The Ramblin' Kid Part 24

Old Heck and Parker were in a quandary.

Neither was sure of his standing with Ophelia although each had reason to believe that he was her favorite. Her interest in Charley added an unexpected and perplexing equation to their problem.

"Gosh," Chuck finally exclaimed, "that dance sure was some blow out!"

"I should say it was!" Bert agreed emphatically and with a satisfied grin. "But didn't that widow act funny for an 'anti-he' suffragette?"

Old Heck looked up, startled, as if he had been reminded of a disagreeable subject and one he wished to forget.

"Are you plumb positive that she is one, Parker?" Chuck asked.

"I told you what she was," Parker growled, "she's an 'Organizer' for some sort of 'Movement' or other."

"Well, I'll be blamed if her 'movements' to-night showed any 'anti-he'

inclinations," Charley interrupted. "She carried on more like a female vampire than one of these advocaters of woman's rights!"

"Aw, shut up and go to bed," Old Heck grunted. "It's too late to start any argument!"

The moon crept across the heavens and was hanging above the shadowy peaks of the Costejo Mountains when the Ramblin' Kid returned to the sleeping Quarter Circle KT, slipped the saddle from the back of the Gold Dust maverick and turned the filly and Captain Jack into the circular corral.

He had ridden the outlaw mare almost to Eagle b.u.t.te.

She had learned her lesson. She knew, when he caressed her muzzle and pressed the last lump of sugar into her mouth, before he turned away to the bunk-house, that the Ramblin' Kid was not only her master but her friend as well--understanding and sympathetic. Never again would she doubt his will or resist the gentle yet firm strength of his hand. From that moment the Gold Dust maverick, like Captain Jack, was a one-man horse, ready to serve, to trust and obey only the Ramblin' Kid.

"You little beauty," he laughed tenderly as he playfully shook the underlip of the filly and started toward the gate, "--you're a runner--gee!--but you're a runner!"

The others were fast asleep when the Ramblin' Kid noiselessly opened the door of the bunk-house, went in, and without undressing, stretched himself on his bed.

Old Heck awakened the cowboys as the sun poured its first slanting rays through the open un-draped window.

The stir aroused the Ramblin' Kid.

He made no move to arise.

"Ain't you going to get up?" Old Heck said garrulously.

"When I d.a.m.n please!" was the independent reply. "Skinny, tell th' c.h.i.n.k to keep me a cup of hot coffee!"

Old Heck snorted but said no more.

Parker and the cowboys dressed silently, half-moodily. They hardly knew yet how they felt after the excitement of the night before. Skinny started to put on the white shirt, looked at it contemptuously a moment, and with a muttered oath threw it viciously on the bed.

In a few moments the Ramblin' Kid was left alone in the bunk-house. He lay, hands clasped at the back of his head, studying. His eyes were closed, but he was not asleep. Presently he smiled and opened his eyes.

He drew the pink satin elastic from his pocket and looked at it. "That's a h.e.l.l of a thing to be packin'--wonder why I keep it?" he muttered. It suddenly occurred to him that if he was not at breakfast Carolyn June would think he was afraid or ashamed to meet her. He got up, straightened his disarranged clothes, went to the house and after stopping at the ditch by the fence and washing his face, walked indifferently into the kitchen and sat down at his regular place. The others already were eating. Carolyn June glanced at him with a meaningless smile and acknowledged, without feeling, his quiet "Good morning!"

The cowboys were nervous. Memory of last night was fresh in their minds.

It made them cautious in their talk.

Ophelia and Carolyn June, also, were a bit restrained.

They were not sure but they had started more than it would be easy to stop. The expressions in the eyes of the cowboys paid tribute to the success of the two women's efforts at wholesale heart-wrecking. The child-like acceptance of a simple flirtation as the real thing, by these husky riders of the range, was little less than appalling.

It all but frightened Carolyn June and the widow.

Old Heck saw the worship in the eyes of the cowboys.

"Things sure are in a devil of a mix-up!" he growled to himself.

Skinny was so dejected Carolyn June felt half-guilty and tried to cheer him up. She began talking, in a low voice, directly to the melancholy-looking cowboy.

"To-day--or some time--when the others are away," she said caressingly, "you and I will dance all the dances by ourselves!"

His heart leaped joyously. He was sorry, now, that he had not put on the white shirt. He resolved, after a while, to sneak out to the bunk-house and change.

The confidential talk between Carolyn June and Skinny galled Chuck. He decided to break it up.

"What was your idea in riding the Gold Dust maverick last night?" he said abruptly to the Ramblin' Kid.

There was a general pause for the answer. Carolyn June stopped in the middle of a sentence and looked curiously at the Ramblin' Kid. He took his time to reply.

"Because I wanted to!" was the slow unsatisfactory retort.

"Why didn't you wait till to-day, so the rest of us could see how she acted?" Charley asked.

"What do you think you are"--he started to say--"a bunch of lawyers cross-examinin' a witness?" thought better of it and with a careless laugh answered: "If you're huntin' entertainment, why don't you go up to Eagle b.u.t.te to th' picture show? Th' maverick an' me ain't no exhibition!"

"Did she buck?" Charley continued, ignoring the sarcastic remark.

"Some," the Ramblin' Kid drawled.

"What you going to do with the filly while we're out on the beef hunt?"

Chuck queried, wishing to keep the conversation general.

"Ride her!" was the laconic reply.

"Ain't you afraid she'll break away from the _caballero_ and you'll lose her again?" Charley asked.

"When I ain't usin' her I'll 'neck' her to Captain Jack," the Ramblin'

Kid answered patiently, referring to the method of fastening a wild horse to one that is gentle and prevent its running away, by attaching a short length of rope to the neck of each. "I don't believe she'd leave th' stallion anyhow!"

"By golly," Chuck said earnestly and half-pleadingly, "I wish you'd put her against that Y-Bar outfit's Thunderbolt horse in the two-mile sweepstakes this year! It would be--"

"Fun to see her run!" the Ramblin' Kid interrupted, looking up quickly and straight into the eyes of Carolyn June as he finished the contemptuous quotation of her words, spoken the day before at the corral. She flushed, but gazed back at him without flinching. "Well," he continued, "I reckon you'll get your wish--th' maverick is goin' to run against th' Vermejo horse!"

"The Fourth of July is a week from next Wednesday," Charley said calculatingly. "The Rodeo starts on Tuesday, the roping and bucking finals come on Thursday. That makes the big race come Friday--a week from next Friday, ain't it?"

"That's right," Bert concurred. "Th' Ramblin' Kid's got nearly two weeks to get the maverick in shape."