Jim Waring of Sonora-Town; Or, Tang of Life

by Henry Herbert Knibbs

  Chapter XVI

  _Play_

  The installation of Bud Shoop as supervisor of the White MountainDistrict was celebrated with an old-fashioned barbecue by the cattlemenand sheepmen leasing on the reserve. While John Torrance had alwaysdealt fairly with them, the natives felt that he was more or less of atheorist in the matter of grazing-leases. Shoop was a practical cowman;one of themselves. Naturally there was some dissatisfaction expressed bydisgruntled individuals who envied Shoop's good fortune. But this wasoverwhelmed by the tide of popular acclaim with which Shoop was hailedas a just administrator of their grazing-rights.

  The barbecue was a boisterous success. Although the day of largeholdings was past, the event lacked nothing in numbers or enthusiasm.The man who owned a hundred head of cattle was quite as popular as hisneighbor who owned perhaps eight hundred or a thousand. Outfitsfraternized, ran pony races, roped for prizes, and rode bucking horses,as their predecessors had raced, roped, and "rode 'em" in the days ofold.

  Lorry, itching to enter the roping contest, was checked by a suggestionfrom the genial Bud.

  "I've heard you was top-hand with a rope. But you're a ranger, by thegrace of God and me and John Torrance. Let the boy's play, but don'tplay with 'em yet. Keep 'em guessin' just how good you are. Let 'em getto know you slow--and solid."

  Lorry accepted Bud's advice, and made himself popular with the variousoutfits by maintaining a silence when questioned as to how he "putHigh-Chin Bob out of business." The story of that affair had had a widecirculation, and gained interest when it became known that High Chin andhis men were present. Their excuse for coming was only legitimate inthat a barbecue draws no fine lines of distinction. Any one who has ahorse and an appetite is welcome. The Starr riders were from thenorthern county, but they would have been quite as welcome had they comefrom Alaska.

  Bud Shoop was present in a suit of religiously severe black, his pantsoutside his boots. He had donned a white shirt and knotted a black silkbandanna round his short neck.

  The morning was noisy with pony races, roping contests, and the ridingof pitching horses. The events were not tabulated, but evolved throughthe unwritten law of precedent.

  After the noon feast there was talk of a shooting-match. Few of thelocal men packed guns, and none of them openly. The Starr riders werethe only exception. This fact was commented upon by some of theold-timers, who finally accosted Bud with the suggestion that he "showthat Starr outfit what a gun was made for." Bud declined.

  "I ain't had a gun in my hand, except to clean it, since I quitpunchin'," he told them. "And, anyhow, I'm no fancy gun sharp."

  "High Chin and his outfit is sure handin' it to us," complained theold-timers. "And you're about the only man here who could show 'em."

  "No use provin' it to 'em when they know it," Bud said.

  The committee retired and consulted among themselves. Bud was talkingwith a cattleman when they again accosted him.

  "Say, Bud, them Starr boys has cleaned us out on ropin' and racin'. Wetrimmed 'em on ridin'. Now that makes two to one, and we're askin' youas a old-timer if we're goin' to let them fellas ride north a-tellin'every hay-tosser atween here and Stacey that we're a bunch of jays?"

  "Oh, shucks!" was all Bud had to say.

  "And that High-Chin Bob says he aims to hang young Adams's scalp on hisbelt afore he gits through," asserted a townsman.

  "I'll set in the game," said Bud.

  And he waddled across the street to his office. In a few minutes he cameback and mingled with the crowd. The Starr boys were pitching dollars ata mark when Bud and a companion strolled past. High Chin invited Shoopto join in the game. Shoop declined pleasantly.

  "Things is runnin' slow," said a Starr man. "Wish I'd 'a' fetched mymusic along. Mebby I could git somebody to sing me to sleep."

  Bud laughed. "Have a good time, boys." And he moved on.

  "That was one for you--and yore piano," said his companion.

  "Mebby so. We'll let that rest. I'm lookin' for a friend of mine." AndShoop edged along the crowd.

  The man that Shoop was looking for was standing alone beneath the shadeof an acacia, watching the crowd. He was a tall, heavy man,dark-featured, with a silver-gray beard and brown eyes that seemed totwinkle with amusement even when his lips were grim. The giant sheepmanof the south country was known to every one on account of his greatphysique and his immense holdings in land and sheep. Shoop talked withhim for a few minutes. Together they strolled back to the crowd.

  The Starr boys were still pitching dollars when Shoop and the sheepmanapproached.

  "Who's top-hand in this game?" queried Shoop genially.

  "High Chin--and at any game you got," said a Starr man.

  "Well, now!"

  "Any game you got."

  Shoop gazed about, saw Lorry, and beckoned to him.

  "Here's my candidate," said Shoop. "He kep' out of the ropin' so as togive you fellas a chance." And he turned to Lorry. "Give him a whirl,"he said, indicating High Chin. "It's worth a couple of dollars just tofind out how good he is."

  High Chin surveyed the circle of faces, poised a dollar, and threw it.Lorry threw and lost. High Chin pocketed the two dollars. The Starr boysgrinned. High Chin threw again. The dollar slid close to the line. Lorryshied his dollar and knocked the other's coin several feet away from theline.

  "Try him ag'in," said Shoop.

  Lorry tossed again. His dollar dropped on the line. High Chin threw. Hiscoin clinked squarely on Lorry's, but spun off, leaving it undisturbed.

  "You break even--at that game," said Shoop. "It was a good shot."

  "Folks been sayin' the same of you," said High Chin, turning to thesupervisor.

  "Oh, folks will talk. They're made that way," chuckled Shoop.

  "Well, I got ten bucks that says High Chin can outshoot any hombre inthis crowd," said a Starr boy.

  "I'm right glad you got it," said Shoop pleasantly.

  "Meanin' I stand to lose it, eh?"

  "Oh, gosh, no! You're steppin' on your bridle. I was congratulatin' youon your wealth."

  "I ain't seen that you been flashin' any money," said the cowboy.

  "Nope. That ain't what money's made for. And I never bet on a surething. Ain't no fun in that."

  The giant sheepman, whose movements were as deliberate as the sun's,slowly reached in his pocket and drew out a leather pouch. He countedout forty dollars in gold-pieces.

  "I'll lay it even," he said, his eyes twinkling, "that Bud Shoop canoutshoot any man in the crowd."

  "I'll take ten of that," said the Starr man.

  "And I'll take ten," said another cowboy.

  "John," said Shoop, turning to the sheepman, "you're a perpendiculardam' fool."

  Word went forth that High-Chin Bob, of the Starr, and Bud Shoop were toshoot a match for a thousand dollars a side, and some of the moreenthusiastic believed it. In a few minutes the street was empty of allsave the ponies at the hitching-rails.

  In a shallow arroyo back of town the excited throng made wagers andtalked of wonderful shots made by the principals. High Chin was known asa quick and sure shot. Shoop's reputation was known to fewer of thecrowd. The Starr boys backed their foreman to the last cent. A judge wassuggested, but declined as being of the locality. Finally the giantsheepman, despite his personal wager, was elected unanimously. He wasknown to be a man of absolute fairness, and qualified to judgemarksmanship. He agreed to serve, with the proviso that the Starr boysor any of High Chin's friends should feel free to question hisdecisions. The crowd solidified back of the line, where Shoop and HighChin stood waiting for the test.

  The marksmen faced two bottles on a rock some thirty paces away. At theword, each was to "go for his gun" and shoot. High Chin carried his gunin the usual holster. Bud Shoop's gun was tucked in the waistband of hispants.

  "Go!" said the sheepman.

  High Chin's hand flashed to his hip. His gun jumped and spoke. Shoop'swrist turned. Both bottles were shattered on the instant. A tie wasdeclared.


  The men were placed with their backs toward the targets--two emptybottles. The sheepman faced them, with his hands behind his back. Whenhe snapped his fingers they were to turn and fire. Many of the onlookersthought this test would leave High Chin a point ahead.

  Both men swung and fired at the signal. Again both bottles wereshattered. Although a tie was again declared, the crowd cheered forShoop, realizing his physical handicap. Yet many asserted that High Chinwas the faster man, won to this decision by his lightning speed ofmovement and his easy manner, suggesting a kind of contemptuousindifference to results.

  In contrast to High Chin's swift, careless efficiency, Shoop's solidpoise and lack of elbow motion showed in strong relief. Their methodswere entirely dissimilar. But it was evident to the old-timers thatShoop shot with less effort and waste motion than his lithe competitor.And High Chin was the younger man by twenty years.

  Thus far the tests had not been considered difficult. But when thesheepman stepped off ten paces and faced the competitors with a cigarheld at arm's length, the chattering of the crowd ceased. High Chin, asguest, was asked to shoot first. He raised his gun. It hung poised for asecond. As it jumped in his hand the ash flirted from the end of thecigar. The crowd stamped and cheered. Shoop congratulated High Chin. Thecrowd hooted and called to Shoop to make good. Even as they called, hishand flashed up. Hardly had the report of his gun startled them tosilence when they saw that his hands were empty. A roar of laughtershook the crowd. Some one pointed toward the sheepman. The laughter dieddown. He held a scant two inches of cigar in his fingers. Then theyunderstood, and were silent again. They gathered round the sheepman. Heheld up his arms. Shoop's bullet had nipped the cigar in two before theyhad realized that he intended to shoot.

  "You're havin' the luck," said High.

  "You're right," said Shoop. "And luck, if she keeps steady gait, is justas good a hoss to ride as they is."

  Still, there were those who maintained that Shoop had made a chancehit. But High Chin knew that this was not so. He had met his master atthe six-gun game.

  Bud Shoop's easy manner had vanished. As solid as a rock, his lips in astraight line, he waited for the next test while High Chin talked andjoked with the bystanders.

  "You'll shoot when you see something to shoot at," was the sheepman'sword. The crowd laughed. He stood behind the marksmen, a tin can in eachhand. Both High Chin and Shoop knew what was coming, and Shoop decidedto surprise the assemblage. The main issue was not the shooting contest,and if High-Chin Bob had not already seen enough of Shoop's work tosatisfy him, the genial Bud intended to clinch the matter right there.

  Without warning, the sheepman tossed the cans into the air. Shoop andHigh Chin shot on the instant. But before High Chin's can touched theground Shoop shot again. It was faster work than any present had everseen. A man picked up the cans and brought them to the sheepman. One canhad a clean hole in it. The other had two holes through it. Thosenearest the marksmen wondered why Shoop had not shot twice at his owncan. But the big sheepman knew that Shoop had called High Chin's bluffabout "any game going."

  Even then the match was a tie so far as precedent demanded. Each manhad made a hit on a moving target.

  The crowd had ceased to applaud.

  "How about a try from the saddle?" suggested High Chin.

  "I reckon I look just as fat and foolish settin' in a saddle asanywhere," said Shoop.

  The crowd shuffled over to a more open spot, on the mesa. Shoop and HighChin mounted their horses. A tin cracker box was placed on a flat rockout in the open.

  The men were to reload and shoot at top speed as they rode past the box.The Starr foreman immediately jumped his pony to a run, and, swayingeasily, threw a shot at the box as he approached it, another and anotherwhen opposite, and, turning in the saddle, fired his three remainingshots. The box was brought back and inspected. The six shots had allhit.

  Shoop, straight and solid as a statue, ran his pony down the course, butheld his fire until almost opposite the box. Then six reports rippledout like the drawing of a stick quickly across a picket fence. It wasfound that the six shots had all hit in one side of the box. Thesheepman was asked for a decision. He shook his head and declared thematch a draw. And technically it was a draw. Every one seemed satisfied,although there was much discussion among individuals as to the relativemerits of the contestants.

  As the crowd dispersed and some of them prepared to ride home, twohorsemen appeared on the northern road, riding toward town. As they drewnearer Shoop chuckled. Lorry, standing a few paces away, glanced at him.

  The supervisor was talking to Bob Brewster. "High, you're the best Iever stacked up against, exceptin' one, and it's right curious that heis just a-ridin' into this powwow. If you want to see what real shootin'is, get him to show you."

  "I don't know your friend," said High, eyeing the approaching horsemen,"but he's a beaut if he can outshoot you."

  "Outshoot me? Say, High, that hombre ridin' the big buckskin hoss therecould make us look about as fast as a couple of fence-posts when itcomes to handlin' a gun. And his pardner ain't what you'd call slow."

  High Chin's lean face darkened as he recognized Waring riding beside agaunt, long-legged man whose gray eyes twinkled as he surveyed thelittle group.

  "Pat--and Jim Waring," muttered Shoop. "And us just finished what somewould call a ole-time shootin'-bee!"

  "Who's your friend?" queried High Chin, although he knew.

  "Him? That's Jim Waring, of Sonora. And say, High, I ain't hisadvertisin' agent, but between you and me he could shoot the fuzz out ofyour ears and never as much as burn 'em. What I'm tellin' you isfirst-class life insurance if you ain't took out any. And before you goI just want to pass the word that young Adams is workin' for _me_.Reckon you might be interested, seein' as how he worked for you aspell."

  High Chin met Shoop's gaze unblinkingly. He was about to speak when Patand Waring, rode up and greeted the supervisor. High Chin wheeled hishorse and loped back to town. A few minutes later he and his men rodepast. To Shoop's genial wave of farewell they returned a whoop thatseemed edged with a vague challenge.

  Pat, who was watching them, asked Shoop who the man was riding thepinto.

  "Why, that's High-Chin Bob Brewster, Starr fo'man. He's kind of a wildbird. I reckon he came over here lookin' for trouble. He's been walkin'around with his wings and tail spread like he was mad at somethin'."

  "I thought I knew him," said Pat. And he shrugged his shoulders.

  Shoop noticed that Waring was gazing at Pat in a peculiar manner. Heattached no significance to this at the time, but later he recalled thefact that there had been trouble between Pat and the Brewster boys someyears ago. The Brewsters had then openly threatened to "get Pat if heever rode north again."