Rowdy of the Cross L

by B. M. Bower

  CHAPTER 6. A Shot From the Dark.

  "I call that a bad job well done," Pink remarked, after a long silence,as he gave over trying to catch a fish in the muddy Milk River.

  "What?" Rowdy, still prone to day-dreams of matters domestic, came backreluctantly to reality, and inspected his bait.

  "Oh, come alive! I mean the horse round-up. How we're going to keep thatbunch uh skeletons under us all summer is a guessing contest for fair.Wooden Shoes has got t' give me about forty, instead of a dozen, ifhe wants me t' hit 'er up on circle the way I'm used to. I bet theirback-bones'll wear clean up through our saddles."

  "Oh, I guess not," said Rowdy calmly. "They ain't so thin--and they'llpick up flesh. There's some mighty good ones in the bunch, too. I hopeWooden Shoes don't forget to give me the first pick. There's one I gotmy eye on--that blue roan. Anyway, I guess you can wiggle along withless than forty."

  Pink shook his head thoughtfully and sighed. Pink loved good mounts, andthe outlook did not please him. The round-up had camped, for the lasttime, on the river within easy riding distance of Camas. The next day'sdrive would bring them to the home ranch, where Eagle Creek was fumingover the lateness of the season, the condition of the range, and theJune rains, which had thus far failed even to moisten decently thegrass-roots.

  "Let's ride over to Camas; all the other fellows have gone," Pinkproposed listlessly, drawing in his line.

  Rowdy as listlessly consented. Camas as a town was neither interestingnor important; but when one has spent three long weeks communing withnature in her sulkiest and most unamiable mood, even a town without arailroad to its name may serve to relieve the monotony of living.

  The sun was piling gorgeous masses of purple and crimson clouds highabout him, cuddling his fat cheeks against their soft folds till, aMidas, he turned them to gold at the touch. Those farther awaygloomed jealously at the favoritism of their lord, and huddled closertogether--the purple for rage, perhaps; and the crimson for shame!

  Pink's face was tinged daintily with the glow, and even Rowdy's lean,brown features were for the moment glorified. They rode knee to kneesilently, thinking each his own thoughts the while they watched thesunset with eyes grown familiar with its barbaric splendor, but neverindifferent.

  Soon the west held none but the deeper tints, and the shadows climbed,with the stealthy tread of trailing Indians, from the valley, chasingthe after-glow to the very hilltops, where it stood a moment at bayand then surrendered meekly to the dusk. A meadow-lark near-by cut thesilence into haunting ripples of melody, stopped affrighted at theircoming, and flew off into the dull glow of the west; his little bodyshowed black against a crimson cloud. Out across the river a lone coyoteyapped sharply, then trailed off into the weird plaint of his kind.

  "Brother-in-law's in town to-day; Bob Nevin saw him," Pink remarked,when the coyote ceased wailing and held his peace.

  "Who?" Rowdy only half-heard.

  "Bob Nevin," repeated Pink naively.

  "Don't get funny. Who did Bob see?"

  "Brother-in-law. Yours, not mine. Jessie's tin god. If he's there yet,I bid for an invite to the 'swatfest.' Or maybe"--a horrible possibilityforced itself upon Pink--"maybe you'll kill the fattest maverick andfall on his neck--"

  "The maverick's?" Rowdy's brows were rather pinched together, but histone told nothing.

  "Naw; Harry Conroy's a fellow's liable to do most any fool thing whenhe's got schoolma'amitis."

  "That so?"

  Pink snorted. The possibility had grown to black certainty in his mind.He became suddenly furious.

  "Lord! I hope some kind friend'll lead me out an' knock me in the head,if ever I get locoed over any darned girl!"

  "Same here," agreed Rowdy, unmoved.

  "Then your days are sure numbered in words uh one syllable, old-timer,"snapped Pink.

  Rowdy leaned and patted him caressingly upon the shoulder--a form ofirony which Pink detested. "Don't get excited, sonny," he soothed. "Didyou fetch your gun?"

  "I sure did!" Pink drew a long breath of relief. "Yuh needn't think I'mgoing t' take chances on being no human colander. I've packed a gun forHarry Conroy ever since that rough-riding contest uh yourn. Yuh mindthe way I took him under the ear with a rock? He's been makin' war-talkbehind m' back ever since. Did I bring m' gun! Well, I guess yes!" Hedimpled distractingly.

  "All the same, it'll suit me not to run up against him," said Rowdyquite frankly. He knew Pink would understand. Then he lifted his coatsuggestively, to show the weapon concealed beneath, and smiled.

  "Different here. Yuh did have sense enough t' be ready--and if yuh seehim, and don't forget he's got a sister with a number two foot, damnedif I don't fix yuh both a-plenty!" He settled his hat more firmly overhis curls, and eyed Rowdy anxiously from under his lashes.

  Rowdy caught the action and the look from the tail of his eye, andgrinned at his horse's ears. Pink in warlike mood always made him thinkof a four-year-old child playing pirate with the difference that Pinkwas always in deadly earnest and would fight like a fiend.

  For more reasons than one he hoped they would not meet Harry Conroy.Jessie was still in ignorance of his real attitude toward her brother,and Rowdy wanted nothing more than to keep her so. The trouble was thathe was quite certain to forget everything but his grievances, if ever hecame face to face with Harry. Also, Pink would always fight quicker forhis friends than for himself, and he felt very tender toward Pink. Sohe hoped fervently that Harry Conroy had already ridden back whence hecame, and there would be no unpleasantness.

  Four or five Cross L horses stood meekly before the Come Again Saloon,so Rowdy and Pink added theirs to the gathering and went in. The SilentOne looked up from his place at a round table in a far corner, andbeckoned.

  "We need another hand here," he said, when they went over to him. "Thesegentlemen are worried because they might be taken into high society someday, and they would be placed in a very embarrassing position throughtheir ignorance of bridge-whist. I have very magnanimously consented toteach them the rudiments."

  Bob Nevin looked up, and then lowered an eyelid cautiously. "He's aliar. He offered to learn us how to play it; we bet him the drinks hedidn't savvy the game himself. Set down, Pink, and I'll have you for mypretty pardner."

  The Silent One shuffled the cards thoughtfully. "To make it seem likebona-fide bridge," he began, "we should have everybody playing."

  "Aw, the common, ordinary brand is good enough," protested Bob. "I ain'tin on any trimmings."

  The Silent One smiled ever so slightly. "We should have prizes--orfavors. Is there a store in town where one could buy somethingsuitable?"

  "They got codfish up here; I smelt it," suggested Jim Ellis. Him theSilent One ignored.

  "What do you say, boys, to a real, high society whist-party? I'll invitethe crowd, and be the hostess. And I'll serve punch--"

  "Come on, fellows, and have one with me," called a strange voice nearthe door.

  "Meeting's adjourned," cried Jim Ellis, and got up to accept theinvitation and range along the bar with the rest. He had not beenparticularly interested in bridge-whist anyway.

  The others remained seated, and the bartender called across to know whatthey would have. Pink cut the cards very carefully, and did not look up.Rowdy thrust both hands in his pockets and turned his square shoulderto the bar. He did not need to look--he knew that voice, with its shoddyheartiness.

  Men began to observe his attitude, and looked at one another. When oneis asked to drink with another, he must comply or decline graciously, ifhe would not give a direct insult.

  Harry Conroy took three long steps and laid a hand on Rowdy'sshoulder--a hand which Rowdy shook off as though it burned. "Say,stranger, are you too high-toned t' drink with a common cowpuncher?" hedemanded sharply.

  Rowdy half-turned toward him. "No, sir. But I'll be mighty thirstybefore I drink with you." His voice was even, but it cut.

  The room stilled on the instant; it was as if every man of them hadturned to lay figur
es. Harry Conroy had winced at sight of Rowdy'sface--men saw that, and some of them wondered. Pink leaned back inhis chair, every nerve tightened for the next move, and waited. Itwas Harry--handsome, sneering, a certain swaggering defiance in hispose--who first spoke.

  "Oh, it's you, is it? I haven't saw yuh for some time. How'sbronco-fighting? Gone up against any more contests?" He laughedmockingly--with mouth and eyes maddeningly like Jessie's in teasingmood.

  Rowdy could have killed him for the resemblance alone. His lids droopedsleepily over eyes that glittered. Harry saw the sign, read it fordanger; but he laughed again.

  "Yuh ought to have seen this bronco-peeler pull leather, boys," hejeered recklessly "I like to 'a' died. He got piled up the slickest Iever saw; and there was some feeble-minded Canucks had money up on him,too: He won't drink with me, 'cause I got off with the purse. He's gota grouch--and I don't know as I blame him; he did get let down prettyhard, for a fact."

  "Maybe he did pull leather--but he didn't cut none, like you did, youdamn' skunk!" It was Pink--Pink, with big, long-lashed eyes purple withrage, and with a dead-white streak around his mouth, and a gun in hishand.

  Harry wheeled toward him, and if a new light of fear crept into hiseyes, his lips belied it in a sneer. "Two of a kind!" he laughed. "Sothat's the story yuh brought over here, is it? Hell of a lot uh goodit'll do yuh!"

  Something in Pink's face warned Rowdy. Harry's face turned watchfullyfrom one to the other. Evidently he considered Pink the more uncertainof the two; and he was quite justified in so thinking. Pink was onlywaiting for a cue before using his gun; and when Pink once began, therewas no telling where or when he would leave off.

  While Harry stood uncertain, Rowdy's fist suddenly spatted against hischeek with considerable force. He tumbled, a cursing heap, against thefoot-rail of the bar, scrambled up like a cat--a particularly viciouscat--and came at Rowdy murderously. The Come Again would shortly havebeen filled with the pungent haze of burned powder, only that thebartender was a man-of-action. He hated brawls, and it did not matterto him how just might be the quarrel; he slapped the gaping barrels ofa sawed-off shotgun across the bar--and from the look of it one mightimagine many disagreeable things.

  "Drop it! Cut it out!" he bellowed. "Yuh ain't going t' make noslaughter-pen out uh this joint, I tell yuh. Put up them guns or elsetake 'em outside. If you fellers are hell-bent on smokin' each other up,they's all kinds uh room outdoors. Git! Vamose! Hike!"

  Conroy wheeled and walked, straight-backed and venomous, to the door."Come on out, if yuh ain't scared," he sneered. "It's two agin' oneand then some, by the look uh things. But I'll take yuh singly or inbunches. I'm ready for the whole damn' Cross L bunch uh coyotes. Comeon, you white-livered--!"

  Rowdy rushed for him, with Pink and the Silent One at his heels. He hadforgotten that Harry Conroy ever had a sister of any sort whatsoever.All he knew was that Harry had done him much wrong, of the sort whichcomes near to being unforgivable, and that he had sneered insults thatno man may overlook. All he thought of was to get his hands on him.

  Outside, the dusky stillness made all sounds seem out of place; thefaint starlight made all objects black and unfamiliar. Rowdy stopped,just off the threshold, blinking at the darkness which held his enemy.It was strange that he did not find him at his elbow, he thought--anda suspicion came to him that Harry was lying in wait; it would be likehim. He stepped out of the yellow glare from a window and stood inmore friendly shade. Behind him, on the door-step, stood the other two,blinking as he had done.

  A form which he did not recognize rushed up out of the darkness andconfronted the three belligerently. "You're a-disturbin' the peace,"he yelled. "We don't stand for nothing like that in Camas. You're myprisoners--all uh yuh." The edict seemed to include even the bartender,peering over the shoulder of Bob Nevin, who struggled with severalothers for immediate passage through the doorway.

  "I guess not, pardner," retorted Pink, facing him as defiantly as thoughthe marshal were not twice his size.

  The marshal lunged for him; but the Silent One, reaching a long arm fromthe door-step, rapped him smartly on the head with his gun. The marshalsquawked and went down in a formless heap.

  "Come on, boys," said the Silent One coolly. "I think we'd better go.Your friend seems to have vanished in thin air."

  Rowdy, grumbling mightily over what looked unpleasantly like retreat,was pushed toward his horse and mounted under protest. Likewise Pink,who was for staying and cleaning up the whole town. But the Silent Onewas firm, and there was that in his manner which compelled obedience.

  Harry Conroy might have been an optical--and aural--illusion, for allthe trace there was of him. But when the three rode out into the littlestreet, a bullet pinged close to Rowdy's left ear, and the red bark of arevolver spat viciously from a black shadow beside the Come Again.

  Rowdy and the two turned and rode back, shooting blindly at the place,but the shadow yawned silently before them and gave no sign. Then theSilent One, observing that the marshal was getting upon a pair of veryunsteady legs, again assumed the leadership, and fairly forced Rowdy andPink into the homeward trail.