OLD HECK'S STRATEGY
It was late when Old Heck and the cowboys returned to the ranch. The
runaway cattle had been overtaken on the sand-hills beyond the North
Springs and it took the entire afternoon to bunch them and work the
restless animals back to the Quarter Circle KT, into the big pasture,
and repair the fence so it was safe to leave them for the night.
Ophelia, Carolyn June and Parker were in the front room when Old Heck
and the hungry cowboys clattered, long after dark, into the kitchen for
the supper Sing Pete had kept warm for them.
After the meal Skinny went into the room where Parker and the women
were. Old Heck followed and talked for a few moments with Parker about
the affairs of the ranch, then joined the cowboys at the bunk-house
where they had gone directly after leaving the table. On Skinny's bed
Parker had tossed a bundle.
"What in thunder do you reckon Skinny's been buying, now?" Chuck
questioned as he picked up the package and examined it curiously.
"Blamed if it don't feel like a shirt."
"I'll bet that's what it is," Bert said with a laugh as Old Heck
stepped inside the door, "the darn fool has gone and got him a white
shirt--"
"Who has?" Old Heck asked, hearing only the latter part of Bert's
remark.
"Skinny," Charley answered for Bert, "he's fixing up to make love in
style--"
"Aw, the blamed idiot," Old Heck grunted, then glancing over toward
Parker's bed: "--Did you notice whether Parker got him one, too, or
not?"
Before the question was answered Parker and Skinny appeared at the
bunk-house door.
"What's the matter?" Chuck said, still holding the bundle in his hand,
"--ain't it too early for lovers to bu'st up for the night? Or did the
widow and Carolyn June blow out the lights on you--"
"Forget it, you danged fool!" Skinny said crossly. "Can't you ever get
over your dog-goned craziness? They was just tired and went to bed. Give
me that package, it's mine and private!" reaching for the bundle.
Chuck, with a laugh, threw it at him. It landed on the Ramblin' Kid's
bunk where the latter was lying, his clothing still on, his eyes staring
straight up while he smoked a cigarette.
"When are you going to ride the Gold Dust maverick?" Skinny asked as he
picked up the package.
For a moment the Ramblin' Kid did not answer. Then, without changing his
position, replied:
"I don't know as I'll ever ride her. Maybe I'll turn her loose again on
th' range."
"What did you catch her for?" Bert queried. "Don't you want her?"
"I caught her, 'cause I wanted to," the Ramblin' Kid answered, "but that
ain't no sign I intend to keep her. Hell, what's the use?" he finished
indifferently.
"If you want to sell her," Old Heck said, "I'll buy her."
"She ain't for sale," the Ramblin' Kid answered shortly, "not to
anybody."
"She would be a thunderin' sight better off if she was used."
"Would she?" the Ramblin' Kid questioned dully. "I ain't so sure about
that."
"Of course she would," Old Heck insisted, "she'd be fed regular and--"
"An' be mauled around by some darned human!" the Ramblin' Kid
interrupted with sudden vehemence. "If I was a horse," he continued,
speaking passionately while his black eyes burned with the spirit of
rebellion, "I'd rather be a short-grass cay-use nippin' th' scatterin'
feed on th' north hills an' be free to snort an' raise hell when I
blamed please than have my belly stuffed with alfalfa hay three times a
day an' have to gnaw th' iron of some damned man's bit in my mouth or
carry his saddle on my back!"
Silence followed the outburst.
Old Heck and the cowboys knew the Ramblin' Kid was in one of his
"moods," and experience had taught them that at such times argument was
neither discreet nor safe. The thing they did not know was that his
heart was torn by memory of the agony of Old Blue in the quicksand and
his mind tortured by the picture of dumb suffering a bullet from his own
gun had, that morning, mercifully ended.
After a time he spoke again, more quietly and with a note of weariness
in his voice:
"Oh, well, I reckon I'll keep th' filly. In a day of two, when she gets
rested up a little, I'll ride her,"
"You ought to break her for Carolyn June," Skinny suggested.
"Had I?" the Ramblin' Kid said with a queer laugh--it was just the
thought that was in his mind and against which he was struggling.
"That's a bright idea! Maybe I'll study about it an' take a notion to do
it. If I do she can ride th' maverick When you an' her go on your
honeymoon--"
"What's a honeymoon?" Skinny queried innocently.
"It's what two people take when they first get married; go off somewhere
by themselves--like they was locoed--to find out how bad they got
stung!" the Ramblin' Kid laughingly answered.
"We'd better all go to bed," Old Heck said; "it's late and we have to
get up early in the morning. Parker, you and some of the boys will have
to go skin them dead steers--we've got to save the hides at least."
"Old Heck wants to go to sleep so he can dream about the widow," Chuck
snickered, "it's his turn again to-morrow to love her--"
"How did she act to-day, Parker?" Bert broke in; "was she pretty
affectionate?"
"Aw, shut up! Ain't you got any respect for anything--"
"I'll bet he proposed to her and she throwed him down," Chuck hazarded,
not realizing how nearly he had come to guessing the truth.
Parker looked angrily at Chuck, then his cheeks grew red, he bent over
and began tugging at his boots in an effort to hide the tell-tale
confusion in his eyes.
Old Heck furtively studied the face of his foreman.
"Or else she confessed to being a Bolshevik or local-optionist or
something and the news broke his heart," Charley volunteered, joining in
the baiting of the range-boss.
"She didn't neither confess," Parker denied hastily, aggravated into a
reply, "she ain't either one of them! She's an 'Organizer--'"
Dead silence greeted this sudden announcement. Every eye was turned in
astonishment on Parker while Old Heck and the boys awaited further
explanation. Parker offered no additional information.
"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."