Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Dust cover art]
[Illustration: Cover]
Buck Peters, Ranchman
Being the Story of What Happened When Buck Peters,
Hopalong Cassidy, and Their Bar-20
Associates Went to Montana
BY
Clarence E. Mulford
AND
John Wood Clay
WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR
BY MAYNARD DIXON
SECOND EDITION
CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1912
Copyright
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1912
Published March, 1912
Published April, 1912
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England
ALSO BY MR. MULFORD
HOPALONG CASSIDY. With five illustrations in color by Maynard Dixon.
$1.50
THE ORPHAN. With illustrations in color by Allen True. 91.50
BAR-20. Illustrated by N. C. Wyeth and F. E. Schoonover. $1.50
BAR-20 DAYS. With four illustrations in color by Maynard Dixon. $1.35
net
A. C. McCLURG & CO., Publishers
CHICAGO
Contents
CHAPTER
I Tex Returns
II H. Whitby Booth is Shown How
III Buck Makes Friends
IV The Foreman of the Double Y
V "Comin' Thirty" has Notions
VI An Honest Man and a Rogue
VII The French Rose
VIII Tex Joins the Enemy
IX Any Means to an End
X Introducing a Parasite
XI The Man Outside
XII A Hidden Enemy
XIII Punctuation as a Fine Art
XIV Fighting the Itch
XV The Slaughter of the Innocents
XVI The Master Mind
XVII Hopalong's Night Ride
XVIII Karl to the Rescue
XIX The Weak Link
XX Misplaced Confidence
XXI Pickles Tries to Talk
XXII "A Ministering Angel"
XXIII Hopalong's Move
XXIV The Rebellion of Cock Murray
XXV Mary Receives Company
XXVI Hunters and Hunted
XXVII Points of the Compass
XXVIII The Heart of a Rose
Illustrations
So she stood, silently regarding him . . . _Frontispiece_
(missing from source book)
The rifle belonging to Hopalong never missed--and besides, he had made
his wish
Rose flung herself from the saddle and ran to him
As he spoke he hurled his horse against Hopalong's, while his right hand
flashed to his hip
Buck Peters, Ranchman
CHAPTER I
TEX RETURNS
Johnny Nelson reached up for the new, blue flannel shirt he had hung
above his bunk, and then placed his hands on hips and soliloquized: "Me
an' Red buy a new shirt apiece Saturday night an' one of 'em 's gone
Sunday mornin'; purty fast work even for this outfit."
He strode to the gallery to ask the cook, erstwhile subject of the Most
Heavenly One, but the words froze on his lips. Lee Hop's
stoop-shouldered back was encased in a brand new, blue flannel shirt,
the price mark chalked over one shoulder blade, and he sing-songed a
Chinese classic while debating the advisability of adopting a pair of
trousers and thus crossing another of the boundaries between the Orient
and the Occident. He had no eyes in the back of his head but was rarely
gifted in the "ways that are strange," and he felt danger before the
boot left Johnny's hand. Before the missile landed in the dish pan Lee
Hop was digging madly across the open, half way to the ranch house, and
temporary safety.
Johnny fished out the boot and paused to watch the agile cook. "He 's
got eyes all over hisself--an' no coyote ever lived as could beat him,"
was his regretful comment. He knew better than to follow--Hopalong's
wife had a sympathetic heart, and a tongue to be feared. She had not
yet forgotten Lee Hop's auspicious initiation as an _ex-officio_ member
of the outfit, and Johnny's part therein. And no one had been able to
convince her that sympathy was wasted on a "Chink."
The shirtless puncher looked around helplessly, and then a grin slipped
over his face. Glancing at the boot he dropped it back into the dish
water, moved swiftly to Red's bunk, and in a moment a twin to his own
shirt adorned his back. To make matters more certain he deposited on
Red's blankets an old shirt of Lee Hop's, and then sauntered over to
Skinny's bunk.
"Hoppy said he 'd lick me if I hurt th' Chink any more; but he did n't
say nothin' to Red. May th' best man win," he muttered as he lifted
Skinny's blankets and fondled a box of cigars. "One from forty-three
leaves forty-two," he figured, and then, dropping to the floor and
crawling under the bunk, he added a mark to Skinny's "secret" tally.
Skinny always liked to know just how many of his own cigars he smoked.
"Now for a little nip, an' then th' open, where this cigar won't talk so
loud," he laughed, heading towards Lanky's bunk. The most diligent
search failed to produce, and a rapid repetition also failed. Lanky's
clothes and boots yielded nothing and Johnny was getting sarcastic when
his eyes fell upon an old boot lying under a pile of riding gear in a
corner of the room. Keeping his thumb on the original level he drank,
and then added enough water to bring the depleted liquor up to his
thumb. "Gee--I 've saved sixty-five dollars this month, an' two days
are gone already," he chuckled. He received sixty-five dollars, and
what luxuries were not nailed down, every month.
Mounting his horse he rode away to enjoy the cigar, happy that the
winter was nearly over. There was a feeling in the air that told of
Spring, no matter what the calendar showed, and Johnny felt unrest
stirring in his veins. When Johnny felt thus exuberant things promised
to move swiftly about the bunk-house.
When far enough away from the ranch houses he stopped to light the
cigar, but paused and, dropping the match, returned the "Maduro" to his
pocket. He could not tell who the rider was at that distance, but it
was wiser to be prudent. Riding slowly forward, watching the other
horseman, he saw a sombrero wave, and spurred into a lope. Then he
squinted hard and shook his head.
"Rides like Tex Ewalt--but it ain't, all right," he muttered. Closer
inspection made him rub his eyes. "That arm swings like Tex, just th'
same! An' I did n't take more'n a couple of swallows, neither. Why,
d--n it! If that ain't him I 'm going' to see _who_ it is!" and he
pushed on at a gallop. When the faint hail floated down the wind to him
he cut loose a yell and leaned forward, spurring and quirting. "Old
son-of-a-gun 's come back!" he exulted. "Hey, Tex! Oh, Tex!" he
yelled; and Tex was yelling just as foolishly.
They came together with a rush, but expert horsemanship averted a
collision, and for a few minutes neither could hear clearly what the
other was saying. When things calmed down Johnny jammed a cigar into his
friend's hands and felt for a match.
"Why, I don't want to take yore last smoke, Kid," Tex objected.
"Oh, go ahead! I 've got a hull _box_ of 'em in th' bunk-house," was
the swift reply. "Could n't stay away, eh? Did n't like th' East,
nohow, did you? Gosh, th' boys 'll be some tickled to see you, Tex.
Goin' to stay? How you feelin'?"
"You bet I 'm a-stayin'," responded Tex. "Is that Lanky comin'?"
"Hey, Lanky!" yelled Johnny, standing up and waving the approaching
horseman towards them. "_Pronto_! Tex 's come back!"
Lanky's pony's legs fanned a haze under him and he rammed up against Tex
so hard that they had to grab each other. Everybody was talking at once
and so they rode towards the bunk-house, picking up Billy on the way.
"Where's Hopalong?" demanded Tex. "Married! H--l he is!" A strange
look flitted across his face. "Well, I 'm d--d! An' where 's Red?"
Johnny glanced ahead just in time to see Lee Hop sail around a corner of
the corral, and he replied with assurance, "Red 's th' other side of th'
corral."
"Huh!'" snorted Lanky, "You 've got remarkable eyes, Kid, if you can see
through--well, I 'm hanged if he _ain't_!"
After Red came Pete, waving a water-soaked boot. They disappeared and
when Tex and his friends had almost reached the corral, Lee Hop rounded
the same corner again, too frightened even to squeal. As he started
around the next corner he jumped away at an angle, Pete, still waving
the boot, missing him by inches. Pete checked his flow of language as
he noticed the laughing group and started for it with a yell. A moment
later Red came into sight, panting heavily, and also forgot the cook.
Lee Hop stopped and watched the crowd, taking advantage of the
opportunity to gain the cook shack and bar the door. "Dlam shirt no
good--sclatchee like helle," he muttered. White men were strange--they
loved each other like brothers and fought one another's battles. "Led
head! Led head!" he cried, derisively. "My hop you cloke! Hop you
cloke chop-chop! No fliend my, savee?"
Skinny Thompson, changing his trousers in the bunkroom, heard Lee's
remarks and laughed. Then he listened--somebody was doing a lot of
talking. "They 're loco, plumb loco, or else somethin's wrong," and he
hopped to the door. A bunched crowd of friends were tearing toward him,
yelling and shooting and waving sombreros, and a second look made him
again miss the trousers' leg and hop through the door to save himself.
The blood swept into his face as he saw the ranch house and he very
promptly hopped back again, muttering angrily.
The crowd dismounted at the door and tried to enter _en masse_; becoming
sane it squirmed into separate units and entered as it should. Lee Hop
hastily unbarred his door and again fled for his life. When he returned
he walked boldly behind his foreman, and very close to him,
gesticulating wildly and trying to teach Hopalong Cantonese. The
foreman hated to chide his friends, but he and his wife were tired of
turning the ranch house into a haven for Chinese cooks.
As he opened the door he was grabbed and pushed up against a man who
clouted him on the back and tried to crush his hand. "Hullo, Cassidy!
Best sight I've laid eyes on since I left!" yelled the other above the
noise.
"Tex!" exclaimed Hopalong. "Well, I'm d--d! When did you get here?
Going to stay? Got a job yet? How'd you like the East? Married? _I_
am--best thing I ever did. You look white--sick?"
"City color--like the blasted collars and shirts," replied the other,
still pumping the hand. "I 'm goin' to stay, I 'm lookin' for a job,
an' I 'd ruther punch cows for my keep than get rich in th' East. It 's
all fence-country--can't move without bumping into somebody or
something--an' noise! An' crooked! They 'd steal th' fillin's out of
yore teeth when you go to talk--an' you won't know it!"
"Like to see 'em fool _me_!" grunted Johnny, looking savage.
"Huh! Th' new beginners 'd pick you out to practise on," snorted Red.
"That yore shirt or mine?" he asked, suspiciously.
"They 'd give you money for th' fun of taking it away from you,"
asserted Tex. "Why, one feller, a slick dresser, too, asks me for th'
time. I was some proud of that ticker--cost nigh onto a hundred
dollars. He thanks me an' slips into th' crowd. When I went to put th'
watch back I did n't have none. I licked th' next man, old as he was,
who asks me for th' time. He was plumb surprised when I punched
him--reckon he figured I was easy."
"Ain't they got policemen?" demanded Red.
"Yes; but _they_ don't carry watches--they 're too smart."
"Have a drink, Tex," suggested Lanky, bottle in hand. When the owner of
it took a drink he looked at his friends and then at the bottle, disgust
pictured on his face. "This liquor's shore goin' to die purty soon.
It's gettin' weaker every day. Now I wonder what in h--l Cowan makes it
out of?"
"It _is_ sort of helpless," admitted Tex. "Now, Kid, I 'll borrow
another of them cigars of yourn. Them Maduros are shore good stuff. I
would n't ask you only you said you had a--"
"D'ju see any shows in th' East?" demanded Johnny, hurriedly: "Real,
good, bang-up shows?"
Skinny faded into the bunk-room and soon returned, puzzled and
suspicious. He slipped Tex a cigar and in a few moments sidled up close
to the smoker.
"That as good as th' Kid's?" he asked, carelessly.
Tex regarded it gravely: "Yes; better. I like 'em black, but don't say
nothin' to Johnny. He likes them blondes 'cause he 's young."
It was not long before Tex, having paid his respects to the foreman's
wife, returned to the bunk-house, leaned luxuriously against the wall
and told of his experiences in the East. He had an attentive audience
and it swayed easily and heartily to laughter or sympathy as the words
warranted. There was much to laugh at and a great deal to strain
credulity. But the great story was not told, the story of the things
pitiful in the manner in which they showed up how square a regenerated
man could be, and how false a woman. It was the old story--ambition
drove him out into a new world with nothing but a clean conscience, a
strong, deft pair of hands, and a clever brain; a woman drove him back,
beaten, disheartened, and perilously near the devious ways he had
forsaken. He could not stay in the new surroundings without
killing--and he knew the woman was to blame; so when he felt the ground
slip under his hesitating feet, he threw the new life behind him and
hastened West, feverish to gain the locality where he had learned to
look himself in the face with regret and remorse, but without shame.
In turn he learned of the things that had occurred since he had left: of
the bitter range-war; of his best friend's promotion and marriage; and
of Buck Peters' new venture among hostile strangers. The latter touched
him deeply--he knew, from his own bitter experiences, the disheartening
struggle against odds great enough to mean a hard fight for Buck and all
his old outfit. Something that in Tex's heart had been struggling for
weeks, the vague uneasiness which drove him faster and faster towards
the West, now possessed him with a strength not to be denied. He knew
what it was--the old lust for battle, the game of hand and wits with
life on the table, could not be resisted. The southern range was now
peaceful, thanks to Buck and his men, thanks to Meeker's real nature;
the Double Arrow and the C80 formed a barrier of lead and steel on the
north and east, a barrier that no rustler cared to force. Peace meant
solitude on the sun-kissed range and forced upon him opportunities for
thought--and insanity, or suicide. But up in Montana it would be
different; and the field, calling insistently for Tex to come, was one
where his peculiar abilities would be particularly effective. Buck
needed friends, but stubbornly forbade any of his old outfit to join
him. Of course, they would disregard his commands and either half or
all of the Bar Twenty force would join him; but their going would be
delayed until well after the Spring round-up, for loyalty to their home
ranch demanded this. Tex was free, eager, capable, and as courageous as
any man. He had the cunning of a coyote, the cold savagery of a wolf,
and the power of a tiger. In his lightning-fast hands a Colt rarely
missed--and he gathered from what he heard that such hands were
necessary to make the right kind of history on the northern range.
Finally Hopalong arose to go to the ranch house for the noon meal,
taking Tex with him. The foreman and his wife did not eat with the
outfit, because the outfit would not allow it. Mary had insisted at
first that her husband should not desert his friends in that manner, and
he stood neutral on the question. But the friends were not
neutral--they earnestly contended that he belonged to his wife and they
would not intrude. Lanky voiced their attitude in part when he said: "We
've had him a long time. We borrow him during workin' hours--we never
learned no good from him, so we ain't goin' to chance spottin' our lily
white souls." But there was another reason, which Johnny explained in
naive bluntness: "Why, Ma'am, we eats in our shirt sleeves, an' we grabs
regardless. We has to if we don't want Pete to get it all. An' somehow
I don't think we 'd git very fat if we had to eat under wraps. You see,
we 're free-an'-easy--an' we might starve, all but Pete. Why, Ma'am,
Pete can eat any thin', anywheres, under any conditions. So we sticks
to th' old table an' awful good appetites."
So Hopalong and Tex walked away together, the limp of the one keeping
time with that of the other, for Tex's wounded knee had mended a great
deal better than he had hoped for. Hopalong stopped a moment to pat his
wolf hounds, briefly complimenting them to Tex, and then pushed open the
kitchen door, shoving Tex in ahead of him.
"Just in time, boys," said Mary, "I hope you 're good an' hungry."
They both grinned and Hopalong replied first: "Well, I don't believe
Pete can afford to give us much of a handicap to-day."
"Nor any other time, as far's I 'm concerned," added Tex, laughing. "We
'll do yore table full justice, Mrs. Cassidy," he assured her.
Mary, dish in hand, paused between the stove and the table. She looked
at Tex with mischievous eyes: "Billy-Red tells me you love him like a
brother. Is he deceiving me?"
Hopalong laughed and Tex replied, smiling: "More like a sister, Mrs.
Cassidy--I can't find any faults in him, an' we don't fight."
Mary completed her journey to the stove, filled the dish and carried it
to the table; resting her hands on the edge of the table, she leaned
forward in seeming earnestness. "Well, you must know that we are one,
and if you love Billy-Red--" finishing with an expressive gesture.
"Those who love me call me Mary."
Tex's face was gravely wistful, but a wrinkle showed at the outer corner
of his eyes. "Well," he drawled, "those who love me call me Tex."
"Good!" exclaimed Hopalong, grinning.
"An' I 'm thankful that my hair 's not th' color to cause any trustin'
soul to call me by a more affectionate name," Tex finished. He ducked
Hopalong's punch while Mary laughed a bird-like trill that brought to
her husband's face an expression of idolizing happiness and made Tex
smile in sympathy. As the dinner progressed Tex shared less and less in
the conversation, preferring to listen and make occasional comments, and
finally he spoke only when directly addressed.
When the meal was over and the two men started to go into the
sitting-room, Mary said: "You 'll have to excuse me, Mr.--er--Tex," she
amended, smiling saucily. "I guess you two men can take care of each
other while I red up."
"We 'll certainly try hard, Mrs.--er--Mary," Tex replied, his face grave
but his eyes twinkling. "We watched each other once before, you know."
As soon as they were alone Hopalong waved his companion to a chair and
bluntly asked a question: "What's th' matter, Tex? You got plumb quiet
at th' table."
The other, following his friend's example, filled a pipe before he
replied.
"Well, I was thinkin'--could n't help it; an' I was drawin' a contrast
that hurt. Hoppy, I 'm not goin' to stay here longer 'n I can help; you
don't need me a little bit, an' if you took me in yore outfit it 'd be
only because you want to help me. This ain't no place for me--I need
excitement, clean, purposeful excitement, an' you fellows have made this
part of th' country as quiet as a Quaker meetin'. I 've been thinkin'
Buck needs somebody that 'll stick to him--an' there ain't nothin' I
won't do for Buck. So I 'm goin' to pull my freight north, but _not_ as
Tex Ewalt."
"Tex, if you do that I 'll be able to sleep better o' nights," was the
earnest reply. "We 'd like to have you. You know that, but it might
mean life to Buck if he had you. Lord, but could n't you two raise h--l
if you started! He 'll be tickled half to death to see you--there will
be at least one man he won't have to suspect."
Tex considered a moment. "He won't see me--to know me. I 'm one man
when I 'm known, when I 've declared myself; I can be two or three if I
don't declare myself. One fighting man won't do him much good--if I
could take th' outfit along we would n't waste no time in strategy. Th'
rest of th' population, hostile to Buck, would move out as we rode
in--an' they would n't come back. No, I 'm playing th' stranger to
Buck. Somebody 's goin' to pay me for it, too. An' th' pay 'll not be
in money but in results. I won't starve, not as long as people like to
play cards. I quit that, you know; but if I do play, it 'll be part of
my bigger game."
"I feel sorry for th' card-playin' population if you figger you ought to
eat," smiled Hopalong, reminiscently.
"If I 'd 'a' knowed about Buck, I 'd 'a' gone to Montana 'stead of
comin' here, an' saved some valuable time," Tex observed.
"But as far as that goes, Tex, they can't do much before Spring,
anyhow," Hopalong remarked, thoughtfully. "An' it's yore own fault," he
added. "We wanted to send you th' news occasionally, but you never let
us know where you was. We 'd 'a' liked to hear from you, too."
"Yes, I reckon I 've got time enough; besides, I need th' exercise,"
agreed Tex.
"How is it you never wrote?" asked Hopalong, curiously.
Tex left his seat and walked to the door. "Take a walk with me--this
ain't no place to tell a story like that."
"I 've got somethin' better 'n that--I want to go down to th' H2 an' see
my father-in-law for a couple of minutes. Never met him, did you? We
can ride slow an' have lots of time. Be with you in a minute," and
Hopalong hastened to ask his wife if she had any word to send to her
father. He joined Tex at the bunkhouse, now deserted except for Lee
Hop, and in a minute they left for the H2. As they rode, Tex told his
story.
"This is going to be short an' meaty. When I left here I struck Kansas
City first, then Chicago, spending a few days in each of them. I 'd
heard a lot about New York, an' headed for it. I had n't been there
very long before I met a woman, an' you know they can turn us punchers
into fool knots. Well, I courted her four days an' married her--oh, I
was plumb in love with her, all right. She was one of them sweet,
dreamy, clingin' kind--pretty as h--l, too. I had a good job by then,
and for most a year I was too happy to put my feet on this common old
earth. I never gambled, never drank, and found it not very hard to quit
cussing, except on real, high-toned occasions. But I never could get
along without my gun. Civilization be d--d! There 's more crooks an'
killers in New York than you an' me ever saw or heard of. Once I was
glad I had it--did n't have to shoot, though. Th' man got careless an'
let his gun waver a little an' was lookin' at th' works in _mine_ before
he knowed it. He did n't want no money--what he needed was a match, an'
he was doin' it to win a bet--or so he palavers. I takes his stubby .32
an' kicks him so he 'd _earn_ that bet, an' lets him go. I had to
laugh--him stackin' agin _me_ at that game!
"Well, I got promoted, an' had to travel out of town every two weeks. I
'd be gone two days an' then turn up bright an' smilin' for my wife to
admire. Once I was wired to come back quick on account of somethin'
unexpected turnin' up, an' I lopes home to spend that second night in my
own bed. I remember now that I wondered if th' wife would be there or
at her mother's.
"She was there, but she was n't admirin' _me_. I saw red, an' th' fact
that I did n't go loco proved that I ain't never goin'. But th' trigger
hung on a breath an' _he_ knowed it. He was pasty white an' could n't
hardly stand up. Then th' shock wore off an' he was th' coolest man in
town.
"'What are you goin' to do about it?' he asks, slowly. 'Yore wife loves
_me_, not you. She 's allus loved me--you never really reckoned she was
in love with _you_, did you?"
"_I_ was shocked then, only I was wearin' my poker face an' he could n't
see nothin'. 'Why, I did think, once in a while, that she loved me,' I
retorts. 'I certainly kept you hangin' 'round th' gutter an' _sneakin'_
in, anyhow. When I get through with you they 'll find you in that same
gutter.'
"'Goin' to shoot me? I _ought_ to have a chance. I ain't got no
gun--you see, I ain't wild an' woolly like you,' an' he actually
grinned!
"'What kind of a chance did _I_ have, out of town an' not suspectin' any
thin'?' I asks.
"'But she _loves_ me; don't you understand? She was _happy_ with me.
What good will it do _you_ if you kill me an' break her heart? She 'll
never look at you again.'
"'I reckon she won't anyhow,' I retorts. 'Leastwise not if I can help
it. Look here: Don't you know you deserve to die?'
"'That's open to debate, but for brevity I 'll say yes; but I want a
chance. I gave _you_ a chance every time I came here--you did n't take
it, that's all.'
"'I 'll get you a gun, d--d if I won't,' I replied, an' backed towards
th' valise where my big old Colt was. But he stops me with a sneer.
"'I said a _chance_! You was _born_ with a gun in your hand, an' it 'd
be pure murder.'
"'I 'm glad somethin 's pure,' says I. Then I remembered that old
valise again. Remember th' last thing I did for you an' Peters before I
quit, Hoppy?"
Hopalong thought quickly. "Yes, you an' Pete put in two days settin'
poisoned cows in th' brush on th' west line. Did a good job, too.
Ain't been bothered none by wolves since."
Tex chuckled. "There was a bottle of yore stuff in that war-bag an' it
was half full. I don't remember puttin' it there, but there she was.
So I takes it an' holds it up for him to look at, readin' th' label out
loud. That was th' only time my wife says a word, an' she says _his_
name, sorrowful; then she goes on lookin' from him to me an' from me to
him.
"He laughs at me an' sneers again. 'Think I 'm go in' to eat that?' he
says.
"I don't answer. I 'm too busy workin' with one hand an' watchin' him.
I knowed he did n't have no gun, but there was chairs an' bottles
a-plenty. I got down a bottle of bitters an' poured some of it in a
couple of glasses. Then I drops in some pain-killer an' stirs it up.
It does n't mix very well, so I pushed th' remains of their supper to
one side an' slips th' two glasses under th' table cloth, holdin' one
edge of it in my teeth so it would n't touch th' glasses an' let him
follow 'em. If they 'd been cards I 'd 'a' spread 'em monte-fashion
under his nose--but they was n't.
"'Now, you skunk--take your pick an' don't wrangle no more about yore
chances. An' you drink it before I drink mine, or I 'll blow yore
cussed ribs loose!'
"I had given him credit for havin' a-plenty nerve, but now I sees it was
n't nerve at all--just gall. He was pasty white again, almost green,
an' his little soul plumb tried to climb out of his eyes. I was a whole
lot surprised at how he went to pieces an' I was savagely elated at th'
way he was a-starin' at that cloth. He looks at me for an instant and
then back at th' little shell game on th' table' an' he says in a weak,
thin voice: 'How 'd I know--you 'll drink--yourn?'
"'You ain't supposed to be knowin' anythin' about my habits while I 've
got this gun--an' it's gettin' plumb heavy, too,' I retorts. 'You 've
been yellin' about an even break, an' there it is. An' if it 'll hurry
things any I 'll pick up my glass now an' drink it as soon as I see yore
glass empty, an' yore Adam's apple bob enough. We won't have to wait
very long before we get results. You 'll pick yore glass an' drain it
or you 'll stop lead.' An' I did n't care, Hoppy, which one he got--I
was worse'n dead then--what th' h--l did I care about livin'?
"I reached out to get my glass as soon as he had his'n an' I laid th'
gun on my knee, knowin' he did n't have no weapon, an' that I could get
th' drop before he could swing a bottle or chair. But I knowed wrong.
He was a liar. As I touched my glass his hand streaks for his hip
pocket. I gave him th' liquor in his eyes an' lunged for his gun hand
just in time. Then I lets loose all th' rage that was boilin' in me an'
when I gets tired of punishin' him, I throws him at th' feet of th'
woman, picks up both guns, gets what personal duffle I need, an' blows
th' ranch. His face was even all over, his nose was busted, his teeth
stuck in his lips, an' he had a broken gun-wrist that gave somebody a
whole lot of trouble before it worked right again, if it ever did. I 'm
glad I did n't shoot him--there was a lot more of satisfaction doin' it
with my naked hands. It was man to man an' I played with him, with all
his extra twenty pounds. By G--d, I can feel it yet!"
During the short pause Hopalong looked steadily ahead with unseeing
eyes, his face hard, his eyes narrowed, and a tightness about his lips
that told plainly what he felt. To come home to that! He realized that
his companion was speaking again and gave close attention.
"I don't know where I put in th' next week, but when I got rational I
found myself in a cell in a Philadelphia jail, along with bums and
crooks. I found that I 'd beat up a couple of policemen when I was
drunk. When I got ready to leave th' town I didn't have a whole lot of
money, so I played cards with what I had an' left th' town as soon as I
had my fare--which did n't take long. That bunch never went up agin'
such a well trained deck in their lives."
This time Hopalong broke the silence that ensued, his hand dropping
unconsciously on his friend's arm in warm, impulsive sympathy. "By
G--d, what a deal! It's awful, Tex; awful!"
"Yes, it was--an' it ain't exactly what you 'd call a joke right now.
But I ain't worryin' none about th' woman--she killed my love stone cold
that night. But when I think of how things _might_ 'a' turned out if
she 'd been square, of th' home I 'd 'a' had--but h--l, what's th' use,
anyhow? Now what hurts me most is my pride an' conceit--an' th' way I
turned to th' drink an' cheatin' so easy. It makes me mad clean through
to think of what a infant I was, how I played th' fool for th' Lord
knows how long; an' sometimes I want to kill somebody to sort of get
square with myself. Up north I 'll be too busy tryin' to make fools out
of other people to do much in th' line of sympathizin' with myself--an'
too busy an' cautious to break back to drink an' cards. That was one of
th' things drove me back here--there 's a whole lot more temptation
facin' a man back East, an' 'specially a feller that's totin' a big load
of trouble."
"Don't it beat all how different luck will run for different people?"
marvelled Hopalong, thinking of his portion.
"That was runnin' in my mind while I was eatin'," replied Tex. "Reckon
I _did_ get sort of quiet. But I 'm plumb glad th' right kind of luck
came yore way, all right."
They rode on for a short time, each busy with his own thoughts, and then
Hopalong looked up. "We 're goin' up to see Buck just as soon as I feel
th' ranch is in proper shape. I 've got to get th' round-up out of th'
way first. You see, we ain't had no honeymoon trip yet."
"Yo 're lucky again; I never could see no joy in hikin' over th' country
changin' trains, livin' in hotels, sleepin' in a different bed every
night, each one worse'n th' one before, lookin' after baggage, an'
workin' hard all th' time. I 've often wondered why it is that two
people jump into all that trouble just as soon as they get into their
own little heaven for th' first time." Then Tex's face grew earnest.
"Now, look here, Hoppy: You ain't goin' up to see Buck till I tell you
to come. I know you, all right; just as soon as you land you 'll be out
gunnin' for th' bunch that's tryin' to bust Buck's game. You ain't
single no more--yo're a married man, an' when a man 's got a wife like
yourn he naturally ain't got no cussed business runnin' 'round puttin'
hisself in th' way of gettin' killed. You let yore gun get plumb dusty
an' when you want any excitement, go out an' try to make water run up
hill, or somethin' simple like that. You handle th' trouble that comes
to you, an' don't go off a-lookin' for it."
They spent the rest of the time in discussing the status of the married
man, and when Mary afterward learned of the stand Tex took she shared
more of her husband's affection for him. After a short stay at the H2
they turned homeward and went thoroughly into the matter of Tex's ride
north. It was agreed that extra precaution would do no harm, and in
order to have no blunder on the part of any one, they decided that it
was best not to say anything about where he was going. Hopalong was
greatly pleased and relieved now that he knew that his old foreman would
have some one to help him fight his battles on that cold, distant range;
but he did not appear to be as cheerful about it as was his companion.
Tex looked forward to the trip with all the eagerness and impatience of
a boy and it showed in his conversation and actions.
When they reached the ranch house at dusk they found Mary cooking a very
small meal, and she waved them off. "You an' Billy-Red can't eat here
to-night: yo 're goin' to eat with th' boys in th' bunk-house. I would
n't spoil your fun for anything. Now you get right out--I mean just
what I say!"
"But, girl--" began Hopalong.
"Now I 've made up my mind, an' that's all there is about it. I can get
along without you this once--I won't do it again, you know--an' I want
you boys to have a rousin' good time all by yoreselves. I want th' boys
to like me, Billy-Red, to feel that I ain't changed _everythin'_ by
bein' here. Now you clear out--Lee knows all about it, an' I cooked
some goodies this afternoon for th' feast. Johnny cleaned out th' cake
tins an' scraped th' bowls I mixed th' fillin' in--I had to drive him
away. Look! There he is, leanin' up against that tree watchin' for me
to set somethin' out to cool. He purty near got away with a pie--oh, he
's terrible! But he 's a good boy, just th' same."
Tex turned, emitted a blood-curdling yell and started for the anxious
Johnny, Hopalong close behind, while Mary stood in the door and watched
the fun, laughing with delight. The outfit piled out of the bunk-house,
caught sight of Johnny pounding towards them, and joined in, much to the
Kid's disgust. They did not know anything about the affair, but they
did not have to know--Johnny was legitimate prey for all, at any time
and under any conditions. The fleeing youngster was nearly caught twice
as he dodged and doubled, but once past them, he drew away with ease.
When the winded and laughing pursuers finally stopped, he circled around
to the nearest corral, found a seat on the gate and watched them
straggle back to the bunk-house, deriding them with cheerful abandon,
dissecting them with a shrewd and cutting tongue. He took them up in
rotation and laid bare their faults and weaknesses until they leaned
against the wall and laughed at each other until the tears came. Then
he turned to ridicule.
"An' there's Skinny," he continued, slowly and gravely, while he rolled
a cigarette. "Th' only way you can see him, except at noon, is to look
at him in front, or at his feet. Why, I grabbed a broom in th' dark one
time an' shore apologized before I realized that it was n't him at all.
When he sits down he looks like a figger four, an' I 'm allus a-scared
he 'll get into one pant's laig by mistake. When he eats solid stuff he
looks like a rope with a knot in it--it's scary watchin' them knots go
down--looks like he was skinnin' hisself. You can't tell whether he 's
comin' or goin'--th' bumps is all alike. His laigs is so long he looks
like a wishbone an' I 'm holdin' my breath most of th' time for fear he
'll split. When he goes huntin' all he has to do is to stand still so
th' game won't see him; it wanders up to see what's holdin' up th' hat.
He put Pete's pants on once when he fell in th' crick--after he fell
in--an' I lifts my hat when I saw th' ridin' skirts. His laigs are
beautiful--except for them knobs half way down where they hinge. An'
when he swallers a mouthful of water he looks like a muscle dance. Why,
I got into his bunk one night by mistake an' spent five minutes a-tryin'
to smooth out a crease in th' blanket. Then he wakes up an' tells me to
go over an' scratch Red for a change. Tells me to git off 'n him,
'cause I 'm flattenin' him out. That can't be did, an' he knew it, too.
"What _you_ laughin' at, Red? You ain't got no laugh comin'. Every
mornin' you sit on th' bunk an' count yore clothes an' groan. You put
yore hat on first an' yore boots next. Then you takes off th' boots so
yore socks can get on. Then th' boots go on again. Then they come off
again to let yore pants go on, after which on go th' boots again. Then
you take yore hat off to let th' shirt slip over yore head an' it goes
right back on again. I 've seen you feel around for yore suspenders for
five minutes before you remembered they was under th' shirt."
"Yo 're another! I don't wear no suspenders!"
"No, you don't. Not now, but you did. You quit 'em 'cause they cost a
dollar a pair an' kept gettin' lost under th' shirt. Now when you dress
up you lift my suspenders. Tex never saw you in love. I did; lots of
times; about twice a month. You put th' saddle on th' corral wall,
close th' horse, an' mount th' gate. You eat coffee with a knife an'
sugar th' water. When I wake up first I see you huggin' th' pillow,
which is my old coat wrapped around my old pants. If anybody says
'patience,' you bust yore neck a-lookin' for her. What did you do up to
Wallace's that time when his niece came on to visit at his ranch?
Wallace told me all about it, an' all about th' toothbrush, too. Lemme
see if you remember good. Did n't you--"
"You never mind about me rememberin'," Red shouted, grabbing up a bucket
of water off the wash bench and starting for his tormentor. Johnny
leaped down and backed off, dodging behind the corral wall. As Red made
the turn he fell sprawling, the water affectionately clinging to him.
When he arose and looked around Johnny was entering the bunk-house door
and the rest of the outfit clung together trying to hold themselves up,
and voiced its misery in wails. At that moment Lee Hop buck-jumped
around the corner on his trip from the cook shack to the corral, his
favorite place of refuge when the ranch house was cut off from him, and
he saw Red too late. When he was able to think he was minus a shirt and
Red was carrying him under one arm and the shirt under the other.
"Now, you heathen--get that grub on th' table or I 'll picket you an'
Johnny to th' same stake!" Red threatened, grimly.
"Him get clake. Him stealie pie. Alle same in klitchen. Eat
chop-chop!" wailed the cook. He was promptly dropped and looked up in
time to see a rush for the cook shack. But Johnnie was placing the
delicacies on the table and close scrutiny failed to discover anything
wrong with them, notwithstanding the suspicious manner in which his
tongue groomed his teeth.
The supper was a howling success, and unlike the usual Bar-20 meals, was
prolonged, and fun seasoned every dish. Even Lee Hop, incapable as he
was of grasping most of the points in their rapid flight, and not wholly
in sympathy with certain members of the outfit--even his countenance
lost its expression of constant watchfulness; his mouth widened into a
grin whose extremities were lost somewhere in the region of his back
hair; his eyes gleamed like jet buttons in a dish of mush; and his
moisture-laden skin shone until, altogether, his head resembled nothing
so much as a pumpkin-bogie, a good-natured one, with an extra large
candle lighted inside. He was tempted now and again to insert a remark
in the short openings, but experience checked him in time. When the
crowd filed into the living-room it was to tell tales of men living and
dead; stories that covered a great range of human action, from the
foolishness of "Aristotle" Smith to the cold ferocity and cruelty of
Slippery Trendley and Deacon Rankin. The hours flew past with
astonishing speed and when Tex looked at his watch he stared for a
moment and returned it to his pocket with a quick, decisive movement.
"It's past midnight, fellows, an' I 'm riding' on in the mornin'," he
remarked, arising.
The crowd looked its amazement and then vociferously announced its
regret. These men held it a breach of etiquette to question, and
because there were no "whys" or "wherefores," Tex felt impelled to
explain. He was going on to see old friends, but he would return. The
Bar-20 was his range and he would get back as soon as he could. In
deference to his wishes and to let him get as much sleep as possible,
the outfit quietly prepared for rest, and Hopalong, bidding them
good-night, departed for the ranch house.
Breakfast over the next morning, Tex rode north, followed by an escort
of friends of which any man would have been proud. Hopalong and Mary
rode at his side and behind in a compact bunch came the boys. They
stopped when the river trail was reached and Tex shook hands all around.
"I 'm sorry to leave you, Hopalong," he said earnestly; "but you know
how it is: I 've been away quite a spell and things happen quick out
here. You 'll see me again this Summer an' I 'll come to stay if you
want me. Mary, I 'm mighty glad to see he 's got such a good
foreman--he 's needed one a long time; an' I can see a big improvement
in him already."
"Reckon you might profit by the example--must be girls a-plenty out in
this country who 'd make good foremen," she replied, laughing.
Tex's face showed no trace of hurt as the chance arrow sped to the mark;
he laughed, pointing at Johnny. "I reckon there are; but the Kid would
n't give me no show."
"We 'll answer for him, Tex," chuckled Red. "We cured him once before
an' we 'd be shore glad to do it again."
"Yep--kept him in the hills, starvin' an' freezin' for a whole month,"
sweetly added Skinny.
Johnny flushed and squirmed but had no time to retort, Pete and the
others being too busy talking to Tex to let him be heard. Finally Tex
backed off, raised his hat, and with a bow and a smile to Mary, wheeled
and loped off along the trail to run Spring a race to Montana. Every
time he looked back he waved in answer to his friends, and then, swiftly
mounting a rise, was silhouetted for an instant against the white clouds
on the horizon and as swiftly dropped from sight, a faint chorus of
yells reaching him.
The outfit turned slowly to return to their ranch and when they missed
their foreman, they saw him sitting silent where they had left him, his
wife's hand on his arm. He could still see Tex against the sky, clear
cut, startlingly strong and potent, and he nodded his head slowly. "He
's needed up there, an' he 's the best man to go." Turning, he was
surprised to find his wife so near and he smiled joyously: "Wouldn't go
an' leave me all alone, would you, Honey? Yo 're shore a thoroughbred
an' I 'm plumb proud of you. Race you to th' bunch!"