The Texan Part 8

"Come over to the office 'til I get what I need and I'll bring him around all right!" broke in the doctor and hurried away, with the cowpuncher close at his heels.

CHAPTER V

ON THE FLAT

As Mayor Maloney had said, every rancher and nester within forty miles of Wolf River had driven into town for the celebration. Farm wagons, spring wagons, and automobiles were drawn wheel to wheel upon both sides of the flat. From the vehicles women and children in holiday attire applauded the feats of the cowboys with cheers and the waving of handkerchiefs, while the men stood about in groups and watched with apparent indifference as they talked of fences and flumes.

From the top of the lumber piles, and the long low roof of the wool warehouse, the train pa.s.sengers entered into the spirit of the fun gasping in horror at some seemingly miraculous escape from death beneath the pounding hoofs of the cow-horses, only to cheer themselves hoa.r.s.e when they saw that the apparent misadventure had been purposely staged for their benefit.

Races were won by noses. Hats, handkerchiefs, and even coins were s.n.a.t.c.hed from the ground by riders who hung head and shoulder below their horses' bellies. Mounts were exchanged at full gallop. Playing cards were pierced by the bullets of riders who dashed past them at full speed. And men emptied their guns in the s.p.a.ce of seconds without missing a shot.

In each event the gaudily caparisoned Jack Purdy was at the fore, either winning or crowding the winner to his supremest effort. And it was Purdy who furnished the real thrill of the shooting tournament when, with a six-shooter in each hand, he jumped an empty tomato can into the air at fifteen paces by sending a bullet into the ground beneath its base and pierced it with a bullet from each gun before it returned to earth.

A half-dozen times he managed to slip over for a few words with Alice Marc.u.m--a bit of explanation of a coming event, or a comment upon the fine points of a completed one, until unconsciously the girl's interest centred upon the dashing figure to an extent that she found herself following his every movement, straining forward when his supremacy hung in the balance, keenly disappointed when another wrested the honours from him, and jubilantly exultant at his victories. So engrossed was she in fallowing the fortunes of her knight that she failed to notice the growing disapproval of Endicott, who sat frowning and silent by her side. Failed, also, to notice that as Purdy's attentions waxed more obvious she herself became the object of many a glance, and lip to ear observation from the occupants of the close-drawn vehicles.

It was while Mayor Maloney was announcing the roping contest and explaining that the man who "roped, throw'd, an' hog-tied" his steer in the least number of seconds, would be the winner, that the girl's thoughts turned to the cowpuncher who earlier in the day had so skilfully demonstrated his ability with the lariat.

In vain her eyes sought the faces of the cowboys. She turned to Purdy who had edged his horse close beside the lumber pile.

"Where is your friend--the one who raced with you for my handkerchief?"

she asked. "I haven't seen him since you both rode up in that first wild rush. He hasn't been in any of the contests."

"No, mom," answered the cowpuncher, in tones of well-simulated regret; "he's--he's prob'ly over to some saloon. He's a good man some ways, Tex is. But he can't keep off the booze."

Kicking his feet from the stirrups the man stood upright in his saddle and peered over the top of an intervening pile of lumber. "Yes, I thought so. His horse is over in front of the Headquarters. Him an'

Cinnabar Joe's prob'ly holdin' a booze histin' contest of their own."

Slipping easily into his seat, he unfastened the rope from his saddle, and began slowly to uncoil it.

"All ready!" called the Mayor. "_Go git him_!"

A huge black steer dashed out into the open with a cowboy in full pursuit, his loop swinging slowly above his head. Down the middle of the flat they tore, the loop whirling faster as the horseman gained on his quarry. Suddenly the rope shot out, a cloud of white dust rose into the air as the cow-horse stopped in his tracks, a moment of suspense, and the black steer dashed frantically about seeking an avenue of escape while in his wake trailed the rope like a long thin snake with its fangs fastened upon the frantic brute's neck. A roar of laughter went up from the crowd and Purdy turned to the girl. "Made a bad throw an' got him around the neck," he explained. "When you git 'em that way you got to turn 'em loose or they'll drag you all over the flat. A nine-hundred-pound horse hain't got no show ag'in a fifteen-hundred-pound steer with the rope on his neck. An' even if the horse would hold, the cinch wouldn't, so _he's_ out of it."

The black steer was rounded up and chased from the arena, and once more Mayor Maloney, watch in hand, cried "_Go git him_!"

Another steer dashed out and another cowboy with whirling loop thundered after him. The rope fell across the animal's shoulders and the loop swung under. The horse stopped, and the steer, his fore legs jerked from under him, fell heavily. To make his rope fast to the saddle-horn and slip to the ground leaving the horse to fight it out with the captive, was the work of a moment for the cowboy who approached the struggling animal, short rope in hand. Purdy who was leaning over his saddle-horn, watching the man's every move, gave a cry of relief.

"He's up behind! That'll fix your clock!" Sure enough, the struggling animal had succeeded in regaining his hind legs and while the horse, with the cunning of long practice, kept his rope taut, the steer plunged about to such good purpose that precious seconds pa.s.sed before the cowboy succeeded in making his tie-rope fast to a hind foot, jerking it from under the struggling animal, and securing it to the opposite fore foot.

"Three minutes an' forty-three seconds!" announced the Mayor. "Git ready for the next one. . . . _Go git him_!"

This time the feat was accomplished in a little over two minutes and the successful cowboy was greeted with a round of applause. Several others missed their throws or got into difficulty, and Purdy turned to the girl:

"If I got any luck at all I'd ort to grab off this here contest. They hain't be'n no fancy ropin' done yet. If I c'n hind-leg mine they won't be nothin' to it." He rode swiftly away and a moment later, to the Mayor's "_Go git him_!" dashed out after a red and white steer that plunged down the field with head down and tail lashing the air. Purdy crowded his quarry closer than had any of the others and with a swift sweep of his loop enmeshed the two hind legs of the steer. The next moment the animal was down and the cowpuncher had a hind foot fast in the tie rope, Several seconds pa.s.sed as the man fought for a fore foot--seconds which to the breathlessly watching girl seemed hours.

Suddenly he sprang erect. "One minute an' forty-nine seconds!"

announced the Mayor and the crowd cheered wildly.

Upon the lumber pile Alice Marc.u.m ceased her handclapping as her eyes met those of a cowboy who had ridden up un.o.bserved and sat his horse at almost the exact spot that had, a few moments before, been occupied by Purdy. She was conscious of a start of surprise. The man sat easily in his saddle, and his eyes held an amused smile. Once more the girl found herself resenting the smile that drew down the corner of the thin lips and managed to convey an amused tolerance or contempt on the part of its owner toward everything and everyone that came within its radius.

"If they hain't no one else wants to try their hand," began the Mayor, when the Texan interrupted him:

"Reckon I'll take a shot at it if you've got a steer handy."

"Well, dog my cats! If I hadn't forgot you! Where you be'n at? If you'd of got here on time you'd of stood a show gittin' one of them steers that's be'n draw'd. You hain't got no show now 'cause the onliest one left is a old long-geared roan renegade that's on the prod----"

Tex yawned: "Jest you tell 'em to run him in, Slim, an' I'll show you how we-all bust 'em wide open down in Texas."

Three or four cowpunchers started for the corral with a whoop and a few minutes later the men who had been standing about in groups began to clamber into wagons or seek refuge behind the wheels as the lean roan steer shot out onto the flat bounding this way and that, the very embodiment of wild-eyed fury. But before he had gone twenty yards there was a thunder of hoofs in his wake and a cow-horse, his rider motionless as a stone image in his saddle, closed up the distance until he was running almost against the flank of the frenzied renegade.

There was no preliminary whirling of rope. The man rode with his eyes fixed on the flying hind hoofs while a thin loop swung from his right hand, extended low and a little back.

Suddenly--so suddenly that the crowd was still wondering why the man didn't swing his rope, there was a blur of white dust, a brown streak as the cow-horse shot across the forefront of the big steer, the thud of a heavy body on the ground, the glimpse of a man-among the thrashing hoofs, and then a mighty heaving as the huge steer strained against the rope that bound his feet, while the cowboy shoved the Stetson to the back of his head and felt for his tobacco and papers.

"Gosh sakes!" yelled Mayor Maloney excitedly as he stared at the watch in his hand. "Fifty-seven seconds! They can't beat that down to Cheyenne!"

At the words, a mighty cheer went up from the crowd and everybody was talking at once. While over beside the big steer the cowboy mounted his pony and coiling his rope as he rode, joined the group of riders who lounged in their saddles and grinned their appreciation.

"Ladies an' gents," began the Mayor, "you have jest witnessed a ropin'

contest the winner of which is Tex Benton to beat who McLaughlin himself would have to do his da--doggondest! We will now conclood the afternoon's galaxity of spurious stars, as the circus bills says, with a buckin' contest which unneedless to say will conclood the afternoon's celebration of the openin' of a inst.i.toot that it's a credit to any town in reference to which I mean the Wolf River Citizen's Bank in which we invite to whose vaults a fair share of your patrimony. While the boys is gittin' ready an' drawin' their horses a couple of gents will pa.s.s amongst you an' give out to one an' all, ladies an' gents alike, an' no favorytes played, a ticket good fer a free drink in any saloon in Wolf River on the directors of the bank I have endeavoured to explain about which. After which they'll be a free feed at the _ho_tel also on the directors. Owin' to the amount of folks on hand this here will be pulled off in relays, ladies furst, as they hain't room fer all to onct, but Hank, here, claims he's got grub enough on hand so all will git a chanct to shove right out ag'in their belt. An' I might say right here in doo elegy of our feller townsman that Hank c'n set out as fillin' an' tasty a meal of vittles as anyone ever c.o.c.ked a lip over, barrin', of course, every married man's wife.

"Draw your horses, boys, an' git a-goin'!"

Alice Marc.u.m's surprise at Tex Benton's remarkable feat, after what Purdy had told her, was nothing to the surprise and rage of Purdy himself who had sat like an image throughout the performance. When the Mayor began his oration Purdy's eyes flashed rapidly over the crowd and seeing that neither Cinnabar Joe nor the doctor were present, slipped his horse around the end of the lumber pile and dashed for the doctor's office. "That d.a.m.n Doc'll wisht he hadn't never double-crossed me!" he growled, as he swung from the saddle before the horse had come to a stop. The office was empty and the man turned to the Headquarters saloon. Inside were the two men he sought, and he approached them with a snarl.

"What the h.e.l.l did yeh double-cross me for?" he shouted in a fury.

The doctor pointed to Cinnabar Joe who, still dazed from the effect of the drug, leaned upon the table. "I didn't double-cross you. The wrong man got the dope, that's all."

Cinnabar Joe regarded Purdy dully. "He switched gla.s.ses," he muttered thickly.

A swift look of fear flashed into Purdy's eyes. "How'n h.e.l.l did he know we fixed his licker?" he cried, for well he realized that if the Texan had switched gla.s.ses he was cognizant of the attempt to dope him.

Moistening his lips with his tongue, the cowpuncher turned abruptly on his heel. "Guess I'll be gittin' back where they's a lot of folks around," he muttered as he mounted his horse. "I got to try an' figger out if he knows it was me got Cinnabar to dope his booze. An' if he does--" The man's face turned just a shade paler beneath the tan---- "I got to lay off this here buckin' contest. I hain't got the guts to tackle it."

"Have you drawn your horse?" he had reached the lumber pile and the girl was smiling down at him. He shook his head dolefully.

"No, mom, I hain't a-goin' to ride. I spraint my shoulder ropin' that steer an' I just be'n over to see doc an' he says I should keep offen bad horses fer a spell. It's sure tough luck, too, 'cause I c'd of won if I c'd of rode. But I s'pose I'd ort to be satisfied, I drug down most of the other money--all but the ropin', an' I'd of had that if it hadn't of be'n fer Tex Benton's luck. An' he'll win ag'in, chances is--if his cinch holds. Here he comes now; him an' that breed. They hain't never no more'n a rope's len'th apart. Tex must have somethin'

on him the way he dogs him around."

The girl followed his glance to the Texan who approached accompanied by Bat Lajune and a cowboy who led from the horn of his saddle a blaze-faced bay with a roman nose. As the three drew nearer the girl could see the mocking smile upon his lips as his eyes rested for a moment on Purdy. "I don't like that man," she said, as though speaking to herself, "and yet----"

"Plenty others don't like him, too," growled Purdy. "I'm glad he's draw'd that roman nose, 'cause he's the out-buckin'est outlaw that ever grow'd hair--him an' that pinto, yonder, that's hangin' back on the rope."

The Texan drew up directly in front of the lumber pile and ignoring Purdy entirely, raised his Stetson to the girl. The direct cutting of Purdy had been obviously rude and Alice Marc.u.m felt an increasing dislike for the man. She returned his greeting with a perfunctory nod and instantly felt her face grow hot with anger. The Texan was laughing at her--was regarding her with an amused smile.

A yell went up from the crowd and out on the flat beyond the Texan, a horse, head down and back humped like an angry cat, was leaping into the air and striking the ground stiff-legged in a vain effort to shake the rider from his back.

"'Bout as lively as a mud turtle. He'll sulk in a minute," laughed the Texan, and true to the prophecy, the horse ceased his efforts and stood with legs wide apart and nose to the ground.