Ronicky Doone's Reward by Max Brand (ebook offline reader .txt) 📕
And now he saw Blondy slowly produce cigarette papers and tobacco. He saw the cigarette manufactured; he saw it placed between Blondy's lips; he saw the sulphur match separated carefully from the rest of the pack; he saw the cigarette lighted; he saw the handsome head of Blondy wreathed in thin blue-brown smoke.
And every other person on the veranda was following every act with similar exactitude of interest and observation. For they had instantly seen the throwing of the gage. The unspoken challenge of Blondy, as plain as words could have stated it, was this: "I shall stand here calmly upon the veranda, roll my cigarette, light and smoke it, and then depart. And if I am able to do this in peace, then I shall consider myself at liberty to go forth into the world and tell other men that I have bearded the citizens of Twin Springs and come off unscathed."
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“Al Jenkins,” began Curly, in the manner of one in great haste, “told me to rush out here as fast as I could and tell you that you was needed in Twin Springs tomorrow at noon.” He turned to Charlie Loring directly. “And he says for you to bring your favorite shooting irons with you because — “
There was a shrill cry from the girl. She sprang up and came running toward them.
“You fool!” snarled Charlie Loring at Curly.
The rancher turned to his daughter.
“Keep back,” he said. “Don’t be bothering us now. It’s kind of late for you to be pretending a pile of interest in what happens to Charlie, after you turned loose the rat that Charlie trapped out here. You go on out of the room and don’t be troubling us.”
She backed toward the door to which he had pointed.
“Oh, Charlie,” she pleaded, “promise me that — “
“Later,” said Charlie Loring. “I’ll promise you later. Just now I’ve got to talk to this man. Don’t worry, Elsie. Don’t keep bothering about what happens to me, because — “
Curley looked gloomily toward the girl and big Blondy, as the latter went to escort her from the room.
“She’s out of her head about him,” sighed Curly to himself. “Curse it, that’s what comes of a gent being close around where there’s some action in sight. He gets the action, and the rest of us that stays off in the background get nothing but the whiff of his dust, as he rides over the sky line.”
These were the reflections which Curly interrupted, as big Blondy Loring and the rancher turned back toward their visitor. But now he was surprised to find that Blondy Loring was not exhibiting the anger which Curly had reckoned upon. Of course it had been a tactless thing to do — this announcement of the danger which impended over the head of Blondy, in the presence of the girl. And of course Curly had made that announcement with a full understanding of what he was doing, and with the purpose of beating the bird out of the bush, so to speak, and discovering what was the real attitude of beautiful Elsie Bennett to the big cow-puncher.
He had now found out and greatly to his own dissatisfaction. And he glowered at Bennett and Loring, as they came hastily toward him, having shut Elsie away.
“What’s up?” asked Stephen Bennett.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Curly. “Last night Ronicky Doone comes riding into town with a yarn about how he came out here and licked you, Loring, and made you take water. And when — “
“What!” shouted Bennett and his new foreman in loud unison. “Why, the truth is that — “
But Curly held up his hand.
“I ain’t out here arguing, gents,” he declared. “I’m just, out here spreading the news around. I’m telling you what’s been told to us in the town. If you want to talk, go into Twin Springs and do your talking in there. What Doone told us was that he came out here and tried to get Loring to fight, and that Charlie wouldn’t fight, and that he stepped up and punched Charlie Loring in the Jaw and dropped him flat on his back, and that when Charlie waked up, he didn’t reach for his gun but just crawled over to Ronicky, begging him not to shoot. And — “
There was a hoarse cry from Charlie Loring.
“I’ll kill him for this!” he shouted. “The dog.”
“The yaller hound,” cried the rancher. “Why, son, right here in this room I — “
“Oh, I know,” said Curly, “you and Charlie know all the facts of the case, and you’re agreed on ‘em fine and slick. But I ain’t out here arguing, as I said before. I’m just circulating with the news of what they’re talking about in Twin Springs. Now I’ve told you, and I’m about through. The next thing that comes, though, is something that you might sort of want to hear. When we up and asked Doone how he’d prove what he said to be true, he said: ‘Just go out and ask Charlie Loring if he wants to come in and meet me tomorrow at noon in front of the hotel. I’ll be here waiting.”
“And that’s why I’m out here, Loring. Tomorrow at noon the boys will be waiting and watching for you. Just come in and let your gun talk for you. Good luck!”
He turned, but as he turned, he heard Bennett crying to his foreman: “It’s a trap all laid for you, Charlie, but I ain’t going to let you go. I ain’t going to let you go!”
“Hell.” answered Charlie Loring. “I got to go!”
“Sure,” chuckled Curly, as he swung into the saddle, “he’s got to go.”
And he rode away with the happy smile of one who is conscious of having performed a good deed.
All the way back to Twin Springs, Curly retained that joyous smile, for he had with him the sense of a perfectly fulfilled piece of work. When he arrived in the dusk, he sauntered onto the veranda of the hotel, only to be instantly surrounded by a score of curious men, all anxious to learn the facts of the case as the Bennetts might have retold them. But Curly made sure that his voice would carry to the drowsy form of Ronicky Doone, where the latter lay stretched at his ease, partly in sun and partly in shadow.
“When I went out and told ‘em what had happened,” he said, “I didn’t get no cheers out of ‘em. When I told ‘em that Ronicky Doone was going to wait for Charlie Loring here at the hotel until noon tomorrow, Bennett and Charlie just started laughing, and they kept on laughing until I looked around behind me to find out where the joke might be. But pretty soon, out of what they said, I made out that they thought that Doone was just bluffing, and that he’d rather stay to see snow in the desert than stay to see Charlie Loring come riding into the town.”
There was a murmur from the men, and many heads turned to watch the news taking effect upon Ronicky Doone. They only saw one slender hand, bearing the inevitable cigarette, rise slowly from his lips, and the white haze of smoke drifted upward, dissolving slowly in the dusky air.
“Pretty soon Charlie was able to talk for laughing,” said Curly raising his voice still more, because it seemed impossible that his words could have carried to the impassive form in the distance without bringing forth some sign of life; and he boomed now: “When Charlie could talk after he’d eased up on the laughing, he says to me that when noon shows up tomorrow he’ll probably be sliding into town. Not that he expects to find any Ronicky Doone around, but so’s he can have a laugh at the dumbbells in Twin Springs that would believe a yarn like the one Doone told us.”
This remark brought forth a loud howl of rage from the crowd. They became so excited that they forgot to watch the face of Ronicky. That is, all failed to watch him except Al Jenkins and Curly. And they saw Ronicky close his eyes, as he inhaled another deep breath of the smoke, and then smile, as he blew it forth into nothingness.
Al Jenkins pulled his henchman to one side. “I don’t believe that he even heard what you was saying,” he declared to Curly.
“I dunno,” said Curly. “I sure was watching him all the time and trying to get some sort of action put of him. But I guess he’s made up solid.”
“He’s a queer sort,” said Jenkins. “Either he’s a fighting devil, or he’s a coward and fine actor. Any way you take him, he’s different from anything that we’ve ever had in Twin Springs.”
“Yes, he is,” admitted Curly. “I never seen his like except once back in Omaha. I was a young feller, then. I had just come into a little stake that an uncle of mine left to me when he died. It was only a couple of thousand, but it looked good to me. Well, I had my wallet bulging with this loot, and I was walking down the street when — “
“When you met this gent you’re leading up to, eh?” snorted Al Jenkins. And he went on, interrupting gracelessly: “Now tell me the truth about what you saw out there.”
“Plain facts?” sighed Curly.
“That’s what I want. If you can separate yourself from your dreams about what things might be, and see ‘em the way they really are, I’d sure take it kind of you, Curly!”
“Well,” said Curly, “she loves him.”
“Who loves what?”
“Elsie and Blondy.”
A terrific stream of oaths burst forth from the lips of Al Jenkins. “Liar” was the mildest term he applied to Curly for having brought this news to Twin Springs.
“Liar, am I?” cried Curly at last, drawing himself up. “Lemme tell you what happened! When they opened the door the first thing they done was to flip out their guns — it was that nacheral for them to go for their gats when they seen one of your men around. And — “
“Curly, if you lie about this I’ll print the lie on hot iron and make, you eat it!”
“These are honest truths,” said Curly sadly. “It’d make a dog sick, the amount of suspicion I got to live with around these parts.”
“Go on, then!”
“Well, when I out and told Charlie that he was going to be waited for with a gun at noon to-day, she let out a screech that you gents would have heard in Twin Springs, here, if you’d yanked the stuffing out of your ears and! been listening! Never heard such a holler in my life, not since the time Hugh Tully’s wife seen the coyote playing with her two-year-old boy and — “
Here Al Jenkins exploded again.
“You told Blondy that, with the girl inside of hearing distance?”
“Sure.”
“You ought to be tarred and feathered, Curly. You got no sense, and you got no feeling.”
“I done it on purpose,” protested Curly. “I wanted to find out if there was anything between her and Blondy. And I sure succeeded.”
Another stream of curses issued from the lips of Jenkins.
“It ain’t possible,” he declared at last. “She’s worth ten like him. She’s too good for any man I’ve ever seen, if she’s half as good as her mother, but a big, thick-skulled fellow like that Loring, why — “
He broke off with a groan.
“Go on, Curly. What happened then?”
“She goes and throws her arms around Loring’s neck.
“‘Dearest,’ says she, ‘you’ll break my heart if you — ’”
“Shut up,” bellowed Jenkins. “I can’t stand even listening to it. How could you stand hearing it and seeing it?”
“Well,” proceeded the truthful Curly, “she was run out of the room by Blondy and her father, and then they come back to me and asked me if I was plumb crazy, because they wouldn’t believe that this gent calls himself Ronicky Doone is really going to wait for Blondy to come in tomorrow. Do you
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