The Ridin' Kid from Powder River
Page 14
CHAPTER XIV
THE KITTY-CAT
Pete and Bailey took off their boots just before they entered thebunk-house. They lugged the defunct mountain lion in and laid it byBill Haskins's bunk.
Pete propped the lion's head up with one of Haskin's boots. The effectwas realistic enough. The lion lay stretched out in a most naturalway, apparently gazing languidly at the sleeping cow-puncher. This wasmore or less accidental, as they dare not light the lamp for fear ofwaking the men. Bailey stole softly to the door and across to thehouse. Pete undressed and turned in, to dream of who knows whatghostly lions prowling through the timberlands of the Blue Range. Itseemed but a few minutes when he heard the clatter of the pack-horsebell that Mrs. Bailey used to call the men to breakfast. The chillgray half-light of early morning discovered him with one cautious eye,gazing across at Haskins, who still snored, despite the bell. "Oh,Bill!" called Pete. Haskins's snore broke in two as he swallowed theunlaunched half and sat up rubbing his eyes. He swung his feet downand yawned prodigiously. "Heh--hell!" he exclaimed as his bare feettouched the furry back of the lion. Bill glanced down into thosehalf-closed eyes. His jaw sagged. Then he bounded to the middle ofthe room. With a whoop he dashed through the doorway, rounded into theopen, and sprinted for the corral fence, his bare legs twinkling likethe side-rods of a speeding locomotive and his shirt-tail fluttering inthe morning breeze. Andy White leaped from his bunk, saw the deadlion, and started to follow Haskins. Another cowboy, Avery, wasdancing on one foot endeavoring to don his overalls.
Hank Barley, an old-timer, jumped up with his gun poised, ready forbusiness. "Why, he's daid!" he exclaimed, poking the lion with themuzzle of his gun.
Pete rose languidly and began to dress. "What's all the hocus, fellas?Where's Haskins?"
"Bill he done lit out like he'd lost somethin'," said Barley. "Now Iwonder what young ijjut packed that tree-cat in here last night? Jimsaid yesterday he was goin' to do a little lookin' round. Looks likehe sure seen somethin'."
"Yes," drawled Pete. "Jim and me got a buck and this here lion. Wedidn't have time to git anything else."
"Too bad you didn't git a bear and a couple of bob-cats while you wasat it."
"Hey, boys!" called Andy from the doorway. "Come see Bill!"
The men crowded to the door. Perched on the top rail of the corralfence sat Bill Haskins shivering and staring at the house. "We killedyour bed-feller!" called Barley. "He done et your pants afore weplugged him, but I kin lend you a pair. You had better git a-movin'afore Ma Bailey--"
"Ssh!" whispered Andy White. "There's Ma standin' in the kitchen doorand--she's seen Bill!"
Bill also realized that he had been seen by Mrs. Bailey. He shiveredand shook, teetering on the top rail until indecision got the better ofhis equilibrium. With a wild backward flip he disappeared from thehigh-line of vision. Ma Bailey also disappeared. The boys doubled upand groaned as Bill Haskins crawled on all fours across the corraltoward the shelter of the stable.
"Oh, my Gosh!" gasped Barley. "S-s-ome--body--sh-shoot me and put meout of my m-misery!"
A few seconds later Bailey crossed the yard carrying an extra pair ofthose coverings most essential to male comfort and equanimity.
It was a supernaturally grave bevy of cow-punchers that gathered roundthe table that morning. Ma Bailey's silence was eloquent of suppressedindignation. Bailey also seemed subdued. Pete was as placid as asleeping cherub. Only Andy White seemed really overwrought. He seemedto suffer internally. The sweat stood out on Bill Haskins's red face,but his appetite was in no way impaired. He ate rapidly and drank muchcoffee. Ma Bailey was especially gracious to him. Presently fromPete's end of the table came a faint "Me-e-ow!" Andy White put downhis cup of coffee and excusing himself fled from the room, Pete staredafter him as though greatly astonished. Barley the imperturbableseemed to be suffering from internal spasms, and presently left thetable. Blaze Andrews, the quietest of the lot, also departed withoutfinishing his breakfast.
"Ain't you feelin' well, Ma?" queried Pete innocently.
Bailey rose and said he thought he would "go see to the horses"--a veryunusual procedure for him. Pete also thought it was about time todepart. He rose and nodded to Bill. "Glad to see you back, Bill."Then he went swiftly.
Haskins heaved a sigh. "I--doggone it--I--You got anysticking-plaster, Ma?"
"Yes, William"--and "William" because Ma Bailey was still a bitindignant, although she appreciated that Bill was more sinned againstthan sinning. "Yes, William. Did you hurt yourself?"
"Stepped on a nail--er--this mawnin'. I--I wasn't lookin' where Istepped."
"What started you out--that way?" queried Mrs. Bailey.
"Why, hell, Ma--I--wasn't meanin' hell, Ma,--but somebody--I reckon Iknow who--plants a mountain lion right aside my bunk last night when Iwas sleepin'. Fust thing this mawnin' I heard that bell and jumped outo' my bunk plumb onto the cuss. Like to bruk my neck. That therelion was a-lookin' right up into my face, kind of sleepy-eyed andsmilin' like he was hungry. I sure didn't stop to find out. 'Course,when I got my wind, I knowed it was a joke. I reckon I ought to killsomebody--"
"A lion, Bill? Hev you been drinkin'?"
"Drinkin'! Why, Ma, I ain't had a drop sence--"
"I reckon I better go see what's in that bunk-house," said Mrs. Bailey,rising. "I'll get you that stickin'-plaster when I come back."
Mrs. Bailey realized that something unusual had started Bill Haskins onhis wild career that morning, but she could not quite believe thatthere was a mountain lion--alive or dead--in the bunk-house until shesaw the great beast with her own amazed eyes. And she could not quitebelieve that Pete had shot the lion until Bailey himself certified toPete's story of the hunt. Mrs. Bailey, for some feminine reason, feltthat she had been cheated. Bailey had not told her about the lion.She had been indignant with Haskins for his apparently unseemlyconduct, and had been still more indignant with Pete when sheappreciated that he was at the bottom of the joke. But Haskins wasinnocent and Pete was now somewhat of a hero. The good woman turned onher husband and rebuked him roundly for allowing such "goings-on."Bailey took his dressing-down silently. He felt that the fun had beenworth it. Pete himself was rather proud and obviously afraid he wouldshow it. But the atmosphere settled to normal when the men went towork. Pete was commissioned to skin and cut up the deer. Later in theday he tackled the lion, skinned it, fleshed out the nose, ears, andeyelids, and salted and rolled the hide. Roth, the storekeeper atConcho, was somewhat of a taxidermist and Mrs. Bailey had admired thelion-skin.
Pete felt that he could have used the twenty dollars bounty, but he wasnothing if not generous. That afternoon he rode to Concho with thelion-skin tied behind the cantle. He returned to the ranch late thatnight. Next morning he was mysteriously reticent about thedisappearance of the hide. He intended to surprise Ma Bailey with areal Christmas present. No one guessed his intent. Pete was good atkeeping his own counsel.
A few evenings later the men, loafing outside the bunk-house, amusedthemselves by originating titles for the chief actors in the recentrange-drama. Pete, without question, was "The Lion Tamer," Bailey was"Big-Chief-not-Afraid-of-a-Buck." Ma Bailey was "Queen of thePies"--not analogous to the drama but flattering--and Haskins, aftersome argument and much suggestion, was entitled "Claw-Hammer." Suchtitles as "Deer-Foot," "Rail-Hopper," "Back-Flip Bill,""Wind-Splitter," and the like were discarded in favor of"Claw-Hammer"--for the unfortunate Bill had stepped on a rusty nail inhis recent exodus from the lion's den, and was at the time sufferingfrom a swollen and inflamed foot--really a serious injury, althoughscoffed at by the good-natured Bill himself despite Mrs. Bailey'ssolicitude and solution of peroxide.
Winter, with its thin shifts of snow, its intermittent sunshiny days,its biting winds that bored through chaps and heavy gloves, was finallyborne away on the reiterant, warm breezes of spring. Mrs. Bailey wasthe proud and happy possessor of a lion-skin rug--Pete's Christmas
present to her--proud of the pelt itself and happy because Young Petehad foregone the bounty that he might make the present, which wassignificant of his real affection. Coats and heavy overshoes werediscarded. Birds sang among sprouting aspen twigs, and lean,mangy-looking coyotes lay on the distant hillsides soaking in thewarmth. Gaunt cattle lowed in the hollows and spring calves staggeredabout, gazing at this new world with round, staring eyes.
Houck, the T-Bar-T foreman, had discussed with Bailey the advisabilityof defining a line between the two big ranches. They came to anagreement and both stated that they would send men to roughly surveythe line, fix upon landmarks, and make them known to the riders of bothoutfits. Bailey, who had to ride from Concho to the railroad to meet aKansas City commission man, sent word back to the Concho to have twomen ride over to Annersley's old homestead the following day. Mrs.Bailey immediately commissioned Young Pete and Andy to ride over to thehomestead, thinking that Pete was a particularly good choice as he knewthe country thereabouts. She cautioned the boys to behavethemselves--she always did when Andy and Pete set out together--andgiving them a comfortable package of lunch, she turned to her householdwork.
"I'm takin' Blue Smoke," stated Pete as Andy packed his saddle to thecorral.
"You're takin' chances then," observed Andy.
"Oh, I got him so he knows which way is north," asserted Pete. "I beengittin' acquainted with that cayuse, Chico."
"Yes. I seen you settin' on the ground watchin' him buck your saddleoff a couple of times," snorted Andy.
"Well, seein' as this here pasear is straight riding I reckon I'llcrawl him and turn him loose. He needs exercisin'."
"Well, I don't," asserted Andy. "'Course, some folks has always got tobe showin' off. If Bailey was here you wouldn't be ridin' that hoss."
"'And up and down and round and 'cross, that top-boss done his best!'"sang Pete as he lugged his saddle into the corral.
"'All hell can't glue you to that hoss when he gits headed west,'" Andymisquoted for the occasion.
"You jest swing that gate open when I git aboard," suggested Pete."I'm the Ridin' Kid from Powder River."
Andy laughed.
"The Ridin' Kid from Powder River Ain't got no lungs nor ary liver, Some says it was a blue cayuse . . ."
"Go git you a sack and gather up the leavin's," laughed Pete, as hekicked his foot into the stirrup and hit the saddle before Blue Smokeknew what had happened. Andy swung the gate open. The horse headedfor the mesa, pitching as he ran. This was not half so bad for Pete asthough Blue Smoke had been forced to confine his efforts to the corral.Pete had long since discovered that when Blue Smoke saw space ahead ofhim, he was not apt to pitch hard, but rather to take it out in runningbucks and then settle down to a high-lope--as he did on this occasion,after he had tried with his usual gusto to unseat his rider. There issomething admirable in the spirit of a horse that refuses to be ridden,and there was much to be said for Blue Smoke. He possessed tremendousenergy, high courage, and strength, signified by the black stripe downhis back and the compact muscles of his flanks and fore legs. Pete hadcoveted the horse ever since that first and unforgettable experience inthe corral. Bailey had said jokingly that he would give Pete theoutlaw if Pete would break him. Pete had frequently had it out withBlue Smoke when the men were away. He had taken Bailey at his word,but as usual had said nothing about riding the animal.
Andy watched Pete until he saw that Blue Smoke had ceased to pitch andwas running, when he swung up and loped out after his companion. Heovertook him a half-mile from the ranch, and loped alongside, watchingPete with no little admiration and some envy. It struck Andy thatwhile Pete never made much of his intent or his accomplishment,whatever it might be, he usually succeeded in gaining his end. Therewas something about Pete that puzzled Andy; a kind of silentforcefulness that emanated neither from bulk nor speech; for Pete wasrather lithe and compact than "beefy" and more inclined to silence thanto speech. Yet there was none of the "do or die" attitude about him,either. But whatever it was, it was there--evident in Pete's eye as heturned and glanced at Andy--an intenseness of purpose, not manifest inany outward show or form.
"You sure tamed him," said Andy admiringly.
"Only for this mornin'," acknowledged Pete. "To-morrow mornin' he'llgo to it ag'in. But I aim to sweat some of it out of him afore we hitthe Blue. Got the makin's?"