Part 26 (1/2)
”Si'down,” requested the captor in a conversational tone. ”We can be right comfortable here.”
”Dawson!” breathed the captive.
”Took you a long time to find it out,” said Racey Dawson. ”Si'down, I said,” he added, sharply.
Bull obeyed, his back against the rock, and was careful not to lower his hands. Racey hunkered down and sat on a spurless heel. The rifle was under his knee. He had exchanged the bowie for a sixshooter. The firearm was trained in the general direction of Bull's stomach.
Racey smiled widely. He felt very chipper and pleased with himself. He was managing the affair well, he thought.
”You show up right plain against that white rock,” he remarked. ”If yo're figuring to gamble with me, think of that.”
”Whatcha want?” demanded Bull, sullenly.
”Lots of things,” replied Racey, s.h.i.+fting a foot an inch to the left.
”I'm the most wantin' feller you ever saw. Just now this minute I want you to tell me where it was you met up with Bill Smith and what it was he did so bad that you and Marie think you've got a hold on him.”
”You _was_ listenin' quite a while,” muttered Bull.
”Quite a while,” admitted Racey Dawson. ”Quite a while.”
”But you didn't listen quite hard enough,” suggested Bull.
”No,” a.s.sented Racey, ”I didn't. I'm expecting you to sort of fill in the gaps.”
Bull shook a decided head. ”No,” he denied. ”No, you got another guess comin'. I won't do nothin' like that a-tall.”
”And why not?”
”Because I won't.”
”'Won't' got his neck broke one day just because he wouldn't.”
”Yeah, I guess so,” sneered Bull.
”You must forget I heard all about how you tried to bushwhack me from the second floor of the Starlight,” Racey put in, gently.
”Aw, that's a d.a.m.n lie,” bluffed Bull. ”A d.a.m.n lie. All a mistake. You heard wrong.”
Racey shook a disapproving head. ”When it's after the draw,” he said, ”and you ain't got a thing in yore hand, and the other gents have everything and know they have everything to yore nothing, she's poor poker to make a bluff. Whatsa use, sport, whatsa use?”
”I dunno what yo're talkin' about,” persisted Bull.
”Aw right, let it go at that. Who put you up to bushwhack me?”
”Nun-n.o.body,” hesitated Bull.
”Yore own idea, huh?”
Bull spat disgustedly on the gra.s.s. He had seen the trap after it had been sprung.
”You sh.o.r.e can't play poker,” smiled Racey, his eyes s.h.i.+ning with pleasure under the wide brim of his hat. ”I--The starlight's pretty bright remember.”