THE WILD HORSE
“That,” said Roy deliberately, “is pret-ty blamed funny.”
“All of what you just said. Hear what they were talking about?”
“Couldn’t help it. Seems to be a habit with those Lefton boys--that
eight mile stuff and about the cars. We’ve got a nice little jig-saw
puzzle to fit together, Teddy, my lad. How come Peterson knows the
Leftons? Can you tell me that?”
“Ask me something easy,” Teddy returned musingly. “What I’m interested
in is the meaning of this line of talk. We couldn’t very well yell at
’em and tell ’em we were here, and not to talk so loud. Oh, I forgot,
you’re a detective. That’s right. We’re privileged to listen.”
“That was a nasty crack, Teddy,” Roy said, and grinned. “I suppose
you’re referring to my losing my knife that night and going back for
it. Well, it’s lucky I did. Forewarned is forearmed, you know.”
“You really think there’s something to this, do you?”
“I’m sure of it! Hold up there, Star--stop that prancing! Now listen,
Teddy. First thing that happens is that the Leftons come to the X
Bar X and make motions like cattle dealers. But are they? Not so you
could notice it! Then they ask Nick and some of the others all sorts
of questions about where our ranges are located and how many head we
have in certain places. If they don’t want to do business with us,
what’s the big idea of that? Then I hear ’em talking about cars being
easy to get, and six hundred head, and the Jarmey place. That wouldn’t
be so bad, but, by jinks, here comes Peterson, who _is_ going to buy
our dogies--or so he says--and they mention the same things again! And
don’t forget we saw the Leftons with Mob Jamisson! By golly, Teddy,
that chase by the wolves was one of the luckiest days in our lives,
even if we did come near passing out of the picture! We know where we
are, now!”
“Oh, do we?” Teddy chuckled. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,
suppose you tell me just where we are, brother mine!”
Roy looked down at his pony, and coughed.
“Don’t take me so literally. I mean we know what to watch out for.
This Peterson’s with the Lefton boys. The Lefton boys are in with Mob
Jamisson. _Ergo, et cetera_, or what have you?”
“A bag of nothing, I guess,” Teddy answered. “You seem to be able to
build up the finest suspicions I ever saw, Roy. Trouble is, we’ve
started looking at this thing from one angle, and we can’t see it from
any other. All these things may mean absolutely nothing. We told dad
of what you heard when you went back for your knife, but he didn’t
think much of it. You see, we’re biased. We can’t figure clearly. Every
time the Lefton boys come into the picture we’re looking at it through
fogged glasses. What we want is a disinterested viewpoint.”
“Yes, but there’s this side of it too, you must remember.” Roy was
leaning over his saddle, forgetful that he was standing in the center
of the main street of Red Rock. One or two men who had wandered out of
a store regarded the two boys curiously, but they were oblivious of
their audience. Roy was absolutely, intensely serious, as was Teddy.
“You’ve got to look at it this way, Teddy,” Roy continued. “We’ve
actually seen and heard all this. Anyone we’d tell it to would be
getting secondhand information. He couldn’t judge how it impressed us.
The most everyday matters may mean a whole lot more if you can see
them happening instead if hearing about them. The tone of a person’s
voice, his actions as he’s speaking, all figure in. A first impression
is usually correct, I’ve heard, and I believe it. And my impression is
that this Peterson and the Lefton boys are up to some mischief that has
something to do with us!”
Teddy thought for a moment, his chin resting on his hand. So still was
he that Flash turned his head inquiringly, as though to be sure his
master was still with him. At last the boy spoke, saying slowly:
“All right, Roy. You’ve about convinced me. But what of it? What can
we do? Nothing except to tell dad to be careful in his dealings with
Peterson. And he’d do that anyway. Dad is no fool--he knows the kind of
people he bargains with. And he knows Peterson is questionable, too.
How can I tell that? By the way he looked at him. So the best thing we
can do is to keep our suspicions to ourselves until something turns up.
When we get home we’ll ask Gus what he found out about Peterson. And,
if dad questions us, we’ll tell him what we think. That’s as far as we
can go. We don’t want to make mountains out of molehills, you know.”
Roy nodded.
“You’ve got the answer, Teddy. We’ll play our own little game. And if
anything crops up we’ll be ready. We won’t say anything about seeing
Peterson here. Now let’s get back. I want to put in a little practice
riding for the rodeo. Won’t hurt you to do some, too, if you want any
of the prizes.”
“Check! We’ll go.” They turned the horses and rode down the street and
out of the town. The two men who were standing on the side watched them
go. One of them faced the other.
“Say, Jack,” he drawled, “where’d the crowd come from? Circus here?”
That was Red Rock.
The boys reached home, told Mr. Manley that the trail to the shipping
point was in fair shape, and went again into the yard to start their
practice. Nick was waiting for them.
“Which one of you goin’ in for bronco ridin’?”
“I am, Nick,” Teddy answered. “Why?”
Nick motioned him over.
“Got something here you might be interested in,” he chuckled. “Came
while you were gone. I asked Nat Raymond to bring it in for me from
Sanborn’s Point. Yore dad wanted a new horse. Here it is.”
He led the way to the corral. “It” proved to be a small mustang, whose
fiery eyes and nervous movements proclaimed that this was his first
experience with civilization.
“Pete Lazerus caught him last week, an’ he’s been keepin’ him near his
camp over at the Point, where he’s located. The bronc ain’t never been
rode.”
Teddy walked close to the bars and observed the animal intently. He
noticed the full chest, the legs with hard bunches of muscle behind
them, the long head with the ears lying flat against the skull.
“No need to tell me that,” he said grimly. “Anyone ever try?”
“Pete--for about three seconds,” Nick chuckled. “He sold him cheap.
Said when he wanted dynamite he’d buy it in boxes, not wrapped in hoss
flesh.”
“Pop around?”
“Yep. He’s been waitin’ for you, too. Yo, Pop!”
“Comin’!”
The veteran rancher ambled toward them.
“Goin’ to teach him manners, Teddy?”
“Going to register him for a course, anyway,” Teddy laughed. “May take
a day or so. Nick, will you ride in and cinch him for me--you and Pop?”
“Sure. Git yore bronc, Pop. Need two of us to do this job. What leather
you want, Teddy?”
“My own. I’ll drag it off Flash.”
He did this, and returned with the saddle. By this time Pop and Nick
had mounted and were within the bars of the corral. Roy was sitting on
the top rail, with a rope held ready in his hand.
“Just in case,” he explained.
The wild pony strongly resented any interference with his liberty. When
Nick rode up to him with a large handkerchief in his hand, to blindfold
him before putting the saddle on, he shied and refused to stand. Nick
unwound his lariat.
“Have to coax him, I reckon.”
The rope flew through the air, and settled full over the mustang. An
instant of struggle, with Nick’s mount standing as firm as a rock, and
suddenly Pop cast. With two ponies holding the bronco, between them
they managed to put on the saddle and cinch it.
“Buck strap, Teddy?”
“Not any! Leave him open. All right, put the handkerchief on.”
Quickly Nick secured the cloth in place over the bronco’s eyes. The
horse stood perfectly still, but was trembling violently.
“He’s plumb full of action,” Pop declared. “Careful, Teddy. Hold him
now, Nick. Climb aboard, Ted! All set?”
Teddy, his face moulded in stern lines, settled himself in the saddle.
He grasped the reins, and straightened up.
“All set, Pop. Raise the curtain.”
The two lariats were thrown to the ground. Nick, leaning over
cautiously, put his hand on the eye cloth.
“Here she goes!”
He pulled the handkerchief off with a snap. The bronco was free.
“Stand clear!”