The Ramblin' Kid - Earl Wayland Bowman (snow like ashes series .txt) 📗

got the smallpox while he was nursing them through an epidemic and it killed him, which left th' Ramblin' Kid an orphan when he wasn't much more than a baby. The Mexicans or Indians took care of him till he was old enough to ride and then he began to ramble around and has always kept it up just as if he was hunting for something—"

"How interesting!" Carolyn June exclaimed, "almost like a story!"

"It is kind of unusual," Skinny continued, "of course it may not all be true, but one thing is sure—th' Ramblin' Kid seems to have some sort of fascination for the Greasers and the Indians; they all worship him, and he's a witch when it comes to handling horses!"

"He seems to be," Carolyn June commented thoughtfully.

"Yes," Skinny answered, "look how that Gold Dust maverick has made right up with him—I don't believe she ever will have anything to do with anybody else!"

Carolyn June laughed softly to herself. She did not tell Skinny of her visits to the circular corral and that the outlaw mare already had accepted her as a good friend.

She and Skinny loafed idly as far down the valley as the Narrows, and when Sing Pete sounded the supper gong they were again back at the house.

After the evening meal the cowboys hung around the house for a while until a suggestive look from Old Heck caused them reluctantly to follow him to the bunk-house, leaving Parker and Skinny with Ophelia and Carolyn June.

It was the foreman's last evening with the widow before the beef round-up. She was rather diffident and held him in safe channels of conversation. Skinny and Carolyn June sat on the porch until it was quite dark, then went into the house. She drummed carelessly and lightly on the keys of the piano—her thoughts evidently far away. Parker and Skinny left the house early. At the door the foreman whispered to the widow:

"Don't forget what I spoke about coming out from town!"

Ophelia flushed and murmured, "No, indeed, but—" she did not finish the sentence. She was about to say, "don't build false hopes!"

When Parker and Skinny entered the bunk-house Old Heck and all the cowboys except the Ramblin' Kid were asleep. He was half-reclining on his bed, smoking. At the entrance of Skinny and Parker be got up and without speaking strolled outside and through the darkness toward the circular corral. The night was warm and the stuffy air of the bunk-house, together with the noisy snoring of Old Heck, made him restless. He stood a few moments looking at Captain Jack and the Gold Dust maverick. Then, moving back into the shed, dropped down and laid with his shoulders and head on his saddle, which was thrown on the ground under the shelter. The side of the building, next to the corral, was open and the Ramblin' Kid could see, from where he was lying, the dark bulks of the two horses at the farther side of the corral.

Ophelia went directly to bed after Skinny and Parker left.

Carolyn June sat for a while in the Morris chair in the large room. She seemed abstracted and in a mood for meditation. The vague history Skinny had given her of the life of the Ramblin' Kid interested her. She thought it explained a good many of his elemental impulses and idiosyncrasies. He was a creature of the plains. In his life among the Indians and Mexicans he had absorbed their stoical ways and almost brutal directness, yet, sometimes he showed a sensitiveness that was utterly impossible for Carolyn June to understand. Her thoughts turned to the Gold Dust maverick. To-morrow Ramblin' Kid would take the filly away for the round-up. She truly loved the beautiful mare. She would slip out, while the others slept, and have one more visit with the splendid creature. Rising, Carolyn June passed out through the kitchen, stopped for a handful of sugar—she had learned where Sing Pete kept the can—and bareheaded and without a wrap walked swiftly out to the circular corral.

The Ramblin' Kid heard Carolyn June step up to the gate of the corral and from the heavy shadow in which he lay saw the light dress and instinctively recognized this late visitor to Captain Jack and the Gold Dust maverick His first impulse was to call out and warn her to keep away from the horses—that both were dangerous for men to fool with, much less was it safe for a woman to undertake familiarities with them. His next thought was that his sudden appearance would only startle the girl and—well, cause a lot of useless talk. He remained quiet.

A low trill came from the throat of Carolyn June. The two horses stopped feeding and looked around toward the gate. The bird-like call was repeated. The Ramblin' Kid was astonished to see Captain Jack and the outlaw mare move eagerly in the direction from whence the sound had come. He heard Carolyn June talking to the bronchos in soft endearing tones. After a moment she opened the gate and stepped inside the corral.

"Well, I'll be—!" he breathed inaudibly.

For half an hour Carolyn June petted the little stallion and the Gold
Dust maverick. Both animals seemed hungry for her caresses.

"Oh, you darling—you wonder!" the Ramblin' Kid Heard Carolyn June say, as she gave the maverick's head a tight squeeze just before running lightly back to the house. "I hope you beat that old Y-Bar horse so bad he'll never want to run again! Even if that Ramblin' Kid lover of yours," she added softly, "does think I'm nothing but a silly woman-thing and hates me with all his queer, lonesome heart!"

"Well, I'll be damned!" the Ramblin' Kid exclaimed when she was gone.

He raised himself on one elbow and lay thus for a long time silently thinking.

At last he got up, went to the corral gate, and he himself stepped inside with the horses. He gave Captain Jack's ear a loving twitch, then turned to the Gold Dust maverick. She permitted him, without protest, to fondle her head and neck. His hand lingered long on the silky mane in which, a little while before, Carolyn June had twined her fingers.

"Oh, Queen of th' Range!" he said with a low laugh, unconsciously using the poetical phrase, as he gave the warm cheek of the filly a tender parting pinch before turning away to go to the bunk-house, "we'll whip that devil-horse of th' Vermejo—we'll show that Thunderbolt runner what hearts that ain't afraid an' nimble hoofs can do!"

CHAPTER XIII THE ELITE AMUSEMENT PARLOR

An hour after breakfast, on Monday morning, Old Heck, Ophelia, Skinny and Carolyn June Were alone at the Quarter Circle KT. Parker and the cowboys were climbing out on the sand-hills north of the Cimarron, traveling in the direction of Battle Ridge, where the beef hunt was to begin.

The circular corral was empty.

The Ramblin' Kid was riding the Gold Dust maverick. Captain Jack was with the saddle horses which Pedro, the Mexican, had wrangled on ahead of the other riders an hour before.

The filly made no effort to throw the Ramblin' Kid on this her second riding. She seemed perfectly willing to carry the burden on her back. Carolyn June watched the beautiful mare as she stepped lightly and daintily along beside the other horses, and when the group disappeared among the rolling ridges across the river the ranch someway seemed deserted and she felt strangely alone, although Ophelia, Old Heck and Skinny were standing at her side.

Sing Pete followed the riders, jolting along in the grub-wagon, awkwardly driving, with much clucking and pidgin-English, Old Tom and Baldy hitched to the heavy, canvas-covered vehicle with its "box-kitchen" and mess-board protruding gawkily out from the rear.

Old Heck heaved a sigh of relief. There was a feeling of serene peace in his heart, now that Parker and the cowboys were safely away on the round-up. In Skinny's heart the feeling was echoed.

For a week or more they would be able to love Ophelia and Carolyn June without the constant fear of interruption.

Only one thing troubled Old Heck. The widow had not yet exposed her hand in that suffragette movement or whatever it was. He dreaded the form in which it might, sooner or later, break out. But at that he would be glad to have it over. At present he felt as though he were sitting on the edge of a volcano, or above an unexplored blast of dynamite at the bottom of a well. Meanwhile he would have to wait and watch—and hope for the best.

The week that followed was heaven and hell, mixed together, for Old Heck and Skinny.

The women were lovely and lovable to the last degree, but cautious and tormentingly self-restrained when it came to loving. At the first intimation of dangerous sentimentality on the part of Old Heck the widow would suddenly and without an instant's warning change the subject. When Skinny had been pensive and silent for half an hour or so and would then start, in a halting and quivering voice, to say something, Carolyn June invariably interrupted with a remark about the weather, the Gold Dust maverick, the Ramblin' Kid, Old Heck, Sing Pete, the yellow cat, the coming Rodeo, Ophelia or something else.

They paired on the work of preparing the meals, Carolyn June and Skinny and Ophelia and Old Heck taking shift and shift about in the kitchen. In this way the work was made a joke, with friendly rivalry between the couples in the preparation of tasty dishes.

Old Heck and Skinny surprised the women with their knowledge of cooking. Nor was there the least embarrassment on the part of either when, with one of Sing Pete's aprons tied about his waist, he worked at the range or kitchen table. As a matter of course every cow-man must know something of how to cook a meal and, also, naturally and as a matter of course, Old Heck and Skinny, without the slightest thought that it was "womanish" or beneath the "dignity" of men, peeled potatoes, fried meat, washed dishes or did whatever there was to do.

Indeed each was proud of his skill.

Ophelia herself was clever, particularly at making biscuits and dainty salads.

Carolyn June's sole accomplishment in the art of preparing food was the making of coffee-jelly. This she had learned at college—taught, perhaps, by the other girls during stolen midnight frolics. Probably this, also, was the reason she usually made it the last thing at night before Skinny and Old Heck left to go to the bunk-house. Coffee-jelly was the regular, inevitable, evening meal dessert for the entire week.

"It ain't so very filling," Skinny remarked the first time he tasted the delicate dish, "but it's tender and has a dandy flavor!"

Carolyn June blushed at the compliment.

"It is pretty good," Old Heck agreed, "but these biscuits Ophelia made are just what was needed to set it off!"

The widow smilingly showed her pleasure.

Twice during the week Skinny rode "line" on the big pasture to look after the Diamond Bar steers. Carolyn June accompanied him. Each time she rode Browny, the old cow-horse. On these days Old Heck and Ophelia, in the Clagstone "Six," drove to Eagle Butte. The second trip to town Ophelia asked to be left at the minister's house. Old Heck was to call in an hour and get her. During the hour he slipped into the dentist's and had his teeth cleaned. When the tobacco-blackened tartar was scraped away they were surprisingly white and even. He stopped at the drug store and bought a tooth-brush and a tube of paste.

Ophelia noticed the wonderful improvement in his appearance, guessed the reason, and the thought sent a warm thrill through her body.

"Like a big boy," she laughed to herself, "when he begins to wash his neck and ears!"

"It ain't healthy to have your teeth so dirty," Old Heck explained, coloring and in an apologizing manner, when Skinny discovered him, after supper that evening, carefully scrubbing his molars.

Skinny watched the performance, saw the result, and murmured:

"Guess I'll get me one of them layouts!"

On Friday the quartette went to Eagle Butte, Old Heck driving, with
Ophelia beside him, and Carolyn June and Skinny in the rear seat of the
Clagstone "Six."

It was on this trip, while Ophelia and Carolyn June were in the Golden Rule doing some shopping, that Old Heck and Skinny strolled into the Elite Amusement Parlor. Lafe Dorsey, owner of the Y-Bar outfit and to whom belonged the black Thunderbolt horse; Newt Johnson, Dave Stover and "Flip" Williams—the latter three