The Ramblin' Kid Part 6

"Is Skinny one?" she inquired naively.

"Sort of, I suppose," Old Heck chuckled while Skinny felt his face coloring up with embarra.s.sment, "but not a wild one."

"Oh, who is that?" Carolyn June cried suddenly as a lone rider whirled out of the corral, around the stables, and his horse sprang into a gallop straight down the valley toward the harrows at its lower end.

"That," Skinny said after a quick glance, "oh, that's th' Ramblin'

Kid--Where in thunder do you reckon the darned fool's going now?" he added to Old Heck.

"Can't tell nothing about where he's going," Old Heck said. "He's liable to be heading for anywhere. What's he riding?" he asked without looking up.

"Captain Jack," Skinny replied. "Wonder if he ain't going over to Battle Ridge to find out if it's so about them sheep coming in over there?"

"Maybe," Old Heck grunted, "either that or else he's took a notion to hunt that Gold Dust maverick again"--referring to a strange, wonderfully beautiful, outlaw filly that had appeared on the Kiowa range a year before and tormented the riders by her almost fiendish cunning in dodging corral or rope--"if he's riding Captain Jack that's probably what he's after."

"Who is he, what's his real name?" Carolyn June asked with interest.

"Just th' Ramblin' Kid, as far as I know," Old Heck answered.

"Does he live at the Quarter Circle KT?" Carolyn June continued curiously as she studied the slender form rising and falling with the graceful rhythm of his horse's motion--as if man and animal were a single living, pulsing creature.

"Off and on," Old Heck replied, "when he wants to he does and when he don't he don't. He's a witch with horses and knows he's always got a job if he wants it, and I reckon that makes him kind of undependable about staying in any one place long at a time. That's why they call him th'

Ramblin' Kid--he's liable to ramble any minute."

The car curled down the narrow dugway off of the bench and a moment later stopped at the gate in front of the ranch house of the Quarter Circle KT.

"We're here," Skinny said, as Sing Pete, the Chinese cook, appeared at the open door.

"They've come, Sing Pete," Old Heck called, climbing out of the car; "this is them! Is dinner ready?"

"All leady--waitee!" the Oriental answered, shuffling out to the car to help with the luggage and twisting and squirming as he kept bowing in greeting.

"This is great!" Carolyn June said, as she stepped on the long cool porch in front of the house and paused a moment before entering the open door, "--it's cool and pleasant, I'm going to like it," she added, as she went into the big low-ceilinged room.

The floor was bare of carpet but spotlessly clean; shades, but no curtains, were over the windows; in the center stood a large flat-topped reading table; at one end of the table was a Morris chair upholstered in brown Spanish leather; a wolf-skin rug was thrown on the floor before an old-fas.h.i.+oned Mexican fire-place built into one corner of the room; in another corner was a smaller table on which was a graphophone; a rocker and several chairs were set about the room and against the north wall; between two doors, evidently opening into twin bedrooms, was an upright grand piano--.

"Oh, a piano!" Carolyn June exclaimed delightedly noticing the instrument. "Who plays?"

"n.o.body," Old Heck answered foolishly, "I--I--well, what's the use of lying?--I bought it one day, before prohibition come, when I was drunk and just had it brought out because I didn't know what else to do with it--"

"You funny old uncle!" Carolyn June laughed, "I love you already.--Ophelia plays," she added.

"Not so well or so much as Carolyn June," Ophelia said.

"Maybe we'll have some music then some day; that ain't canned," Skinny suggested eagerly.

"You women can use them rooms," Old Heck said, referring to the doors on each side of the piano. "Parker and me did have them but we've arranged to sleep in the bunk-house while you are here."

"Carolyn June and I need but one," Ophelia said, "it isn't fair to run you out--"

"You ain't running us," Old Heck answered, "we've talked it over and would rather."

After dinner Ophelia and Carolyn June spent their time in settling themselves in their rooms. A small bath closet connected the two--crude a bit and somewhat unfinished; but a hot tub, the water supplied from a tank at the kitchen range, was enjoyed by both.

Old Heck and Skinny helped with the trunks and then withdrew to the bunk-house.

Old Heck shaved and Skinny put on a clean s.h.i.+rt.

Skinny was not sure but this official love-making job was going to be interesting work and Old Heck himself was uncertain whether to cuss or rejoice--sometimes he was almost sorry to-morrow would be Parker's day to love and entertain Ophelia.

CHAPTER IV

THE UNUSED PLATE

At sundown, when Parker and the cowboys rode in from the northern hills, the Quarter Circle KT lay under a mantle of sullen, torturing heat. Not a breath of air fanned the poplars, straight and motionless, in front of the house. The sun buried itself in a solid wall of black that rose above the Costejo peaks, hidden now in the shadow of the coming storm.

The horses were dripping with sweat--their coats as glossy and wet as if they had swum the river. At the corral the animals wearily tossed their heads, low hung with exhaustion, seeking to s.h.i.+ft the sticky clutch of head-stall or hackamore, while their riders dismounted and quickly removed saddle and riding gear. Freed from their burdens the bronchos dragged tired heels through the dust as they whirled and trotted unsteadily away to the pasture, eager to roll and relax their aching muscles.

"Holy cats, but it's hot!" Bert Lilly exclaimed as he slipped off his chaps and started toward the house, leaving saddle and outfit lying beside the gate of the corral.

"Better put them things in the shed," Parker advised, "looks like a whale of a storm is coming."

"Reckon that's right," Bert answered, turning back and carrying his riding gear into the shelter where the other cowboys already had taken theirs.

"Wonder if them women come?" Chuck Slithers queried as they moved toward the gate.

"More than likely--Bet Skinny and Old Heck have had a h.e.l.l of a time making love to 'em," Charley Saunders remarked.

"You want to be careful about cussin'," Parker warned. "It ain't polite when women are around!"

"Listen at him!" Bert said with a laugh, "practising already--Parker is getting polite--to-morrow is his day to be affectionate to the widow, Ophelia--"

"Which is she, Parker," Charley asked soberly, "a gra.s.s or natural?"

"Shut up, you blamed fools, they're liable to hear you," Parker growled angrily. "Anyhow, it ain't my fault they come!"

"Parker oughtn't to kick," Chuck chimed in, "look at poor old Skinny--he's got a steady job lovin' the other one!"

"Darned if I wouldn't rather love both of them at once," Charley observed, "than to take another ride like that was to-day. I'm kind of anxious to see what they look like," he continued.

"Well, don't go and get excited at the supper table and eat your pie with a spoon!" Chuck laughed.

"Aw, h.e.l.l," Charley retorted, "I guess I know how to act--"

"Old Heck's going to buy some finger-bowls for you to wash your hands in," Bert said scornfully, "him and Parker--"