The Ramblin' Kid Part 21

Kid! Anyhow, he's too good with horses--" His voice trailed away to a low mutter as they turned in among the willows and cottonwood trees along the bank of the Cimarron.

At the upper crossing on almost the same spot where he had lifted Carolyn June from the quicksand to the solid ground of the meadow land, the Ramblin' Kid stopped Captain Jack. He looked out over the placid, unbroken surface of the sand-bar and saw the end of the broken rope coiled loosely where Old Blue had been drawn under. A few yards away the white felt hat Carolyn June had tossed to one side, to be a mute and pathetic messenger of her fate, when she thought death was certain, still rested on the smooth surface of the sand. It was to get the hat the Ramblin' Kid had come again to the scene of yesterday's tragedy. He had seen it lying there when Carolyn June and he rode away on Captain Jack and thought then of trying to get it, but the part of the broken rope attached to his saddle was too short to reach it and it was impossible to secure it in any other way. Chuck had returned the Ramblin' Kid's rope to him yesterday when they were after the runaway steers and it was now on his saddle. He lightly tossed the noose so that it fell circling the object he sought. Gently flicking the rope toward him he tightened the loop about the crown of the hat and drew it to the edge of the quicksand. He picked up the hat, looked curiously at it, remounted Captain Jack, paused a moment and gazed at the treacherous surface beneath which the body of Old Blue was hidden and with a savagely muttered something about "th' d.a.m.ned stuff!" whirled the little stallion and rode rapidly in the direction from which he came.

As Captain Jack galloped along the lane the Ramblin' Kid looked at the hat curiously, turning it first one way and then the other. With a laugh he reached into his pocket and drew out the pink satin garter. An expression of tenderness, followed by a look of deep humility that quickly changed into savage anger, came into his eyes as he looked first at the hat, soiled and dirty, and then at the dainty bit of elastic he held in his hand.

"A swell pair of souvenirs," he said bitterly, "for an 'ign'rant, savage, stupid brute' of a cow-puncher to be packin' around!"

Before reaching the barn the Ramblin' Kid dropped the garter again into his pocket. Rounding the end of the shed he rode Captain Jack directly up to Carolyn June. Dismounting, he left the little roan standing, not troubling to drop the reins over the broncho's head, stepped toward the girl and extended the hat, saying simply and without emotion.

"Here's your hat!"

There was no embarra.s.sment now or humility in his eyes as he looked steadily at Carolyn June. His expression was as cold as if the one to whom he spoke was an utter stranger.

"I--" Carolyn June hesitated, "oh, I thank you! It was kind of you to think about it and ride back--back--there," she involuntarily shuddered when she thought of the upper crossing, "and get it!"

The simple, unexpected thoughtfulness of the deed touched her. It was the natural, instinctive act of a gentleman. She had forgotten the hat.

He had not. As she looked at him she felt that, someway, she might have known such a thing was exactly what he would do.

"You're welcome," he said quietly, starting to turn away.

A spirit of mischief suddenly flared up in her heart. She thought of the pink elastic she had lost and which she believed he was carrying now in his pocket.

"Is the hat all--didn't you--" she intended to say "find something else?" but quickly stopped. The Ramblin' Kid paused and turned again toward Carolyn June. She hesitated in confusion. It had flashed to her mind that if he had the garter he would not lie about it. He would say as much and offer to return it to her. Someway, she did not wish that--she wanted him to keep it, but she did not want him to know that she wanted her garter to be carried by him!

His black eyes looked keenly at her, as if they would force from her lips the thing she evidently dared not say.

"I--I was just getting acquainted with the Gold Dust maverick!" Carolyn June finished lamely with a nervous laugh.

"You want to be careful," the Ramblin' Kid said with the slightest curl of his lips at her obvious shifting of meanings, "she ain't exactly a 'lady's animal' yet. She'll fight. Skinny started to go in th' corral this morning an' had to back up. Th' maverick went at him to kill.

She's goin' to be a 'one-man' horse th' same as Captain Jack."

"Perhaps it was because she was afraid of him," Carolyn June suggested.

"Maybe it was because Skinny was afraid of her," the Ramblin' Kid chuckled.

"Aren't you going to ride the filly in that race at Eagle b.u.t.te?" she asked suddenly with a hint of coquetry in her eyes and voice.

"Why?" he shot back at her, observing the changed inflection and look.

"I--I--would like you to," Carolyn June murmured demurely as she followed up the feminine method of mastering a man, "it would be fun to see her run!"

"Is that all?" the Ramblin' Kid asked gently and with a peculiar emphasis.

"Isn't that enough?" the girl countered in a tone bordering close to the tender.

The answer was slow in coming.

"Th' Gold Dust maverick will be in th' sweepstakes," the Ramblin' Kid finally said, a note of contempt in his voice. "I'll ride her"--as he jerked the saddle from Captain Jack, turned the stallion into the corral, then started toward the bunk-house, while Carolyn June moved away in the direction of the back-yard gate--"I'll ride her," he repeated, emphasizing strongly the last ten words, "_to beat that Thunderbolt horse from over on th' Vermejo_".

CHAPTER XI

A DANCE AND A RIDE

Old Heck and Parker returned from Eagle b.u.t.te before noon. Parker climbed silently from the Clagstone "Six" and lifting out a new saddle went toward the stable. Old Heck carried another--a beautiful thing, artistically scrolled, the horn and stirrups silver trimmed--and laid it on the front porch as Carolyn June, Ophelia and Skinny stepped out of the big room.

"It's yours," he said to Carolyn June.

"Oh, you darling old uncle!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and giving a tight squeeze while she kissed him full on the mouth.

He reddened. "I ain't so darned old!" he laughed as he withdrew from her embrace and, glancing up, caught sight of Skinny in the immaculate shirt. "My Gawd!" he whispered under his breath.

Parker immediately saddled a horse and rode away to join the cowboys at their work. Lunches for the party had been taken with them when they left the ranch in the morning. During the trip to Eagle b.u.t.te Old Heck and his foreman had talked but little. There was a feeling of restraint between Parker and him that made each hesitate to start a conversation that would be almost certain to work around to a discussion of Ophelia--a subject uppermost in the minds of both.

At noon the Ramblin' Kid came to the house for dinner.

He and Skinny occupied their usual places. He looked once at Skinny's shirt, murmured softly and in a tone of infinite disgust and pity, "h.e.l.l!" then ate his food in silence. During the meal Carolyn June ignored him, but smiled tenderly and often at Skinny. Old Heck and the widow, at the far end of the table, carried on a low-voiced dialogue.

During the afternoon the Ramblin' Kid remained away from the house. A couple of times, glancing out of the window, Carolyn June saw him at the circular corral petting and caressing Captain Jack or the Gold Dust maverick.

When Sing Pete hammered the iron triangle announcing supper Parker and the cowboys had returned, the hides from the dead steers had been unloaded and the men were ready for the meal.

As Carolyn June and Ophelia went into the kitchen they exchanged a look of understanding. Skinny lagged behind Old Heck. He dreaded the shock of the white shirt on the other cowboys. When he stepped into the room his face flamed scarlet and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. He expected merciless, sarcastic chiding--thinly veiled but cruel. He was disappointed. The cowboys looked at him for a moment, exchanged winks, then sat silently and solemnly down to the table. The presence of the women had saved, for the time being, the suffering Skinny.

Carolyn June distributed tender words and velvety looks impartially among the younger cowboys, while Ophelia alternated sweet nothings between Parker and Old Heck, with an occasional sidelong glance at Charley that brought a heightened color to his sun-browned cheeks.

Chuck sighed dolefully.

"Why so sad?" Carolyn June asked gently, looking with melting sympathy at the pensive cowboy.

"I--I--was just thinking of a--a--funeral I saw once!" he answered, gazing steadily and with pretended awe at Skinny's white shirt. "Some colors always remind me of funerals or--or--weddings!" he explained.

A suppressed snicker circled the table.

"Don't be down-hearted," Carolyn June laughed, "it may not go that far.

"Uncle Josiah," she added suddenly, "Ophelia and I have a wonderful surprise for you and the boys."

Old Heck looked at her without replying while he awaited an explanation.

"We are going to give a dance!" Carolyn June went on.

"A dance?" he repeated incredulously, "when--"

"To-night--in the front room," she hastened to explain, "not a big dance--just a little one for you and the boys. The graphophone will furnish music, there are some good one-step and waltz records--Skinny and I were playing them this afternoon--and every blessed cowboy on the Quarter Circle KT must be there!"