The Texan Part 9

"Whoopee!"

"He's a ringtailed woozoo!"

"Thumb him!"

"Scratch him!"

The crowd laughed and advised, and the cowboy thumbed and scratched, but the broncho's only sign of animation was a vicious switching of the tail.

"Next horse!" cried the Mayor, and a horse shot out, leaving the ground before the rider was in the saddle. Straight across the flat he bucked with the cowboy whipping higher and higher in the saddle as he tried in vain to catch his right stirrup.

"He's a goner!"

"He's clawin' leather!"

To save himself a fall the rider had grabbed the horn of the saddle, and for him the contest was over.

"Come on, Bat, we'll throw the sh.e.l.l on this old buzzard-head. I'm number seven an' there's three down!" called the Texan.

The two swung from the saddles and the roman-nosed outlaw p.r.i.c.ked his ears and set against the rope with fore legs braced. The cowboy who had him in tow took an extra dally around the saddle horn as the Texan, hackamore in hand, felt his way inch by inch along the taut lead-rope.

As the man's hand touched his nose the outlaw shuddered and braced back until only the whites of his eyes showed. Up came the hand and the rawhide hackamore slipped slowly into place.

"He's a-goin' to ride with a hackamore!" cried someone as the Texan busied himself with the knots. Suddenly the lead-rope slackened and with a snort of fury the outlaw reared and lashed out with both forefeet. The Texan stepped swiftly aside and as the horse's feet struck the ground the loaded end of a rawhide quirt smashed against his jaw.

Bat Lajune removed the saddle from the Texan's horse and stepped forward with the thick felt pad which Tex, with a hand in the cheek-strap of the hackamore, brushed along the outlaw's sides a few times and then deftly threw over the animal's back. The horse, braced against the rope, stood trembling in every muscle while Bat brought forward the saddle with the right stirrup-leather and cinch thrown back over the seat. As he was about to hand it to the Texan he stopped suddenly and examined the cinch. Then without a word carried it back, unsaddled his own horse, and taking the cinch from his saddle exchanged it for the other.

"Just as easy to switch cinches as it is drinks, ain't it, Bat?"

grinned Tex.

"Ba Goss! Heem look lak' Circle J boun' for be wan man short," replied the half-breed, and the girl, upon whom not a word nor a move had been lost, noticed that Purdy's jaw tightened as the Texan laughed at the apparently irrelevant remark.

The outlaw shuddered as the heavy saddle was thrown upon his back and the cinch ring deftly caught with a loop of rope and made fast.

Out on the flat number four, on the pinto outlaw, had hit the dirt, number five had ridden through on a dead one, and number six had quit his in mid-air.

"Next horse--number seven!" called the Mayor. The cowboy who had the broncho in tow headed out on the flat prepared to throw off his dallies and two others, including Purdy, rode forward quirt in hand, to haze the hate-blinded outlaw from crashing into the wagons. With his hand gripping the cheek-strap, Tex turned and looked straight into Purdy's eyes.

"Go crawl under a wagon an' chaw a bone," he said in a low even voice, "I'll whistle when I want _you_." For an instant the men's glances locked, while the onlookers held their breath. Purdy was not a physical coward. The insult was direct, uttered distinctly, and in the hearing of a crowd. At his hip was the six-gun with which he had just won a shooting contest--yet he did not draw. The silence was becoming painful when the man shrugged, and without a word, turned his horse away. Someone laughed, and the tension broke with a hum of low-voiced conversation.

"Next horse, ready!"

As the crowd drew back Alice Marc.u.m leaned close to Purdy's ear.

"I think it was splendid!" she whispered; "it was the bravest thing I ever saw." The man could scarcely believe his ears.

"Is she kiddin' me?" he wondered, as he forced his glance to the girl's face. But no, she was in earnest, and in her eyes the man read undisguised admiration. She was speaking again.

"Any one of these," she indicated the crowd with a sweep of her gloved hand, "would have shot him, but it takes a real man to preserve perfect self-control under insult."

The cowpuncher drew a long breath. "Yes; mom," he answered; "it was pretty tough to swaller that. But somehow I kind of--of hated to shoot him." Inwardly he was puzzled. What did the girl mean? He realized that she was in earnest and that he had suddenly become a hero in her eyes. Fate was playing strangely into his hands. A glitter of triumph flashed into his eyes, a glitter that faded into a look of wistfulness as they raised once more to hers.

"Would you go to the dance with me tonight, mom? These others--they don't git me right. They'll think I didn't dast to shoot it out with him."

The girl hesitated, and the cowpuncher continued. "The transfer train's pulled out an' the trussle won't be fixed 'til mornin', you might's well take in the dance."

Beside her Endicott moved uneasily. "Certainly not!" he exclaimed curtly as his eyes met Purdy's. And then, to the girl, "If you are bound to attend that performance you can go with me."

"Oh, I can go with you, can I?" asked the girl sweetly. "Well thank you so much, Winthrop, but really you will have to excuse me. Mr.

Purdy asked me first." There was a sudden flash of daring in her eyes as she turned to the cowpuncher. "I shall be very glad to go," she said; "will you call for me at the car?"

"I sure will," he answered, and turned his eyes toward the flats. This was to be _his_ night, his last on the Wolf River range, he realized savagely. In the morning he must ride very far away. For before the eyes of all Wolf River he had swallowed an insult. And the man knew that Wolf River knew why he did not shoot.

CHAPTER VI

THE RIM OF THE BENCH

Out on the flat the Texan was riding "straight up" amid a whirl of white dust.

"Fan him, Tex!"

"Stay with him!"

The cries of the cowboys cut high above the chorus of yelling applause as the furious outlaw tried every known trick to unseat the rider.

High in the air he bucked, swapping ends like a flash, and landing with all four feet "on a dollar," his legs stiff as jack-pine posts. The Texan rode with one hand gripping the hackamore rope and the other his quirt which stung and bit into the frenzied animal's shoulders each time he hit the ground. In a perfect storm of fury the horse plunged, twisted, sunfished, and bucked to free himself of the rider who swayed easily in the saddle and raked him flank and sides with his huge rowelled spurs.

"Stay a long time!"

"Scratch him, Tex!" yelled the delighted cowpunchers.

Suddenly the yells of appreciation gave place to gasps even from the initiated, as the rage-crazed animal leaped high into the air and throwing himself backward, crashed to the ground squarely upon his back. As the dust cloud lifted the Texan stood beside him, one foot still in the stirrup, slashing right and left across the struggling brute's ears with his braided quirt. The outlaw leaped to his feet with the cowboy in the saddle and the crowd went wild. Then with the enthusiasm at its height, the man jerked at his hackamore knot, and the next moment the horse's head was free and the rider rode "on his balance" without the sustaining grip on the hackamore rope to hold him firm in his saddle. The sudden loosening of the rawhide thongs gave the outlaw new life. He sunk his head and redoubled his efforts, as with quirt in one hand and hackamore in the other the cowboy lashed his shoulders while his spurs raked the animal to a b.l.o.o.d.y foam. Slower and slower the outlaw fought, pausing now and then to scream shrilly as with bared teeth and blazing eyes he turned this way and that, sucking the air in great blasts through his blood-dripping nostrils.

At last he was done. Conquered. For a moment he stood trembling in every muscle, and as he sank slowly to his knees, the Texan stepped smiling from the saddle.

"Sometime, Slim," he grinned as he reached for his tobacco and papers, "if you-all can get holt of a horse that ain't plumb gentle, I'll show you a real ride."

All about was the confusion attendant to the breaking-up of the crowd.

Men yelled at horses as they hitched them to the wagons. Pedestrians, hurrying with their tickets toward the saloons, dodged from under the feet of cowboys' horses, and the flat became a tangle of wagons with shouting drivers.

Alice Marc.u.m stood upon the edge of the lumber-pile with the wind whipping her skirts about her silk stockings as the Texan, saddle over his arm, glanced up and waved, a gauntleted hand. The girl returned the greeting with a cold-eyed stare and once more found herself growing furiously angry. For the man's lips twisted into their cynical smile as his eyes rested for a moment upon her own, shifted, lingered with undisguised approval upon her silk stockings, and with devilish boldness, returned to her own again. Suddenly his words flashed through her brain. "I always get what I go after--sometimes." She recalled the consummate skill with which he had conquered the renegade steer and the outlaw broncho--mastered them completely, and yet always in an off-hand manner as though the thing amused him. Never for a moment had he seemed to exert himself--never to be conscious of effort.

Despite herself the girl shuddered nervously, and ignoring Endicott's proffer of a.s.sistance, scrambled to the ground and hastened toward her coach.

A young lady who possessed in a high degree a very wholesome love of adventure, Alice Marc.u.m coupled with it a very unwholesome habit of acting on impulse. As unamenable to reason as she was impervious to argument, those who would remonstrate with her invariably found themselves worsted by the simple and easy process of turning their weapons of attack into barriers of defence. Thus when, an hour later, Winthrop Adams Endicott found her seated alone at a little table in the dining-car he was agreeably surprised when she greeted him with a smile and motioned him into the chair opposite.

"For goodness' sake, Winthrop, sit down and talk to me. There's nothing so stupid as dining alone--and especially when you want to talk to somebody." As Endicott seated himself, she rattled on: "I wanted to go to that preposterous supper they are going to 'dish up' at the hotel, but when I found they were going to separate the 'ladies and gents' and feed them in relays, I somehow lost the urge. The men, most of them, are interesting--but the women are deadly. I know just what it would be--caught s.n.a.t.c.hes of it from the wagons during the lulls--preserves, and babies, and what Harry's ma died of. The men carry an atmosphere of unrestraint--of freshness----"