Oh, You Tex!

by William MacLeod Raine

  CHAPTER XII

  TEX REARRANGES THE SEATING

  The Tascosa stage was full. Its passengers were "packed like Yanks atLibby Prison," according to one of them, an ex-Confederate who haddrifted West after the war. They were of the varied types common to theold Southwest--a drover, a cattle-buyer, a cowpuncher looking for a job,a smart salesman from St. Louis, and one young woman. Beside the driveron the box sat a long-bodied man in buckskin with a clean brown jaw andan alert, sardonic eye.

  The salesman, a smooth, good-looking fellow whose eye instinctivelyrested on attractive women, made inquiries of Joe Johnson's old trooper.

  "Who's the damsel?"

  "Which?"

  "The girl. She's a pippin." His possessive eye gloated on the youngwoman in front. "She didn't learn how to dress in this neck of thewoods, either. Betcha she's from New Orleans or St. Louis."

  The old warrior helped himself to a chew of tobacco. "You lose. She'sClint Wadley's daughter, an' he's an old-timer. Knocked the bark off'nthis country, Clint did. I used to know him when he was takin' thehides off the buffaloes. Got his start that way, I reckon. Clint'soutfit got six thousand tongues in six months oncet. Pickled the tonguesan' sold 'em for three cents apiece, by gum. Delivered the hides atClarendon for one-fifty straight on contract."

  "I've heard of Wadley," the salesman said. "What's the kid going toTascosa for?"

  "Goin' to stay awhile with her aunt, I 'low. Her brother was killedrecent."

  "I've heard about that, too. They caught the fellow, didn't they--theone that did it?"

  "They got a Mexican jailed for it. I dunno whether he done it or not.That young Ranger on the box run him down."

  "That kid in buckskin?" sneered the city man.

  The ex-Confederate bristled at the tone rather than the words. Hehappened to be a friend of the youth mentioned.

  "I'll follow Jack's dust any day of the week. He's one hell-poppin'rooster. No better man rides leather. When I druv a wagon oncetgatherin' bones--"

  "Gathering bones?"

  "Sure--buffalo-bones, for fertilizer. Well, that same Jack Robertsyanked me out o' the Canadian when I was drowndin'. Took a big chance,too."

  "What about this Mexican? Are they going to hang him?"

  "I reckon. He's in a soddy up at Tascosa. I done heard they're aimin' totear it down and hang him to a wagon-tongue."[3]

  The black-haired traveling man caressed his little mustache and watchedthe girl boldly. Her face was a little wan, and in the deep eyes wasshadowed a heartache. But it had been impossible even for grief tosubmerge the sweet youth in her. There were lights in her soft, wavyhair, and the line of her exquisite throat would have delighted asculptor. The slim figure was exquisitely poised, though just now itsuggested weariness.

  When the stage stopped at noon for dinner the salesman made it a pointto sit beside her at the long table. His persistent attentions to thegirl made the delicate color of her cheek deepen. She was too shy, toounused to the world, to know how to suppress his audacities effectively.But it was plain to one young man sitting at the opposite end of thetable that the familiarities of the man were unwelcome.

  While they were waiting outside for the change-horses to be hitched, theRanger made a request of the old soldier.

  "Wish you'd swap places with me, Sam."

  "Sure. I'd a heap ruther sit outside. Say, that drummer hadn't ought toworry Miss Ramona. She's not feelin' very peart, anyhow. I reckon sheset the world an' all by that scalawag brother of hers."

  "He's not goin' to trouble her any more, Sam."

  The ex-Confederate looked at the narrow-flanked young man with an alertquestion in his eye. If "Tex" Roberts was going to take a hand, thesalesman was certainly riding for a fall.

  The salesman had made up his mind to sit beside Miss Wadley for the restof the journey. He emerged from the dining-room at her heels and wasbeside her to offer a hand into the stage.

  Ramona gave him a look of reproach and entreaty. She was near tears. Theman from St. Louis smiled confidently.

  "I know a good thing when I see it," he whispered. "I'll ride beside youand keep off the rough-necks, Miss Wadley."

  A heavy heel smashed down on the toes of his neat shoe and crunchedround. A hard elbow bumped up forcefully against his chin as if byaccident. A muscular hand caught the loose fat of his plump stomach andtightened like a vise. The dapper salesman opened his mouth in a shriekof pain.

  "Indigestion?" asked the Ranger sympathetically, and his sinewy fingerstwisted in the cushion of flesh they gripped. "I'll get you somethin'good for it in a minute."

  Roberts flung the man back and rearranged the seating inside so that thedrover sat beside Ramona as before dinner. Then he tucked an arm underthat of the St. Louis man and led him back into the stage station. Thesalesman jerked along beside him unhappily. His wrist, wrenched byRoberts in a steady pressure of well-trained muscles, hurt exquisitely.When at last he was flung helplessly into a chair, tears of pain andrage filled his eyes. Never in the course of a cushioned and pamperedlife had he been so manhandled.

  "My God, you brute, you've killed me!" he sobbed.

  "Sho! I haven't begun yet. If you take the stage to-day to Tascosa I'mgoin' to sit beside you real friendly, an' we'll play like we been doin'all the way in to town. It's just my way of bein' neighborly."

  "I'll have the law of you for this," the city man howled, uncertainwhich of his injuries to nurse first.

  "I would," agreed the Texan. "Well, so long, if you ain't comin'."

  Roberts moved back with long, easy stride to the stage. He nodded to thedriver.

  "All ready, Hank. The drummer ain't feelin' well. He'll stay hereovernight. I reckon I'll keep my own seat outside, Sam." And Robertsswung himself up.

  The old soldier climbed in, chuckling to himself. It had been theneatest piece of work he had ever seen. The big body of the cowboy hadbeen between Ramona and her tormentor, so that she did not know what hadtaken place. She did know, however, that the woman-killer had beenobliterated swiftly from her path.

  "Did you ever see anything like the way he got shet o' that drummer?"Sam asked his neighbor in a whisper. "I'll bet that doggoned masher willbe hard to find when Jack's on the map. He's some go-getter boy, JackRoberts is."

  Meanwhile Jack was flagellating himself. It was his bad luck always tobe associated in the mind of Miss Wadley with violence. He had beaten upthe brother whom she was now mourning. He had almost been the cause ofher own death. Now a third time she saw him in the role of atrouble-maker. To her, of course, he could be nothing but a bully and abad lot. The least he could do was to make himself as inconspicuous aspossible for the rest of the journey.

  Man may shuffle the pack, but when all is done woman is likely to cutthe cards. The driver stopped at Tin Cup Creek to water the horses. ToJack, sitting on the box, came the cattle-drover with orders.

  "The young lady has somethin' to say to you, Tex. You're to swap seatswith me."

  The lean, bronzed young man swung down. He had, when he wished, awooden face that told no tales. It said nothing now of a tide of bloodflushing his veins.

  By a little gesture the girl indicated the seat beside her. Not till thecreaking of the moving stage drowned her words did she speak. Her eyeswere dilated with excitement.

  "I overheard them talking in the back seat," she said. "They thinkthere's going to be a lynching at Tascosa--that the mob is going to hangthe Mexican who killed my brother. Are you going to let them do it?"

  "Not in this year of our Lord, Miss Wadley," he answered evenly.

  "Can you stop them?"

  "That's what I draw a dollar a day for."

  "You mustn't let them do it!" she cried, a little wildly. "Let the lawpunish him!"

  "Suits me. I'll try to persuade the boys to look at it that way."

  "But what can you do? You're only a boy."

  With a grim little smile he paraphrased Roy Bean's famous phrase: "I'mlaw east of the Pecos right now, Miss Wadley. Don't you wo
rry. TheDinsmores won't get him if I can help it."

  "I might speak to my father," she went on, thinking aloud. "But he's sobitter I'm afraid he won't do anything."

  "He will after I've talked with him."

  Her anxious young eyes rested in his clear, steady gaze. There wassomething about this youth that compelled confidence. Hisbroad-shouldered vigor, the virile strength so confidently reposeful,were expressions of personality rather than accidentals of physique.

  The road dipped suddenly into a deep wash that was almost a littlegulch. There was a grinding of brakes, then a sudden lurch that threwRamona against the shoulder of the Ranger.

  "The brake's done bust," she heard the ex-Confederate say.

  Another violent swing flung Ramona outward. The horses were off theroad, and the coach swayed ominously on two wheels. The girl caught atthe Ranger's hand and clung to it. Gently he covered her hand with hisother one, released his fingers, and put a strong arm round hershoulders.

  Hank's whip snaked out across the backs of the wheelers. He flung at hishorses a torrent of abuse. The stage reached the bottom of the wash in asuccession of lurches. Then, as suddenly as the danger had come uponthem, it had passed; the stage was safely climbing the opposite side ofthe ravine.

  The Ranger's arm slipped from the shoulders of the girl. Her hand creptfrom under his. He did not look at her, but he knew that a shell-pinkwave had washed into the wan face.

  The slim bosom of the girl rose and fell fast. Already she wasbeginning to puzzle over the difficulties of a clear-cut right andwrong, to discover that no unshaded line of cleavage differentiates themsometimes. Surely this young fellow could not be all bad. Of course shedid not like him. She was quite sure of that. He was known as a toughcitizen. He had attacked and beaten brutally her brother Rutherford--thewild brother whose dissipations she had wept and prayed over, and whosedeath she was now mourning. Yet Fate kept throwing him in her way to doher services. He had saved her life. He had adroitly--somehow, she didnot quite know in what way--rid her of an offensive fellow traveler. Shehad just asked a favor of him, and there was yet another she must ask.

  Ramona put off her request to the last moment. At Tascosa she left herpurse in the stage seat and discovered it after the coach had started tothe barn.

  "My purse. I left it in the seat," she cried.

  The announcement was made to the world at large, but it was intended fora particular pair of ears set close to a small head of wavy,sun-reddened hair. The owner of them ran to the stage and recovered thepurse. By the time he reached Ramona, the rest of the party were insidethe post-office.

  She thanked him, then looked at him quickly with an effect of shydaring.

  "You travel a good deal, don't you--about the country?"

  "Considerable."

  "I--I wonder if--" She took courage from his friendly smile. "I'mworried about Mr. Ridley--for fear something has happened to him."

  "You mean an accident?" he asked gently.

  "I don't know." Her cheeks flew color-signals of embarrassment. "Myfather was harsh to him. He's very sensitive. I feel--sort ofresponsible. He might do something foolish."

  "I don't reckon he will. But I'll sure keep an eye out for him."

  She gave him her little hand gratefully, then remembered what he haddone to her brother and withdrew it hastily from his grip. In anothermoment she had passed into the post-office and left him alone.

  [Footnote 3: There was no timber in the Panhandle. The first man everhanged in the short-grass country was suspended from a propped-upwagon-tongue.]