CHAPTER X
"TURN HIM LOOSE!"
Blue Smoke was one of those unfortunate animals known as an outlaw. Hewas a blue roan with a black stripe down his back, a tough, strongpony, with a white-rimmed eye as uncompromising as the muzzle of acocked gun. He was of no special use as a cow-pony and was kept aboutthe ranch merely because he happened to belong to the Concho caviayard.It took a wise horse and two good men to get a saddle on him when someaspiring newcomer intimated that he could ride anything with hair onit. He was the inevitable test of the new man. No one as yet hadridden him to a finish; nor was it expected. The man who could stand abrief ten seconds' punishment astride of the outlaw was considered apretty fair rider. It was customary to time the performance, as onewould time a race, but in the instance of riding Blue Smoke the man wastimed rather than the horse. So far, Bailey himself held the record.He had stayed with the outlaw fifteen seconds.
Pete learned this, and much more, about Blue Smoke's disposition whilethe men ate and joked with Mrs. Bailey. And Mrs. Bailey, good woman,was no less eloquent than the men in describing the outlaw's unenviabletemperament, never dreaming that the men would allow a boy of Pete'syears to ride the horse. Pete, a bit embarrassed in this livelycompany, attended heartily to his plate. He gathered, indirectly, thathe was expected to demonstrate his ability as a rider, sooner or later.He hoped that it would be later.
After dinner the men loafed out and gravitated lazily toward thecorral, where they stood eying the horses and commenting on this andthat pony. Pete had eyes for no horse but Blue Smoke. He admitted tohimself that he did not want to ride that horse. He knew that his risewould be sudden and that his fall would be great. Still, he sportedthe habiliments of a full-fledged buckaroo, and he would have to liveup to them. A man who could not sit the hurricane-deck of a pitchinghorse was of little use to the ranch. In the busy season each mancaught up his string of ponies and rode them as he needed them. Therewas neither time nor disposition to choose.
Pete wished that Blue Smoke had a little more of Rowdy's equabledisposition. It was typical of Pete, however, that he absolutely hatedto leave an unpleasant task to an indefinite future. Moreover, herather liked the Concho boys and the foreman. He wanted to ride withthem. That was the main thing. Any hesitancy he had in regard toriding the outlaw was the outcome of discretion rather than of fear.Bailey had said there was no work for him. Pete felt that he hadrather risk his neck a dozen times than to return to the town of Conchoand tell Roth that he had been unsuccessful in getting work. Yet Petedid not forget his shrewdness. He would bargain with the foreman.
"How long kin a fella stick on that there Blue Smoke hoss?" he queriedpresently.
"Depends on the man," said Bailey, grinning.
"Bailey here stayed with him fifteen seconds onct," said a cowboy.
Pete pushed hack his hat. "Well, I ain't no bronco-twister, but Ireckon I could ride him a couple o' jumps. Who's keepin' time on thedog-gone cayuse?"
"Anybody that's got a watch," replied Bailey.
Pete hitched up his chaps. "I got a watch and I'd hate to bust her.If you'll hold her till I git through"--and he handed the watch to thenearest cowboy. "If you'll throw my saddle on 'im, I reckon I'll walkhim round a little and see what kind of action he's got."
"Shucks!" exclaimed Bailey; "that hoss would jest nacherally pitch youso high you wouldn't git back in time for the fall round-up, kid. He'sbad."
"Well, you said they wa'n't no job till fall, anyhow," said Pete."Mebby I'd git back in time for a job."
Bailey shook his head. "I was joshin'--this mornin'."
"'Bout my ridin' that hoss? Well, I ain't. I'm kind of a stranger uphere, and I reckon you fellas think, because that doggone ole soap-footfell down with me, that I can't ride 'em."
"Oh, mebby some of 'em," laughed Bailey.
Pete's black eyes flashed. To him the matter was anything but a joke."You give me a job if I stick on that hoss for fifteen seconds? Why,I'm game to crawl him and see who wins out. If I git pitched, I lose.And I'm taking all the chances."
"Throw a saddle on him and give the kid a chanct," suggested a cowboy.
Bailey turned and looked at Pete, whose eyes were alight with the hopeof winning out--not for the sake of any brief glory, Pete's compressedlips denied that, but for the sake of demonstrating his ability to holddown a job on the ranch.
"Rope him, Monte," said Bailey. "Take the sorrel. I'll throw thekid's saddle on him."
"Do I git the job if I stick?" queried Pete nervously.
"Mebby," said Bailey.
Now Pete's watch was a long-suffering dollar watch that went when itwanted to and ceased to go when it felt like resting. At present thewatch was on furlough and had been for several days. A good shakewould start it going--and once started it seemed anxious to make up forlost time by racing at a delirious pace that ignored the sun, thestars, and all that makes the deliberate progress of the hours. IfPete could arrange it so that his riding could be timed by his ownwatch, he thought he could win, with something to spare. After a wildbattle with the punchers, Blue Smoke was saddled with Pete's saddle.He still fought the men. There was no time for discussion if Peteintended to ride.
"Go to 'im!" cried Bailey.
Pete hitched up his chaps and crawled over the bars. "Jest time himfor me," said Pete, turning to the cowboy who held his watch.
The cowboy glanced at the watch, put it to his ear, then glanced at itagain. "The durn thing's stopped!" he asserted.
"Shake her," said Pete.
Pete slipped into the saddle. "Turn 'im loose!" he cried.
The men jumped back. Blue Smoke lunged and went at it. Pete grittedhis teeth and hung to the rope. The corral revolved and the buildingsteetered drunkenly. Blue Smoke was not a running bucker, but did hispitching in a small area--and viciously. Pete's head snapped back andforth. He lost all sense of time, direction, and place. He was joltedand jarred by a grunting cyclone that flung him up and sideways, methim coming down and racked every muscle in his body. Pete dully hopedthat it would soon be over. He was bleeding at the nose. His neckfelt as though it had been broken. He wanted to let go and fall.Anything was better than this terrible punishment.
He heard shouting, and then a woman's shrill voice. Blue Smoke gave aquick pitch and twist. Pete felt something crash up against him.Suddenly it was night. All motion had ceased.
When he came to, Mrs. Bailey was kneeling beside him and ringed aroundwere the curious faces of the cowboys.
"I'm the Ridin' Kid from Powder River," muttered Pete. "Did I make it?"
"That horse liked to killed you," said Mrs. Bailey. "If I'd 'a' knewthe boys was up to this . . . and him just a boy! Jim Bailey, youought to be ashamed of yourself!" Ma Bailey wiped Pete's face with herapron and put her motherly arm beneath his head. "If he was my boy,Jim Bailey, I'd--I'd--show you!"
Pete raised on his elbow. "I'm all right, mam. It wa'n't his fault.I said I could ride that hoss. Did I make it?"
"Accordin' to your watch here," said the puncher who held Pete'sirresponsible timepiece, "you rid him for four hours and sixteenminutes. The hands was a-fannin' it round like a windmill in acyclone. But she's quit, now."
"Do I git the job?" queried Pete.
"You get right to bed! It's a wonder every bone in your body ain'tbroke!" exclaimed Ma Bailey.
"Bed!" snorted Pete. He rose stiffly. His hat was gone and one spurwas missing. His legs felt heavy. His neck ached; but his black eyeswere bright and blinking.
"Goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Bailey. "Why, the boy is comin' to allright!"
"You bet!" said Pete, grinning, although he felt far from all right.He realized that he rather owed Mrs. Bailey something in the way of anexpression of gratitude for her interest. "I--you, you sure can makethe best pie ever turned loose!" he asserted.
"Pie!" gasped the foreman's wife, "and him almost killed by that bluedevil there! You come right in the house, wash y
our face, and I'll fixyou up."
"The kid's all right, mother," said Bailey placatingly.
Mrs. Bailey turned on her husband. "That's not your fault, Jim Bailey.Such goin's-on! You great, lazy hulk, you, to go set a boy to ridin'that hoss that you dassent ride yourself. If he was my boy--"
"Well, I'm willin'," said Pete, who began to realize the power behindthe throne.
"Bless his heart!" Mrs. Bailey put her arm about his shoulders. Petewas mightily embarrassed. No woman had ever caressed him, so far as hecould remember. The men would sure think him a softy, to allow allthis strange mothering; but he could not help himself. Evidently theforeman's wife was a power in the land, for the men had taken herberating silently and respectfully. But before they reached the housePete was only too glad to feel Mrs. Bailey's arm round his shoulders,for the ground seemed unnecessarily uneven, and the trees had a strangeway of rocking back and forth, although there was no wind.
Mrs. Bailey insisted that he lie down, and she spread a blanket on herown white bed. Pete did not want to lie down. But Mrs. Baileyinsisted, helping him to unbuckle his chaps and even to pull off hisboots. The bed felt soft and comfortable to his aching body. The roomwas darkened. Mrs. Bailey tiptoed through the doorway. Pete gazeddrowsily at a flaming lithograph on the wall; a basket of fruit such aswas never known on land or sea, placed on a highly polished table suchas was never made by human hands. The colors of the chromo grew dimmerand dimmer. Pete sighed and fell asleep.
Mrs. Bailey, like most folk in that locality, knew something of Pete'searlier life. Rumor had it that Pete was a bad one--a tough kid--thathe had even killed two cowboys of the T-Bar-T. Mrs. Bailey had neverseen Pete until that morning. Yet she immediately formed her ownopinion of him, intuition guiding her aright. Young Pete was simplyunfortunate--not vicious. She could see that at a glance. And he wasa manly youngster with a quick, direct eye. He had come to the Concholooking for work. The men had played their usual pranks, fortunatelywith no serious consequences. But Bailey should have known better, andshe told him so that afternoon in the kitchen, while Pete slumberedblissfully in the next room. "And he can help around the place, evenif it is slack times," she concluded.
That evening was one of the happiest evenings of Pete's life. He hadnever known the tender solicitude of a woman. Mrs. Bailey treated himas a sort of semi-invalid, waiting on him, silencing the men'sgood-natured joshing with her sharp tongue, feeding him cannedpeaches--a rare treat--and finally enthroning him in her own amplerocking-chair, somewhat to Pete's embarrassment, and much to theamusement of the men.
"He sure can ride it!" said a cowboy, indicating the rocking-chair.
"Bill Haskins, you need a shave!" said Mrs. Bailey.
The aforesaid Bill Haskins, unable to see any connection between hisremark and the condition of his beard, stared from one to another ofhis blank-faced companions, grew red, stammered, and felt of his chin.
"I reckon I do," he said weakly, and rising he plodded to thebunk-house.
"And if you want to smoke," said Mrs. Bailey, indicating another of theboys who had just rolled and lighted a cigarette, "there's all outdoorsto do it in."
This puncher also grew red, rose, and sauntered out.
Bailey and the two remaining cowboys shuffled their feet, wondering whowould be the next to suffer the slings and arrows of Ma Bailey'sindignation. _They_ considered the Blue Smoke episode closed.Evidently Ma Bailey did not. Bailey himself wisely suggested that theygo over to the bunk-house. It would be cooler there. The cowboys rosepromptly and departed. But they were cowboys and not to be silenced soeasily.
They loved Ma Bailey and they dearly loved to tease her. Strong,rugged, and used to activity, they could not be quiet long. Mrs.Bailey hitched a chair close to Pete and had learned much of his earlyhistory--for Pete felt that the least he could do was to answer herkindly questions--and he, in turn, had been feeling quite at home inher evident sympathy, when an unearthly yell shattered the quiet of thesummer evening. More yells--and a voice from the darkness stated thatsome one was hurt bad; to bring a light. Groans, heartrending andhoarse, punctuated the succeeding silence. "It's Jim," the voiceasserted. "Guess his leg's bruk."
The groaning continued. Mrs. Bailey rose and seized the lamp. Petegot up stiffly and followed her out. One of the men was down on allfours, jumping about in ludicrous imitation of a bucking horse; andanother was astride him, beating him not too gently with a quirt. AsMa Bailey came in sight the other cowboys swung their hats and shoutedencouragement to the rider. Bailey was not visible.
"Stay with 'im!" cried one. "Rake 'im! He's gittin' played out! Lookout! He's goin' to sunfish! Bust 'im wide open!"
It was a huge parody of the afternoon performance, staged for MaBailey's special benefit. Suddenly the cowboy who represented BlueSmoke made an astounding buck and his rider bit the dust.
Ma Bailey held the lamp aloft and gazed sternly at the two sweating,puffing cowboys. "Where's Bailey?" she queried sharply.
One of the men stepped forward and doffing his hat assumed an attitudeof profound gravity. "Blue there, he done pitched your husband, mam,and broke his leg. Your husband done loped off on three laigs, to gitthe doctor to fix it."
"Let me catch sight of him and I'll fix it!" she snorted. "Jim, ifyou're hidin' in that bunk-house you come out here--and behaveyourself. Lord knows you are old enough to know better."
"That's right, mam. Jim is sure old enough to know better 'n to behavehisself. You feed us so plumb good, mam, that we jest can't set stillnohow. I reckon it was the pie that done it. Reckon them dried appleskind of turned to cider."
Mrs. Bailey swung around with all the dignity of a liner leavingharbor, and headed for the house.
"Is she gone?" came in a hoarse whisper.
"You come near this house to-night and you'll find out!" Mrs. Baileyadvised from the doorway.
"It's the hay for yours, Jim," comforted a cowboy.
Pete hesitated as to which course were better. Finally he decided to"throw in" with the men.
Bailey lighted the hanging lamp in the bunk-house, and the boysshuffled in, grinning sheepishly. "You're sure a he-widder to-night,"said Bill Haskins sympathetically.
Bailey grinned. His good wife was used to such pranks. In fact thealtogether unexpected and amusing carryings on of the boys did muchtoward lightening the monotony when times were dull, as they were justthen. Had the boys ceased to cut up for any length of time, Ma Baileywould have thought them ill and would have doctored them accordingly.
Pete became interested in watching Bill Haskins endeavor to shavehimself with cold water by the light of the hanging lamp.
Presently Pete's attention was diverted to the cowboy whom Mrs. Baileyhad sent outdoors to smoke. He had fished up from somewhere a piece ofcardboard and a blue pencil. He was diligently lettering a sign whichhe eventually showed to his companions with no little pride. It read:
"NO SMOKING ALOUD."
Pete did not see the joke, but he laughed heartily with the rest. Thelaughter had just about subsided when a voice came from across the way:"Jim, you come right straight to bed!"
Bailey indicated a bunk for Pete and stepped from the bunk-house.
Presently the boys heard Mrs. Bailey's voice. "Good-night, boys."
"Good-night, Ma!" they chorused heartily.
And "Good-night, Pete," came from the house.
"Good-night, Ma!" shrilled Pete, blushing.
"I'm plumb sore!" asserted Haskins. "'Good-night, boys,' is goodenough for us. But did you hear what come after! I kin see who gitsall the extra pie around this here ranch! I've half a mind to quit."
"What--eatin' pie?"
"Nope! Joshin' Ma. She allus gits the best of us."
The Ridin' Kid from Powder River Page 10