Part 8 (2/2)
”If they hain't no one else wants to try their hand,” began the Mayor, when the Texan interrupted him:
”Reckon I'll take a shot at it if you've got a steer handy.”
”Well, dog my cats! If I hadn't forgot you! Where you be'n at? If you'd of got here on time you'd of stood a show gittin' one of them steers that's be'n draw'd. You hain't got no show now 'cause the onliest one left is a old long-geared roan renegade that's on the prod----”
Tex yawned: ”Jest you tell 'em to run him in, Slim, an' I'll show you how we-all bust 'em wide open down in Texas.”
Three or four cowpunchers started for the corral with a whoop and a few minutes later the men who had been standing about in groups began to clamber into wagons or seek refuge behind the wheels as the lean roan steer shot out onto the flat bounding this way and that, the very embodiment of wild-eyed fury. But before he had gone twenty yards there was a thunder of hoofs in his wake and a cow-horse, his rider motionless as a stone image in his saddle, closed up the distance until he was running almost against the flank of the frenzied renegade.
There was no preliminary whirling of rope. The man rode with his eyes fixed on the flying hind hoofs while a thin loop swung from his right hand, extended low and a little back.
Suddenly--so suddenly that the crowd was still wondering why the man didn't swing his rope, there was a blur of white dust, a brown streak as the cow-horse shot across the forefront of the big steer, the thud of a heavy body on the ground, the glimpse of a man-among the thras.h.i.+ng hoofs, and then a mighty heaving as the huge steer strained against the rope that bound his feet, while the cowboy shoved the Stetson to the back of his head and felt for his tobacco and papers.
”Gosh sakes!” yelled Mayor Maloney excitedly as he stared at the watch in his hand. ”Fifty-seven seconds! They can't beat that down to Cheyenne!”
At the words, a mighty cheer went up from the crowd and everybody was talking at once. While over beside the big steer the cowboy mounted his pony and coiling his rope as he rode, joined the group of riders who lounged in their saddles and grinned their appreciation.
”Ladies an' gents,” began the Mayor, ”you have jest witnessed a ropin'
contest the winner of which is Tex Benton to beat who McLaughlin himself would have to do his da--doggondest! We will now conclood the afternoon's galaxity of spurious stars, as the circus bills says, with a buckin' contest which unneedless to say will conclood the afternoon's celebration of the openin' of a inst.i.toot that it's a credit to any town in reference to which I mean the Wolf River Citizen's Bank in which we invite to whose vaults a fair share of your patrimony. While the boys is gittin' ready an' drawin' their horses a couple of gents will pa.s.s amongst you an' give out to one an' all, ladies an' gents alike, an' no favorytes played, a ticket good fer a free drink in any saloon in Wolf River on the directors of the bank I have endeavoured to explain about which. After which they'll be a free feed at the _ho_tel also on the directors. Owin' to the amount of folks on hand this here will be pulled off in relays, ladies furst, as they hain't room fer all to onct, but Hank, here, claims he's got grub enough on hand so all will git a chanct to shove right out ag'in their belt. An' I might say right here in doo elegy of our feller townsman that Hank c'n set out as fillin' an' tasty a meal of vittles as anyone ever c.o.c.ked a lip over, barrin', of course, every married man's wife.
”Draw your horses, boys, an' git a-goin'!”
Alice Marc.u.m's surprise at Tex Benton's remarkable feat, after what Purdy had told her, was nothing to the surprise and rage of Purdy himself who had sat like an image throughout the performance. When the Mayor began his oration Purdy's eyes flashed rapidly over the crowd and seeing that neither Cinnabar Joe nor the doctor were present, slipped his horse around the end of the lumber pile and dashed for the doctor's office. ”That d.a.m.n Doc'll wisht he hadn't never double-crossed me!” he growled, as he swung from the saddle before the horse had come to a stop. The office was empty and the man turned to the Headquarters saloon. Inside were the two men he sought, and he approached them with a snarl.
”What the h.e.l.l did yeh double-cross me for?” he shouted in a fury.
The doctor pointed to Cinnabar Joe who, still dazed from the effect of the drug, leaned upon the table. ”I didn't double-cross you. The wrong man got the dope, that's all.”
Cinnabar Joe regarded Purdy dully. ”He switched gla.s.ses,” he muttered thickly.
A swift look of fear flashed into Purdy's eyes. ”How'n h.e.l.l did he know we fixed his licker?” he cried, for well he realized that if the Texan had switched gla.s.ses he was cognizant of the attempt to dope him.
Moistening his lips with his tongue, the cowpuncher turned abruptly on his heel. ”Guess I'll be gittin' back where they's a lot of folks around,” he muttered as he mounted his horse. ”I got to try an' figger out if he knows it was me got Cinnabar to dope his booze. An' if he does--” The man's face turned just a shade paler beneath the tan---- ”I got to lay off this here buckin' contest. I hain't got the guts to tackle it.”
”Have you drawn your horse?” he had reached the lumber pile and the girl was smiling down at him. He shook his head dolefully.
”No, mom, I hain't a-goin' to ride. I spraint my shoulder ropin' that steer an' I just be'n over to see doc an' he says I should keep offen bad horses fer a spell. It's sure tough luck, too, 'cause I c'd of won if I c'd of rode. But I s'pose I'd ort to be satisfied, I drug down most of the other money--all but the ropin', an' I'd of had that if it hadn't of be'n fer Tex Benton's luck. An' he'll win ag'in, chances is--if his cinch holds. Here he comes now; him an' that breed. They hain't never no more'n a rope's len'th apart. Tex must have somethin'
on him the way he dogs him around.”
The girl followed his glance to the Texan who approached accompanied by Bat Lajune and a cowboy who led from the horn of his saddle a blaze-faced bay with a roman nose. As the three drew nearer the girl could see the mocking smile upon his lips as his eyes rested for a moment on Purdy. ”I don't like that man,” she said, as though speaking to herself, ”and yet----”
”Plenty others don't like him, too,” growled Purdy. ”I'm glad he's draw'd that roman nose, 'cause he's the out-buckin'est outlaw that ever grow'd hair--him an' that pinto, yonder, that's hangin' back on the rope.”
The Texan drew up directly in front of the lumber pile and ignoring Purdy entirely, raised his Stetson to the girl. The direct cutting of Purdy had been obviously rude and Alice Marc.u.m felt an increasing dislike for the man. She returned his greeting with a perfunctory nod and instantly felt her face grow hot with anger. The Texan was laughing at her--was regarding her with an amused smile.
A yell went up from the crowd and out on the flat beyond the Texan, a horse, head down and back humped like an angry cat, was leaping into the air and striking the ground stiff-legged in a vain effort to shake the rider from his back.
”'Bout as lively as a mud turtle. He'll sulk in a minute,” laughed the Texan, and true to the prophecy, the horse ceased his efforts and stood with legs wide apart and nose to the ground.
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