The Texan by James B. Hendryx (any book recommendations .txt) 📕

the face of the half-breed was impassive—even sombre as he worked at the blanket. "It's all owin' to politics," continued the cowpuncher, rolling and lighting a cigarette. "Politics, an' the fact that the cow country is in its dotage. Choteau County is growin' effeminate, not to say right down effete when a lynchin', that by rights it would be stretching its importance even to refer to it in conversation, is raised to the dignity of a political issue. As everyone knows, a hangin' is always a popular play, riddin' the community of an ondesirable, an' at the same time bein' a warnin' to others to polish up their rectitude. But it seems, from what I was able to glean, that this particular hangin' didn't win universal acclaim, owin' to the massacre of Purdy not bein' deplored none."

Once more the half-breed emitted a strangling cough, and Tex eyed him narrowly. "Somethin' seems to ail your throat."

"Oui, A'm swal' de piece tabac'."

"Well just hang onto it 'til it gets a little darker an' we'll have supper," said the Texan, dryly, and resumed.

"So there was some talk disparagin' to the lynchin', an' the party that's in, holdin' its tenure by the skin of its teeth, an' election comin' on, sided in with public opinion an' frowned on the lynchin', not as a hangin', you onderstand, but because the hangin' didn't redound none to their particular credit—it not being legal an' regular. All this is brewed while the dance is goin' on, an' by breakfast time next mornin', there bein' a full quorum of Republican war chiefs on hand, they pulls a pow-wow an' instructs their deputies to round up the lynchers. This is done, barrin' a few that's flitted, the boys bein' caught unawares. Well, things begun lookin' serious to 'em, an' as a last resort they decided to fall back on the truth. So they admits that there ain't no lynchin'. They tells how, after they'd got out on the bench a piece they got to thinkin' that the demise of Purdy ain't a serious matter, nohow, so they turned him loose. 'Where is he, then?' says a county commissioner. 'Search us,' replies the culprits. 'We just turned him loose an' told him to vamoose. We didn't stick around an' herd him!'" Again Bat coughed, and the Texan glared at him.

"Maybe a drink of water would help them lacerated pipes of yourn," he suggested, "an' besides it's dark enough so you can start supper a-goin'."

"But," said Endicott, "won't that get the boys all into serious trouble for aiding and abetting a prisoner to escape? Accessories after the fact, is what the law calls them."

"Oh Lord," groaned the Texan inwardly. "If I can steer through all this without ridin' into my own loop, I'll be some liar. This on top of what I told 'em in Wolf River, an' since, an' about Purdy's funeral—I dastn't bog down, now!"

"No," he answered, as he lighted another cigarette. "There comes in your politics again. You see, there was twenty-some-odd of us—an' none friendless. Take twenty-odd votes an' multiply 'em by the number of friends each has got—an' I reckon ten head of friends apiece wouldn't overshoot the figure—an' you've got between two hundred an' three hundred votes—which is a winnin' majority for any candidate among 'em. Knowin' this, they wink at the jail delivery an' cinch those votes. But, as I said before, hangin' is always a popular measure, an' as they want credit for yourn, they start all the deputies they got out on a still-hunt for you, judgin' it not to be hard to find a pilgrim wanderin' about at large. An' this party I met up with was one of 'em."

"Did he suspect that we were with you?" asked Alice, her voice trembling with anxiety.

"Such was the case—his intimation bein' audible, and venomous. I denied it in kind, an' one word leadin' to another, he called me a liar. To which statement, although to a certain extent veracious, I took exception, an' in the airy persiflage that ensued, he took umbrage to an extent that it made him hostile. Previous to this little altercation, he an' I had been good friends, and deemin', rightly, that it wasn't a shootin' matter, he ondertook to back up his play with his fists, and he hauled off an' smote me between the eyes before I'd devined his intentions. Judgin' the move unfriendly, not to say right downright aggressive, I come back at him with results you-all noted. An' that's all there was to the incident of me showin' up with black eyes, an' a lip that would do for a pin cushion."

All during supper and afterward while the half-breed was washing the dishes, the Texan eyed him sharply, and several times caught the flash of a furtive smile upon the habitually sombre face.

"He knows somethin' mirthful," thought the cowboy, "I noticed it particular, when I was flounderin' up to my neck in the mire of deception. The old reprobate ain't easy amused, either."

Alice retired early, and before long Endicott, too, sought his blankets. The moon rose, and the Texan strolled over to the grazing horses. Returning, he encountered Bat seated upon a rock at some distance from camp, watching him. The half-breed was grinning openly now, broadly, and with evident enjoyment. Tex regarded him with a frown: "For a Siwash you're plumb mirthful an' joyous minded. In fact I ain't noticed any one so wrapped up in glee for quite a spell. Suppose you just loosen up an' let me in on the frivolity, an' at the same time kind of let it appear where you put in the day. I mistrusted my packin' a pair of purple ones wouldn't give you the whoopin' cough, so I just sauntered over an' took a look at the cayuses. Yourn's be'n rode 'til he's sweat under the blanket—an' he ain't soft neither."

"Oui, A'm fol' 'long we'n you make de ride. A'm t'ink mebbe-so two better'n wan."

"Well, I was weaned right young, an' I don't need no governess. After this you——"

The half-breed shrugged: "A'm tink dat tam way back in Las Vegas dat dam' good t'ing ol' Bat fol' 'long, or else, ba Goss, you gon' to hell for sure."

"But that's no sign I've always got to be close-herded. Did you sneak up near enough to hear what the short-horn said?"

"Oui, A'm hear dat. She mak' me laugh lak' hell."

"Laugh! I didn't see nothin' so damn hilarious in it. What do you think about Purdy?"

"A'm tink dat dam' bad luck she no git keel." The half-breed paused and grinned: "De pilgrim she mak' de run for nuttin', an' you got to ke'p on lyin' an' lyin', an bye-m-bye you got so dam' mooch lies you git los'. So far, dat work out pret' good. De pilgrim gon' ke'p on de run, 'cause he no lak' for git stretch for politick, an' you git mor' chance for make de play for de girl."

"What do you mean?" The Texan's eyes flashed. "I just knocked the livin' hell out of one fellow for makin' a crack about that girl."

"Oui, A'm know 'bout dat, too. Dat was pret' good, but nex' tam dat better you start in fightin' fore you git knock clean across de coulee firs'. A'm lak dat girl. She dam' fine 'oman, you bet. A'm no lak' she git harm."

"See here, Bat," interrupted the Texan, "no matter what my intentions were when I started out, they're all right now."

"Oui, A'm know dat, 'bout two day."

"It's this way, I be'n thinkin' quite a bit the last couple of days there ain't a thing in hellin' around the country punchin' other folks' cattle for wages. It's time I was settlin' down. If that girl will take a long shot an' marry me, I'm goin' to rustle around an' start an outfit of my own. I'll be needin' a man about your heft an' complexion to help me run it, too—savvy?"

The half-breed nodded slowly. "Oui, all de tam A'm say: 'Some tam Tex she queet de dam' foolin', an' den she git to be de beeg man.' I ain' tink you git dis 'oman, but dat don' mak' no differ', som' tam you be de beeg man yet. Som' nodder 'oman com' 'long——"

"To hell with some other woman!" flared the Texan. "I tell you I'll have that girl or I'll never look at another woman. There ain't another woman in the world can touch her. You think you're wise as hell, but I'll show you!"

The half-breed regarded him gloomily: "A'm tink dat 'oman de pilgrim 'oman."

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, just you listen to me. She ain't—not yet. It's me an' the pilgrim for her. If she ties to him instead of me, it's all right. She'll get a damn good man. Take me, an' all of a sudden throw me into the middle of his country, an' I doubt like hell if I'd show up as good as he did in mine. Whatever play goes on between me an' the pilgrim, will be on the square—with one deck, an' the cards on the table. There's only one thing I'm holdin' out on him, an' that is about Purdy. An' that ain't an onfair advantage, because it's his own fault he's worryin' about it. An' if it gives me a better chance with her, I'm goin' to grab it. An' I'll win, too. But, if I don't win, I don't reckon it'll kill me. Sometimes when I get to thinkin' about it I almost wish it would—I'm that damned close to bein' yellow."

Bat laughed. The idea of the Texan being yellow struck him as humorous. "I'm wonder how mooch more beeg lie you got for tell, eh?"

Tex was grinning now, "Search me. I had to concoct some excuse for getting 'em started—two or three excuses. An' it looks like I got to keep on concoctin' 'em to keep 'em goin'. But it don't hurt no one—lyin' like that, don't. It don't hurt the girl, because she's bound to get one of us. It don't hurt the pilgrim, because we'll see him through to the railroad. It don't hurt you, because you don't believe none of it. An' it don't hurt me, because I'm used to it—an' there you are. But that don't give you no license to set around an' snort an' gargle while I'm tellin' 'em. I got trouble enough keepin' 'em plausible an' entangled, without you keepin' me settin' on a cactus for fear you'll give it away. What you got to do is to back up my play—remember them four bits I give you way back in Los Vegas? Well, here's where I'm givin' you a chance to pay dividends on them four bits."

Bat grinned: "You go 'head an' mak' you play. You fin' out I ain't forgit dat four bit. She ain' mooch money—four bit ain'. But w'en she all you got, she wan hell of a lot . . . bien!"

CHAPTER XVII IN THE BAD LANDS

It was well toward noon on the following day when the four finally succeeded in locating the grub cache of the departed horse-thief. Nearly two years had passed since the man had described the place to Tex and a two-year-old description of a certain small, carefully concealed cavern in a rock-wall pitted with innumerable similar caverns is a mighty slender peg to hang hopes upon.

"It's like searching for buried treasure!" exclaimed Alice as she pried and prodded among the rocks with a stout stick.

"There won't be much treasure, even if we find the cache," smiled Tex. "Horse thievin' had got onpopular to the extent there wasn't hardly a livin' in it long before this specimen took it up as a profession. We'll be lucky if we find any grub in it."

A few moments later Bat unearthed the cache and, as the others crowded about, began to draw out its contents.

"Field mice," growled Tex, as the half-breed held up an empty canvas bag with its corner gnawed to shreds. Another gnawed bag followed,