CHAPTER VII
THE GREEDY SANDS
When the Ramblin' Kid, working the rope-conquered and leg-weary GoldDust maverick from the North Springs back to the Quarter Circle KT,crossed the Cimarron at dawn Captain Jack and the filly swam a raging,drift-burdened river. Less than twelve hours later Carolyn June andSkinny, at the lower ford, rode into a stream that again was normal. OldBlue and Pie Face splashed through water barely reaching the stirrupleathers. Only the fresh rubbish flung out on the meadows by the flood'squick anger or lodged in the willows, still bent by the pressure of thetorrent that had rushed over them and slimy with yellow sediment left ontheir branches and leaves, told the story of the swift rise and fall ofthe Cimarron the night before.
On the bluff north of the river Carolyn June and Skinny checked theirhorses while the girl gazed down on the panorama of green fields, narrowlanes, corrals and low buildings of the Quarter Circle KT. The sightthrilled her. On all the Kiowa range there was no more entrancing view.
"It's kind of pretty, ain't it?" Skinny ventured.
"Beautiful!" she breathed.
"I'd--I'd like to stand here and look at it always--if you--if you'denjoy it!" he said and was instantly appalled by his own audacity.
Carolyn June flashed a quick look at him.
"We had better go on," she said, then added lightly: "Does it alwaysaffect you so when you get this view of the valley?"
"No. But, well, somehow it's different this morning--maybe it's becauseyou are here!" he blurted out hurriedly.
"Please," she said, starting Old Blue toward the west along the crest ofthe ridge, "don't be sentimental. I'm afraid--" she added, intending tosay it would spoil their ride.
"You needn't be, with me along!" Skinny interrupted hastily,misinterpreting her meaning.
She laughed and without explaining urged her horse forward.
Skinny followed pensively on Old Pie Face.
The Ramblin' Kid, while going from barn to corral, glanced across thevalley and saw Carolyn June and Skinny as they rode along the ridge. Itwas two miles from the ranch to the bluff on which they were riding, butso clear was the rain-washed air that the horses and riders were easilyrecognized. He watched them until they reached the corner of the uplandpasture. There the roads from the lower and upper fords came together.The couple turned north along the fence and disappeared beyond theridge.
For a mile Carolyn June and Skinny rode without speaking. He feltalready a reaction from his over-boldness of a while ago and silentlyswore at himself for his rashness. She was not eager to resume aconversation that had threatened a painfully emotional turn. She wasquite content to enjoy the fresh air of the morning, the changing scenesthrough which they passed and the easy motion of the horse on which shewas mounted.
The bronchos pricked forward their ears at the sound of galloping hoofs.
"Somebody's coming," Skinny spoke as Pedro, riding rapidly toward them,rounded the point of a low hill a little distance ahead.
"What's wrong?" Skinny questioned, when the three met and stopped theirhorses.
"The pasture fence is bu'sted," Pedro answered; "at the northeast cornerit is broke. The cattle are out. Ten--fifteen maybe--are dead--thelightning strike them perhaps. The others all of them are gone. They gopronto, stampede I think, toward the Purgatory. Chuck and me can not getthem alone--I go to tell Old Heck so the boys will come and help!"
It was plain to Skinny what had occurred. The cattle had drifted beforethe storm until stopped by the wire. While crowded against it a bolt oflightning had struck the fence, followed the metal strands, and killedthe animals touching or nearest to it. In the fright the others plungedmadly forward and had broken their way to freedom. Five hundred DiamondBar steers, recently bought by Old Heck and brought from the Purgatoryforty-five miles north of the Quarter Circle KT were out and rushingback to their former range.
"You go help Chuck," Skinny said to Pedro. "Carolyn June and me willturn around and take the news to Old Heck and send some of the boys tohelp you. If them cattle ain't bunched before they hit the Purgatory andget scattered over their old range it will take a month to gather themand get them back again!"
"Why don't you yourself go with Pedro and Chuck?" Carolyn June askedSkinny. "I can ride to the ranch alone and tell the others about it."
"I'm supposed to stay with--" he begun.
"With me, I presume," she interrupted. "Well, this is one time youdon't. Go on with the boys. You are needed after those steers a lot morethan you are to 'herd' me back to the ranch!"
Without waiting to argue she wheeled Old Blue toward the Quarter CircleKT. Skinny watched her a moment, then started with Pedro in the otherdirection. Suddenly checking his horse he swung around in the saddle.
"Go back the way we came!" he called after the girl. "Don't try theupper ford!"
Carolyn June looked around and threw up her hand, motioning toward thenorth. Thinking that she understood, Skinny touched Old Pie Face withthe spurs and soon overtook the Mexican.
He was mistaken. Carolyn June had not understood the warning. Thedistance was too great for his words to reach her distinctly. Shethought he was merely protesting against her going alone. At the fork ofthe road she saw that the trail that led to the upper ford was much thenearer way to the ranch. Reining Old Blue into it she rode swiftly alongthe ridge and down the slope toward the dangerous crossing.
* * * * *
The Ramblin' Kid spent the morning at the circular corral. He wasstudying the moods and working to win the confidence of the Gold Dustmaverick. He was watching her and thinking always a little ahead of thethought that was in the mind of the mare. His love for a horse andunderstanding of the wonderfully intelligent animals was as natural aswere the brown eyes, the soft low voice, the gentle but strong touch, bywhich it was expressed. He wooed the outlaw filly thoughtfully,carefully, as a lover courts a sweetheart. The beautiful creaturereminded him of Carolyn June. "They was made for each other!" herepeated softly as he worked with the mare. From the corral he could seethe road across the river where Skinny and the girl had gone. Often heturned his eyes in that direction.
He was fingering the garter in his pocket and looking toward the riverwhen Carolyn June appeared on the ridge as she returned alone to theranch. He stood and watched her. The ugly words she had spoken at thegate came into his mind and a bitter smile curled his lips. Still hewatched the girl, expecting Skinny would ride into view. She turned downthe ridge toward the upper ford.
"That's funny," he thought, "wonder where Skinny's at?" Then it flashedthrough his mind that something must be wrong for the girl was ridingalone. "Hell!" he exclaimed aloud, "she's by herself an' headin'straight for th' upper ford!" Only an instant he paused. "Jack!" hecried sharply, running to the corral gate and swinging it partly open."Come--_quick_!"
The roan stallion started at a trot toward the gate, then, trained toobey instantly the word of the master he loved better than life, leapednimbly through the opening. Slamming and fastening the gate the Ramblin'Kid ran to the shed, the broncho at his side. He threw the blanket andsaddle on the little roan, cinched quickly but carefully the doublegear, slipped the bit into the waiting mouth of the horse and withoutstopping to put on his chaps sprang on Captain Jack's back and whirledhim in a dead run around the corner of the shed and down the lane towardthe north. At the pasture corral below the barn he guided the bronchoclose to the fence and scarcely checking him leaned over and lifted arope, coiled and hung on a post near the gate, from its place--the oneChuck that morning had left because of the flaw.
"God!" he groaned, "--an' a bad rope!"
He glanced toward the ridge across the river. Carolyn June haddisappeared down the trail that led to the upper ford.
"Go, Little Man, go--for th' love of God, go!" the Ramblin' Kidwhispered as he leaned forward over the neck of the horse. Captain Jackanswered the agonized appeal as he would never have responded to thecruel cut of spurs and leaped ahead in a desperate race to
beat Old Blueand his precious burden to the greedy sands of the Cimarron.
As he rode, the Ramblin' Kid slipped his hand around the coils of therope till his fingers found the broken strands that told of the weaknessthat caused Chuck to leave it behind that morning. Bending over it,while his horse ran, he worked frantically to weave a rawhide saddlestring into the fiber and so strengthen the dangerous spot.
* * * * *
Thinking only to reach the ranch as quickly as possible Carolyn Juneguided Old Blue down the trail and through the thin patches of willowsand cottonwood trees that grew along the river. The stream lookedinnocent enough and the crossing perfectly safe. Swift but apparentlyshallow water flowed close to the northern bank. Beyond that was aclean, pebble strewn bar and then a smaller, narrower prong of theriver. On the south side stretched a white, unbroken expanse of sand ahundred feet or more wide and ending against the low slope of the meadowland.
At the brink of the stream Old Blue stopped short and refused to go on.
"What's the matter," Carolyn June laughed lightly, "--afraid of gettingyour 'little tootsies' wet?"
The horse reared backward when she tried to urge him ahead and wheeledhalf around in an effort to get away from the water.
"Look here, Old Fellow," she spoke sharply, tightening the reins as shetouched his flank with her spur, "we haven't time for foolishness!Generally, in fact always," accenting the last word, "horses--andmen--go in the direction I want them to go! Why, you're asstubborn--as--as the Ramblin' Kid!" she finished with another laugh asOld Blue, with a snort of fear, yet not daring to resist further thefirm hand and firmer will of his rider, stepped into the water.
"Gee, when you do start you go in a hurry, don't you?" Carolyn June saidas the broncho went rapidly forward as if eager to negotiate thecrossing, seeming to know that safety lay in the quickness and lightnessof his tread. As he lunged ahead the girl had the sensation that thesaddle was sinking from under her. Reaching the firmer footing of thegravel bar in the center of the stream Old Blue tried again to turnabout.
"Go on!" Carolyn June cried impatiently yet with a feeling somehow ofimpending danger she could not wholly define, "--you've got to do it, soyou had as well quit your nonsense and go ahead!" at the same timeraking the horse's sides sharply again with the spurs.
Crossing the shallow branch of the river the broncho reached the smooth,firm appearing beach of sand.
With his head down, his muzzle almost touching the ground, as ifscenting, feeling, his way, he went forward stepping rapidly, easily, aspossible. At each step his foot slipped lower into the yielding,quivering mass. Carolyn June felt him tremble and the sensation that thehorse was being pulled from under her grew more and more pronounced. Shenoticed how he sank into the sand and observed also the sweat beginningto darken the hair on the neck of her mount.
"Pretty soft, isn't it?" she said, speaking to the broncho kindly asthough to encourage him and perhaps at the same time to allay a bit thequeer sense of uneasiness she felt, for even yet she did not realize thedanger into which she had unknowingly ridden.
Half-way to the firm black soil of the southern bank of the stream OldBlue's front feet seemed suddenly to give way beneath him. He began toplunge desperately. Then it was the truth came to Carolyn June. Hercheeks grew white.
"The quicksand!" she exclaimed aloud, at the same time trying to helpthe horse with a lift of the reins. It was too late to turn back. Heronly salvation lay in reaching the solid ground such a few yardsahead--and yet so fearfully far away. Old Blue struggled madly to goforward, gaining a little but at each effort sinking deeper into thesand. Carolyn June tried to encourage him with words:
"Come on, come on! Good Little Horse--you can make it! Keeptrying--that's it--now!--you're doing it! Brave Old Blue--don't giveup--don't give up, Boy!" she pleaded, pity for the horse causing heralmost to forget her own terrible peril.
It was useless.
Twenty-five feet from safety Old Blue's front quarters went down untilhis breast was against the sand. The hind legs were buried to thestifles. He wallowed and floundered helplessly. His hoofs touchednothing solid on which to stand. He stretched his head forward,straining-to lift himself away from that horrible, clinging suction. Hisefforts only forced him down--down--always down!
Carolyn June's own feet were in the sand. She threw herself from thesaddle--as far to one side and ahead of the horse as she could. With herweight removed perhaps Old Blue could get out. Anyway it was death tostay on the horse. Perhaps alone she could escape--she was lighter--thesand might hold her up--by moving rapidly surely she could go that shorttwenty-five feet to the firm ground ahead of her. At the first step shesank half-way to her thigh. She fell forward thinking to crawl on herhands and knees. Her arms went into the mass to the shoulder.Silently--without a word--but with horrible fear gripping her heart shefought the sand. She sank deeper--slowly--steadily--surely. The hellishstuff closed about her body to the waist. If she only hadsomething--anything--solid to hold to! She took off her hat, grasped theedges of the brim, reached her arms out and tried to use the frail diskof felt for a buoy. It held a moment then gradually settled below thesurface of the shifting, elusive substance. Again and again she liftedthe hat free from the sand and sought to place it so it would bear apart at least of her weight. Her efforts were vain. The insidious masscrept higher and higher on her body. She remembered reading that onecaught in the quicksand by his struggles only hastened his owndestruction. She tried to be perfectly still. In spite of all she wassinking--sinking--the sand was engulfing her.
During all her struggles Carolyn June remained silent. She had notthought to cry out. Somehow she could not realize that she was to die.The sun was bright, the sky cloudless, the trees along the river-bankbarely swayed in a little breeze! How beautiful the world! How queerthat such a little distance away was the green grass of the meadow andthe firm black earth in which it was rooted and she--she was held fastand helpless in the embrace of the deadly sand! Strange thoughts rushedthrough her mind. She wondered what they would think at the ranch whennight came and she did not return. Would they know? Would they guess thething that had happened? Would the sand draw her down--down--until itcovered her so none would ever know where or how she died? She looked atOld Blue. "Poor old fellow!" she whispered, "I am sorry--I didn'tknow--it looked so white and firm and safe!" The sand was half-way upthe sides of the horse and he swayed his body in pathetic, futileefforts to free himself.
A strange calm came over Carolyn June. So this was the end? She was todie alone, horribly, in the treacherous sands of the Cimarron? Surely itcould not be--God would not let her die! She was so young! She had justbegun to live--She thought of Hartville, her father, the old friends.How far away they seemed! How queer it was--she could not image in hermind any of the familiar scenes, the face of her father or any of thefriends she had known so well! She tried to think of her Uncle Josiah,Ophelia, Skinny Rawlins--poor fellow, how susceptible was his big,innocent, boyish heart! She called each one up in a mental effort toremember how they had looked, the sound of their voices--they were onlynames--dim shadowy names! There was nothing in the whole world but OldBlue--herself--and the sand--the sand--an eternity of sand pulling,dragging, sucking her down! She closed her eyes tightly, thinking toshut out the impression of utter loneliness. The face of the Ramblin'Kid flashed into her mind! She could see him! She saw him lying underthe shed, as he had looked that morning, his head resting on the saddle,his eyes gazing steadily into her own; she saw him again as he hadlooked when she stung him with her harsh words at the gate. She seemedto see the agonized humility in his expression and hear the lowtenseness of his voice as he repeated aloud the words she had used--"Anign'rant, savage, stupid brute!" She laughed almost hysterically. "Whycan I see him--just him--and not the others? Has he come to--to--hauntme?" she finished with a gasp.
The sand had reached her breast. How long before it clutched at herthroat? Her mouth? Her eyes? Ah, would she hold up her arm
as she wentdown--down--and reach out her hand as if to wave the world a last, longfarewell? "I will--I will!" she cried, the pressure around her bodyalmost stopping her breath, "I--I--will--and--wiggle my fingers to theend!" she added with a choking half-hysterical laugh, so tightly did shecling to life. Her mood changed. "I--guess--I ought to pray!" she said,"but--I--God--God knows anyhow!" her voice trailing away to a whisper asif she had grown suddenly, utterly, tired. She stretched out her handsonce more with the hat, trying to use it to buoy her up. Under theweight of her arms it sank in the sand. She tossed it to one side. "Itwill--stay--on top by itself," she choked. "I--I--will leave it--maybethey will find it--and know--" She felt her senses were leaving her.Even yet she had not called for help. It had not occurred to her thatrescue was possible. As if it were an echo to her thoughts there camethe throbbing tattoo of hoofs pounding the earth. She listened intently.Some one was riding down the lane toward the river from the ranch! Thehorse was evidently running--running madly, desperately. Would he crossat the upper or lower ford? Her heart pulsed with heavy dull throbs. Thesand was crushing her chest. A wave of weakness swept over her. Shealmost fainted. At that instant Captain Jack, carrying the Ramblin' Kid,leaped through an opening in the willows and stopped--his front feetplowing the firm ground at the edge of the quivering beach of sand.
"Pure luck!" the Ramblin' Kid breathed fervently, his eye quicklymeasuring the distance to the nearly exhausted girl; "she's close enoughI can reach her with th' rope! God, if it'll only hold!" Already thecoils were in his hand. With a single backward fling of the noose andforward toss he dropped the loop over the head of Carolyn June.
"Pull it up--close--under your arms!" he commanded shortly, "an' hang onwith your hands to take th' strain off your body!"
The girt obeyed without a word.
He double half-hitched the rope to the horn of the saddle, swungCaptain Jack around. "Look out!" he called to the girl as he startedaway from the brink of the sand. "Steady, Boy, be careful--" to thebroncho. The slack gradually tightened. The strain drew on CarolynJune's arms till it seemed they would be pulled from the sockets. Therope cut cruelly into her body under her shoulders. She wanted tocry--to scream--to laugh. She did neither. She threw back her head andclung with all her strength to the rough lariat, stretched taut as acable of steel.
The Ramblin' Kid leaned forward in the saddle, his body half turned,eyes looking back along the straight line of the severely tested rope.He swore softly, steadily, under his breath. "God--if it will onlyhold--if it only don't break!"
Slowly, surely, the little stallion leaned his weight against thetensely drawn riata and Carolyn June felt herself lifted, inch by inch,out of the sand that engulfed her. At last she fell forward--her bodyfree. Without stopping the horse the Ramblin' Kid continued away fromthe river-bank and dragged the girl across the yielding surface to thesolid earth and safety. The instant she was where he could reach her hewhirled Captain Jack and rode quickly back. Carolyn June was trying toget to her feet when he sprang from the broncho and helped her to thefirm ground on which he stood. She was panting and exhausted.
"Get--get--Old Blue out!" she gasped and dropped limply down on thegrass, fingering at the rope to remove it from around her body.
"Danged if she ain't got more heart than I thought she had!" theRamblin' Kid said to himself as he lifted the loop from over her head."I'm goin' to," he said aloud, "if I can--but--I'm afraid he's gone.I'll try anyhow--you lay there an' rest--" at the same time remountinghis horse.
The sand covered the rump of Old Blue. The saddle, Parker's it was, wasnearly submerged, only the horn and cantle showing above the slimy mass.His head, neck and the top of his withers were yet exposed. He stillstruggled, wallowing feebly, vainly resisting the downward pull of thesand. Crouching, as if fascinated by the terrible scene, Carolyn Junewatched as the Ramblin' Kid, waiting his opportunity, at the instant thehorse in the sand lifted his head deftly flung the rope over his neck.With a short jerk of the wrist he tightened the noose till it closedsnugly about the throat of the broncho. Again turning Captain Jack awayfrom the bank he urged him slowly forward. The rope stiffened. Thelittle stallion bunched himself and desperately strained against thedead weight of Old Blue, multiplied many times by the suction of thesand. The Ramblin' Kid leaned far over the neck of Captain Jack to givethe horse the advantage of his own weight and looked back, watching thesupreme efforts of the mired broncho as he fought to climb out of thesand. A moment it looked as if the little roan would drag him out.Slowly he seemed to be raising and moving forward. There was a sharpsnap. Half-way down its length the lariat parted. At the weak spot thestrain was too great. Captain Jack plunged forward to his knees, hisnose rooting the earth, and the Ramblin' Kid barely saved himself frompitching over the horse's head.
"That's what I was dreadin'--" he said as he turned and rode back to theedge of the sand.
Carolyn June gazed, wide-eyed, speechless with horror, at the horse inthe sand. When the rope broke, Old Blue, with a groan almost human, sankback and quickly settled down until only his head and part of his neckwere exposed to view. The Ramblin' Kid looked at the broken rope--theend fastened around the throat of Old Blue had whipped back and waslying far beyond the cowboy's reach. The piece half-hitched to thesaddle horn was too short for another throw. Old Blue was doomed.Carolyn June saw him sinking gradually, surely, into the sand. It seemedages. His eyes appealed with dumb pathos to the group on the bank. Theycould hear his breath coming in harsh, terrible gasps. The sand seemedto be deliberately torturing him as though it were some hellish thing,alive and of fiendish cunning, that grasped its victim and then pausedin his destruction to gloat over his hopeless agony.
The Ramblin' Kid sat Captain Jack and watched.
"Why did God ever want to make that stuff anyhow!" sprang hoarsely fromhis lips. He was torn between blind unreasoning anger at the quicksandand pity for the struggling horse. Suddenly he jerked the forty-four,always on his saddle, from its holster. As the gun swung back and thenforward there was a crashing report and Old Blue's head dropped, with aconvulsive shudder, limp on the sand.
Carolyn June screamed and buried her face in her hands.
At the sound of the shot Captain Jack stiffened and stood rigid. TheRamblin' Kid, his face white and drawn, sat and looked dry-eyed at thered stream oozing from the round hole just below the brow-band of thebridle on the head of the horse he had killed.
"I--I--would have wanted somebody to do it to me!" he said softly androde to the side of the girl huddled on the ground. He dismounted andstood, without speaking, looking down at her shaking form. After a timeshe looked up, through eyes drenched with tears, into his face. Then asif drawn by an irresistible impulse--one she could not deny--she turnedher head and looked at the spot where Old Blue had fought his lastbattle with the quicksands of the Cimarron. A crimson stain, alreadydarkening, on the white surface; a few square feet of disturbed andbroken sand, even now settling into the smooth, innocent-lookingtranquillity that hid the death lurking in its depths; a short lengthof rope, one end drawn beneath the sand, the other lying in a sprawlingcoil; her hat resting a little distance to one side, were all thatremained to tell the story of the grim tragedy of the morning. Sheshuddered and looked once more into the pain-filled eyes of the Ramblin'Kid.
"We'd better be goin'," he said quietly, "you're wet an' them clothesmust be uncomfortable. You can ride Captain Jack!"
She stood up weak and trembling.
"I--I--thought Captain Jack was an outlaw," she said with a faintsmile. "He won't let me ride him, will he?"
"He'll let you," the Ramblin' Kid answered dully, "no woman ever hasrode him--or any other man only me--but he'll let you!"
As she approached the stallion he raised his head and looked at her witha queer mixture of curiosity and antagonism, curving his neck in achallenging way.
"Jack!" the Ramblin' Kid spoke sharply but kindly to the horse, "becareful! It's all right, Boy--you're goin' to carry double this onetime!"
/> The broncho stood passive while the Ramblin' Kid helped Carolyn June tohis back.
"You set behind," he said, "it'll be easier to hold on an' I can handleth' horse better!"
She slipped back of the saddle and he swung up on to the little roan.With one hand Carolyn June grasped the cantle of the saddle, the othershe reached up and laid on the arm of the Ramblin' Kid--the touch sent athrill through her body and the cowboy felt a response that made hisheart quiver as they turned and rode toward the Quarter Circle KT.
For a mile neither spoke.
"I--I--am sorry for what--I said this morning," Carolyn June whisperedat last haltingly, feeling intuitively that the cruel words--"anignorant, savage, stupid brute"--were repeating themselves in hercompanion's mind.
"It's all right," he answered without looking around and in a voicewithout emotion, "it was th' truth--" with a hopeless laugh. "I'm adamn' fool besides!"
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