On the Cowboy's Trail: Western Boxed-Set. Coolidge Dane

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Water?” he asked, gazing benignly upon the young ladies. “Well, listen.

      “They’s a big spring of water right up here, not half a mile. It’s an old landmark –– the Mexicans call it Agua Escondida –– but I bet neither one of you can find it and I’ll take you right by the gulch where it comes out. They can’t nobody find it, unless they’re wise enough to follow cow tracks –– and of course, we don’t expect that of strangers. But if you ever git lost and you’re within ten miles of home jest take the first cow trail you see and follow it downhill and you’ll go into one end or the other of Hidden Water cañon. Sure, it’s what you might call the Hello-Central of the whole Four Peaks country, with cow paths instead of wires. The only thing lackin’ is the girls, to talk back, and call you down for your ungentlemanly language, and –– well, this country is comin’ up every day!”

      He grinned broadly, wiping his floury hands on his overalls in defiance of Miss Kitty’s most rudimentary principles; and yet even she, for all her hygiene, was compelled to laugh. There was something about Creede that invited confidence and feminine badgering, he was so like a big, good-natured boy. The entire meal was enlivened by her efforts, in the person of a hello girl, to expurgate his language, and she ended by trying to get him to swear –– politely.

      But in this the noble cowboy was inexorable. “No, ma’am,” he said, with an excess of moral conviction. “I never swear except for cause –– and then I always regret it. But if you want to git some of the real thing to put in your phonygraft jest come down to the pasture to-morrow when the boys are breakin’ horses. Your hair’s kind of wavy, I notice, but it will put crimps in it to hear Bill Lightfoot or some of them Sunflower stiffs when they git bucked onto a rock pile. And say, if you call yourself a rider I can give you a snake for to-day.”

      “Oh, thank you, Mr. Creede,” answered Miss Kitty, bowing low as she left the table. “Its tail, if it chanced to be a rattler, would be most acceptable, I am sure, and I might make a belt out of its skin. But for riding purposes I prefer a real, gentle little horse. Now hurry up, and I’ll be dressed in half an hour.”

      Ten minutes later Creede rode up to the house, leading a sober gray for the judge, but for Kitty Bonnair he had the prettiest little calico-horse in the bunch, a pony painted up with red and yellow and white until he looked like a three-color chromo. Even his eye was variegated, being of a mild, pet-rabbit blue, with a white circle around the orbit; and his name, of course, was Pinto. To be sure, his face was a little dished in and he showed other signs of his scrub Indian blood, but after Creede had cinched on the new stamped-leather saddle and adjusted the ornate hackamore and martingale, Pinto was the sportiest-looking horse outside of a Wild West show.

      There was a long wait then, while Diana completed her preparations for the hunt; but when Kitty Bonnair, fully apparelled, finally stepped through the door Creede reeled in the saddle, and even Rufus Hardy gasped. There was nothing immodest about her garb –– in fact, it was very correct and proper –– but not since the Winship girls rode forth in overalls had Hidden Water seen its like. Looking very trim and boyish in her khaki riding breeches, Kitty strode forth unabashed, rejoicing in her freedom. A little scream of delight escaped her as she caught sight of the calico-pony; she patted his nose a moment, inquired his name, and then, scorning all assistance, swung lightly up into the saddle. No prettier picture had ever been offered to the eye; so young, so supple and strong, with such a wealth of dark, wavy hair, and, withal, so modest and honestly happy. But, somehow, Jefferson Creede took the lead and rode with his eyes cast down, lest they should be dazzled by the vision. Besides, Jeff had been raised old-fashioned, and Golden Gate Park is a long, long ways, chronologically, from Hidden Water.

      As the procession passed away up the cañon, with Creede in sober converse with the judge and Kitty scampering about like an Indian on her pinto horse, Hardy and Lucy Ware glanced at each other, and laughed.

      “Did you ever see any one like her?” exclaimed Lucy, and Hardy admitted with a sigh that he never had.

      “And I am afraid,” observed Miss Lucy frankly, “you were not altogether pleased to see her –– at first. But really, Rufus, what can any one hope to do with Kitty? When she has set her heart on anything she will have it, and from the very moment she read your first letter she was determined to come down here. Of course father thinks he came down to look into this matter of the sheep, and I think that I came down to look after him, but in reality I have no doubt we are both here because Kitty Bonnair so wills it.”

      “Very likely,” replied Hardy, with a doubtful smile. “But since you are in her counsels perhaps you can tell what her intentions are toward me. I used to be one of her gentlemen-in-waiting, you know, and this visit looks rather ominous for me.”

      “Well, just exactly what are you talking about, Rufus?”

      “I guess you know, all right,” replied Hardy. “Have I got to ride a bucking bronco, or kill a sheep-herder or two –– or is it just another case of ‘move on’?”

      He paused and smiled bitterly to himself, but Lucy was not in a mood to humor him in his misanthropy.

      “I must confess,” she said, “that you may be called upon to do a few chivalrous feats of horsemanship, but as for the sheep-herder part of it, I hope you will try to please me by leaving them alone. It worries me, Rufus,” she continued soberly, “to see you becoming so strong-willed and silent. There was a whole year, when none of us heard a word from you –– and then it was quite by accident. And father thinks you stopped writing to him with the deliberate intention of driving the sheep away by violence.”

      “Well, I’m glad he understands so well,” replied Hardy naively. “Of course I wouldn’t embarrass him by asking for orders, but –– ”

      “Oh, Rufus!” exclaimed Miss Lucy impatiently, “do try to be natural again and take your mind off those sheep. Do you know what I am thinking of doing?” she demanded seriously. “I am thinking of asking father to give me this ranch –– he said he would if I wanted it –– and then I’ll discharge you! You shall not be such a brutal, ugly man! But come, now, I want you to help clear the table, and then we will go up to Hidden Water and read your poems. But tell me, have you had any trouble with the sheepmen?”

      “Why, no!” answered Hardy innocently. “What made you ask?”

      “Well, you wrote father you expected trouble –– and –– and you had that big, long pistol when you came in yesterday. Now you can’t deny that!”

      “I’m afraid you’ve had some Western ideas implanted in your bosom by Kitty, Miss Lucy,” protested Hardy. “We never shoot each other down here. I carry that pistol for the moral effect –– and it’s necessary, too, to protect these sheepmen against their own baser natures. You see they’re all armed, and if I should ride into their camp without a gun and ask them to move they might be tempted to do something overt. But as it is now, when Jeff and I begin to talk reason with them they understand. No, we’re all right; it’s the sheep-herders that have all the trouble.”

      “Rufus Hardy,” cried Miss Lucy indignantly, “if you mention those sheep again until you are asked about them, I’ll have you attended to. Do you realize how far I have come to see your poems and hear you talk the way you used to talk? And then to hear you go on in this way! I thought at first that Mr. Creede was a nice man, but I am beginning to change my opinion of him. But you have just got to be nice to me and Kitty while we are here. I had so many things to tell you about your father, and Tupper Browne, and The Circle, but you just sit around so kind of close-mouthed and silent and never ask a question! Wouldn’t you like to know how your father is?” she asked.

      “Why, yes,” СКАЧАТЬ