The Texan Part 6

'long to'ards noon, I'll jest slip down to the Long Horn an' stampede the bunch over here."

CHAPTER IV

CINNABAR JOE

In the dining car of the side-tracked train Alice Marc.u.m's glance strayed from the face of her table companion to the window. Another cavalcade of riders had swept into town and with a chorus of wild yells the crowd in the Long Horn surged out to greet them. A moment later the dismounted ones rushed to their horses, leaped into the saddles and, joined by the newcomers, dashed at top speed for perhaps thirty yards and dismounted to crowd into another saloon across whose front the word HEADQUARTERS was emblazoned in letters of flaming red.

"They're just like a lot of boys," exclaimed the girl with a smile, "The idea of anybody mounting a horse to ride _that_ distance!"

"They're a rough lot, I guess." Winthrop Adams Endicott studied his menu card.

"Rough! Of course they're rough! Why shouldn't they be rough? Think of the work they do--rain or shine, riding out there on the plains.

When they get to town they've earned the right to play as they want to play! I'd be rough, too, if I lived the life they live. And if I were a man I'd be right over there with them this minute."

"Why be a man?" smiled Endicott. "You have the Mayor's own word for the breadth of Wolf River's ideas. As for myself, I don't drink and wouldn't enjoy that sort of thing. Besides, if I were over there I would have to forgo----"

"No pretty little speeches, _please_. At least you can spare me that."

"But, Alice, I mean it, really. And----"

"Save 'em for the Cincinnati girls. They'll believe 'em. Who do you think will win this afternoon. Let's bet! I'll bet you a--an umbrella against a pair of gloves, that my cavalier of the yellow fur trousers will win the bucking contest, and----"

"Our train may pull out before the thing is over, and we would never know who won."

"Oh, yes we will, because we're going to stay for the finish. Why, I wouldn't miss this afternoon's fun if forty trains pulled out!"

"I ought to be in Chicago day after tomorrow," objected the man.

"I ought to be, too. But I'm not going to be. For Heaven's sake, Winthrop, for once in your life, do something you oughtn't to do!"

"All right," laughed the man with a gesture of surrender. "And for the rope throwing contest I'll pick the other."

"What other?" The girl's eyes strayed past the little wooden buildings of the town to the clean-cut rim of the bench.

"Why the other who rode after your handkerchief. The fellow who la.s.soed the honourable Mayor and was guilty of springing the pun."

The girl nodded with her eyes still on the skyline. "Oh, yes. He seemed--somehow--different. As if people amused him. As if everything were a joke and he were the only one who knew it was a joke. I could _hate_ a man like that. The other, Mr. Purdy, hates him."

The man regarded her with an amused smile: "You keep a sort of mental card index. I should like to have just a peep at my card."

"Cards sometimes have to be rewritten--and sometimes it really isn't worth while to fill them out again. Come on, let's go. People are beginning to gather for the fun and I want a good seat. There's a lumber pile over there that'll be just the place, if we hurry."

In the Headquarters saloon Tex Benton leaned against the end of the bar and listened to a Bear Paw Pool man relate how they took in a bunch of pilgrims with a badger game down in Glasgow. Little knots of cowpunchers stood about drinking at the bar or discussing the coming celebration.

"They've got a bunch of bad ones down in the corral," someone said.

"That ol' roman nose, an' the wall-eyed pinto, besides a lot of snorty lookin' young broncs. I tell yeh if Tex draws either one of them ol'

outlaws it hain't no cinch he'll grab off this ride. The _hombre_ that throws his kak on one of them is a-goin' to do a little sky-ballin'

'fore he hits the dirt, you bet. But jest the same I'm here to bet ten to eight on him before the drawin'."

Purdy who had joined the next group turned at the words.

"I'll jest take that," he snapped. "Because Tex has drug down the last two buckin' contests hain't no sign he c'n go south with 'em all." At the end of the bar Tex grinned as he saw Purdy produce a roll of bills.

"An', by gosh!" the Bear Paw Pool man was saying, "when they'd all got their money down an' the bull dog was a-clawin' the floor to git at the badger, an' the pilgrims was crowded around with their eyes a-bungin'

out of their heads, ol' Two Dot Wilson, he shoves the barrel over an'

they wasn't a doggone thing in under it but a----"

"What yeh goin' to have, youse?" Purdy had caught sight of Tex who stood between the Bear Paw Pool man and Bat Lajune. "I'm bettin' agin'

yeh winnin' the buckin' contest, but I'll buy yeh a drink."

Tex grinned as his eyes travelled with slow insolence over the other's outfit.

"You're sure got up some colourful, Jack," he drawled. "If you sh'd happen to crawl up into the middle of one of them real outlaws they got down in the corral, an' quit him on the top end of a high one, you're a-goin' to look like a rainbow before you git back."

The other scowled: "I guess if I tie onto one of them outlaws yeh'll see me climb off 'bout the time the money's ready. Yeh Texas fellers comes up here an' makes yer brag about showin' us Montana boys how to ride our own horses. But it's real money talks! I don't notice you backin' up yer brag with no real _dinero_."

Tex was still smiling. "That's because I ain't found anyone d.a.m.n fool enough to bet agin' me."

"Didn't I jest tell yeh I was bettin' agin' you?"

"Don't bet enough to hurt you none. How much you got, three dollars?

An' how much odds you got to get before you'll risk 'em?"

Purdy reached for his hip pocket. "Jest to show yeh what I think of yer ridin' I'll bet yeh even yeh don't win."

"Well," drawled the Texan, "seein' as they won't be only about ten fellows ride, that makes the odds somewhere around ten to one, which is about right. How much you want to bet?"

With his fingers clutching his roll of bills, Purdy's eyes sought the face of Cinnabar Joe. For an instant he hesitated and then slammed the roll onto the bar.

"She goes as she lays. Count it!"

The bartender picked up the money and ran it through. "Eighty-five,"

he announced, laconically.

"That's more'n I got on me," said Tex ruefully, as he smoothed out three or four crumpled bills and capped the pile with a gold piece.

Purdy sneered: "It's money talks," he repeated truculently. "'Tain't hardly worth while foolin' with no piker bets but if that's the best yeh c'n do I'll drag down to it." He reached for his roll.

"Hold on!" The Texan was still smiling but there was a hard note in his voice. "She goes as she lays." He turned to the half-breed who stood close at his elbow.

"Bat. D'you recollect one night back in Las Vegas them four bits I loant you? Well, just you sh.e.l.l out about forty dollars interest on them four bits an' we'll call it square for a while." The half-breed smiled broadly and handed over his roll.

"Forty-five, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty--" counted Tex, and with a five-dollar bill between his thumb and forefinger, eyed Purdy condescendingly: "I'm a-goin' to let you drag down that five if you want to," he said, "'cause you've sure kissed good-bye to the rest of it. They ain't any of your doggoned Montana school-ma'm-cayuses but what I c'n ride slick-heeled, an' with my spurs on--" he paused; "better drag down the five. You might need a little loose change if that girl should happen to get thirsty between dances."

"Jest leave it lay," retorted Purdy; "an' at that, I'll bet I buy her more drinks than what you do."