"She's a what?" Old Heck finally managed to whisper, leaning toward
Parker, while a look of fear and incredulity spread over his face.
Parker noticed the anguish in Old Heck's eyes and a sudden new look of cunning came into his own.
"An 'Organizer' I said," he repeated impressively, "she's an 'Organizer' for some kind of 'Movement' or other—"
"A dis-organizer, you'd better say!" Chuck laughed uncertainly, "judging from the way she's got you and Old Heck stampeding already!"
"Great guns!" Old Heck half groaned, "what—what sort of a—a—'Movement' did she say it was, anyhow?"
"Swiss, probably!" came in a chuckling undertone from the direction of the Ramblin' Kid's bed. "Hell, what's the difference?"
"She said it was connected someway with 'feminine obligations and woman's opportunity,'" Parker answered, ignoring the frivolous interruptions.
"I know what she is!" Charley exclaimed, "—it's just what I expected! She's one of these self-starting female suffragettes! That's what she is. I knowed she was too gentle acting to be harmless!"
"She just had to break loose sooner or later," Bert said in an awed voice.
"My Gawd!" Old Heck murmured hopelessly. "Holy gosh a'mighty!"
The owner of the Quarter Circle KT was really shocked and worried. He had surrendered quickly to his first impression concerning the widow. The original meeting at Eagle Butte, when she and Carolyn June appeared as visions of feminine loveliness, as contrasted with the homely cook and her daughter whom he and Skinny had mistaken for, and feared were, the Quarter Circle KT's prospective guests, had caused a psychic effect on his feelings toward Ophelia. The sense of relief that came when he found that the cook was not Ophelia, together with the widow's unexpected graciousness, had instantly disarmed his suspicions and, metaphorically speaking, hurled his heart into her lap. He had found the widow charming, interesting, very feminine, and already dreams had shaped themselves in his mind. The sudden revelation that Parker had made brought tremendous disappointment. Ophelia had not shown the least indication of obnoxious strong-mindedness or that disagreeable intellectuality which Old Heck firmly believed was a necessary attribute of all women who participated in politics or "movements."
Ophelia was an "Organizer"! It was unbelievable! The thought gave him a sickening feeling at the pit of his stomach and actually made his head ache.
Old Heck's first impulse, when Parker made the startling announcement, was to assert his authority as boss of the outfit and annul the every-other-day arrangement whereby he and his foreman were to share and share alike in the widow's society. He would let Parker do it all—have her all of the time! He wouldn't take any chances! On second thought he decided to wait at least another day. Besides, it was against his principles, contrary to the ethics of the range, to back up on a bargain and he never asked an employee to do a thing he hadn't the courage to do himself. He would stick it out, come what may, and see the thing through to a finish. However, there was still a means of escape. If Ophelia developed any really serious suffragette tendencies during the next day or two he would go on the beef hunt himself and let Parker remain at the ranch!
When finally he went to sleep Ophelia was still on his mind. The first thought that came to him when he awakened the next morning was the sickening news Parker had brought.
Old Heck and the cowboys were silent and had about them an air of depression when they filed into the kitchen for breakfast.
Each cast furtive, curious glances at Ophelia. The information that she was an "Organizer"—presumably for a "Movement" involving woman's political rights—caused them to view her with a kind of reverential awe and fear. The widow and Carolyn June, apparently, were wholly unconscious of the thoughts in the minds of the men. Both women were as innocent-looking and attractive as ever—matching with their early morning freshness the bowl of roses Carolyn June, before the call to breakfast, had gathered and placed on the table.
The Ramblin' Kid sat at the right of Carolyn June. It was the first time they had met at the table. He said nothing and seemingly was lost in thought. When they had entered the kitchen Carolyn June and he had spoken and for a moment he looked into her eyes with an expression that caused her own to drop and the warm blood to rush over her throat and face. She had felt that same sensation of "soul-nakedness" she experienced when she looked into his eyes that first time when she was at the circular corral and he was lying under the shed. Neither spoke of the incidents of the previous day.
The other cowboys and Old Heck studied Ophelia with a sort of fascination, casting shy upward glances at her from over their plates.
Parker and the Ramblin' Kid only, were at ease and undisturbed.
"You wouldn't think she was one by looking at her, would you?" Chuck said in an undertone to Charley.
"Some of them's so blamed slick they can't hide it."
"I reckon that's right," Chuck whispered back, "it's an awful jolt to
Old Heck, ain't it?"
"Yes, he's taking it pretty hard," Charley mumbled.
"Her forehead does bulge out a good deal in front, when you come to look at it, don't it?" Chuck observed under his breath.
"Quite a lot," Charley answered in the same tone; "that's one indication!"
Parker gazed at the widow with an expression undeniably adoring. Old Heck saw it and straightened up with a look of sudden resolution on his face. If Parker wasn't afraid of Ophelia, by golly, he wouldn't be! The widow had returned the foreman's look with understanding, while more than a trace of tenderness and sympathy was registered in her eyes.
"To-morrow is Sunday," Old Heck announced suddenly with startling distinctness, "and we'll get things in shape to begin the beef round-up on Monday!"
There was immediate interest.
"I'll be darned," the Ramblin' Kid murmured half audibly, "Old Heck is goin' to 'Uriah' Parker!"
"Huh?" Skinny queried across the table.
"Nothin'," the Ramblin' Kid answered with a laugh, "I was just reminded of somethin' I read in a book one time—"
Carolyn June caught the subtle reference to the Bible story of King
David's unfortunate romance with another man's "woman" and chuckled.
"Ain't you starting the beef hunt too early?" Charley asked.
"I don't know as I am," Old Heck answered doggedly.
"Aw, that'll put us right in the middle of it on the Fourth of July when the Rodeo is going on in Eagle Butte—" Bert began.
"And I ain't going to miss that, either," Chuck interrupted, "that Y-Bar outfit over on the Vermejo took everything in the two-mile sweepstakes last year and they've been bragging about it ever since. They think that Thunderbolt horse of theirs can't be beat. I was going to put Silver Tip in this year. He can put that black in second place—"
"No, he can't," the Ramblin' Kid remarked quietly, "—you'd lose your money. There's only one animal on th' Kiowa range that can outrun that Vermejo horse."
"What animal is that?" Charley asked.
"She's in th' circular corral," the Ramblin' Kid answered laconically.
"The Gold Dust maverick?" Bert questioned.
"That's the one I mean," the Ramblin' Kid replied in a low voice, "for two miles—or five—there ain't nothin' in western Texas, or Mexico either, that can catch her."
"Why don't you take her in when the Rodeo is on and run her in the sweepstakes then?" Chuck asked eagerly. "I ain't caring what Kiowa horse gets the money just so that Y-Bar outfit is taken down a notch or two. Ever since they got that Thunderbolt horse and beat Old Heck's Quicksilver with him they've been crowing over the Quarter Circle KT and I'm getting plumb sick of it—"
"Old Heck lost three thousand dollars on that race!" Bert interrupted rather triumphantly.
"I didn't neither," Old Heck corrected sullenly, "it was only twenty-five hundred!"
"Well, that Vermejo crowd has got a hundred of mine," Chuck said vindictively, "but I don't give a darn for that—I'd be willing
to lose twice that much again just to set that Thunderbolt horse of theirs back in second place!"
"Why don't you run the outlaw filly?" Charley asked coaxingly of the
Ramblin' Kid.
"Yes, go on and put her in," Skinny urged, "—you ought to!"
The Ramblin' Kid remained silent, seemingly indifferent to the teasing of the others.
Carolyn June leaned over and said, in a voice audible only to him, while her eyes grew mellow with a look that tested his composure to the uttermost but which wrung no sign from him:
"Please, race the maverick—I—want you to—Ramblin' Kid!"
It was the first time she had used his name in speaking directly to him and the tone in which it was spoken made him tremble in spite of himself. For a moment he returned her gaze. Her words and manner were so different that by their very difference they reminded him of what she had called him yesterday—"an ignorant, savage, stupid brute"—when he had refused to interfere with the cat when its head was caught in the can. He started to make a cynical reply. Then he remembered her sympathy for Old Blue, her apology later for the harsh words—anyhow he knew or felt in his heart they were true—and suddenly he seemed to see the pink satin garter he still carried in his pocket. The look that came into his eyes made Carolyn June lower her own. He smiled a whimsical but hopeless smile, as, replying apparently to the pleading of Charley and Skinny, he said, softly, the single word:
"Maybe!"
Old Heck had forgotten the annual Rodeo held in Eagle Butte, for some days each summer, around the Fourth of July. His sudden determination and eagerness to have the beef round-up begin earlier than usual in order to get Parker away from the widow had driven all else but that one idea from his mind. The protests reminded him of his oversight. He had not intended to deprive the cowboys of the opportunity to enjoy the one big event happening yearly in the Kiowa country and which temporarily turned Eagle Butte, for a few days each summer, into a seething metropolis of care-free humanity.
"I think it's a darned shame to spring the beef hunt so it will interfere with the Rodeo," Bert grumbled, "—and us have to be out on the hills wrangling steers while the celebration is going on!"
"I'm not-goin! to be out on th' hills then," the Ramblin' Kid said quietly but with unchangeable finality.
"You can all go to the Rodeo," Old Heck interposed, not feeling just right in his conscience about sending Parker away in advance of the time expected, and wishing to make amends,"—Parker and all of you. You can 'break' the round-up for a few days during the Rodeo and what cattle you've got gathered by then can be turned into the big pasture and held there till it's over. That'll let you all get into Eagle Butte for the Fourth—I'd like to see that blamed Thunderbolt horse beat myself! But we'll start the beef hunt Monday the way I said in the first place—"
"Who's going to cook, this year, on the round-up?" Charley queried. "You can't take the Chink from here this time, can you?"
"I reckon Sing Pete'll have to go along as usual," Old Heck answered; "it'll make it a little unhandy at the ranch, but—"
"Ophelia and I can 'batch' while you are gone," Carolyn June suggested.
"We won't mind being alone and it will be fun to cook our own meals."
"We will enjoy it," Ophelia added agreeably.
"You ain't going to be alone," Old Heck said; "Skinny and me will be here. When it comes to the cooking maybe between the four of us we can get along some way!"
"Well, if the round-up's got to start Monday," Parker declared sullenly as they left the table, "I'll have to go down to town again to-day and get me a new saddle. Mine was on Old Blue."
"I'll go with you," Old Heck said in a conciliatory way. "Charley and the other boys can be working on them dead steers till we get back. We'll go in the car and ought to make the round-trip by noon."
CHAPTER X
FIXING FIXERS
The widow and Carolyn June were alone at the house. Old Heck and Parker went immediately from the breakfast table to the garage to get the car out to go to Eagle Butte. The cowboys were at the barn preparing to begin the day's work. Skinny had excused himself, ostensibly to attend to some ranch chores, but in reality to get away to the bunk-house and "fix up" for the day's courtship of Carolyn June. He planned, when the cowboys were gone, to put on the white shirt Parker brought, yesterday, from Eagle Butte.
"Ophelia," Carolyn June said mysteriously as they stepped out on the front porch and filled their lungs with the clean air of the morning, "you made a 'discovery' yesterday, I believe?" pausing questioningly.
"Yes," the widow smiled, recalling their conversation relative to
Parker's abrupt proposal of marriage.
"To-day," Carolyn June continued impressively, "it is my turn—I have made one!"
"And it is?"
"You and I have been 'framed!'" was the answer spoken solemnly yet scarcely louder than a whisper, while the brown eyes of Carolyn June sparkled with a mixture of suppressed anger, merriment and indignation.
"Framed?" the widow repeated inquiringly, "just what does 'framed' mean, my dear?"
"Framed means," Carolyn June replied wisely, "'tricked,' 'jobbed,' 'jinxed,' 'fixed,' or whatever it is people do to people when they scheme to do something to them without the ones to whom they are doing it knowing how it is done!"
"Exceedingly lucid, my love," the widow laughed, "but you are so agonizingly fond of suspense—"
"Come inside," Carolyn June said as she led the way into the house, "and in a dark corner—no, that would be too near to the walls and their proverbial 'ears,' in the center of the room is better—I will expose the whole diabolical plot!"
At the end of the reading table they stopped and faced each other.
"And now?" Ophelia said, expectantly.
"And now," Carolyn June repeated, her voice low and carefully guarded. "Listen: Before Ophelia Cobb and Carolyn June Dixon ever arrived at this Quarter Circle KT their 'lovers' were already picked out for them—officially chosen, delegated, appointed, foreordained and everything! The 'arrangements' had all been made—"
"I don't understand," the widow said, bewildered by the rapid flow of legal-sounding words.
"Nor did I at first," Carolyn June went on, "but I have figured it all out! I have 'discovered' what all this mysterious hinting about 'arrangements,' 'the agreement,' 'Old Heck's day,' 'Parker's time,' 'Skinny's job,' and so forth means! I have studied it out. Why is Skinny Rawlins thrown into my lap as my 'regular' lover? It's his 'job'—that is why! And why the day-and-day-about courting of yourself by Uncle Josiah and Parker? It is the 'agreement'—the one is to have you one day and the other the next! Before we came some such arrangement was fixed up. I am sure of it—"
"Impossible," Ophelia protested, "preposterous!"
"Outrageous!" Carolyn June added vehemently, "but truth just the same! To start with they didn't want us to come. That telegram lying about them all having the smallpox proved as much. We were, for some reason or other, considered 'afflictions,' Why, I don't know. I guess they thought we were a pair of female vampires or something and had to be disposed of in advance to prevent our stirring things up and causing a lot of murders or suicides or duels on the Quarter Circle KT!"
"I can't believe it," Ophelia muttered as if stunned. "Why, that would be 'dealing' with us just as though we were cattle!"
"That's it!" Carolyn June exclaimed vindictively, her anger for the moment getting the better of her sense of the ridiculous, "they 'dealt' in us! More than likely they played poker to decide how to divide us up—to see who should love you and which should love me! As if the heart of a woman can be made to run in a groove cut to order by the hand of any masculine—insect!" she finished, thoughtless of the incongruous metaphor.
"Then Skinny and your Uncle Josiah," the widow murmured, "and
Parker—are—are—pretending?"
"No," Carolyn June answered, "they started out 'pretending,' but they've stepped into their own trap! They are painfully
serious now—they are 'intending!'"
"What shall we do about it?" Ophelia asked helplessly.
"We ought to assassinate them!" Carolyn June snapped, then laughed as the absurdity of the situation dawned upon her and her sense of humor overcame the moment of anger and indignation. "I have it—I've got it! We will Vamp' them in dead earnest! We'll fix the 'fixers,' we'll frame the 'framers'!"
"But how?" doubtfully.
"From now on," Carolyn June replied decisively, "I am going to flirt, individually and collectively—desperately and wickedly—with the whole male population of this ranch! We'll show them what premeditated love-making really is! When it comes to Uncle Josiah and, well, possibly Parker, you will have to take care of that giddy pair yourself and, incidentally, you might work some on Charley Saunders," mentioning the oldest of the cowboys. "I'll just flicker an eyelid occasionally at Parker, unless you object?"
"Not in the least," Ophelia answered, blushing a trifle.
"Well, then, we will make it a free-for-all," Carolyn June said, "and—"
"How about the Ramblin' Kid?" the widow interrupted, "do you think he is one of the conspirators—is in on the—the—'frame-up?' Is he also to be a 'Victim'?"
Carolyn June colored the least bit, paused a moment before she replied, then said rather stiffly:
"He—yes, he is probably having more fun watching us being 'officially' made love to than any other one of the entire bunch. The Ramblin' Kid will have to take his medicine along with the rest! Every man-thing on the Quarter Circle KT—eliminating Sing Pete from that classification —is my meat!"
"When does the slaughter begin?" Ophelia laughed.
"Right now!" Carolyn June answered. "War is declared—"
She stopped suddenly as a step sounded on the porch and a moment later Skinny entered the room. He was painfully "dressed up." The instant Old Heck and Parker, in the Clagstone "Six," started for Eagle Butte and the cowboys disappeared down the lane in the direction of the big pasture, Skinny struggled into the white shirt. He planned to try its effect on Carolyn June while the others were away. If it did not produce results he would slip back to the bunk-house before they returned and change again to his normal dress.
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