Alec Lloyd, Cowpuncher Part 32

"Why!" she says, "are y' sh.o.r.e? You're tall enough, but you're a little thick-set. I thought all cow-boys was very slender."

"No, ma'am," I says; "we're slender in books, I reckon. But out in Oklahomaw we come in all styles."

"Wal," she goes on, "they's something _else_ I want to ast. Now, you ain't a-goin' to shoot 'round here, are y'? Would you just as lief put you' pistols away whilst you're in my house?"

I got serious then. "Ma'am," I says, "sorry I cain't oblige y'.

But the boys tole me a gun is plumb needful in Noo York. When it comes to killin' and robbin', the West has got to back outen the lead."

You oughta saw her face!

But I didn't want to look fer no other room, so I pretended t' knuckle.

"I promise not to blow out the gas with my forty-five," I says, "and I won't rope no trolley cars--if you'll please tell me where folks go in this town when they want t' ride a hoss?"

"Why, in Central Park," she answers, "on the bridle path."

"Thank y', ma'am," I says, and lit out.

A-course, 'most any person 'd wonder what I'd ast the boardin'-house lady _that_ fer. Wal, I ast it 'cause I knowed Macie Sewell good enough to lay my money on _one_ thing: She was too all-fired gone on hosses to stay offen a saddle more'n twenty-four hours at a stretch.

I pa.s.sed a right peaceful afternoon, a-settin' at the bottom of a statue of a man ridin' a big bronc, with a tall lady runnin' ahaid and wavin'

a feather. It was at the beginnin' of the park, and I expected t'

see Mace come lopin' by any minute. Sev'ral gals _did_ show up, and one 'r two of 'em rid off on bob-tailed hosses, follered by gezabas in white pants and doctor's hats. Heerd afterwards they was grooms, and bein' the gals' broncs was bob-tailed, they had to go 'long to keep off the flies.

But Mace, she didn't show up. Next day, I waited same way. Day after, ditto. Seemed t' me ev'ry blamed man, woman and child in the hull city pa.s.sed me but her. And I didn't know a _one_ of 'em. A c.h.i.n.k come by oncet, and when I seen his pig-tail swingin', I felt like I wanted to shake his fist. About that time I begun to git worried, too.

"If she ain't ridin'," I says to myself, "how 'm I ever goin'

to locate her?"

Another day, when I was settin' amongst the kids, watchin', I seen a feller steerin' my way. "What's this?" I says, 'cause he didn't have the spurs of a decent man.

Wal, when he came clost, he begun to smile kinda sloppy, like he'd just had two 'r three. "Why, h.e.l.lo, ole boy," he says, puttin' out a bread-hooker; "I met you out West, didn't I? How are y'?"

I had the sittywaytion in both gauntlets.

"Why, yas," I answers, "and I'm tickled to sight a familiar face.

Fer by jingo! I'm busted. Can you loan me a dollar?"

He got kinda sick 'round the gills. "Wal, the fact is," he says, swallerin' two 'r three times, "I'm clean broke myself."

Just then a gal with a pink cinch comes walkin' along. She was one of them b.u.t.te-belle lookin' ladies, with blazin' cheeks, and hair that's a cross 'twixt _mo_la.s.ses candy and the pelt of a kit-fox.

She was leadin' a dog that looked plumb ashamed of hisself.

"Pretty gal," says the mealy-mouthed gent, grinnin' some more. "And I know her. Like t' be interdooced?"

"Don't bother," I says. (Her hay was a little too weathered fer _me_.)

"Nice red cheeks," he says, rubbin' his paws t'gether.

"Ya-a-as," I says, "_mighty nice_. But you oughta see the squaws out in Oklahomaw. They varies it with yalla and black."

He give me a kinda keen look. Then he moseyed.

It wasn't more 'n a' hour afterwards when somebody pa.s.sed that I knowed--in one of them d.i.n.ky, little buggies that ain't got no cover.

Who d' you think it was?--that Doctor Bugs!

I was at his hoss's haid 'fore ever he seen me. "Hole up, Simpson,"

I says, "I want t' talk to you."

"Why, Alec Lloyd!" he says.

"That's my name."

"How 'd _you_ git here?" He stuck out one of them soft paws of hisn.

"Wal, I got turned this way, and then I just follered my nose." (I didn't take his hand. I'd as soon 'a' touched a snake.)

"Wal, I'm glad t' see you." (That was a whopper.) "How's ev'rybody in Briggs?"

"Never you mind about Briggs. I want t' ast _you_ somethin': Where's Macie Sewell?"

"I don't know."

"Don't tell me that," I come back. "I know you're lyin'. When you talked that gal into the op'ra business, you had 'a' ax t' grind, yas, you did. Now, _where is she?_"

He looked plumb nervous. "I tell y', I don't know," he answers; "_honest,_ I don't. I've saw her just oncet--the day after she got here. I offered t' do anythin' I could fer her, but she didn't seem t' appreciate my kindness."

"All right," I says. "But, Simpson, listen: If you've said a word t' that gal that you oughtn't to, 'r if you've follered 'round after her any when she didn't want you should, you'll hear from _me_. Salt _that_ down." And I let him go.

Meetin' _him_ that-a-way, made me feel a heap better. If I could run into the only man I knowed in the city of Noo York, then, sometime, I'd sh.o.r.e come acrosst _her_.

That was the last day I set on the steps of the statue. About sundown, I ast a police feller if anybody could ride in the park without me seein' 'em from where I was. "Why, yas," he says, "they's plenty of entrances, all right. This is just where a few comes in and out.

The best way to see the riders is to go ride you'self."

Don't know why I didn't think of that _afore_. But I didn't lose no time. Next mornin', I was up turrible early and makin' fer a barn clost to the park. I found one easy--pretty frequent thereabouts, y'

savvy,--and begun t' d.i.c.ker on rentin' a hoss. Prices was high, but I done my best, and they led out a nag. And what do you think? It had on one of them saddles with no horn,--a sh.o.r.e enough _muley_.

Say! that was a hard proposition. "I ast fer a saddle," I says, "not a postage stamp." But the stable-keeper didn't have no other. So I got on and rode slow. When I struck the timber, I felt better, and I started my bronc up. She was one of them kind that can go all day on a s.h.i.+ngle.

And her front legs acted plumb funny--jerked up and down. I figgered it was the spring halt. But pretty soon I seen other hosses goin' the same way. So I swallered it, like I done the saddle.

But they was one thing about my cayuse made me hot. She wouldn't lope.

No, ma'am, it was trot, trot, trot, trot, till the roots of my hair was loose, and the lights was near shook outen me. You bet I was mighty glad none of the outfit could see me!

But if they'd 'a' thought _I_ was funny, they'd 'a' had a duck-fit at what I seen. First a pa.s.sel of men come by, all in bloomers, humpin'

fast,--_up_ and down, _up_ and down--Monkey Mike, sh.o.r.e's you live!

None of 'em looked joyful, and you could pretty nigh hear they knees squeak! Then 'long come a gal, humpin' just the same, and hangin'

on to the side of her cayuse fer dear life, lookin' ev'ry step like she was goin' to avalanche. And oncet in a while I pa.s.sed a feller that was runnin' a cultivator down the trail,--to keep it nice and soft, I reckon, fer the ladies and gents t' fall on.

But whilst I was gettin' kinda used to things, I didn't stop keepin'

a' eye out. I went clean 'round the track twicet. No Macie. I tell y', I begun to feel sorta caved-in. Then, all of a suddent, just as I was toppin' a little rise of ground, I seen her!