The Ramblin' Kid by Earl Wayland Bowman (free novel reading sites .TXT) 📕

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