Alec Lloyd, Cowpuncher Part 28

A plot, y' savvy, is a story, and I got him the best I could find. This was Buckshot's:

"Boston, this is a _blamed_ enterprisin' country,--almost _any_ ole thing can happen out here. Did you ever hear tell how Nick Erickson got his stone fence? No? You could put _that_ in a book. Wal, you know, Erickson lives east of here. Nice hunderd and sixty acres he's got--level, no stones. Wanted t' fence it. Couldn't buy lumber 'r wire. Figgered on haulin' stone, only stone was so blamed far t'

haul. Then,--Nature was accommodatin'. Come a' earthquake that shook and shook the ranch. Shook all the stones to the top. Erickson picked 'em up--and built the fence."

But Boston was hard t' satisfy. So I tried to tell him about Rose and Billy.

"No," he says; "if they's _one_ thing them printin' fellers won't stand fer it's a hero_ine_ that's. .h.i.tched."

So, then, I branched off on to pore Bud Hickok.

"No," says Boston, again; "_that_ won't do. It's got to end up happy."

Wal, it looked as if that book was goin' fluey. To make things worse, the boys begun kickin' about havin' t' pack so many guns. And I had to git up a notice, signed by the sheriff, which said that more'n two shootin'-irons on any one man wouldn't be 'lowed no more, and that cityzens was t' "shed forthwith."

I seen somethin' had got t' be done p.r.o.nto. "Cupid," I says to myself, "you _must con_sider that there book of Boston's some more.

'Pears that Boston ain't gittin' all he come after. Nothin' ain't happenin' that he can put into a book. Wal, it's _got_ t' happen.

Just chaw on _that._"

Next, I hunted up the boys. "Gents," I says to 'em, "help me find a bad man that'll fit into a story with a gal."

"Gal?" they repeats.

"Yas; every book has got t' have a gal."

"I s'pose," says Rawson. "Just like ev'ry herd had got t' have a case of staggers. But--who's the gal?"

The boys all lent towards me, fly-traps wide open.

"Carlota Arnaz," I answers.

Some looked plumb eased in they minds--and some didn't. Carlota, she's ace-high with quite a bunch--all ready t' snub her up and marry her.

"The Senorita'll do," says Rawson. "She gen'ally makes out t' keep _some_ man mis'rable."

And fer the bad man, we picked out Pedro Garcia, the cholo that was mixed up in that mete'rite business. Drunk 'r sober, fer a hard-looker Pedro sh.o.r.e fills the bill.

Next, we hunted ev'ry which way fer a plot. "I'll tell y'," says Californy Jim, that ole prospector that hangs 'round here; "if the lit'rary lead has pinched out, why don't you _salt_--_and pretend to make a strike?_"

Hairoil p.r.i.c.ked up his ears. "Wouldn't that be somethin' like a--a scheme?" he ast; "somethin' like that we planned out fer Cupid here?"

"Yas."

The hull bunch got plumb pale. Then they made fer the door.,

"Wait, boys!" I hollered. "_Hole_ on! Remember this is a scheme that's been _ast_ fer."

They stopped.

"And," I says, "it looks pretty good t' _me._"

They turned back--shakin' they haids, though. "Just as you say, Cupid," says Rawson. And, "Long's it's fer _you,_" adds the sheriff.

"But schemes is some dangerous."

"I'll tell y'!" begins Sam Barnes. "We'll hole up the dust wagon from the Little Rattlesnake Mine, all of us got up like Jesse James!"

Bill Rawson jumped nigh four feet. "You go soak you' haid!" he begun, mad's a hornet. "Hole up the dust wagon! And whichever of us mule-skinners happens t' be bringin' it in'll git the G. B. from that high-falutin' gent in the States that owns the shootin'-match.

No, _ma'am!_ And if _that's_ the kind of plot you-all 're hankerin'

after, you can just count me _outen_ this hawg-tyin'!"

"That's right--sic 'em, Towser; git t' fightin'," I says. "Now, Bill, _work_ you' hole-back straps. I cain't say as Sam's plan hit the right spot with me, neither. 'Cause how could _Carlota_ figger in that pow-wow? Won't do."

Wal, after some more pullin' and haulin', we fixed it up this way: Pedro'd grab Carlota and take her away on a hoss whilst Boston and the pa.s.sel of us was in the Arnaz place. He was t' hike north, and drop her at the Johnson shack on the edge of town--then go on, takin' a dummy in her place, and totin' a brace of guns filled with blanks. We'd foller with plenty of blanks, too--and Boston. How's that fer high!

If you want to ast me, I think the hull idear was just _O. K.,_ and no mistake. Beautiful gal kidnapped--bra-a-ave posse of punchers--hard ride--hot fight--rescue of a pilla stuffed with the best alfalfa on the market. _Pro_cession files back, all sand and smiles.

"Why," I says to Bergin, "them Eastern printin' fellers'll set 'em up fer Boston so fast that he'll plumb float."

And the sheriff agreed.

But it couldn't happen straight off. Pedro had t' be tole about it, and give his orders. Carlota, the same. I managed this part of the shindig, the boys gittin' the blanks, the hosses and the hay lady.

Wal, I rode down to the section-house and ast fer Pedro. He come out, about ten pounds of railroad ballast--more 'r less--spread on to them features of hisn. (_That_'d 'a' been colour fer Boston, all right.) I tole him what we was goin' t' do, _why_ we was a-doin' it, and laid out _his_ share of the job. Then I tacked on that the gal he'd steal was Carlota.

Now, as I think about it, I _re_call that he looked _mighty_ tickled.

Grinned all over and said, "Me gusta mucho" more'n a dozen times.

But _then_ I didn't pay no 'tention to how he acted. I was so glad he'd fall in with me. (The Ole Nick take the greasers! A' out-and-out, low-down lot of sneakin' coyotes, anyhow! And I might 'a' _knowed_----)

"Pedro," I says, "they's no rush about this. We'll kinda work it up slow. T' make the hull thing seem dead real, you come to town ev'ry evenin' fer a while, and hang 'round the rest'rant. Spend a little spondulix with the ole woman so's she won't kick you out, and shine up t' Carlota when Boston's on the premises. Ketch on?"

Pedro said he did, and I loped back to town t' meet up with Carlota and have it out with her--and that was a job fer a caution!

Carlota was all bronc that day--stubborn, pawin', and takin' the bit.

And if I kept up with her, and come out in the lead, it was 'cause I'd had some _ex_perience with Macie, and I'd learned when t' leave a rambunctious young lady have her haid.

"Carlota," I says, "us fellers has fixed up a mighty nice scheme t'

help out Boston with that book he's goin' to write."

"So?" She was all awake--quicker'n scat.

"Yas," I goes on. "Y' know, he's been wantin' somethin'

_ex_citin' t' put in it. We figger t' give it to him."

"Como?" she ast.

"With a case of kidnappin'. Man steals gal--we foller with Boston--lots of shootin'--save the gal----"

"What gal?"

"It's a big honour--and we choosed you."