The Ramblin' Kid

by Earl Wayland Bowman

  CHAPTER XII

  YOU'LL GET YOUR WISH

  It was a silent group that gathered in the bunk-house after the dance.Old Heck, Parker, Charley and the other cowboys had been undulystimulated by the music, the laughter and the bright smiles of CarolynJune and Ophelia. When they stepped out of the house into the cool nightthese all were left behind. The cow-men quickly sobered down and by thetime they reached their sleeping quarters on the faces of all werehalf-ashamed looks as if they had been playing at a game not quitedignified enough or proper for men of maturity and seriousness.

  All were thoughtful and none seemed eager to start conversation.

  Skinny was dejected and utterly miserable.

  He felt that he had been cruelty treated. Carolyn June had acted allevening as though his only object in living was to stand in the cornerand wind up that blamed graphophone, while she openly flirted with theother cowboys. Skinny was grateful to the Ramblin' Kid who, alone of allthe cow-punchers, had decency enough to stay away and not interfere withthe original agreement. The Ramblin' Kid had some sense and was square.He had realized that any fellow officially elected to makelove--especially when he didn't want to do it in the first place--oughtto be allowed to go ahead and make it without having a lot of darnedbuckaroos butting in on the job.

  The way the others had acted was a regular disgrace!

  Chuck, Bert, Charley and Pedro were nervously happy. In the heart ofeach was a thrill, caused by the memory of some secret--or what hethought was a secret--manifestation of Carolyn June's interest. Perhapsit was no more than the brushing of a stray whiff of odorous brown hairagainst a weather-tanned cheek, the pulsing of a warm breath on the sideof a muscular neck, a melting look from a pair of luminous eyes, somelow-spoken word or the pressure of a hand, but whatever it was, each ofthe cowboys was reasonably certain he had been singled out for specialfavors. Charley was doubly blessed. In addition to Carolyn June'sseductive advances he had the memory, also, of Ophelia's attentions. Hismind was awhirl with the effort to figure out which one, by rights, heought to consider as a permanent possibility.

  Old Heck and Parker were in a quandary.

  Neither was sure of his standing with Ophelia although each had reasonto believe that he was her favorite. Her interest in Charley added anunexpected and perplexing equation to their problem.

  "Gosh," Chuck finally exclaimed, "that dance sure was some blow out!"

  "I should say it was!" Bert agreed emphatically and with a satisfiedgrin. "But didn't that widow act funny for an 'anti-he' suffragette?"

  Old Heck looked up, startled, as if he had been reminded of adisagreeable subject and one he wished to forget.

  "Are you plumb positive that she is one, Parker?" Chuck asked.

  "I told you what she was," Parker growled, "she's an 'Organizer' forsome sort of 'Movement' or other."

  "Well, I'll be blamed if her 'movements' to-night showed any 'anti-he'inclinations," Charley interrupted. "She carried on more like a femalevampire than one of these advocaters of woman's rights!"

  "Aw, shut up and go to bed," Old Heck grunted. "It's too late to startany argument!"

  The moon crept across the heavens and was hanging above the shadowypeaks of the Costejo Mountains when the Ramblin' Kid returned to thesleeping Quarter Circle KT, slipped the saddle from the back of the GoldDust maverick and turned the filly and Captain Jack into the circularcorral.

  He had ridden the outlaw mare almost to Eagle Butte.

  She had learned her lesson. She knew, when he caressed her muzzle andpressed the last lump of sugar into her mouth, before he turned away tothe bunk-house, that the Ramblin' Kid was not only her master but herfriend as well--understanding and sympathetic. Never again would shedoubt his will or resist the gentle yet firm strength of his hand. Fromthat moment the Gold Dust maverick, like Captain Jack, was a one-manhorse, ready to serve, to trust and obey only the Ramblin' Kid.

  "You little beauty," he laughed tenderly as he playfully shook theunderlip of the filly and started toward the gate, "--you're arunner--gee!--but you're a runner!"

  The others were fast asleep when the Ramblin' Kid noiselessly opened thedoor of the bunk-house, went in, and without undressing, stretchedhimself on his bed.

  Old Heck awakened the cowboys as the sun poured its first slanting raysthrough the open un-draped window.

  The stir aroused the Ramblin' Kid.

  He made no move to arise.

  "Ain't you going to get up?" Old Heck said garrulously.

  "When I damn please!" was the independent reply. "Skinny, tell th' Chinkto keep me a cup of hot coffee!"

  Old Heck snorted but said no more.

  Parker and the cowboys dressed silently, half-moodily. They hardly knewyet how they felt after the excitement of the night before. Skinnystarted to put on the white shirt, looked at it contemptuously amoment, and with a muttered oath threw it viciously on the bed.

  In a few moments the Ramblin' Kid was left alone in the bunk-house. Helay, hands clasped at the back of his head, studying. His eyes wereclosed, but he was not asleep. Presently he smiled and opened his eyes.He drew the pink satin elastic from his pocket and looked at it. "That'sa hell of a thing to be packin'--wonder why I keep it?" he muttered. Itsuddenly occurred to him that if he was not at breakfast Carolyn Junewould think he was afraid or ashamed to meet her. He got up,straightened his disarranged clothes, went to the house and afterstopping at the ditch by the fence and washing his face, walkedindifferently into the kitchen and sat down at his regular place. Theothers already were eating. Carolyn June glanced at him with ameaningless smile and acknowledged, without feeling, his quiet "Goodmorning!"

  The cowboys were nervous. Memory of last night was fresh in their minds.It made them cautious in their talk.

  Ophelia and Carolyn June, also, were a bit restrained.

  They were not sure but they had started more than it would be easy tostop. The expressions in the eyes of the cowboys paid tribute to thesuccess of the two women's efforts at wholesale heart-wrecking. Thechild-like acceptance of a simple flirtation as the real thing, bythese husky riders of the range, was little less than appalling.

  It all but frightened Carolyn June and the widow.

  Old Heck saw the worship in the eyes of the cowboys.

  "Things sure are in a devil of a mix-up!" he growled to himself.

  Skinny was so dejected Carolyn June felt half-guilty and tried to cheerhim up. She began talking, in a low voice, directly to themelancholy-looking cowboy.

  "To-day--or some time--when the others are away," she said caressingly,"you and I will dance all the dances by ourselves!"

  His heart leaped joyously. He was sorry, now, that he had not put on thewhite shirt. He resolved, after a while, to sneak out to the bunk-houseand change.

  The confidential talk between Carolyn June and Skinny galled Chuck. Hedecided to break it up.

  "What was your idea in riding the Gold Dust maverick last night?" hesaid abruptly to the Ramblin' Kid.

  There was a general pause for the answer. Carolyn June stopped in themiddle of a sentence and looked curiously at the Ramblin' Kid. He tookhis time to reply.

  "Because I wanted to!" was the slow unsatisfactory retort.

  "Why didn't you wait till to-day, so the rest of us could see how sheacted?" Charley asked.

  "What do you think you are"--he started to say--"a bunch of lawyerscross-examinin' a witness?" thought better of it and with a carelesslaugh answered: "If you're huntin' entertainment, why don't you go up toEagle Butte to th' picture show? Th' maverick an' me ain't noexhibition!"

  "Did she buck?" Charley continued, ignoring the sarcastic remark.

  "Some," the Ramblin' Kid drawled.

  "What you going to do with the filly while we're out on the beef hunt?"Chuck queried, wishing to keep the conversation general.

  "Ride her!" was the laconic reply.

  "Ain't you afraid she'll break away from the _caballero_ and you'll loseher again?" Charley asked.

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p; "When I ain't usin' her I'll 'neck' her to Captain Jack," the Ramblin'Kid answered patiently, referring to the method of fastening a wildhorse to one that is gentle and prevent its running away, by attaching ashort length of rope to the neck of each. "I don't believe she'd leaveth' stallion anyhow!"

  "By golly," Chuck said earnestly and half-pleadingly, "I wish you'd puther against that Y-Bar outfit's Thunderbolt horse in the two-milesweepstakes this year! It would be--"

  "Fun to see her run!" the Ramblin' Kid interrupted, looking up quicklyand straight into the eyes of Carolyn June as he finished thecontemptuous quotation of her words, spoken the day before at thecorral. She flushed, but gazed back at him without flinching. "Well," hecontinued, "I reckon you'll get your wish--th' maverick is goin' to runagainst th' Vermejo horse!"

  "The Fourth of July is a week from next Wednesday," Charley saidcalculatingly. "The Rodeo starts on Tuesday, the roping and buckingfinals come on Thursday. That makes the big race come Friday--a weekfrom next Friday, ain't it?"

  "That's right," Bert concurred. "Th' Ramblin' Kid's got nearly two weeksto get the maverick in shape."

  "Nothing will be in shape for anything," Old Heck broke in, getting upfrom the table, "unless we move around and get things ready to begin thebeef round-up to-morrow morning. Some of you boys will have to bring inthose saddle horses from across the river. Each one of you can ride yourregular 'string' this year"--alluding to the term used to designate thegroup of several horses used exclusively by each individual riderworking on a round-up. "Skinny won't be with you, but you'd better takehis horses along for extras. Parker can be getting the grub-wagon inshape--I reckon you'll have to work Old Tom and Baldy on it. Sing Peteought to be able to handle them."

  "Where do we start in?" Charley asked as they went toward the barn.

  "Over in the Battle Ridge country," Old Heck answered, "and workeverything east of the big pasture first. It'll take just about a weekto clean up that side--it's pretty rough riding over there. Then you canfinish the west end after the Rodeo is over."

  "What all you aiming to gather?" Bert queried.

  "Everything above a three-year-old," Old Heck replied in a businesslikeway; "pick up the dry cows, too, if they're fat enough. Prices arebetter than usual and I want to sell pretty close on account of thatstorm knocking the hay the way it did the other night. There'll be threehundred and fifty or four hundred good beef critters on the east range.You ought to have them bunched and in the big pasture by Saturday night.Then, until the Rodeo is over you can all do what you darn' please--"

  "I know what I'm going to do," Chuck laughed.

  "What?" Bert asked.

  "Draw all my wages, borrow all I can, and make a clean-up on that Y-Baroutfit on the race between the Gold Dust maverick and Thunderbolt!" heexclaimed vindictively.

  "Probably there will be some of the rest of us have a little QuarterCircle KT money up on that race, too," Charley insinuated.

  "I know blamed well there will be!" Old Heck added earnestly as theyscattered to go about their respective employments.

  It was a busy Sunday at the Quarter Circle KT. Chuck, Charley and Pedrospent the morning and most of the afternoon getting the saddle horsesfrom across the river. Bert helped Parker and Old Heck about the ranch.Sing Pete baked a supply of light-bread and stocked the grub-wagon withprovisions. The Ramblin' Kid volunteered to "ride-line" on the bigpasture and see that the Diamond Bar steers had not broken out again. Herode a sorrel colt--one that had had its "first-riding" in the circularcorral the day before Carolyn June and Ophelia arrived at the QuarterCircle KT. When he came to the corner of the pasture where the bodies ofthe cattle, killed by lightning, lay, a flock of buzzards were tearingat the carcasses. As the gorged creatures flapped heavily into the airthe young broncho wheeled, and bucking frantically, jolted away from thegruesome scene. The Ramblin' Kid forced the animal to turn about andmade him pass, rearing and plunging, among the skinless and alreadydecaying forms. Before sundown the Ramblin' Kid was back at the ranch.

  In the afternoon Skinny and Carolyn June went for a ride down thevalley. It was her first opportunity to try the new saddle. Skinny wasmounted on Old Pie Face and Carolyn June rode Browny, a dependable oldcow-horse.

  "Gee," Carolyn June remarked as they passed the circular corral. "I'dlike to ride the Gold Dust maverick with this outfit!"

  "It would be a dandy combination," Skinny said admiringly, "but I doubtif anybody but th' Ramblin' Kid will ever be able to ride the filly. Sofar, she acts like she's going to be a worse one-man horse than CaptainJack is. She tried to kill me yesterday when I went into the corral!"

  "What makes her that way?" Carolyn June asked.

  "Blamed if I know," Skinny replied, "some horses are naturally likethat. Th' Ramblin' Kid says it ain't in the horse--it's in the human. Ifthe human don't understand the horse the horse won't trust the human andwhere there ain't trust there's fear and where there's fear there'shate. He's got some funny ideas!"

  "Sounds sort of sensible, though, doesn't it?" Carolyn June saidmusingly.

  "Maybe it does," Skinny retorted, "but he goes a little too far with hisfool notions sometimes, it seems to me."

  "How is that?" Carolyn June questioned.

  "Well, for one thing," Skinny replied, "he says any man or woman a horsedon't trust ain't a good man or woman for a human to depend on--saysthey ain't right inside! It looks to me like that's a pretty hard slamon people just because some darned idiot of a broncho won't make up withthem!"

  Carolyn June leaned back in the saddle and laughed.

  "Some 'range philosopher'--this Ramblin' Kid person!" she exclaimedlightly. "Where did he come from and who is he, anyway?"

  "Nobody knows," Skinny answered; "he just kind of growed up, here inthe Southwest. I've heard that his mother died when he was born and hisfather was a preacher or something doing missionary work--I reckonthat's what you'd call it--among the Mexicans and Indians and got thesmallpox while he was nursing them through an epidemic and it killedhim, which left th' Ramblin' Kid an orphan when he wasn't much more thana baby. The Mexicans or Indians took care of him till he was old enoughto ride and then he began to ramble around and has always kept it upjust 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 betrue, but one thing is sure--th' Ramblin' Kid seems to have some sort offascination for the Greasers and the Indians; they all worship him, andhe'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 rightup with him--I don't believe she ever will have anything to do withanybody else!"

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

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

  After the evening meal the cowboys hung around the house for a whileuntil a suggestive look from Old Heck caused them reluctantly to followhim to the bunk-house, leaving Parker and Skinny with Ophelia andCarolyn June.

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

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

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

  When Parker and Skinny entered the bunk-house Old Heck and all thecowboys except the Ramblin' Kid were asleep. He was
half-reclining onhis bed, smoking. At the entrance of Skinny and Parker be got up andwithout speaking strolled outside and through the darkness toward thecircular corral. The night was warm and the stuffy air of thebunk-house, together with the noisy snoring of Old Heck, made himrestless. He stood a few moments looking at Captain Jack and the GoldDust maverick. Then, moving back into the shed, dropped down and laidwith his shoulders and head on his saddle, which was thrown on theground 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, thedark 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. Sheseemed abstracted and in a mood for meditation. The vague history Skinnyhad given her of the life of the Ramblin' Kid interested her. Shethought it explained a good many of his elemental impulses andidiosyncrasies. He was a creature of the plains. In his life among theIndians and Mexicans he had absorbed their stoical ways and almostbrutal directness, yet, sometimes he showed a sensitiveness that wasutterly impossible for Carolyn June to understand. Her thoughts turnedto the Gold Dust maverick. To-morrow Ramblin' Kid would take the fillyaway for the round-up. She truly loved the beautiful mare. She wouldslip out, while the others slept, and have one more visit with thesplendid creature. Rising, Carolyn June passed out through the kitchen,stopped for a handful of sugar--she had learned where Sing Pete kept thecan--and bareheaded and without a wrap walked swiftly out to thecircular corral.

  The Ramblin' Kid heard Carolyn June step up to the gate of the corraland from the heavy shadow in which he lay saw the light dress andinstinctively recognized this late visitor to Captain Jack and the GoldDust maverick His first impulse was to call out and warn her to keepaway 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 thegirl and--well, cause a lot of useless talk. He remained quiet.

  A low trill came from the throat of Carolyn June. The two horses stoppedfeeding and looked around toward the gate. The bird-like call wasrepeated. The Ramblin' Kid was astonished to see Captain Jack and theoutlaw mare move eagerly in the direction from whence the sound hadcome. He heard Carolyn June talking to the bronchos in soft endearingtones. 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 GoldDust maverick. Both animals seemed hungry for her caresses.

  "Oh, you darling--you wonder!" the Ramblin' Kid Heard Carolyn Junesay, as she gave the maverick's head a tight squeeze just before runninglightly back to the house. "I hope you beat that old Y-Bar horse so badhe'll never want to run again! Even if that Ramblin' Kid lover ofyours," she added softly, "does think I'm nothing but a sillywoman-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 silentlythinking.

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

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