Oh, You Tex!. William MacLeod Raine

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СКАЧАТЬ that a man be game, and second that he be one to tie to. He might be good or bad, but whichever he was, he, must be efficient to make any mark in the turbulent country of the border. Was there a hint of slackness in the jaw of this good-looking boy? Wadley was not sure, but he intended to find out.

      "You'll start Saturday. I'll meet you at Tascosa two weeks from to-day. Understand?" The cattleman knocked the ashes from his pipe and rose. The interview was at an end.

      Young Ridley nodded. "I'll be there, sir—with the six thousand dollars safe as if they were in a vault."

      "H'm! I see you carry a six-shooter. Can you shoot?" Wadley flung at him abruptly.

      Arthur Ridley had always fancied himself as a shot. He had belonged to a gun-club at home, and since coming to the Southwest he had practiced a good deal with the revolver.

      "Pretty well, sir."

      "Would you—if it was up to you?"

      The youngster looked into the steel-gray eyes roofed by the heavy thatch of brow. "I think so. I never have had to yet. In the East—"

      Wadley waved the East back to where it belonged. "Yes, I know. But we're talkin' about Texas. Still, I reckon you ought not to have any trouble on this trip. Don't let anybody know why you are at the fort. Don't gamble or drink. Get the money from Major Ponsford and melt away inconspicuous into the brush. Hit the trail hard. A day and a night ought to bring you to Tascosa."

      The cattleman was leading the way with long strides into an open space back of the house. A pile of empty cans, symbol of the arid lands, lay beside the path. He picked up one and put it on a post. Then he stepped off fifteen paces.

      "Ventilate it," he ordered.

      The boy drew his revolver, took a long, steady aim, and fired. The bullet whistled past across the prairie. His second shot scored a clean hit. With pardonable pride he turned to the cattleman.

      "Set up another can," commanded Wadley.

      From the pile of empties the young man picked another and put it on the post. Wadley, known in Texas as a two-gun man, flashed into sight a pair of revolvers almost quicker than the eye could follow. Both shots came instantly and together. The cattleman had fired from the hips. Before the can had reached the ground the weapons barked again.

      Ridley ran forward and picked up the can. It was torn and twisted with jagged holes, but the evidence was written there that all four bullets had pierced the tin. The Easterner could hardly believe his eyes. Such shooting was almost beyond human skill.

      The owner of the A T O thrust into place his two forty-fives.

      "If you're goin' to wear six-shooters, learn to use 'em, son. If you don't, some bad-man is liable to bump you off for practice."

      As the two men stepped around the corner of the house a girl came down the steps of the porch. She was dressed in summer white, but she herself was spring. Slim and lissome, the dew of childhood was still on her lips, and the mist of it in her eyes. But when she slanted her long lashes toward Arthur Ridley, it was not the child that peeped shyly and eagerly out from beneath them. Her heart was answering the world-old call of youth to youth.

      "I'm going downtown, Dad," she announced.

      Ridley stepped forward and lifted his hat. "May I walk with you, Miss Ramona?"

      "Stop at the post-office and see if the buckboard driver is in with the mail, 'Mona," her father said.

      The boy and the girl made a couple to catch and hold the eye.

      They went down the street together chattering gayly. One of the things young Ridley knew how to do well was to make himself agreeable to girls. He could talk nonsense charmingly and could hold his own in the jolly give-and-take of repartee. His good looks were a help. So too was the little touch of affectionate deference he used. He had the gift of being bold without being too bold.

      It was a beautiful morning and life sang in the blood of Ramona. It seemed to her companion that the warm sun caressed the little curls at her temples as she moved down the street light as a deer. Little jets of laughter bubbled from her round, birdlike throat. In her freshly starched white dress, with its broad waistband of red and purple ribbon, the girl was sweet and lovely and full of mystery to Ridley.

      A little man with a goatee, hawk-nosed and hawk-eyed, came down the street with jingling spurs to meet them. At sight of Ramona his eyes lighted. From his well-shaped gray head he swept in a bow a jaunty, broad-brimmed white hat.

      The young girl smiled, because there were still a million unspent smiles in her warm and friendly heart.

      "Good-morning, Captain Ellison," she called.

      "Don't know you a-tall, ma'am." He shook his head with decision. "Never met up with you before."

      "Good gracious, Captain, and you've fed me candy ever since I was a sticky little kid."

      He burlesqued a business of recognizing her with much astonishment. "You ain't little 'Mona Wadley. No! Why, you are a young lady all dressed up in go-to-meet-him clothes. I reckon my little side-partner has gone forever."

      "No, she hasn't, Uncle Jim," the girl cried. "And I want you to know I still like candy."

      He laughed with delight and slapped his thigh with his broad-brimmed ranger hat. "By dog, you get it, 'Mona, sure as I'm a foot high."

      Chuckling, he passed down the street.

      "Captain Jim Ellison of the Rangers," explained Ramona to her companion. "He isn't really my uncle, but I've known him always. He's a good old thing and we're great friends."

      Her soft, smiling eyes met those of Arthur. He thought that it was no merit in Ellison to be fond of her. How could he help it?

      "He's in luck," was all the boy said.

      A little flag of color fluttered in her cheek. She liked his compliments, but they embarrassed her a little.

      "Did you fix it all up with Dad?" she asked, by way of changing the subject.

      "Yes. I'm to go to Fort Winston to get the money for the beeves, and if I fall down on the job I'll never get another from him."

      "I believe you're afraid of Dad," she teased.

      "Don't you believe it—know it. I sure enough am," he admitted promptly.

      "Why? I can twist him round my little finger," she boasted.

      "Yes, but I'm not his only daughter and the prettiest thing in West Texas."

      She laughed shyly. "Are you sure you're taking in enough territory?"

      "I'll say south of Mason and Dixon's line, if you like."

      "Really, he likes you. I can tell when Dad is for any one."

      A sound had for some minutes been disturbing the calm peace of the morning. It was the bawling of thirsty cattle. The young people turned a corner into the main street of the town. Down it was moving toward them a cloud of yellow dust stirred up by a bunch of Texas longhorns. СКАЧАТЬ