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

June laughed, "I love you already.—Ophelia plays," she added.

"Not so well or so much as Carolyn June," Ophelia said.

"Maybe we'll have some music then some day; that ain't canned," Skinny suggested eagerly.

"You women can use them rooms," Old Heck said, referring to the doors on each side of the piano. "Parker and me did have them but we've arranged to sleep in the bunk-house while you are here."

"Carolyn June and I need but one," Ophelia said, "it isn't fair to run you out—"

"You ain't running us," Old Heck answered, "we've talked it over and would rather."

After dinner Ophelia and Carolyn June spent their time in settling themselves in their rooms. A small bath closet connected the two—crude a bit and somewhat unfinished; but a hot tub, the water supplied from a tank at the kitchen range, was enjoyed by both.

Old Heck and Skinny helped with the trunks and then withdrew to the bunk-house.

Old Heck shaved and Skinny put on a clean shirt.

Skinny was not sure but this official love-making job was going to be interesting work and Old Heck himself was uncertain whether to cuss or rejoice—sometimes he was almost sorry to-morrow would be Parker's day to love and entertain Ophelia.

CHAPTER IV THE UNUSED PLATE

At sundown, when Parker and the cowboys rode in from the northern hills, the Quarter Circle KT lay under a mantle of sullen, torturing heat. Not a breath of air fanned the poplars, straight and motionless, in front of the house. The sun buried itself in a solid wall of black that rose above the Costejo peaks, hidden now in the shadow of the coming storm. The horses were dripping with sweat—their coats as glossy and wet as if they had swum the river. At the corral the animals wearily tossed their heads, low hung with exhaustion, seeking to shift the sticky clutch of head-stall or hackamore, while their riders dismounted and quickly removed saddle and riding gear. Freed from their burdens the bronchos dragged tired heels through the dust as they whirled and trotted unsteadily away to the pasture, eager to roll and relax their aching muscles.

"Holy cats, but it's hot!" Bert Lilly exclaimed as he slipped off his chaps and started toward the house, leaving saddle and outfit lying beside the gate of the corral.

"Better put them things in the shed," Parker advised, "looks like a whale of a storm is coming."

"Reckon that's right," Bert answered, turning back and carrying his riding gear into the shelter where the other cowboys already had taken theirs.

"Wonder if them women come?" Chuck Slithers queried as they moved toward the gate.

"More than likely—Bet Skinny and Old Heck have had a hell of a time making love to 'em," Charley Saunders remarked.

"You want to be careful about cussin'," Parker warned. "It ain't polite when women are around!"

"Listen at him!" Bert said with a laugh, "practising already—Parker is getting polite—to-morrow is his day to be affectionate to the widow, Ophelia—"

"Which is she, Parker," Charley asked soberly, "a grass or natural?"

"Shut up, you blamed fools, they're liable to hear you," Parker growled angrily. "Anyhow, it ain't my fault they come!"

"Parker oughtn't to kick," Chuck chimed in, "look at poor old
Skinny—he's got a steady job lovin' the other one!"

"Darned if I wouldn't rather love both of them at once," Charley observed, "than to take another ride like that was to-day. I'm kind of anxious to see what they look like," he continued.

"Well, don't go and get excited at the supper table and eat your pie with a spoon!" Chuck laughed.

"Aw, hell," Charley retorted, "I guess I know how to act—"

"Old Heck's going to buy some finger-bowls for you to wash your hands in," Bert said scornfully, "him and Parker—"

"Shut up, I told you, you darned idiots," Parker snapped. "They're out on the front porch and can hear you!"

"Be careful about your cussin'—" Bert mimicked with a snicker.

Notwithstanding their raillery every man in the group, including Pedro, gave unusual care to scrubbing his face and smoothing his hair preparatory to entering the kitchen for supper and where they would meet, for the first time, Ophelia and Carolyn June.

Sing Pete glided out of the kitchen door and hammered the triangle announcing the evening meal.

At the instant Parker and the cowboys filed into the kitchen from the rear, Ophelia and Carolyn June, followed by Old Heck and Skinny Rawlins, both looking sheepish and somewhat ashamed, stepped into the room from the front.

All stood waiting and Old Heck, ill at ease and in a voice that trembled, gave the party formal introduction:

"Missus Ophelia Cobb and Miss Carolyn June Dixon," motioning first at the widow and then the girl, "Mister Parker, Mister Bert Lilly, Mister Charley Saunders, Mister Chuck Slithers, Mister Pedro Valencia—" indicating each in turn with his hand as he called the names, "—I reckon you're already acquainted with Skinny!"

The cowboys mumbled greetings which Carolyn June and Ophelia graciously acknowledged.

Sing Pete had laid two extra covers.

"You boys can take your regular places—all except you, Parker," Old Heck said, "—you set at that side on this end," pointing to the seat at the left next to the head of the table. "Carolyn June, you can set at that end and Ophelia at this end—I'll set here," taking the seat at the widow's right and directly across from Parker.

This placed Old Heck, Bert Lilly, Pedro and Skinny Rawlins on the right of the table in the order named, Skinny sitting at the end on Carolyn's left. On the opposite side sat Parker, Chuck Slithers and Charley. Next to Charley, at the right of Carolyn June, and opposite Skinny, was a vacant chair.

"Who is this for?" Carolyn June inquired, indicating the unoccupied seat.

"That's th' Ramblin' Kid's place," Old Heck replied; "he may come in and again he mayn't—"

"It was him you saw to-day," Skinny added, "riding down toward the
Narrows when we was coming from Eagle Butte."

"Do you know; where he went, Parker?" Old Heck asked.

"No. When we started over to the Springs he was here. Said he reckoned we could get along without him and he wouldn't go—"

"He's just got one of them lonesome spells," Bert said, "and wanted to get off by himself somewhere."

"He knowed we was going to have company, too," Chuck observed.

"More than likely that's why he went," Skinny suggested.

"Is he afraid of women?" Carolyn June laughed.

"Not particularly," Skinny replied; "he don't bother with them, that's all."

"I think he went after that Gold Dust maverick," Charley said. "He'll probably come in when he sees how it's going to storm—"

"He don't give a darn for storms," Bert declared. "—Pass them frijoles, Pedro.—Remember that time it blowed the hay derrick down and he wouldn't come to the house, just stayed out and watched the wind and lightning?"

"He is funny that way," Charley admitted.

"Well, he'll never catch that mare," Parker said, "she's too—"

"Oh, I don't know," Chuck interrupted, "look how he has tamed Captain Jack," referring to the Ramblin' Kid's own horse, one time a famous renegade.

"How was that?" Carolyn June inquired carelessly.

"Captain Jack was an outlaw, too," Bert explained. "He run over on the East Mesa on the Una de Gata. Charley and me and th' Ramblin' Kid got him to going one day when there was some ranch mares in his bunch. One of them was a hand-raised filly, was a pet and she was—well, pretty hot! We worked them over the rim of the Mesa and into the canyon, it was a box-gorge from where they hit it to its head, and at the upper end there was a wing corral. The mare swung up the canyon towards the ranch and—Jack wouldn't quit her! We was pounding right on their heels and before he knowed it we had them penned—"

"That shows what happens when a he-thing goes locoed over a female critter," Chuck whispered to Parker; "you and Old Heck want to watch out!"

"Be careful, you danged fool!" Parker hissed as he kicked at Chuck's shins under the table. Excited, he made a mistake in the foot he should have used and viciously slammed his left toe against Ophelia's dainty ankle.

The widow looked startled and suddenly sat up very straight in her chair.

Parker realized his error, turned red, choked, leaned close to Chuck and breathed hoarsely, "I'll kill you some day for that!"

"He sure went crazy when he found he was corraled," Charley said, "and forgot all about the mare."

"He sure did," Bert continued, while Carolyn June listened intently, "and was plumb wild to bu'st down the pen and be free again. Charley nor me didn't want him and so th' Ramblin' Kid said he'd take him. Just then Tony Malush—we was punchin' for him—come riding up and was going to shoot Captain Jack on account of wanting to clean the range of the outlaw stallions. He yanked out his gun and started to pull a drop on old Jack's head. Th' Ramblin' Kid jerked his own forty-four and told Tony he'd kill him if he shot the renegade broncho. Tony backed up, but it made him sore and he fired th' Ramblin' Kid. The darned little cuss set there a minute thinking, then slid off his horse, stripped him of riding gear, flung saddle, blanket and bridle over the bars into the corral. Before we knowed what he was aiming to do he climbed up and dropped down inside, on foot, with just his rope, and faced that outlaw battin' around trying to get outside—"

Carolyn June leaned forward on the table listening with breathless interest. The others stopped eating and gave all their attention to the story Bert was telling.

"Captain Jack saw him, stopped for just a second, sort of surprised, then went right at th' Ramblin' Kid—head down, eyes blazin' like coals, mouth wide open, ears laid back and strikin' with both front feet—"

"He was some wicked!" Charley ejaculated.

"He sure was," Bert went on. "Tony and Charley and me just set on our horses stunned—thinkin' th' Kid had gone clean loco and was flirtin' with certain and pronto death. As Captain Jack rushed him th' Ramblin' Kid give a jump sideways, his rope went true, a quick run to the snubbin' post and he throwed him dead! The broncho hit his feet, give a squeal and come straight back! Th' Ramblin' Kid run once more, yankin' like blazes to get the slack! That time when he went down—well, before we realized it, th' Ramblin' Kid had him bridled and saddled and was safe on deck—"

"I'm tellin' you too, Captain Jack went higher than a kite when he felt the rowels in his flanks!" Charley interrupted.

"Th' Ramblin' Kid yelled for us to let him out," Bert continued. "Charley and me flung down the bars to the corral and Captain Jack come out sun-fishin' and hittin' the breeze like a streak of twisted lightning! That was just before dinner in the forenoon. That afternoon and night th' Ramblin' Kid rode the outlaw to the Hundred and One—ninety miles away! We didn't see either of them any more for a month and when they hit the Kiowa again Captain Jack was a regular baby after th' Ramblin' Kid and would follow him around like a dog—"

"That's the way he's been ever since," Charley said, "them two are just like sweethearts."

"Nobody else ever rides him—" Bert added.

"They can't," Chuck said. "He's a one-man horse and th' Ramblin' Kid is the man. Captain Jack would die for th' Ramblin' Kid!"

"Yes, and kill any one else if he could!" Parker exclaimed.

"Has no one but—but the Ramblin' Kid"—Carolyn June hesitated queerly over the name—"ever ridden him?"

"Never that we know of," Bert said; "several have tried it—the last one was a fellow from down on the Chickasaw. Guess he was trying to steal him. Anyway, we was all up at Eagle Butte and had left our horses out in front of the Occidental Hotel while we was in the dining-room eating our dinners. We got outside just in time to see the stranger hit the ground and Captain Jack jump on him with all four feet doubled up in a bunch—he's buried in that little graveyard you might have noticed on the hill this side of the river bridge."

"Killed him?" Carolyn June gasped.

"Seemed like it." Bert answered, with a grin; "anyway, we buried him."

"What did the—the Ramblin' Kid do?" she asked.

"He just laughed kind