They had ridden into town, as has been said, with full pockets. They had
expected to ride out again in a day or two with empty ones. But the
encounter with Jeanie Ross and their subsequent abrupt decision made all
the difference in the world. The procedure of each one, in the
circumstances, was characteristic. Bud Loupel crossed the street to the
bank and opened an account, depositing his money. Jack Mills went into
Brady’s back room, where there was a bank of another kind, and set to
work to double his.
The bank Bud patronized was owned by Sam Rand, who was also cashier,
president, and board of directors. There had been, till some three days
before, a teller, but Rand had let him go. Bud found the banker, as a
consequence, up to his eyes in unaccustomed work. Rand knew Loupel, knew
that the cowboy had a certain aptitude for figures. When Bud, in the
casual talk that followed his deposit, mentioned the fact that he was
hunting for a town job, Rand hired him on the spot.
An hour or so later Bud went back to Brady’s to tell Jack of his good
fortune, and Mills rolled a cigarette and said cheerfully: “Then you’re
fixed to lend me five dollars.”
“As quick as this?” Bud asked. “You must have picked ’em mighty scant.”
“I didn’t pick them,” Jack told him. “They picked me.”
They went out together and sought a restaurant and food. By supper time
Jack had a job in the blacksmith shop. He was as good with horses as Bud
was with figures. That evening they hired a room, and Bud wrote a note
to the Hourglass foreman, telling him not to expect them back again.
Then they settled down to live the life of sober and substantial
citizens. Object matrimony.
Now, this is not a story of how a woman came between two men and turned
good friends into enemies. Jeanie Ross did nothing of the kind. It is a
fact that they both loved her and that they both wooed her, but it is
also a fact that they continued to be pardners just the same. And it is
furthermore true that when Jeanie made up her mind between them, Jack
was the first one she told.
She told him she was going to marry Bud. And Jack rolled a cigarette
with both hands, slowly and with care; he fashioned it neatly, and
stroked it between his fingers, and twisted the ends and lighted it
before he spoke at all.
“Said so to him?” he asked then.
Jeanie shook her head. “No. I wanted you to know first, because I want
you and Bud to keep on being friends. I like you, Jack. But
you’re--flighty. Bud’s steady. You’re more amusing sometimes, but he’s
more reliable. I couldn’t ever really count on you. I can count on Bud,
Jack. But you will go on being friends with him, won’t you? That’s why
I’m telling you.”
“He’s steady, he’s reliable, and you can count on him,” Jack repeated,
ticking the points off upon his fingers. “Now, is there maybe any other
little thing besides?”
“Yes,” said Jeanie softly. “Yes. I love him, Jack.”
He flicked his cigarette away. “Keno!” he exclaimed. “And Bud’s a good
scout too. I don’t reckon you’ll ever need to be sorry at all.” He
picked up his hat and started away.
“Where are you going?” she asked softly, and there were tears in her
eyes for him.
“I aim to tell Bud you’re a-waiting,” he said.
And he did. Bud was working late that night at the bank. Jack bade him
go and find her. “And, Bud,” he warned good-humoredly, “I’ll aim to
perforate you, sudden and complete, if you don’t name the first after
me.”
When Bud was gone Jack stood very still for a while, whistling a little
tune between his teeth. Then he went across to Brady’s and had a drink
or two, but the liquor would not bite. It was still early in the evening
when he sought the room he shared with Bud, and went to bed. Bud,
returning two hours later, undressed quietly, because he thought his
pardner was asleep.
But Jack Mills was not asleep.