he rode off.
There was an expression of perplexity on June's face as she
looked at Uncle Jack. “Looks bad to me, Miss June," Uncle
Jack said. “Looks like he's got something up his sleeve. Why,
this pasture won't take care of them cattle. They'll have it eat
as clean as your hand in three days.”
“I know that,” June said despairingly. “Maybe I can get
him to let me use that three-thousand-acre pasture on the
ridge also.”
"I suppose we're about ready to start cutting them,” Chan-
dler said as he rode back to where June and Uncle Jack were
still sitting.
“We'll just loose-herd them here, and I'll ride through the
herd and point out the ones to cut out for June."
"Ain't we just going to cut 'em as they come, till we've cut
out June's part?” Uncle Jack asked, with growing concern.
“No, I'll show you what ones to cut for her,” he snapped.
"Now, if you will ride with me, I'm ready to start pointing
them out.”
The foreman detailed some of the men to keep the cattle
loose-herded, and others, working in pairs, to cut out and
drive through a gate into a smaller pasture those pointed out
by Chandler. Two men stood guard at the gate to prevent


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
187
those driven through from coming back to mix with the main
herd, while Chandler and Uncle Jack rode through the herd
together. June made herself generally useful, sometimes rid-
ing herd, sometimes helping to hold the gate.
It was apparent from the first old cow pointed out by Chan-
dler, that his intentions was to cut all the undesirables into
June's herd. He had cut out a large number of the worst of
the bunch, when one of the fed steers drifted out of the main
herd, near June. She cut in behind him and ran him into the
bunch being cut to her. Immediately Chandler rode out of
the herd yelling: “No, no, don't cut that steer out. I want that
steer.”
“But this is one of my fed steers, Mr. Chandler,” she pro-
tested uneasily. The rest of the men stood still.
“Yes, I know that. But remember, my agreement with you
says that I am to be the sole judge of what I am to take,” he
said as he rode around the animal and started to drive him
back into the main herd.
“Do you mean that you are going to take my cattle that I
borrowed money on all I have left, to feed?” she asked, be-
wildered.
“I am only taking what is due me under the terms of our
agreement. You see, June, this is a business world, in which
we must all keep our eyes open,” he said. “You knew what was
in the contract you signed. No one asked you—at least I didn't
-to feed those steers, and you should not have done so unless
you saw your way clear to meet your obligations. I'm sorry,
June, but those steers are among those I'm going to select,"
he said as he drove the animal back into the herd.
June was dazed. She had about reached the point where she
expected almost anything of Chandler, but she would not per-
mit herself to believe he would resort to anything like this.
What was she to do? With Chandler apparently determined
to take everything she had depended on to pay her debts, it
seemed that the fight to retain any of her father's wealth,
anything of what the Meredith pioneers had worked so long
and hard for, was slipping out of her control, out of the Mere-


188
The Tin Box
dith name—and she was powerless to do anything about it. So
deep was she in her thoughts that she had not seen, or realized
that Uncle Jack had ridden up and was speaking to her. “Has
he the right to take them fed steers, Miss June?” he was asking.
“Why-uh-er-yes, Uncle Jack. I didn't know you were
standing there."
“I told you, Miss June, you should have had a lawyer look
over that contract before you signed it,” he reminded her.
“Yes, I realize it now. But at the time, I was half crazy. As
you know, I had so little money after Mother and Father were
killed, that I needed every penny I could save to try and carry
me through. And too, Mr. Chandler seemed so considerate of
my predicament and so anxious to help me in every way he
could that I trusted him implicitly, not dreaming he was lur-
ing me on to get what little I had left," she said remorsefully.
“What are you going to do?" Uncle Jack asked.
"I don't know. I can't think. There's nothing I can do but
to accept the culls and undesirables he sees fit to give me. I'm
going to the house, Uncle Jack. Maybe I can think,” she said
as she reined her pony around and slowly rode away.
The dividing of the cattle went on for days, with Chandler
weighing each animal against the herd, to be sure that the
best would be left in the Chandler cut. He even separated
suckling calves from their mothers when one suited him and
the other did not.
June rode out only occasionally, usually remaining a few
minutes to look over the sorry lot that was being cut to her.
One day while she was riding around the herd, Toby, her
prize-winning pet bull, came out of the herd near one of the
men, who immediately chased him into June's cut.
Toby was a blue-ribbon animal that June had entered in
the fat stock show for the past three years, and had won as
many first prizes. Seeing this animal being driven into June's
herd, Chandler came riding out in a gallop, demanding that
he be cut back.
“Won't you let me keep Toby, Mr. Chandler?" June begged.
Several of the men turned their attention to the conversation;


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
189
means son
some came riding up to listen. “I'll give you two of any of the
others for him."
"No. I want that bull,” he demanded.
"Would you take four of the others? Toby means so much
to me. I raised him as a pet. I can handle him.”
By this time, Uncle Jack had ridden up and was listening to
June's pleas. “No, I wouldn't take a dozen of the others for
him,” Chandler asserted. “That's a prize bull. I've had my
eyes on him for some time. Bring him back out of that herd,
Jack,” he demanded.
"I won't do it,” the old foreman asserted defiantly. “I always
try to do as I'm told by the people I work for. But there comes
a time when I or any other decent man refuses to obey orders.
And I want to tell you here and now that I refuse to obey
orders from any low, filthy skunk who will take advantage
of a defenseless girl as you have taken advantage of Miss
June.”
“Very well, Mr. Doyle,” Chandler said sarcastically, as he
started to ride towards the bull, “I'll cut him back myself.”
Uncle Jim, one of the oldest men on the Meredith ranch,
a giant of a man, with long white whiskers and a handle-bar
moustache, had ridden up and was listening. When Chandler
started to ride around the bull, Uncle Jim started to uncoil
his lariat threateningly.
"If he starts to drive that bull back out of that herd, I'll
rope him off that horse and drag him till he won't be fit to feed
to the cats,” he said, his lean jaws set, his eyes flashing fire.
“No, Uncle Jim," June said as she placed her hand consol-
ingly on his forearm, “We mustn't resort to violence. It would
do no good.”
Chandler evidently heard the threat, as he turned his horse
and rode back into the main herd. June, seeing this and wish-
ing to avoid any incident that might arouse Chandler's ire, lest
he put her off the place with nowhere to go with her part of
the cattle, said, “I'll bring him back, Mr. Chandler.”
She rode out to where Toby had stopped and was knocking
horns with one of the old bulls that had been cut into her herd.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
191
191
Chapter Twelve
you find out had feared, c'eves blinkingan Doyle to least fifty
WADE HURRIED TO CHANDLER'S OFFICE IMMEDI-
ately upon his return from Avera. “Come in, Mr. Lucas,"
Chandler greeted him. “I've been expecting you. What did
you find out?” he said in rapid-fire order.
“Just as I had feared.” Wade affirmed his suspicions. Chan-
dler, his mouth open, his eyes blinking, looked the cowman
in the eyes as Wade continued: “Old man Doyle told me that
he had missed about a dozen head, but I counted at least fifty
near my division fence. And there's no telling how many more
there are in that Johnson pasture.”
"Have you seen June or Doyle since you came back?” Chan-
dler asked anxiously.
“No, I just got in a few minutes ago. I came straight here,
because I thought you ought to know where the cattle are."
"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this information,
Mr. Lucas. Who would you say is doing this stealing? Do you
think that cowpuncher from down there is taking them? Or do
you think Junë is disposing of them through him?" Chandler
asked.
“I'd hate to think June is mixed up in it. And yet, I wouldn't
be surprised if she is sending them down there to him," Wade
said. “Now that you know the cattle are being stolen, what
are you going to do about it?” he asked concernedly.
"I'll see June when I go out there in the morning, and see
what she's got to say about those cattle,” Chandler replied.
"I believe when she finds out that I know what's going on,
she'll talk. And it will be much easier to get a case against this
Bill Shearn for receiving stolen cattle.”
The day following Wade's report to Chandler on the stolen


192
The Tin Box
cattle, Felix Hobson called at the Meredith ranch. June was
standing at the yard gate when he drove up. “Good morning,
Miss Meredith,” he said, raising his hat. June greeted him
with a friendly smle. “I hadn't heard from you, so I thought
I'd drive out and see if you are still in the notion of selling me
those steers," he said.
“I'm afraid I haven't many steers to sell you, Mr. Hobson,”
June said despairingly.
"Do you mean that you have sold them already?” he said
in surprise.
June then explained events leading up to the foreclosure.
"Then when I couldn't meet the notes, he foreclosed and took
three-fourths of my cattle. All the best ones,” she said, tears
welling in her eyes.
"Oh, no! He couldn't have done a thing like that,” Hobson
said disgustedly. “Where are the ones you retained?”
"They're down below the pens in a small pasture."
“Do you want to sell them?” he said.
“Yes, if they suit you.”
“Can we drive to them?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if you'll send someone with me to show me where
they are, I'll take a look at them.”
"I'll go with you,” June said.
The herd had already begun to show the effects of being
overstocked. There was not sufficient grass, and as sorry a lot as
they were when they were confined to this small pasture, they
had fallen off considerably.
It was indeed a sorry lot that June had to offer for sale. Old
bulls that were past their usefulness; old cows that were too
old to be fattened, cattle with broken hips or legs; many of
them had broken horns or broken or bobbed tails. Big-bellied
calves, known as “dogies” or “grass-guts” to stockmen. This
was what June had to offer. These were what Robert Chan-
dler had seen fit to toss to June out of her father's cattle,
known far and near as the “blue-ribbon” herd of West Texas.
Hobson sat speechless as he looked at this bunch of scabs.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
193
The color came and went in his face as he bit his lips. Finally
he spoke. “Miss Meredith,” he said, “I have been around a
great deal. I have bought and sold cattle all over this country
for a great many years, and have naturally seen some pretty
raw deals handed people. But in all my experience, I've
never seen as low, dirty a crime perpetrated against anyone
as has been handed you. Why, you don't have anything there
for which a buyer could make you an offer. Where is this man
Chandler?” the buyer asked
"He's out in the oil field somewhere; he comes out every
morning to look after his wells,” June replied.
“I'm sorry, Miss Meredith, but you have nothing left that I
can use," he said as he drove away after driving June back
home.
As Chandler passed the ranch house after making his
rounds of the oil fields, he saw a man dressed in cowboy garb
talking with June. Thinking that it might be someone inter-
ested in cattle, he stopped and waited down by the cattle
guard near the corrals. As Hobson passed on his way out, he
was hailed by Chandler, who after introducing himself stated,
"I saw you talking with Miss Meredith as I passed the house
a few minutes ago, and I thought you might be someone inter-
ested in cattle.”
“Yes, I was. I buy cattle for the Mid-West Cattle Brokerage
Company,” Hobson explained.
“I see," Chandler smiled in pleasant anticipation. “It was
lucky for me that I stopped. I believe you are the gentleman
that made Miss Meredith a very attractive offer on some steers
a short time ago."
“Yes, I made Miss Meredith an offer," Hobson replied
curtly.
“Well, I suppose she told you that I am now in possession
of those cattle. I am willing to sell them to you at the same
price you offered her.”
“I was interested in them, Mr. Chandler, but I'm not any
longer.”


194
The Tin Box
es
"Why not? They're in better flesh now than when you made
her the offer.”
"That, I do not doubt. But that does not change my at-
titude towards the cattle.”
“May I ask, then,” Chandler said curiously, “why you have
changed your mind?”
“Yes, and I'm glad to tell you," Hobson replied sharply.
“When I made Miss Meredith an offer of ten cents, I under-
stood that she was hard pressed for money with which to meet
her obligations to you, and to pay other bills she owed. I also
wanted to encourage her, lone girl that she is, in making such
a valiant fight to salvage what she could of her father's
wrecked estate.
“I knew the steers would not only pay her immediate in-
debtedness to you and to others, but would also give her some
money over. Money to buy things that I'm sure she, like all
other young women, needs. Money that would give her a feel-
ing of security and independence, a feeling that I doubt she
has had since her parents' death.
“But now, since you have so ruthlessly destroyed any pos-
sibility of her ever enjoying such security by your actions in
taking all her best cattle, thus depriving her of any appreci-
able source of income, I've lost all interest in the Meredith
cattle.”
“It was strictly a business transaction, you know," Chandler
shot back. “We are all grown, and supposed to be capable of
safeguarding our own interest.”
"I'll grant you that,” the buyer retorted, “but there is a
limit to business-a dividing line where business stops, and
decency begins. And it seems to me that, for some reason best
known to yourself, you have ignored and completely obliter-
ated this line in exercising your legal right to take those cattle
from this girl.”
"Well, the steers are for sale. And if you don't want them,
I'm certainly not begging you or anyone else to buy them.
The cattle are fat and are choice steers, and I anticipate no


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
195
difficulty in getting rid of them,” Chandler stated in rising
tones.
“My firm, Mr. Chandler, is one of the largest buyers of
livestock in this country,” Hobson stated firmly, “and I be-
lieve we exert at least some influence on the cattle business.
I want to tell you here and now that I shall use every bit of
influence at my command, and the prestige of my firm, to
block the sale of those steers. I offered Miss Meredith ten
cents per pound for those cattle. But I wouldn't buy them
from you for two cents,” the buyer asserted as he drove away.
Chandler stood for a moment as if in deep thought. Then,
climbing into his car, he turned around and drove back to
the house. June was standing in the back yard, talking to Aunt
Harriet when he drove up. “Oh, June,” he called, “I'd like to
speak to you."
“Good morning, Mr. Chandler,” June spoke in as agreeable
a voice as she could manage.
“June, what did you tell that cattle buyer that just left
here? He seemed to be all up in the air because I foreclosed
on those cattle when you couldn't meet your payments.”
“Why, I didn't tell him anything, Mr. Chandler, except
that I didn't own the cattle he wanted any more,” she replied
uneasily.
"Well, he spoke some pretty sharp words to me, words I
didn't like. He seemed to know a great deal about your busi-
ness affairs, and intimated that he thought I took advantage
of you, because I carried through a strictly business transac-
tion.
"Now, I tell you, June, I don't take advantage of anybody.
I think I've been pretty nice to you, permitting you to stay
here when I should have thrown you off when I was forced to
foreclose on this ranch, more than a year ago. And—”
“Of course you have, Mr. Chandler. And I appreciate it,”
June said pleadingly.
“It doesn't seem that you do from what you must have told
him. And another thing. I overheard some threatening re-
marks made against me by some of your men the other day,


196
The Tin Box
I mea
IMA
and I'm getting to the place that I'm actually afraid to come
here to my own ranch. And worst of all, you have started
stealing my cattle and sending them to that Romeo of yours
at Avera."
June gasped in bewilderment. “What do you mean, Mr.
Chandler?”
"You know very well what I mean," Chandler stormed
angrily. “You have sent more than fifty head of my cattle to
Avera, to be disposed of by Bill Shearn."
· June was dumbfounded by this accusation. For a long mo-
ment she did not speak. “What are you talking about, Mr.
Chandler? I haven't sent any cattle to Avera, or anywhere else.
What makes you think I have?”
"Because your neighbor, Mr. Lucas, has just returned from
there, and he told me that he had counted more than fifty
head of circle-bar cattle near his fence.”
“Wade Lucas told you that?” she stammered.
"Yes. And I'm goin' to look into this, and have that cow-
puncher arrested for cattle theft.
"I've about come to the conclusion, June," he continued,
"that the best thing for all of us, is for you and your whole
outfit to get off the place while I have a few cattle left. And
I am here and now giving you notice to vacate at the earliest
possible moment. The sooner, the better. You'll receive an
official notice from my attorney's office to that effect." Chan-
dler turned, hurried to his car and drove away.
June stood staring blankly across the valley to the hills be-
yond. Hills, that as a child, always seemed enchanted with
beauty and hope for her. But now, even though she looked in
the same direction, she did not see them. Turning slowly
around, she walked in a daze into the kitchen where Aunt
Harriet had started to prepare lunch. Seating herself in a
chair, she laid her head down on her outstretched arm on the
table. Aunt Harriet walked over and, placing her arm tenderly
about the girls shoulder, asked: “What's the matter, June?
What did Mr. Chandler say?"


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
197
“He gave me notice to get off the place,” June replied de-
spondently.
"Gave you notice to get off?” Aunt Harriet murmured,
seemingly unable to understand.
“He said I would receive an official notice from his attor-
ney."
“Did he set any time limit?" Aunt Harriet was greatly per-
turbed.
"No, but I suppose the notice will inform me.”
"Well, we'll have a few days after we receive the notice.
What are you going to do?" Aunt Harriet asked.
"I don't know.
As June and her aunt were discussing the situation, Wade
Lucas drove up to the front gate. Getting out of his car, he
walked on into the kitchen. “June," he said, “Uncle Jack told
me some time ago that some of your cattle were gone from
your pasture that adjoins mine. I have just returned from
Avera where I saw with my own eyes at least fifty head of
your cattle on Cyrus Johnson's ranch, near my fence. I just
wanted to tell you so you'd know where they are."
“Are you sure they're circle-bar cattle, Wade?” June asked,
greatly puzzled.
“Yes, I'm quite sure of it. I personally inspected the brands
on several of them.”
"How do you suppose they got there?” Aunt Harriet asked
curiously.
"I didn't know any of our cattle were missing until Mr.
Chandler told me a few minutes ago," June said.
“Uncle Jack hasn't told you?" Wade asked in surprise,
“Why, he told me more than a month ago. He thought they
might have gotten into my pastures.”
"That's strange," June said.
“Maybe he didn't want to disturb you with it,” Aunt Har-
riet surmised. “Maybe he thought he would find them.”
Uncle Jack was just riding into the corrals when he saw
Wade's car. Thinking there might be some news of impor-
tance, perhaps pertaining to the lost cattle, he rode on up to


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The Tin Box
the house. “I'm so glad you came, Uncle Jack.” June seemed
relieved. “Mr. Chandler told me a few minutes ago that some
of our cattle are gone. And Wade has just said that he has
located them at Avera, on Uncle Cyrus' ranch. You didn't tell
me those cattle were missing.”
“No, I didn't, Miss June," the old foreman said slowly. "I
didn't want to worry you with it, and I thought we might run
upon them. You say you have located them at Avera, Wade?"
he asked.
“Yes, about fifty head or more.”
"I wonder how they could have gotten away down there,”
Uncle Jack asked thoughtfully.
“I haven't any idea," Wade said. “Unless someone from
down there came up here for the purpose of spotting them.”
"There hasn't been anyone here from down there except
Cyrus Johnson and Bill Shearn," Aunt Harriet said.
""Well, I know they had nothing to do with it.” June spoke
heatedly.
“I wouldn't be too sure of that, June," Wade said. “Of
course, I wouldn't say that Mr. Johnson had anything to do
with it or even knows about it. But I wouldn't vouch for Bill
Shearn.”
“It does seem a little strange," Aunt Harriet said thought-
fully, “that that young man would come all the way up here,
more than six hundred miles, just to take part in a rodeo. Un-
less he had some other object in view.”
“But you don't think Bill had anything to do with it, do
you, Uncle Jack?" June asked pleadingly.
"I'd hate to think so, Miss June. Bill seemed like such a
fine young man. Oh, of course, I did hear him say he'd give
anything to get a start of this breed of cattle. But naturally I
thought at the time that he was just admiring them. But now,
I don't know.” Uncle Jack shook his head doubtfully.
“'Beware of the easy stranger,' I've always said," Aunt Har-
riet quoted.
"I wouldn't believe Bill Shearn stole my cattle unless I
actually saw him take them. And then I wouldn't believe it.
Itu But you don't thinked pleadingly; comed like such :


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
199
I'd have to have more proof,” June asserted. “And besides,
how could he have gotten them down there?”
“I suppose you know that he stopped in Labesia on his way
home and was seen talking to Jake Simmons,” Wade informed
her.
“Take Simmons? Is he around here again?”
“Yes. Seems that he hit town at about the same time Shearn
did,” Wade said. “Well, June, I'll be driving on. I'll pick
up those cattle the next time I'm shipping anything from down
there. That is, if you want me to.”
"I'll let you know," June said.
Bill Shearn had just ridden into a pen near the saddle house
on the Johnson ranch, after looking over a new herd of circle-
bar cattle, including some very fat steers he had found near
the Lucas fence that morning, when he saw an automobile,
which he recognized as that of the sheriff, approaching. “Good
morning, Bill,” the sheriff called a greeting.
"Good morning, sheriff. What brings you out this way?”
“You, Bill.”
“Me?” Bill took the sheriff's statement as a joke. "You
couldn't use me, sheriff. Your jail wouldn't hold me.”
“Seriously, Bill, this is not a joke. I have a warrant here
for your arrest.”
Bill couldn't take the sheriff seriously, as he looked at him
with a broad grin.
"I've just received an order from the sheriff's office at La-
besia,” the sheriff continued, “ordering your arrest for the
theft of circle-bar cattle.”
“Who preferred those charges?” Bill asked.
"A Robert Chandler. Know him?”
“Yes, I know him. He's the rat that took Miss Meredith's
ranch away from her. Let me tell some of the boys where I'm
going.”
“Certainly, go right ahead," the sheriff said as he climbed
back into his car.
In a few minutes, Bill came back accompanied by his fore-
man.


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· The Tin Box
Bill figured that the men must have a car hidden, with
possibly one or more confederates waiting. He knew that he
would be at a disadvantage in facing a part of the gang with-
out knowing where the others were, so he hurried on.
Well concealed in a thicket, near the place he thought they
might be hidden, he saw an automobile. Using the same tree
under which the car stood as a blind, he crept close enough to
observe a third man sitting at the steering wheel. “Put up
your hands and keep quiet,” Bill commanded. The man made
a move towards his coat pocket as he turned his head and saw
Bill standing beside the car. Seeing that he was covered, the
bandit raised his hands. Bill then opened the car door and
took an automatic pistol from the man's pocket. Then, open-
ing the rear door, he climbed into the automobile, keeping
his revolver pressed against the man's back. He searched the
driver and the car thoroughly, then got out, closed the door
and stood close beside it, keeping his gun on the driver. “Now,
move over and spread both arms out along the back of the
seat and look this way. Don't look towards the road."
In a few minutes, the two men came back to the car. Ob-
serving the position of the driver, one of them remarked:
“Tony must be 'sleep."
"Yeah. A fine place to take a nap,” the other commented.
"Hey, wake up,” the first man said as they neared the car.
Peeping through the panel of the rear door as the men ap-
proached, Bill saw them put their guns in their coat pockets.
At that moment, he stepped from behind the automobile.
“All right, you cowards, reach for the sky. One false move
and I'll blow you in two,” he commanded. As the men raised
their hands, Bill ordered: “Now you there, closest to the car,
keep your right hand up, and with your left hand reach into
your coat pocket where I saw you put that gun. Pull it out and
drop it.” When the first man had obeyed his order, he ad-
dressed the second bandit: “Now you,” he nodded to the sec-
ond man. As this bandit fumbled for his gun, the first man
made a quick grab for the gun he had dropped to the ground
A shot rang out from Bill's trusty .45, and the automatic flew


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
207
sotch neigheders to his lips nariyer out of the
several feet out from under the bandit's fingers. “Try another
trick like that, and I'll pull higher,” Bill said as he looked at
the man with a sarcastic smile. The other man then nervously
dropped his gun to the ground. Bill then backed the two men
away, picked up their guns and put them in his pockets. He
then searched the men for any other weapons they might have
concealed. Finding none, he ordered the driver out of the car.
Bill then placed his fingers to his lips and blew a long, shrill
whistle. Gotch neighed a quarter mile away, then came at a
run. Bill called to him as the hoofbeats came nearer, and
the horse came on into the underbrush, and stopped at Bill's
side.
Taking his lariat from his saddle, Bill tossed it to one of
the men. “All right, you two,” he nodded to two of the gun-
men, “Back up together. Tie them good and tight, driver.
Give them about five feet of slack between them.” Bill then
tied the third man to the other two, allowing about the same
amount of slack. He then fashioned a loop in the end of the
lariat, and placed it over the horn of the saddle. “Get going,'
he ordered, when he had mounted.
“Get going where?" one of the gunmen snarled.
“To the ranch,” Bill snapped.
"How do I know where the ranch is?”
“You seem to know this country pretty well,” Bill retorted,
“At least you seem to know just about what route I usually
take back to the ranch. Now get going or I'll drag you in."
As the gunmen started walking, Bill observed that one of
them, the driver, walked with a bad limp. Instantly his mind
flashed back to what he had been told by Uncle Jim, while at
the Meredith ranch. Uncle Jim had related that during the
gun fight with the bandits who tried to liberate the cattle the
night before they were to be marketed, one of the men fell
and was dragged into the truck by a confederate. Uncle Jim
thought he had been shot in the leg, as he rose and fell a
second time before being helped by his companions. Bill had a
thousand thoughts in a few seconds. He wondered if there
could be any connection between the two incidents.


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The Tin Box
They had walked only a few steps when they drew closer
together, and began to converse in low tones. “I gave you
bums enough rope for you to walk apart,” Bill warned, and
I mean for you to spread out. I don't want to have to shoot you
apart, because this horse is afraid of a shot, and I might not be
able to hold him.” It was apparent from one glance at the
powerful animal that he could drag the three of them as easily
as if they were a small calf. Realizing that to be dragged over
the brushy, rocky ground with their hands tied behind them
would be a horrible death, they spread out, and made no
further attempt to talk. As they came to the spot where Bill's
hat had been shot from his head, he ordered one of the gun-
men to pick up the hat, and back up to him. Bill placed the
hat on his head, and again they started along the road.
The cowhands at the ranch had just washed up and were
standing around near the mess hall, awaiting the sound of the
dishpan which would summon them to dinner, when Shorty
exclaimed: “Say, what'n the world is that Bill's bringing
yonder?” The men looked down the road to where Bill was
approaching, a quarter of a mile away. Ed Kenzie (Slim, to
the rest of the men) shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “I
know'd I oughtn't of drank that stuff on a empty stomach,”
he remarked dryly, as he saw Bill coming in, driving the men
before him. The men all walked out by the bunkhouse to
meet Bill, and the cook, who had just finished putting dinner
on the table, came to the door.
“Say, Bill,” called Shorty, “Where'd you get them maver-
icks?”
"Down the road by the Collier Motts,” Bill replied as he
dismounted, leaving the rope tied to the horn of the saddle.
“Say, mister,” one of the bandits asked uneasily, “You ain't
going to leave us tied to that damned horse like that, are you?”
By this time, all the cowboys were standing in a circle around
the trio, who were cowering in the middle of the group.
"Bill, you'd better take that rope off Gotch,” Slim warned,
"before he gets scared and drags these dogies till you can't
find enough of 'em to bury.”


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
209
“All right. Tie them to the fence there, Slim, while I run
up to the house and call the sheriff,” Bill said, as he started
towards the ranch house.
“Hey, wait a minute, Bill,” Shorty called. “Tell us some-
thing about these coyotes. What'd you catch 'em doing, skin-
ning a cow?”
"No, not quite that bad. They tried to rub me out. See that?”
Bill took off his hat and stuck a finger through a hole in the
crown. “They ruined a twenty-dollar hat for me. And look
at that nick in the horn of my saddle.”
“Gol-l-e-e!” Shorty exclaimed, “looks like they were trying
to mark your ears. Who are they?”
“Don't know,” Bill replied, somewhat puzzled, “Never saw
them before.”
“But why were they after you? Do you think they could
have mistaken you for somebody else?”
“Can't answer that either. But I've got my suspicions, and
I don't think they mistook me for someone else,” Bill said
thoughtfully.
“You all better come on and get your dinner before it gets
cold,” the cook said as he started back to the kitchen.
"Stay here and take care of them, Shorty, while I go and
call the sheriff,” Bill said as he again started away.
“What do you want me to do with 'em,” Shorty asked,
"brand'em?”
“I don't care what you do with them. Just so you don't put
my brand on them,” Bill called back.
""Which one of you can dance?” Shorty asked, as he toyed
with his .45. “I gotta get something out of this. It's worth
something to sit here and look at you.”
In a short while, the sheriff and a deputy arrived at the
ranch and, handcuffing the three, carried them to Avera where
they were placed in jail, charged with attempted murder.
They had been in jail hardly an hour when Anthony Sto-
nelli, who seemed to be the leader, called the sheriff to his
cell. “Say, sheriff, I want to get in touch with Robert Chandler,
up at Labesia,” he requested.


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“Robert Chandler?” the sheriff asked in surprise. “Do you
mean that Robert Chandler who owns that big ranch and oil
field at Labesia?"
“Yeah, that's the one,” the gunman replied.
“Do you know him very well?” the sheriff asked curiously.
"That's none of your business!” the bandit snapped. “You
just put in a long distance call for him, collect.”
"All right. Your name's Anthony Stonelli, I believe.”
“Yeah, that'll do.”
The sheriff put in the call, and in a few minutes had Chan-
dler on the wire. He then handed the phone to the gunman,
and on his private hook-up listened to the conversation.
"Hello, Chandler?” the bandit asked.
“Yes."
“Listen, Chandler, I'm in the jug down here at Avera. Come
down here and get me out.”
“How'd you get in jail this time?" Chandler asked.
"Had a little slip-up, see.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I can't come down there now, I'm too busy.
I'll send Bromberg."
“O.K. I don't care who you send, just so I get out of here,”
the gunman growled.
When Chandler was through talking with Stonelli, he called
his attorney, telling him to hurry over to his office. When the
attorney arrived, they went into a hurried conference. “Brom-
berg, I want you to go down to Avera right away and see about
getting Stonelli and those other two bums out of jail.”
“Stonelli? What's he doing down there?” The lawyer
seemed very much surprised.
“I don't know. He rang me and asked me to come and get
him out. Just said he had a little slip-up. I don't want to be
seen having any dealings with him; might not look so good.”
"When do you want me to go?” Bromberg asked.
“Right away."
The following day found Bromberg at the jail in Avera.
After a long conference with the three men and with the
district attorney, he called Chandler. “Say, Chandler,” he


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
211
called somewhat excitedly, “these bums are in jail on a serious
charge-attempted murder. And I'm unable to get them out.
Stonelli wants you to come down here. Says you know about
it.”
“I don't want to get mixed up in this thing, Bromberg,”
Chandler protested. “If you can't get them out, I'm sure I
can't.”
“Well, they're pretty nasty, Chandler. And they say that
you, with your influence, can get them out. So I believe if I
were you, to keep things as quiet as possible, and to keep this
from going too far, I'd come on down here,” Bromberg
warned.
“Let's see. Today is Tuesday. Tell them I'll be down there
Thursday morning,” Chandler protestingly agreed. “And you
stay there until I come.”
"All right,” the lawyer said.
Chapter Thirteen
JUNE, IN THE MEANTIME, HAD ARRANGED A
thirty-day extension on her note at the bank, and her next step
was to go to Avera to determine whether she could, in the
short time remaining before she would be put off the ranch,
find a way to get water for her cattle, should she ship them
there.
Also, she wanted to investigate Wade Lucas' report that
there were a number of her cattle at Avera. And to see what,
if anything, Bill Shearn knew about it. So she decided to leave
Labesia on Wednesday afternoon so as to arrive at Avera
Thursday morning. She wired Uncle Cyrus to meet the seven
o'clock train.
On Wednesday morning, she told Uncle Jack to tell all the


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boys she would like to talk to them. So, before beginning the
day's work, all the cowhands gathered on the back porch.
“Boys,” she said, as she came out the kitchen door. She rested
her hands on the back of a chair behind which she was stand-
ing, before she continued: “I call you boys because you are
all so dear to me. It might be more appropriate to call you
brothers, as that is the way each of you seems to me.
“I want to talk with you about our position here. As all of
you know, we are no longer in possession here, or even in
control of our home. And I have been told by Mr. Chandler,
both verbally and by a written order from his attorney, to va-
cate at the earliest possible moment.
“As you know, I have very little left. When my cattle were
taken from me by Mr. Chandler, he left me nothing I could
sell to get the money I need so badly. I allowed myself to be
led into a trap by Mr. Chandler, and I thought he would give
me a chance to pull out. I borrowed money last fall on what
cattle I thought I would have left, when and if they were
divided, to buy feed for the past winter. And since he has
taken all of those I had depended on, it has about left me at
the end of my rope.”
The men listened very closely, and some seemed nervous
and irritated as June continued: “I owe a note at the bank,
which Mr. Cockrell was kind enough to extend for thirty days.
I owe bills for food which I cannot pay, and I owe each of you
several months' back pay.
“I want to thank you all for the way you have so loyally
stood by me. Not one of you has left, or even threatened to
leave me, although you knew I could not pay you. I know
some of you have been offered better jobs on some of the
ranches around here. I love each and every one of you for your
loyalty. I–”
""There isn't a man here who is going to leave you, Miss
June, as long as you have a hoof left," interrupted Uncle Jack.
“Am I right, boys?”
“Sure, you're right,” chorused the men. “As long as we can
get a little grub, we intend to stick by you."


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
213
“That's awfully sweet of you,” June said, fighting hard to
control her emotions. “But it looks like we won't be able to get
food much longer. And I think it is only fair to you to tell you
that if you are offered another job, don't hesitate to accept it
on my account, because I don't know how much longer I'll be
here."
The men stirred restlessly as June continued: “I'm leaving
by train this evening for Avera. If I find that I can get water
on the land I'm trying to buy down there for my cattle, I may
move and try to start all over. But if I can't, about the only
thing left for me to do is to sell out what I have left for what
I can get, pay what I can on my debts, and take Aunt Harriet
and go to town and hunt a job.'
Slowly the men filed away from the house in twos and
threes, talking in low tones as they went back to the corrals to
saddle their horses for the day's work. There was hardly an
eye or a cheek, weather-hardened as they were from a life of
roughing it on the range, that was not moistened by a tear of
sympathy for June, their Junė, for every man in that outfit
loved her.
Most of the men had been brought up on the ranch, and
had known her since birth. And it was a sullen, defiant, re-
vengeful group of men that strayed into the catch-pen where
the horses were huddled in a corner.
The men didn't lasso their mounts right away, but stood
around in pairs and small groups. They were restless, and did
not remain for long in one place, but kept moving. Some sat
on the top rail of the corral fence or leaned against it. Some sat
on their haunches, while others showed their resentment by
such gestures as kicking the fence, or picking up stones and
casting them at trees and other objects near the corrals.
Threats against Chandler were grave and outspoken. “Boys,
I'm sixty-five years old, and I've tried to be a peaceable, law-
abiding citizen all my life.” It was Uncle Jack speaking, as he
stood leaning against the door of the saddle house, the heel of
his boot resting over the doorsill. The rest of the men gathered
around him as he continued: “I have always tried to do the


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The Tin Box
right thing by every man, and have always believed that re-
gardless of what might happen, the law should be allowed to
take its course. But I have about changed my mind.
“Whenever a low, dirty skunk like Robert Chandler can
take advantage of an unsuspecting, defenseless girl, like he
has taken the advantage of Miss June, and still be smart
enough to stay out of reach of the law, then I'm for taking
the law in my own hands and giving him some of his own
medicine. I've-"
Uncle Jack was interrupted by shouts of “Now you're talk-
ing! Me too! We're with you!” from the group.
“I've known Miss June from the day she was born,” Uncle
Jack continued, “and I know there is not a sweeter, more
lovable, kinder-hearted girl in the whole world. I don't believe
she knows how to say an unkind word or do an unkind deed.
And to let a dirty city slicker like that scoundrel beat her out
of her home and cattle, and put her to begging on the city's
streets while he rolls in luxury on what is rightfully hers, I'd
be ashamed to call myself a man if I stood for it.
“Now, I don't want you boys to get into any trouble. So
I've planned to deal with this rat myself. I–” Again he was
interrupted by the men: “No, no, you can't do that, Uncle
Jack! We've got to get in on this. We want some of the satisfac-
tion of dealing with this crook, too."
"All right, boys, if you insist, I'll have to change my plans,
and let you in. Now here's what we'll do.”
The men gathered in close around Uncle Jack while he
outlined to them the part each was to play in avenging the
wrongs he felt had been perpetrated against June. “Now, we
want to understand every move thoroughly, so there will be
no slip-up,” Uncle Jack told the group. “Harry, you'll go to
town early that morning, and trail him out. And when he
gets to that big tree there on the right, about half a mile be-
fore he reaches 'Death-drop,' the place where June's parents
were forced over that cliff, you'll pass him, and give the signal
to Tom and Charlie who will be waiting just this side, in the


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water in those wells Mr. Chandler had bored on my land.”
“I see,” Bromberg said thoughtfully.
“And may I ask what brings you here?” June asked curi-
ously.
"Oh, yes-yes. I came down on business, too; came down to
look after some friends of Mr. Chandler's that got into a little
trouble.”
“Nothing serious, I hope,” June said, with concern.
“Oh, no, nothing serious," he assured her.
"Where is Mr. Chandler?” June asked.
"He's supposed to be here this morning. That's why I met
this train. I suppose now he'll come by plane," the lawyer
said. “Well, it has been a pleasure to talk with you, Miss
Meredith, and to have met you, Mr. Johnson. Good-bye,” he
said, raising his hat as he turned to leave.
“I wonder if those friends of Chandler's he spoke of are the
same three who are in jail for shooting at Bill the other day,"
Uncle Cyrus remarked as they climbed into their car.
“Shooting at Billl When? Where?” June asked excitedly.
Uncle Cyrus then told her about the incident.
“I'll bet they are the ones,” June said. “Trying to get Mr.
Shearn out of the way for fear he would try to help me get my
cattle back.”
“I wouldn't doubt it one bit,” Uncle Cyrus agreed. “You
didn't, by any chance, mention to Chandler what Bill said
about the legality of the contract with Chandler, did you?”
“Yes, I did,” June replied regretfully. “When he threatened
to foreclose, thinking that I might deter him by raising a ques-
tion as to his legal right to enforce the agreement, I told him
that I didn't believe the contract would be upheld by a court.
He asked me who had been talking to me, and I told him that
Mr. Shearn, for one, had said so."
“That explains the whole thing," Uncle Cyrus was con-
vinced. “Chandler no doubt got scared that Bill would look
into it and, believing himself that no court would uphold such
an agreement, tried to stop it before it got started by getting
Bill out of the way.”


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
217
“Who were the men? Did Bill know them?”
“No, he says he has never seen them before. Nobody around
here remembers having seen them.”
“I'd like to get a look at them," June said thoughtfully.
“I'd like to see if they're the ones that forced my parents off
the side of that mountain to their death.”
"Well, when you start back home, we'll go by the jail so you
can see them,” Uncle Cyrus suggested.
When they reached the ranch, it was about eight o'clock.
Mrs. Johnson had prepared breakfast, and when they had
eaten, June lay down for a few minutes' rest, while Bill sad-
dled horses for the trip to the wells.
Bill took a small wrench, which he carried in his saddle
pocket. It was about nine-thirty when they reached one of the
wells, which was about three miles from the Johnson home.
"Well, here's the first one they drilled,” Bill said as they dis-
mounted. “See how carefully they cut the pipe off, re-threaded
and capped it, then spread the dirt all round and over it to
look as though it had been abandoned?” Bill said as he scraped
the dirt from the top of the pipe.
“Yes, I see. Strange they would do a thing like that. I won-
der why?” June seemed puzzled.
“I don't know. Unless they struck something in these wells
that they don't want you to know about.”
Upon close examination, the cap on the end of the pipe was
found to have been set with a hardening paste. And although
Bill pulled on the short wrench with all his strength, he could
not move it!
“I should have brought a larger wrench, but I had no idea
the cap would be screwed on so tight. This leads me to be-
lieve more strongly than ever that they don't mean for anyone
to go into these wells.” Bill shook his head. “Well, there's
only one thing to do: go back to the ranch and get a larger
wrench,” he said.
“Don't you think that some of the other wells might be
opened more easily?” June suggested.
"Perhaps so, but I doubt it. If they meant for them not to


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be disturbed, you can be pretty sure they fixed them all about
the same.”
Looking up, Bill saw two vaqueros of the ranch riding by a
short distance away. Whistling to attract their attention, he
beckoned to them. The Mexican cowboys struck up a gallop
and rode over.
“Miss Meredith, this is Juan Ramírez, and José Gonzales,
two of our best men,” Bill said as the men dismounted.
“How do you do?” June smiled, as the men doffed their
sombreros and bowed low.
"Juan, do you know where that large Stillson wrench is in
the tool house at the ranch?” Bill asked.
“I don't know. Maybe so me find,” Juan replied.
"You don't know, do you, José?”
"No, me no see.”
“Miss Meredith, you won't mind if I leave you here with
these two boys while I gallop back to the ranch and get a
larger wrench, will you?” Bill asked apologetically.
"Why, no, of course not,” June said as she looked at the two
men with a kindly smile.
"I won't be gone long," Bill said as he mounted his horse
and rode away at a gallop.
When Chandler arrived in Avera on the eight o'clock plane,
he was met by Bromberg. “I didn't know how you were com-
ing, so I met the seven o'clock train this morning," the lawyer
said, as Chandler stepped off the plane.
"That rattletrap is too slow and uncomfortable for me.
When I travel, I demand speed and comfort,” Chandler
boasted. “Of course, while the trains that run between the
larger cities are, as a rule, the last word in comfortable travel,
yet some of these ‘dinkies' that run away off here in the woods,
a man's as tired when he gets off as he would be if he'd
walked.”
“Yes, I guess you're right,” Bromberg agreed. “By the way,
it might have been a lucky coincidence that I met that train.
Your friend Miss Meredith came in on it.”
"You mean June?" Chandler was perturbed.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
221
“Well, Stonelli, what happened this time?” Chandler
asked the gunman in low tones as he sat down on the bunk
beside him.
"Had a little slip-up. This bloke was too smart for us,” the
gangster replied.
“How did it happen?”
Stonelli explained in detail what had happened in the at-
tempted assassination of Bill Shearn.
“A fine mess you've made of it,” Chandler said disgustedly.
“I've a good mind to leave you in here. Maybe the next time
you're sent out on a job, you'll do it right.”
“What do you mean, leave us in here? I don't want to rot in
this hick jail.”
“It would have been better if that cowpuncher had killed
all three of you. Then we wouldn't have had all this trouble,"
Chandler asserted.
“If he'd killed us, you'd have been in the clear. Things
don't happen that way, Chandler,” Stonelli retorted with
contempt.
“Well, I'm not going to a lot of trouble to get you out,”
Chandler asserted. The gangster looked at him with a con-
temptuous smile.
“If you know what's good for you, Chandler, you'll get us
out of here,” he warned.
“Maybe by taking this rap, you'll learn to take better aim,"
Chandler sneered. “Perhaps you'll have time to do a little
target practice while you're doing a stretch. This is the first
chance I've had to get rid of you rats in twenty years, and I
don't think I'm passing it up," Chandler said as he rose to
leave. “I'll feel much safer with you bums doing time than
I do with you out.”
"You know, Chandler, there's several of the boys that would
like to know where you are. And I think the law might be
interested,” Stonelli sneered.
“Don't worry. You'll not get a chance to tell them. And
besides, who'd take your word against mine? I'm a rich man,
a useful citizen, an asset to the community, while you are just
don't think I'm to get rid of you wat stretch. This is the


222
The Tin Box
three would-be murderers.” He gloated as he called: “All
right, sheriff. We're ready to go now.”
"Listen, Chandler," the gunman said in a low voice, “I'm
warning you. If you don't get us out of here, you'll wish you
had. I think the sheriff would be interested in knowing who
sent us down here.”
“You have no proof,” Chandler challenged. The sheriff was
coming to open the door, so the men said nothing more.
“Do you think he meant what he said about leaving us in
here?” one of the gunmen asked uneasily.
"Don't worry. Chandler knows better than to double-cross
me,"Stonelli boasted.
“Do you mean to leave them in jail?” Bromberg asked when
he and Chandler had reached the street.
"Sure, their word's no good against mine," Chandler as-
serted with confidence.
“No, I guess not,” the lawyer said thoughtfully. "Not so
long as something doesn't backfire on you, anyway.
“Nothing's going to backfire on me," Chandler boasted. “I
measure every step before I take it. And furthermore, I've got
all I want. That is, I will have when I get back that land I
sold June."
“Do you think you'll get that back?” Bromberg asked.
“I'm sure of it. Why, there's no way on earth for that girl to
pay for it-not with the way you fixed that contract," Chan-
dler laughed as he gave the attorney a hearty slap on the back.
"I thought it was about time I got a little credit for some-
thing,” the attorney smiled.
While Chandler and Bromberg were waiting for a cab, an
automobile that was hurrying by braked to a screeching, skid-
ding stop, then backed up to where the two men were stand-
ing.
"Good morning, Mr. Chandler,” Wade Lucas said.
“Good morning, Mr. Lucas.” Chandler beamed.
“I'm surprised to run into you down here,” Wade remarked.
“It is a small world, isn't it?" Chandler said. “What brings
you down here?”


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
223
"I shipped some cattle here a day or two ago. And may I
ask what brings you here?” Wade inquired.
“I came down to look over a part of that land I own down
here, the Patton tract,” Chandler explained. “We were just
waiting for a cab to carry us out there."
“Why, I'm going out to my ranch. It joins a part of your
land. Jump in, and I'll take you out there. I'm coming back
in time to take the eleven o'clock plane back home.”
“That's fine. I'm catching that plane also,” Chandler said.
"This is Charlie Wilkerson, foreman of my ranch down
here,” Wade introduced his foreman. “Charlie, this is Mr.
Robert Chandler, cattle and oil man from Labesia." Greetings
were exchanged.
“You know Mr. Bromberg, my attorney, here,” Chandler
said.
"Oh, yes, I've met him,” Wade said. “We may get to see
some of those cattle of yours, in the Johnson pasture," Wade
said as the four men drove off.
“Yes, I'd like to get a look at them. With you and your
foreman as witnesses, I should be able to work up a good case
against that cow thief.”
As the men neared the cowsheds on the Patton tract, they
observed June and the two vaqueros bending over some ob-
ject. “There's June now," Chandler exclaimed excitedly.
“Tampering with one of those wells. Can't you speed up,
Charlie? I want to stop her before she goes too far.”
Bill had been gone for some time when June, restless and
anxious to know if she would be able to get water, suggested
that the two vaqueros make an effort to unscrew the cap with
the small wrench. Juan picked up the wrench, and made a try
at it. “It's too tight,” he said. José, however, while looking
around, found the piece of casing that had been cut off and
thrown away when the well was sealed. Slipping this piece of
pipe (which was about two feet long) over the end of the
wrench to give greater leverage, both the men began to pull
together. “I believe it slipped a little that time," June, who


224
The Tin Box
was
sa
was watching closely, said as she thought she saw the cap
move.
“All together, now,” said Juan, as the two of them made
another pull.
“There it comes!” June exclaimed triumphantly, as the
cap began to unscrew easily. “I knew we could do it.”
“Who is that car?” asked José as he stopped working and
looked towards an automobile that was approaching at high
speed, only a short distance away.
“I don't know who that is,” Juan replied as the three stood
watching the approaching car.
“Get away from that well,” shouted Robert Chandler as he
jumped out of the car before it came to a stop and came run-
ning up to the group. “What are you doing there? Vamoose,
you hombres.”
“What do you mean, ordering these men away?" June de-
manded defiantly.
“I mean that they are not going to open that well,” Chan-
dler asserted.
“You've no right to interfere with these wells. This is my
land,” she stormed.
“Not until it's paid for,” Chandler asserted.
“Give me that wrench, Juan, I'll open it myself,” she said
in a firm voice, as the Mexican handed her the wrench.
“No, you won't,” Chandler said, as he grasped her arm and
tried to wrest the wrench from her.
As Bill was hurrying back to June and the two Mexican
cowboys, after he had found the larger wrench, he met Beno
Martínez-a vaquero who had been assigned to keep close
watch on the division fence between the Lucas and Johnson
pastures, to catch anyone who might be slipping cattle across
the fence-coming at a stiff gallop. “Come quick, Bill,” he said
"there's a big truck with cattle backing up to the fence.”
The two returned to where a large cattle truck of the Lucas
ranch had backed up to the fence, and had let down, over the
fence, a cleverly designed endgate that made a perfect ramp
for loading or unloading cattle over a fence. Stopping behind


228
The Tin Box
it. I was trying to get her to give me the wrench so I could
open it for her, as I didn't believe she was strong enough to
unscrew a cap that was on it, when her cow-punching friend
down there, à Bill Shearn I believe his name is, came riding
up, and she made him jump on me and beat me up," Chandler
explained.
“June did that?" the sheriff asked rather doubtfully. “That
doesn't sound like June Meredith.”
“Well, she did, all right. And to think how nice I've been to
that girl, allowing her to stay out there when I should have
thrown her off the place," he growled. “But this time, she's
gone a little too far. Sheriff, I want you to get her and her
whole outfit off my ranch. Give her, or her aunt, notice to
vacate at once."
“But you'll have to give them some time to get off,” the
sheriff informed him. “You can't just put them off without
giving them time to find a place to go.”
"I gave them, through my attorney, a written notice some
time ago to vacate at the earliest possible moment, and to be
ready to vacate on a moment's notice," Chandler told the of-
ficer.
“Oh, well, if you have already notified them, then there is
nothing left for them to do but get off," the sheriff said. “I'll
make out a writ of eviction, and you can sign it, and I'll go
right out and serve it.”
"If you won't mind, sheriff, I'd like to go out with you,"
Chandler said.
“Why, sure, be glad to have you along, Mr. Chandler.”
Sheriff Wright, accompanied by Robert Chandler, drove
up to the old ranch home of the Meredith generations, about
three o'clock that afternoon. Aunt Harriet as usual was putter-
ing around in the yard. Some of the ranch hands were taking
it easy for the afternoon, loitering around the bunkhouse and
the corrals, while others were riding into and away from the
ranch.
Uncle Jack was just saddling a horse, to ride over to the
mountain pasture, when he saw the sheriff and Chandler drive


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
229
by the corrals on their way to the house. “Oh, oh!” he said to
himself, “That don't look good.” So instead of going away, he
rode leisurely on up to the front gate, where the sheriff and
Chandler were talking to Aunt Harriet.
"Good evening, Harriet,” the sheriff said, as she came
around from back of the house. Chandler did not speak.
“Good evening, Sheriff Wright, good evening, Mr. Chan-
dler,” she said with a friendly smile.
“June’s not here, is she?” he asked knowingly.
“Why, no, sheriff. June left for Avera yesterday afternoon.
What's wrong?" she asked uneasily.
"Harriet, I have a writ here that is very painful for me to
serve. But I'm sure you understand that as an officer of the
law I must perform my duty. Mr. Chandler here has signed
this eviction order, giving you twenty-four hours to get off the
place.”
"Twenty-four hours?” Aunt Harriet was dazed. “Why, June
won't be back for several days, and I don't know what to do.
What's happened, Mr. Chandler, that causes you to order us
off so suddenly?”
Chandler repeated what he had told the sheriff a short time
before.
"There must be some mistake," she protested, “I never
knew June to act like that.”
"Well, she did. And I want you to be off this place by three
o'clock tomorrow,” Chandler said.
“What can we do, Jack?" Aunt Harriet asked as she turned
to Uncle Jack, who was leaning against the fence.
“I don't know. We'll have to figure out something. I'll ride
over to the Lucas ranch and see if we can put the cattle in one
of their pastures until Miss June gets back," Uncle Jack said.
"I'll write Wade a note, and tell him what's happened over
here, and maybe he'll let us stay over there for a day or two,”
Aunt Harriet said.
“All right,” Uncle Jack said, as he started back to the cor-
ral. “I'll go tell the boys to round up the cattle where we can
get at them handily.”


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The Tin Box
"What's the matter, Uncle Jack?” asked one of the several
men who crowded around him when he walked hurriedly up
to the bunkhouse.
“Get all the men together, and put all of Miss June's cattle
in that horse pasture, where we can get at them first thing
in the morning. Chandler has ordered us off this place by
three o'clock tomorrow evening,” the old foreman told them.
“And listen, boys,” he added solemnly, "we go through with
our plans tomorrow morning.”
Chapter Fourteen
CHANDLER'S THREAT TO HAVE THE SHERIFF KICK
her off his ranch within twenty-four hours, was still ringing in
June's ears as she, Bill Shearn and the two Mexican cowboys
stood in silence and watched the automobile carrying Chan-
dler, Wade and Bromberg back to the airport in Avera disap-
pear around a bend in the dim road. She felt sure that he
would carry out this threat. She had felt for a long time that
he wanted her to move off the place, but he seemed to lack
the nerve, or a plausible reason for ordering her off. But now,
since the fight with Bill, she felt that he would consider this
incident a justifiable excuse to order the sheriff to act. “Well,
that's that,” she finally said, still looking towards the spot
where the automobile had faded from view.
“Do you really think he will go through with it?” Bill
asked with deep concern.
“Yes, I'm sure of it now," she replied regretfully.
"I'm awfully sorry, Miss Meredith,” Bill apologized, “I
shouldn't have lost my temper.”
“It's all right, Mr. Shearn. It had to come sooner or later,
and I love you for what you did. I would have done it long


232
The Tin Box
since they have turned out like this, it seems that things are
getting worse for me.”
“Doesn't your contract with Chandler give you the privilege
of using water from the river?” Bill inquired thoughtfully,
“Seems that I remember hearing Mr. Johnson read something
like that when he was reading your contract, the night we
were at your home.”
“Yes, it does give me that privilege, but how could I get the
water over on my land? I would have to dig tanks and find
some way to get the water into them. And I have neither the
time nor money to do that.”
“There are some low places, or lagoons as we call them,
that lie along near the river in places. Some of them are real
close to the river. And at times, when the river overflows, they
run full and hold water for a long time,” Bill said. “It is only
about half a mile to the river, and if you think it worthwhile,
we can ride down there. Maybe we can figure out something,”
he suggested.
“Well, I guess it can do no harm,” June agreed. “I can't
leave for home before tonight, anyway."
June and Bill mounted their horses and started towards
the river, while the two vaqueros rode off into the brush in
the opposite direction.
To June, it seemed that all was lost. Although she agreed
to ride down and investigate the possibilities of getting water
from the river, she did so more to please Bill, and show her
appreciation for the assistance he had given her, and the inter-
est he had shown in her welfare.
In her mind, she had fully decided to carry out the plans
she had formed before she left Labesia-to salvage what she
could from what Chandler had left her, then take Aunt Har-
riet and seek employment in the city.
Just what kind of work she would seek, she did not know. It
depended to a great extent on how much she would be able to
salvage from her father's wrecked estate. She had about de-
cided to call Felix Hobson when she returned to Labesia, and
see if he would make her an offer on the sorry bunch of culls


234
The Tin Box
and stood looking over a small lagoon some distance from the
river. “Up a little farther, there's a much larger one, and it's
closer to the river. Shall we ride on and take a look at it?”
“Yes, I suppose so," June replied halfheartedly.
The river bottomlands were heavily wooded along the half
mile that lay between the first lagoon inspected, and the one
to which they were headed. Pecan, live oak, pen oak, catclaw
and many other varieties of trees and bushes grew in profu-
sion along the generally steep bank of the river. “Now, this
place is much better than the other,” Bill said as they came to
an opening of about an acre in area.
This place was somewhat lower than the surrounding ter-
rain, and was covered with salt grass and “coffeebushes.” The
lagoon was made up of many small ponds or “pockets,” and
was pocked with the hoof-prints of cattle. The soil was heavily
alkaline.
The river at this point turned at a sharp angle from east to
south, to parallel the division fence, and it was at the elbow
of this angle that the lagoon was located. “It's larger and
nearer the river,” Bill observed. “This is about the first place
to overflow when the river gets up. You could rig up a pump
here, and lift water from the river to keep the place full. It's
large enough to supply your cattle for a long time, once it is
filled.”
“I would have to have a gasoline engine and some pipe,
wouldn't I?" she asked.
“Mr. Johnson has a gasoline engine at the house that we're
not using. And we have plenty of pipe. I'm sure he'd be glad
to let you have it, and I'll rig it up for you,” Bill suggested.
“I hate to be so much bother to you and Uncle Cyrus,” June
complained.
"No bother at all. We're glad to do what we can to help.”
“About how far would you call it to the river?” she asked.
"About a hundred yards I imagine. I'll step it off and see,"
Bill said as he dismounted and began to count steps towards
the river. “Whew!” he grimaced, as he grabbed his foot.
“What's the matter?” June inquired anxiously.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
235
“I stepped on something that pivoted; liked to have
sprained my ankle,” he said as he worked his foot from side to
side. Then reaching down, he picked up out of the silt and
rubbish left by the overflows, a small tin box.
“What have you found there, a fortune?” June asked jok-
ingly.
“Don't know. It's so rusty, I can't open it,” he said as he
tried to raise the cover, which was hinged on one side. “Oh
well, there's nothing in it anyway,” he said as he shook it to
see if it contained anything, then tossed it some distance away.
“Now nobody else is going to sprain an ankle on it.”
Bill proceeded to step off the distance to the water. “Just
about two hundred and ninety feet,” he said. “That will be
easy to rig up, if you care to try it."
"I'll think it over between here and the ranch,” she said
as she started to ride off.
Bill took a moment to tighten his saddle cinch before
mounting. Then, striking up a gallop to overtake June, one of
Gotch's feet struck the tin box he had tossed away a moment
before, knocking the cover loose, and revealing some papers
held securely to the side by two small metal clamps. “Whoa,
Gotch," Bill said as he dismounted. Then, picking up the box,
he examined it closely.
The small tin box, no larger than a woman's hand, held
two small black books, and an envelope. Using his pocket
knife, Bill released the clamps, which were stuck with rust,
and lifted out one of the books. June by this time had stopped
and was looking back at Bill. “Miss Meredith!” he called ex-
citedly, “Don't you have a City National Bank at your home?”
"Why, yes. But don't try to tell me you've found our bank
in that small box," she kidded Bill.
“Here's a check book in this box, from that bank,” Bill said,
holding up the book as June rode slowly back to him.
“A check book?” June was puzzled. “I don't understand.
What would a check book from Labesia be doing in a box
away down here, more than six hundred miles away?"
Bill took out the second small book as June came riding up.


236
The Tin Box
“Here!” He was more excited now. "Take a look at this,”
he said, holding up the second book, “Wasn't your father's
name Tom Meredith?” he asked as he looked in the bank
account book.
“Yes, let me see that,” she said as she sprang from her horse
and stood beside him.
The name “Tom Meredith” was written in the book, and it
showed a deposit of thirty-three hundred dollars. “Why, that
was the amount my father deposited in that bank the day he
was killed.” June was more excited now than Bill.
“Here, let's see what's in this envelope," Bill said as he
started to remove it from the box. “I'll have to cut it loose;
it's rusted to the box,” he said as he started to run the blade
of his pocket knife very carefully between the envelope and
the box to avoid tearing it.
June stood watching his every movement. She was greatly
excited, and becoming extremely nervous. She had been told
by the cashier of the bank that her father had in his posses-
sion when he left the bank on the day of his death a check
book, and an account book showing a deposit of thirty-three
hundred dollars. These were never found, but their descrip-
tion tallied with the books found in the tin box. She had how-
ever, no knowledge of any other papers that might have been
in his possession on that day.
She tried to make herself believe that the books were au-
thentic; that they were the ones given to her father at the
bank. But how could they have gotten there? The whole thing
was vague and incomprehensible to her.
She stood leaning against Bill's arm, trembling with excite-
ment and anticipation. With trembling fingers, she made in-
voluntary attempts to grab the envelope before Bill could get
it cut loose. What did the envelope contain? That was the
question that raced through her mind. Perhaps some message
that would disclose the activities of the last hours of her fa-
ther's life? Or maybe the twenty one-thousand dollar notes
that the banker said her father carried from the bank, or some-
thing that would lead to their whereabouts.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
237
Anticipation, hope, fear of disappointment were racing
through her brain when, after what seemed to her an eternity,
Bill finally pulled the envelope from the box. “You'd better
let me open it, Miss Meredith. You are nervous, and might
tear something valuable,” Bill said.
Running the knife blade very carefully along the edge of
the envelope, he opened it and pulled out a small piece of
paper-a receipt from an old receipt book. As June leaned on
Bill's arm for support, they read together: “Received of Tom
Meredith, twenty thousand dollars, cash (Twenty one-thou-
sand-dollar notes), in full payment of mortgage held by my
company on his ranch, twelve miles north of Labesia, Texas.
I hold no further claim on this ranch, or anything else belong-
ing to Tom Meredith.” Signed, Robert Chandler. They
looked at each other in silence. Then Bill observed that there
was a notation on the other side. Turning the receipt over,
they read: “Due to the absence of my attorney from the city,
who has all the papers pertaining to this transaction in his
office, I cannot deliver the mortgage papers today, but will
release them to Tom Meredith or his representatives upon
the return of my attorney to his office.”
Again their eyes met questioningly. Finally Bill spoke:
“What do you make of it?” he asked.
"It's beyond me. I can't understand it. Do you suppose
someone is playing a joke on me?" she asked, as she looked
anxiously into Bill's eyes for an answer.
"No. The box has been there too long to think that. And
besides, there was only one bank account book issued in your
father's name that day, and that one was issued to him. So he
must have lost it.
"I believe it is slowly coming to me, just about what hap-
pened,” Bill said, as he tried to reconstruct from the evidence
in hand and from what he had learned about the case from
Uncle Jack while on the two visits to the Meredith ranch.
June listened attentively, as Bill pieced together a plausible
story.
“When your father went to town to pay the lien, Chandler


238
The Tin Box
knew it was the last day on which the mortgage could be paid
without a renewal. So he pretended that his attorney was out
of town, and that the mortgage papers were in the attorney's
office. Your father paid Chandler the cash, and Chandler gave
him the receipt, and hoped that in some way it might be
destroyed. There was no other record of the payment.
“Just how Mr. Meredith got hold of this box, I don't know.
Perhaps he bought it, or might even have picked it up. But
however it was, it was an act of providence that caused him
to put these papers in it.
“When your father's car was forced off the cliff,” he con-
tinued, “and landed in the creek, this box floated out of
the car and down the stream-which must be the same Sawaya
River-before those men could get down to the car.”
"I think I'm beginning to understand,” June said, tears com-
ing into her eyes.
"At about that time, and for some time after," Bill said,
"we were having heavy rains and floods all over this coast
country, which put all the streams out of banks. And it so
happened that this box floated down here about that time, and
was brought by the backwaters into this lagoon, where the
receding waters left it.”
“I remember,” June said slowly, as if not certain just what
she wanted to say, “since you've been talking, that one of the
men who reached Mother before she died said she spoke only
two words, 'tin box.'”
"She was trying to tell them about the receipt,” Bill said
thoughtfully.
“If I am not dreaming, and this receipt is genuine, does
that mean that the ranch is still mine?” June asked, when she
had regained her composure.
"That's just what it means. And it also means that a Mr.
Robert Chandler is in for a peck of trouble, as the receipt
proves definitely that he took your home by fraud.”
“Oh, if I could only get back home before he puts Aunt
Harriet and my boys and my stock off the place. When does
the next train leave here for Labesia?” she inquired anxiously.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
239
"Ten o'clock this evening,” Bill said, “and it doesn't reach
Labesia until around eleven o'clock tomorrow.”
“There's no telling what will happen by that time,” June
lamented.
“Is there no plane out before that time?”
"No. The transport that stops at Labesia leaves here at
eleven o'clock.” Bill looked at his watch. “It has been gone
half an hour.”
“If there was any way to get there,” she said.
Suddenly Bill's face lit up with excitement as he thought of
a solution. “I've got it!” he exclaimed. “The plane."
"But the plane has gone,” she reminded him.
“No, I don't mean that. I mean the speed plane, my boss's
plane. We didn't tell you we have a plane, did we?”
"No, you didn't.”
“Come on, get on your horse. We haven't a minute to lose,”
Bill shouted wildly, as he started to assist her to mount. But
she had swung into the saddle before he could reach her. “Mr.
Johnson is leaving for the cattlemen's convention at San An-
tonio sometime this morning. I hope we can get back to the
ranch before he takes off.” They were more than three miles
from the ranch, and they rode like wild.
The little speed plane, with Shorty at the controls, had just
hopped off, and was circling for altitude when Shorty, looking
over the side, said: “There's Bill and Miss Meredith waving
good-bye to us.”
“Yes,” Uncle Cyrus said as he waved back to them.
Still circling, Shorty looked down again, “They're still wav-
ing. Looks like Bill is beckoning to us with his hat.”
“We'd better land,” Uncle Cyrus suggested. “It may be
that there is something wrong; something important."
Shorty circled the plane again, then started to nose down.
Bill jumped from his horse and, followed closely by June,
was at the side of the plane when it taxied to a stop.
“Mr. Meredith paid off that mortgage before he died,” Bill
shouted excitedly, as the boss stepped from the plane.


240
The Tin Box
"What do you mean, Bill? You're all excited. What's hap-
pened?"
“I mean that we've found proof that Mr. Meredith paid
Chandler that money.” Uncle Cyrus looked at him curiously.
“Look, here's a receipt showing it.” Bill opened the box and
handed him the receipt.
"Where did you get this?” the boss asked somewhat skepti-
cally. Bill gave a detailed account of the incidents that had
happened in such rapid-fire order during the past few hours
that Uncle Cyrus was dumbfounded.
“Well,” he said, “I'm pretty old, but I've never seen any-
thing like this before. Do you think this is genuine? Maybe it's
a hoax. Let's see. I've got Chandler's signature on that check
I gave June last fall. Let me get it and compare the signature
with this one.” He went into the house, and in a moment was
back with the canceled check. Holding them close together, he
scrutinized them closely.
“That's the same handwriting, all right,” he said. “Well,
that dirty scoundrel. Of all the low tricks I've ever heard of
to rob somebody of his property, this takes the cake. Do you
think he will put you off the place, June?”
“I'm pretty sure he will, unless I can get there to stop him.”
“Bill, why don't you take this plane and fly her up there?
Shorty and I can go to San Antonio in the car," yrus
suggested.
"I'll be glad to, if she wants to go that way,” Bill replied.
“Oh, thank you so much, Uncle Cyrus.” June threw her
arms around his neck and gave him a big kiss.
"Climb in, Miss Meredith, while I run and get my pilot's
license,” Bill said as he took off in a run for the bunkhouse.
"If I could only realize that I'm not dreaming,” June said
as Uncle Cyrus adjusted a parachute on her while she stood
by the plane.
"Well, I guess we're ready to go,” Bill said as he climbed
into the cockpit. “It's now twelve o'clock. We should make it
there by three.”


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
241
“The transport lands there at two," June said. “We'll get
there an hour after Chandler does.”
“I hope you get out to your place just in time to catch him
ordering Harriet off the place," Uncle Cyrus said wistfully.
The little red speed plane banked beautifully against the
clear blue of a Texas noonday sky. Then, circling the ranch
twice, it pointed its shiny nose in the direction of Labesia.
June and Bill sat silent as the plane glided gracefully over
the broken terrain below. The hum of the plane's motor
seemed to sing a song of relief, of hope and courage to June's
troubled mind.
As she looked down at the earth passing so swiftly beneath
them, her courage mounted with each passing mile. Events of
the last few hours sped by in her mind, in fantastic confusion.
The hope of finding water available, the fight between Bill
and Chandler, the cowardly attempt by Wade Lucas to kill
Bill without warning. The disappointment at finding the wells
unfit for use, and the last ray of hope seeming to have fled with
that discovery, and then-the finding of the tin box.
To her, it all seemed so unreal, so like a beautiful dream
that precedes a horribly disappointing awakening. “If it's
only true," she thought. She pressed harder on the tin box that
she held in such a firm grip. So hard that it made her fingers
ache. “Yes, that part of it, at least, was real,” she thought.
What would happen to Chandler? What would he do when
confronted with proof of his fraud? The questions passed be-
fore her mind in rapid confusion as they neared Labesia.
Maintaining a speed of approximately two hundred miles
an hour, they landed at the airport a few minutes after three
o'clock. Bill hailed a cab, “To the sheriff's office, driver, and
step on it,” he ordered.
"Beautiful day for a wedding,” the driver remarked sheep-
ishly, as he suspected them of having eloped.
"And just as beautiful for other business," Bill retorted.
Instructing the driver to wait, Bill, followed closely by June,
started up the walk to the sheriff's office, Bill walking with


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The Tin Box
long strides, while June resorted to a half-trot in her efforts to
keep up.
"Good evening, sir. Is the sheriff in?” he inquired.
“Good evening-oh, good evening, Miss Meredith. I didn't
recognize you,” the deputy at the window remarked.
“Good evening, Mr. Smith," June said. “We want to see
the sheriff.”
“Why, he's not in right now," the deputy said hesitatingly.
"I believe he's gone out towards your ranch. Someone told me
you left yesterday for your place down at Avera. You must
have come back on the transport," the deputy remarked
“No, Mr. Shearn flew me back in a private plane," June
explained.
d'Oh, I see. Then that red plane I saw circling the airport a
few minutes ago must have been your plane."
“Yes, it was. How long has the sheriff been gone?”
“Just about thirty minutes. Mr. Chandler went with him.”
"Miss Meredith wants to file a complaint against Mr. Chan-
dler,” Bill broke in, “charging him with depriving her of her
property by fraud.”
“Why, what do you mean?” the officer asked. “Have you
proof of this charge?”
“Yes, I think we have.” Bill took the receipt from the box
and presented it, telling the officer just what had happened.
The officer looked at the paper closely, “Well, I'll be," he
said as he handed the receipt back to Bill. “I'll make out a
warrant for his arrest, and if you'll go on out there, you may
catch him and the sheriff before they leave there. If you do,
just hand this to the sheriff. But if you miss them, I'll give
this duplicate copy to the sheriff when he comes back in. I
hope you'll get out there in time to avoid any unnecessary in-
convenience to yourself, Miss Meredith.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” June said as they left the office.
“Back to the airport, and hurry, driver,” Bill said as they
stepped into the waiting cab. Back at the airport they climbed
into the plane, and in a few minutes were circling the ranch
for a place to land.


244
The Tin Box
in a business world. Every man must watch out for his own
interest.”
The plane landed in the valley near the first oil well that
was drilled on the Meredith ranch, then started taxying to-
wards the corrals, stopping about a hundred yards from the
house. June and Bill jumped out and came hurrying towards
the sheriff's car.
“Why, that's June,” the sheriff said, as he and Chandler got
out of the car.
“Yes, and that's that bully Shearn with her. Where did they
get a plane to come here? I left them down yonder, around
eleven o'clock,” Chandler said, apparently nervous.
“Seem to be in a big hurry," the sheriff observed.
"I guess they hurried here to beg for mercy, but they'll get
no mercy from me,” he said as he rubbed his swollen face.
"And I want you to be off this place by three o'clock tomor-
row," he reminded Aunt Harriet in a voice loud enough that
June might hear.
June stopped and placed her arms about Aunt Harriet,
while Bill kept on to the sheriff's car. “Just a minute before
you carry out that order, sheriff,” Bill said firmly. “And Mr.
Chandler, I think it's you who is going to need mercy. Sher-
iff, I have a warrant here, issued by your office a few minutes
ago, for this man's arrest.” Bill handed the warrant to the
sheriff who read it over a second time before looking up. “You
-you mean Mr. Chandler?” he stammered.
"Yes, that's who I mean,” Bill assured him.
“Do you have proof of this charge?” The officer was puz-
zled.
Chandler’s face began to turn pale. It was apparent that he
was greatly perturbed. Bill opened the small box he held in
his hand, and drew from it a small piece of paper, which he
started to hand to the sheriff. Chandler, always wary and on
the alert, and conscious of the possibilities that the receipt
might be found, recognized it instantly. Like a flash, he jerked
the paper from Bill's hand, and tried to put it in his mouth.
Bill, however, on the alert for any trick Chandler might try


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
245
P
.
to pull, was too quick. He seized Chandler's wrist and gave it
a sharp twist, throwing him heavily to the ground.
“Do you want to break my arm?” Chandler yelled in pain.
"I ought to break your neck,” Bill snarled through clenched
teeth, as with the knuckle of his forefinger he bored hard into
the back of Chandler's hand, forcing him to release the death-
like grip he held on the receipt.
Handing the paper to the sheriff, he held Chandler se-
curely while explaining to the sheriff the circumstances sur-
rounding the recovery of the receipt.
“That's a lie-a forgery,” Chandler shouted, peering out
from under Bill's arm. “That's just a trick that June and this
cowpuncher have concocted so she can stay here a little
longer. But she'll not get away with it.”
“The finding of the check book and the bank account book
which Tom Meredith was known to have had with him the
day he met his death, Mr. Chandler, seems to indicate-to me
at least-that this receipt is genuine,” the sheriff argued. “I
believe I have your signature here on this eviction warrant.
I'll compare it with the one on this receipt.”
"There's no use doing that. It's a forgery, I tell you,” Chan-
dler contended.
“Looks the same to me," the sheriff said as he held the two
pieces of paper close together. “But if you contend it's a for-
gery, then I'll have to hold you until these two signatures are
studied and passed on by the handwriting experts of my of-
fice. Do you still say this receipt is a forgery?”
“Well, no, I confess," Chandler admitted reluctantly.
"Then Tom Meredith did pay you the twenty thousand
dollars, and clear his ranch of the mortgage before he died?”
the sheriff said.
“Yes.”
“Yet you foreclosed and took the place because June could
find no proof of it?”
“Yes. After Mr. Meredith was killed, and the receipt was
not found, I knew there was no other proof of the payment. I
wanted the ranch because I knew there was oil here. The


248
The Tin Box
“Yes,” replied Uncle Jack. “The boys seldom ride him ex-
cept to show off when some of them feel extra good.”
"I see. What's the occasion this evening?” the man asked.
“Oh, they're celebrating June-er, Miss Meredith getting
her ranch back.”
"Miss Meredith getting her ranch back?” he asked. “What
do you mean?”
"She found out that Chandler beat her out of it; found proof
that her father paid off the mortgage Chandler held on his
ranch the day he was killed.”
“Do you mean that Miss Meredith has in her possession
proof that her father paid Mr. Chandler the money he owed
on the ranch before he met his death? And that the ranch has
never legally belonged to Mr. Chandler?” Mr. Ross, field
superintendant for the Bluge Oil Corporation, so phrased
his question that there could be no mistake in its meaning.
“That's right,” Uncle Jack replied rather unconcernedly,
without taking his eyes off the horse and rider.
“Does Mr. Chandler know about it?”
“Yes, he was here with the sheriff when Miss Meredith flew
back from Avera bringing the proof with her.”
Uncle Jack then explained briefly to Ross what he had
learned about the matter.
“Where is Mr. Chandler now?” Mr. Ross inquired anx-
iously.
"On his way to jail in custody of the sheriff,” Uncle Jack
informed him.
Ross jumped back in his car, turned it around and drove
hurriedly back to the company's field office. “Hello! Hello!
Jim?” he called excitedly, when he had been connected with
the company's office in Labesia.
“Yes, what's the excitement?” Robertson asked.
“Listen, Jim, you've got to get out here quick. Everything's
all torn up,” he shouted incoherently.
“What do you mean?” Robertson asked.
Ross then repeated what Uncle Jack had told him.
"Are you sure that's what he meant? You stay there until I


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
249
call the sheriff's office and check that. Because if that's true,
there isn't a valid lease in that oil field.”
Robertson called the sheriff, who verified what Uncle Jack
had said.
Jim Robertson lost no time in getting out to the ranch. He
was met down by the corrals by Ross. After a hurried confer-
ence, they drove on to the house, where they were in confer-
ence with June, Aunt Harriet and Bill for more than an hour.
Late that afternoon, June told Uncle Jack to tell all the men
they were to be her guests at dinner that evening, to celebrate
the repossession of their home, and to honor Bill Shearn for
the many things he had done for them.
At the dinner table that evening, June and Bill were obliged
to take turns in relating over and over to the men, who seemed
unable to understand, just how they chanced to find the small
box containing the papers. “I just can't understand how such a
thing could happen,” Uncle Jack said, as he seemed in deep
thought. “Just to think, the very man that robbed you of your
home sold you the land on which you found proof of the fraud.
I don't believe any book of fiction could be written that could
come up to that. It just doesn't seem possible.”
“I can hardly believe it myself,” ſune said. “I keep fearing
I'll awake and find it all a dream.
“Mr. Robertson was out this afternoon," she continued,
"and assured me that his company is at my service, to do
everything they can to assist me in rehabilitating myself. And
incidentally, he told me some things about my interest in the
oil field that I know all of you will be glad to hear.
"Among other things, he said that the finding of the receipt
given to my father by Mr. Chandler proved that I was fraudu-
lently dispossessed, and naturally all my property, including
the cattle taken from me, is automatically restored to me. And
that every lease on the Meredith properties becomes invalid.
He also said that I will receive all royalties and bonuses that
have been paid to Mr. Chandler, amounting to well over a
million dollars.”
At this, the men almost raised the roof with their cowboy


250
The Tin Box
yells and cheers. When they were again quiet, June contin-
ued: “Mr. Robertson further told me that as his company had
given the land at Avera to Mr. Chandler as part payment of
the bonus on this lease, the entire twenty-five thousand acres
becomes mine. And that if I don't want it, he will take it off
my hands, paying me twice as much per acre as I contracted
to pay Mr. Chandler. He is to stop by within the next few days
for my decision.
“And now, I want to thank every one of you for the way
you have stood by me. You have been swell. There have been
times during the past few months when clouds seemed so
thick and black over my future that it seemed the sun would
never break through. But some of you were always at my side
with words of encouragement that seemed to make things a
little brighter, and helped me to carry on. And I want you all
to know that I shall never forget.
“We are honored to have with us tonight as our guest Mr.
William Shearn, a young man who has helped us on many
occasions, and in many ways. Since meeting Mr. Shearn, and
because of his two previous visits with us, we have all learned
to love him. And we all hope that hereafter he will visit us
often."
“Mr. Shearn," Aunt Harriet said as the men were preparing
to leave for the bunk house, “you may occupy our guest room
tonight if you like.”
"Thank you very much, Miss Meredith, but if you don't
mind, I'd feel a great deal more at home with some of the
boys, that is, if they'll let me sleep on the floor or some place
with them,” Bill said, looking from one to another of the men.
“You can stay with me," quickly replied one. “Take my
bed,” another insisted. “He's going to stay with me.” It seemed
that every man was talking at the same time.
“You're all late," put in Uncle Jack. “Martha has already
fixed for him to stay with us tonight.”
“Well, Mr. Shearn, you'll have breakfast with us in the
morning, won't you?" Aunt Harriet asked.
"I'll be glad to,” Bill replied.


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The Tin Box
God who determines the destiny of us earthly mortals, I'd be
convinced this morning that there is a living God.
“We have a lot to be thankful for this morning," Uncle
Jack continued, “not only for the fact that a great wrong has
been righted, and June has been spared an ordeal that might
have wrecked her life. Not only that we have been enabled to
keep our jobs, but I am thankful most of all that God has so
guided the footsteps of all who had a part in this drama, that
restitution has been brought about without our hands being
stained with human blood. I want to forget that part of it.”
Uncle Jim was looking at the ground as the old foreman
talked. He said nothing, but nodded his head slowly.
The men were in the catch-pens before daylight. They
stooped low to catch the outline of their horses' heads silhou-
etted against the purple-tinged horizon, that they might cast
their lariats and lead their mounts away from the herd of
closely huddled cow ponies, crowded together in a corner of
the pen. Uncle Jack gave instructions for the day's work:
“We've got to turn all these cattle together, and let these cows
and calves that Chandler separated find each other. It's been
more than a month, but most of the cows can be brought back
to milk, and we won't have so many dogies to feed this win-
ter.”
Up at the ranch house, Aunt Harriet and June had breakfast
prepared when Bill came in, and they sat down to eat by
lamplight.
"How did you rest last night after so much activity crowded
into so short a time yesterday, Mr. Shearn?” Aunt Harriet
inquired.
“I rested fine. You've got a fine lot of men here, Miss Mere-
dith. They all seem so friendly, and so devoted to you and
your niece.”
“Yes, they're a fine bunch of men. Most of them were raised
right here on the ranch, and have been here all their lives,”
Aunt Harriet replied.
“If we just had you here, things would be perfect,” June
said, looking wistfully into Bill's eyes.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
253
"Yes, why don't you come back and help us get things
straightened out?” Aunt Harriet suggested. “Cyrus can spare
you for a little while.”
"Perhaps I can. I would like to be of any assistance I can,"
he said.
As June and Bill had to be in the court room at ten o'clock,
they decided that she would fly into Labesia with him, while
one of the men would proceed to town in the car to bring her
back, as Bill planned to start for home as soon as the examining
trial for Chandler was over.
Shortly after nine o'clock, Bill started warming up his mo-
tor, leaving it running while he walked up to the house to see
when June would be ready. “Come in, Bill," June called as
she heard his footsteps.
“Well, I don't suppose I'll be seeing you much now, Miss
Meredith,” Bill said as he sat down in the porch swing, fum-
bling with his hat nervously.
“Yes, you will. You are going to see me so much now, that
you'll get tired looking at me,” June said.
“I'll never get tired looking at you,” he replied sl
“Well, I guess I'm about ready,“ June said.
"I'll go and bring the plane nearer the house,” Bill said as
he started off the porch.
“Come into the living room for a moment before you go,"
June invited hesitatingly.
Bill walked in to where she was standing in the center of
the room. She walked over and took him by the hand. “I just
want to say good-bye here, before we part in Labesia,” she said
as she drew him close to her, lifting her face invitingly to his.
For a moment, Bill was confused. Although he loved June
secretly, he had not hoped or dreamed of her love in re-
turn. However, his emotions quickly overcame his timidity
and, holding her closely in his arms, he planted kiss after kiss
on her lips. “Oh, darling, I love you so much,” he said. “I've
loved you since I first saw you. But I've been afraid to even
hope for your love."
"I've loved you from the time you took me in your arms off


254
The Tin Box
that runaway horse, Bill,” she said. “I've needed you ever
since. And now I need you more than ever.”
“I understand, darling, and I'll do everything in my power
to help you and to make you happy.”
June and Bill landed at the airport in Labesia shortly be-
fore ten o'clock. Charlie was waiting in June's car, and drove
them to the court house, where Chandler was given a pre-
liminary hearing and remanded to jail. After the hearing, June
and Charlie drove Bill back to the airport.
June decided, after leaving the airport, that she would do
some shopping before starting home. Stopping her car in front
of one of the larger stores, she and Charlie were looking at a
window display when they overheard part of a conversation
between two cowmen who were walking hurriedly along the
sidewalk in the direction of Zack Wilson's saloon, which was
just around the corner.
“I understand that Wade Lucas is gunning for him,” they
heard one cowman remark.
“Yes," replied the other, “Wade's in Zack's place now. And
if that's where he went, there's likely to be some fireworks—”
June and Charlie exchanged puzzled glances as the men
passed out of hearing. “I wonder who they were talking
about,” June said uneasily.
“I haven't any idea, unless they were talking about Bill,
and we left him at the airport,” Charlie said.
“Let's drive around that way," June suggested.
Charlie parked the car a few doors from Zack Wilson's
saloon. Just as they were getting out, a shot rang out from
inside the saloon, followed instantly by a second shot, as men
came pouring out the door.
When Bill had got out of June's car at the airport, he started
up the motor of his plane, then went into the office, leaving
the motor idling. He asked a clerk if he had seen Wade that
morning, and was told that Wade had driven past the air-
port about thirty minutes before, going in the direction of
Zack's place. Bill wanted to talk to Wade about the cattle that
were being “pastured” on the Johnson ranch at Avera. Think-


258
The Tin Box
“Yes, I believe they are somewhat heavier,” June said.
“I'm very much elated over the fact that you got them back
before Mr. Chandler could dispose of them. And I believe I
can best show it by raising my offer on them,” he said.
“Mr. Hobson, I would consider myself ungrateful indeed
if, after the consideration you have shown me, I should accept
a higher price from you. No, I couldn't do that. You offered
me ten cents a pound when they were not worth that much.
If you want them at that price now, or even at a lower figure,
they're yours. But not one cent higher,” she said.
“Then suppose we say ten cents,” the buyer said.
"Whenever you want them,” June assured him.
Jim Robertson stopped in a few days later to see what June
had decided about the land at Avera. “I tell you, Miss Mere-
dith, you don't need all that land,” he argued. “Why, you've
got more land than you can look after right here. I'm offering
to take it off your hands more as a favor to you than for any
personal gain,” he pointed out.
"Well, I haven't given it much thought, I've been so busy,"
June said. “But I don't see where I need it. You may stop by
in about ten days, and I will have decided.”
"Thank you, Miss Meredith. I'll bring along my attorney,
with all necessary papers to close the deal."
“Very well. I'll see at that time,” June replied.
Because the chain of events and incidents that had hap-
pened in such rapid sequence during the past few days had
proven so disastrous to Robert Chandler, the three gunmen
in jail at Avera had been forgotten. Still unable to procure
bond, Stonelli was restlessly pacing his cell when the sheriff
handed him a newspaper through the bars. “I see a news arti-
cle here that says your friend Robert Chandler, up at Labesia,
was arrested the other day,” the sheriff said.
"Yeah? What's the trouble?" the gunman asked.
“You'll see it in there.”
Stonelli read the article a second time. “I always hoped
they'd find that receipt,” he muttered with grim satisfaction.
"So he'll leave us to rot in this joint, will he? I been wanting


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
259
to get a chance at that dirty rat. I'll see if I can't help him rot
in jail. I hope I can send him to the roaster," he snarled
through clenched teeth.
"Pretty serious charge,” the sheriff remarked when he came
back for the paper.
"Yeah, but not near as serious as it's going to be," Stonelli
asserted. “Sheriff, I want to talk to the district attorney. I've
got something to tell him that I think will be mighty' inter-
estin'.”
The sheriff rang the district attorney's office, and that of-
ficial was closeted with Stonelli at the jail in a very few min-
utes.
“Will you sign an affidavit that what you've told me is true?”
the district attorney asked.
“I'll be glad to, D.A. I hope I can send that dirty, double-
crossing rat to the hot seat," the gunman snarled.
The district attorney then went to the sheriff's office, wrote
out an affidavit and returned to Stonelli's cell. With the
sheriff as a witness, the prisoner then signed the document.
The charge against Chandler at Labesia was then changed
from possessing the Meredith properties by fraud to a charge
of accessory before the fact in the death of Tom Meredith.
During the ten days following Jim Robertson's conference
with June relative to the disposition of her land at Avera, she
gave the matter considerable thought. “It is more a liability
than an asset,” she thought. “So far down there, and I don't
need it. So what can I gain by keeping it?” She had about
decided to dispose of it when Robertson, with his attorney,
drove up to the ranch one afternoon. June was in her office
when they came. “Good evening, Miss Meredith,” Robertson
raised his hat. “This is my attorney, Mr. Selzman.” June
greeted the attorney with a smile. “I believe it has been about
ten days since we talked about your land at Avera,” he re-
minded her. "Have you decided to let me take that land off
your hands?”
"I've given it some thought, and I can't see where it can
be of much use to me. As you say, it's of no use except for


260
The Tin Box
grazing, and I don't want to start another ranch, so I've about
decided to sell," June said.
“I thought you'd see it that way, Miss Meredith,” Robertson
said, with much satisfaction. “Now, Mr. Selzman has all the
necessary papers made out transferring the property to me.
You can just sign this deed, and I have the check for two hun-
dred fifty thousand dollars made out to you."
June took the deed and started to read it before signing.
“Jim has just come in with the mail, June," Aunt Harriet said
as she came to the door and handed June a packet of letters.
"Excuse me a moment, gentlemen,” she said as she stopped
reading the deed to glance through the mail. One letter she
opened and started to read.
"Pardon me, Miss Meredith, but Mr. Selzman has some
very important business to attend to back at his office, and we
would greatly appreciate it if you would sign the deed so he
can get back as quickly as possible,” Robertson said anxiously.
“Just a moment, please," June said as she continued to read.
The letter was from Bill, and she had reached a part which
read: “-I hope I haven't been too inquisitive, or taken too
much authority, but I became curious to know why Chandler
objected to your opening those wells, so I took some water
from one and had it analyzed. Here is the chemist's report:
‘From the amount of sulphur contained in this water, it is
indicated that somewhere in this area lies the greatest sulphur
formation yet discovered-Please don't think I'm meddling in
your affairs, I only thought you might be interested in know-
ing-”
So that's why Mr. Chandler so strenuously objected to my
opening those wells, she thought, and that's why these men
are so anxious to take the land off my hands.
Looking up, she said firmly, “Gentlemen, I've changed my
mind. I don't care to sell.”
Since no amount of reasoning or persuasion could change
her decision-not even a suggestion by the lawyer to double
the amount of the offer-the men left her office.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
261
"I wonder who that letter was from?” the lawyer remarked
as they climbed into the car.
“Must have been from that Beau Brummel boy friend of
hers down at Avera. That guy's a pain in the neck, Robertson
commented.
"There ought to be something done about him," the lawyer
said.
“Evidently that's what Stonelli and his mob thought, and
look what happened to them,” Robertson reminded him.
Chapter Sixteen
ROBERT CHANDLER HAD COME TO LABESIA SEV-
eral years before, from where, no one seemed to know. He
had plenty of money to lend to the hard-pressed ranchers and
soon became a leading figure in the community. He never
cared to talk of his past life, and, when pressed for any history
pertaining to himself, was evasive and changed the subject at
the first opportunity.
The people of Labesia soon learned that he was sensitive
on that subject, so, as long as he was in a position to help
them when they needed help, they refrained from any men-
tion of the past and let it go at that.
But now, since it had been proved definitely that he had
fraudulently dispossessed June Meredith, daughter of one of
the wealthiest and most highly respected pioneer families of
that section, of her land and cattle and, to add to that, the fact
that he stood accused of plotting the death of her parents, the
community, and that entire section of West Texas for miles
around, was up in arms. Not only were they determined to see
that justice was done, but a new and malevolent attitude to-


262
The Tin Box
ward him had been assumed. And it was hoped that the trial
would bring out something of his past life.
By the skillful maneuvering of Bromberg, several post-
ponements had been obtained. But a day was finally set for
the trial.
On the morning on which the trial began, the courtroom of
Judge Maddox was filled to capacity. Both Bromberg and
Horace Stevens, prosecuting attorney, announced they were
ready. Bill Shearn had come up from Avera for the trial and
was sitting with June and Aunt Harriet near the desk of the
prosecuting attorney. Uncle Jack and most of the other men
from the ranch found seats farther back.
There were several character witnesses to be called by each
side. Among the first to be called by the prosecution was Ran-
dall Scott, who testified concerning the sale of the Meredith
cattle to pay off the indebtedness of the ranch, and the move-
ments of Tom Meredith, so far as he knew, on the day of his
death.
The next witness to take the stand was Mr. Cockrell, who
told of the part he had taken in the transaction involving the
payment of the mortgage. He also identified the check and
account books found by June and Bill as the ones given Tom
Meredith on the day of his death.
The second day of the trial found the courtroom again
packed. Each witness was examined and cross-examined by
the prosecution and defense. Several witnesses had testified
when the prosecution sprang a surprise. “Will Anthony Sto-
nelli take the stand?" Stevens called. Stonelli, who had turned
state's evidence, and had agreed to testify against Chandler,
was brought out of an anteroom by a deputy. He took an oath
before taking the stand. A gasp of surprise was reflected on
Chandler's face as he and his attorney exchanged quick
glances and went into a hurried, whispered conference. The
expression on their faces revealed that they were bewildered
and alarmed.
“What is your name?” Horace Stevens asked.
“Stonelli, Anthony Stonelli,” the witness replied.


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
263
“Do you know the defendant in this case, Robert Chan-
dler?”
“Yes.”
"How long have you known him?”
"Oh, 'bout twenty years."
The audience was extremely quiet, many leaning forward,
intensely interested as the prosecuting attorney continued:
“Where were you on the evening of October twentieth, nine-
teen hundred thirty-four?”
"Here in Labesia.”
"Did you see the defendant on that day?”
"Yeah, I saw him."
“Tell the court just what happened on that afternoon,” the
attorney said.
“I was in the pool room back of Mickie's bar, shooting a
game of pool with two of my pals when Mike came back there
and told me that somebody wanted me on the phone.”
“And you answered the telephone call, of course?”
“Yeah."
“Who wanted to talk to you?”
“Robert Chandler.”
“What did he want?” the prosecuting attorney asked.
“He told me to come up to his office.”
“Tell the court what happened from that time on,” Stevens
said.
"When I got up to his office, he was walking the floor. And—”
"By 'walking the floor,' you mean that he seemed worried,
and continued to move from one place to another. Is that
right?" Stevens interrupted.
“Yeah, that's right. He asked me," the witness continued,
"where the other two boys were.”
“What other two boys did he mean?”
"Oh, just two pals of mine.”
"Go on,” the prosecutor ordered.
“When I told him the boys were out in the car, he said,
‘Good, I've got a job for you to do.' When I asked him what
the job was, he said he didn't want nobody bumped off.'


264
The Tin Box
Then he asked me if I knew Tom Meredith. I said I thought
I did. Then he told me what kind of a car he was driving, in
case I didn't know him. 'He just left here a minute ago,'Chan-
dler said. 'He's hardly got to the edge of town yet, going out
the mountain road,' he told me.” The witness continued his
testimony: “ 'Today is the last day he had to pay off the mort-
gage I hold on his ranch. He came in here a few minutes ago
and forced me, at the point of a gun, to write him a receipt
for twenty thousand dollars. I want that receipt.'
“Why don't you send the sheriff after him?" I asked.
“ 'Because I don't want the sheriff to know about this. I'll
handle it in my own way,' he said. “Now he's got the twenty
thousand dollars and the receipt on him. You stop him some-
where on that road and get that receipt. You can have the
money.'
“Did he give you specific instructions for holding up Mr.
Meredith?” Stevens asked.
“He just told me to be careful and not let him get a good
look at me,” Stonelli replied.
“What did you do after leaving the defendant's office?”
“I went back to the car and told the other boys about the
job.”
“Did you then go after Mr. Meredith?” Stevens asked.
“Yeah.”
“Tell the court what happened out on that road."
"The dust storm was gettin' so bad that we couldn't see but
a little ways, so we drove slow, only 'bout fifty miles an hour.
When we got 'bout six miles out of town, we saw them just a
little ways ahead.
“The road was narrow and bad there, so we figured that if
we tried to force them off to the side, they might go over. So
we decided to pass them, go 'bout a mile down the road and
turn 'round and meet them where there's a wide flat, just
before you get to that narrow curve 'round the mountain."
“At about what speed would you say they were driving
when you passed them?” the attorney asked.
"I'd say twenty-five miles," Stonelli replied.


266,
The Tin Box
Stonelli. Staring the witness straight in the eye for a moment,
he asked, “Stonelli, weren't you brought here from Avera,
where you are being held on a charge of attempted murder?”
“Yeah,” Stonelli said with a snarl, "hired by that double-
crossing Chandler, to bump off Bill Shearn.”
In an instant the courtroom was in a furor. Bromberg was
shouting at Stonelli to answer questions only, and shouts of
condemnation and threats of revenge against Chandler came
from the audience.
The defendant sat slumped over in his chair, not daring to
look up, as the judge grabbed his gavel and pounded the desk
for order.
“Another outburst like that and I'll have this room cleared,"
he warned.
Bromberg's face was red, and he was obviously confused as
he addressed the bench when order had been restored. “Your
honor, I request that the added testimony of the witness be
stricken from the record as irrelevant, and prejudicial to this
case.”
"Request granted,” Judge Maddox ruled. Then, addressing
the witness, he said: "You will confine your testimony to an-
swering the questions asked by the attorneys."
Bromberg, a short, stout man, pulled his handkerchief from
his pocket, and mopped at his brow. Then he abruptly ended
his cross-examination with “That's all.”
In presenting the case for the defense, Bromberg endeav-
ored to picture Chandler as an asset to the community, an
honest, upright, straightforward citizen who had come up the
hard way. By his extraordinary business judgment, his loyalty
and unselfish devotion to those he could call his friends, and
his strict adherence to the golden rule, he had built for himself
an enviable reputation, and one without blemish. And he had,
by fair dealings with his fellowman, acquired enough of this
world's goods to tide him over in his declining years. “But
now,” Bromberg roared, “through no fault of his own, it seems
that fate has stepped in and interrupted the tranquillity of a
beautiful life. And not only does he stand an excellent chance


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
267
of losing all that he has toiled and sacrificed for so many years,
but the long, bony finger of suspicion and accusation has been
pointed at him in an effort to besmirch his good name by
connecting him with a dastardly crime of which he knows
nothing.
“You will, gentlemen of the jury,” the attorney pleaded,
"in all honesty to the heretofore unblemished reputation of
this upright and honorable citizen, and in honesty to your-
selves as jurors, find the defendant Robert Chandler not
guilty.”
In his closing argument, the prosecuting attorney pictured
the defendant as a low, cowardly, conniving person, who
would stop at nothing to achieve his aims. “This man,” the
attorney said, “was aware of the fact that the Meredith ranch
lands were rich in oil, and he was determined to have it by fair
means or foul, even to planning the deliberate murder of Tom
and Ann Meredith, so that he would have only the inexperi-
enced daughter to deal with.
“And it is your duty, gentlemen of the jury," the attorney
concluded, “to guarantee against further marauding upon the
lands and cattle of honest people by this wolf in sheep's cloth-
ing, to assess the full penalty of the law.”
The prosecuting and defense attorneys having presented
their respective versions of the case, Judge Maddox read his
charge to the jury, which was in part: “Since it has been defi-
nitely shown by the state's own witness that the tragic death
of Tom and Ann Meredith was a result of miscalculation on
the part of the witness and his accomplices, therefore, the
deaths could not have been premeditated, so must be de-
clared accidental.”
The jury then retired for deliberation. It was twelve thirty,
and Bill suggested to June and Aunt Harriet that they all go
out to the hotel for lunch, while awaiting the verdict of the
jury.
"You children run along," Aunt Harriet said, “I'm not hun-
gry. I'll stay here."


270
The Tin Box
Through the advice of her attorney, she hired competent help
to look after her interest in the oil field. Several of the men
of the ranch were given these jobs.
June seemed to enjoy her work, accomplishing with ease her
daily tasks of business transactions from morning till night.
Being suddenly thrown into contact with big business, she
took it in stride, and seemed to get a thrill out of matching
wits and business judgment with oil scouts and others who
came to see her on business matters.
Before the tragic event that claimed the lives of her parents,
she had never known responsibility. She was practically
reared astride a horse by her father's side, and grew up a
happy, carefree child of the range, with riding as her hobby
and her father's herds of pure-blood cattle, her pride.
Her father did not burden her young life with financial
worries; consequently, she knew nothing of the economic
strain under which he labored during the drouth years. And
then, the tragedy and the dark days that followed had trans-
formed her overnight from a happy, carefree girl to a mature
woman burdened with sorrow and responsibilities.
Then, there was the matter of romance. She had never been
in love. Of course, during her childhood, she blushed pro-
fusely when certain of the boys on the ranch, or some of the
neighbors' boys near her age came to visit. That was only
natural.
And while away at college, she liked, and was the recipient
of many courtesies from certain of the young men. But not
until she met Bill, with his sympathy and understanding, and
his endeavor to be of all possible assistance to her, did she
awake to the realization of real love. Now she knew what
love meant, and that she had found real love.
She found time for an occasional visit over the weekend,
down to her place at Avera to “visit Uncle Cyrus” as she liked
to express it.
One day a representative of a sulphur company came to the
ranch to obtain permission to explore the land at Avera for
sulphur. June referred him to her attorney, who made the
rol


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
273
"at one time east side gang boss and racketeer, was found
dead in an attic room of a dilapidated, four-story rooming
house in the slums of the East Side, on a pallet of filthy rags.
This room was said to be the same room he occupied when a
boy.
“Perelli had been missed for several days from his usual
haunts along the wharves, where he eked out an existence by
mooching among the seamen coming ashore, or salvaging
among the garbage cans along the street. Investigating police
found his emaciated body in the dingy room, for which he
managed to pay thirty cents a week. He had been dead several
days," the article continued.
"Perelli (or Robert Chandler, as he was more recently
known) had had a checkered career. Born in a criminal in-
stitution of an unwed mother, he was taken when a baby by
‘Granny,' an old woman who claimed to operate an orphan-
age but in reality operated a school of crime, teaching the boys
and girls given into her keeping the art of petty thievery.
"Perelli was an apt student, and soon became an expert.
Until the age of seven, he-like the ten other waifs in the old
woman's charge-believed she was his mother. Through some
older boys, however, at that age he learned the truth, and ran
away.
"He became connected with a gang of hoodlums much older
than himself who established their abode in an attic room-
said to be the room in which he died-and made their living
by pillaging fruit stands, bakeries, grocery stores and any
other places near the docks that offered a chance for a quick
lift and getaway.
"Perelli,” the article said, "was more ambitious than the
older boys of the gang, and showed a tendency towards want-
ing to earn something honestly. So he started selling papers
on the streets during the day, while continuing to work with
the gang by night. Later he attended night school two nights
a week. He was the only member of the gang who could read
and write, so he was looked upon as a leader by the other boys,
and soon became the boss.


274
The Tin Box
“When prohibition was instituted, he formed his gang into
a mob, and declared himself king of the illicit liquor and
narcotics trade of the East Side, engaging in many gun battles
with rival mobs that tried to muscle in on his territory.
“Perelli reaped a rich harvest from his liquor and narcotics
trade and, when the prohibition act was repealed, sought
legitimate channels into which to invest his money.
“Several small business ventures in the east proved unsuc-
cessful, so he drifted westward, stopping at Labesia, where,
under an assumed name, he opened a real estate office.
“Striking the town with plenty of ready cash," the article
went on, “when the ranchers were hard pressed because of the
drought and dust storms, he was hailed as a godsend to the
community, and was accepted and welcomed without very
much investigation into his past life.
“He loaned money freely on the land and cattle of the
ranchers, one of the loans being on the ranch of one Tom
Meredith. During the tenure of this loan, oil scouts of a major
oil company began exploring around Labesia, and through a
clever ruse' (with the knowledge of Chandler, as he had be-
come known) succeeded in exploring the Meredith ranch,
which they found to contain rich oil lands, and which later
became one of the country's most prolific oil fields—”.
The article went on to relate in detail all the events lead-
ing up to the foreclosure of the Meredith land and cattle, the
attempted murder of Bill Shearn, the finding of the receipt,
and the turning of state's evidence by Stonelli.
The article continued: “The leader of the trio, Stonelli
(who, with his two pals, is now serving a long sentence for
attempted murder), sent for the district attorney and turned
state's evidence. Chandler, however, was freed of the charge
of accessory before the fact in the death of Tom Meredith, and
was released from custody. But upon additional information
furnished by Stonelli he was rearrested before leaving the
courtroom and extradited to his former home town to stand
trial for the murder several years before of a rival gang leader.
“As no proof could be established connecting him with this


A Story of Texas Cattle and Oil
275
crime, he was cleared of this charge also. He was, however,
left penniless and broken in health and spirit.
“Friendless, and forsaken by his former associates of the un-
derworld, he was never able to rehabilitate himself. Drifting
back to the East Side, he sold papers on the streets, but was
not successful at this, so finally resorted to obtaining his living
from the garbage cans along the street. Because he was missed
by those who saw him on his daily rounds, an investigation
was made by police, which resulted in the finding of his body.
"His remains lay in a morgue for several weeks, while au-
thorities searched vainly for relatives or friends who might
claim it. Finally it was interred in potter's field. And ironi-
cally,” the article concluded, “the only token of friendship, of
grief-a huge wreath of lilies of the valley—to accompany the
remains to a pauper’s grave, bore a card on which was the
name June ( Meredith) Shearn.”


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