Home > Authors Index > Henry Herbert Knibbs > Overland Red: A Romance of the Moonstone Canon Trail > This page
Overland Red: A Romance of the Moonstone Canon Trail, a novel by Henry Herbert Knibbs |
||
Chapter 19. "To Cut My Trail Like That!" |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XIX. "TO CUT MY TRAIL LIKE THAT!" Overland Red was concluding his last yarn, a most amazing account of "The night the Plancher boys shot up Abilene." It was exactly two o'clock by Dr. Marshall's watch. "Both my guns was choked up with burnt powder. I reached down and borrowed two guns off a gent what wasn't usin' his jest then. Next day I was elected sheriff unanimous. They was seven of us left standin'. That was back in '98." Overland yawned and stood up. "The boys are all asleep now," said Walter Stone. "We have plenty of room here. You'll not object to taking one of the guest-rooms as you find it, I'm sure." "For better or for worse, as the pote says." And Overland grinned. "But I got to put that little chaffer to roost somewhere." "That's so." "I'll go wake him up." And Overland strode to the racing-car. The "chaffer" had departed for parts unknown. "I guess he was scared at that last grade," said Overland, returning to the house. "He's gone. He must 'a' been scared, to beat it back down the road afoot." "Perhaps he has gone to the stables," said Stone. "Well, we'll take care of you here. You can see Collie in the morning." Overland, closing the door of the spacious, cool guest-room, glanced about curiously. What was it made the place seem so different from even the most expensive hotel suites? The furniture was very plain. The decorations were soft-toned and simple. "It's--it's because the Rose Girl lives here, I guess," he soliloquized. "Now this kind of a roost would jest suit Billy, but it makes me feel like walkin' on eggs. This here grazin' is too good for me." He undressed slowly, folding his unaccustomed garments with great care. He placed his automatic pistol on the chair by the bed. Then he crept beneath the sheets, forgetting to turn out the light. "Huh! Gettin' absent-minded like the old perfessor what picked up a hairbrush instead of a lookin'-glass to see if he needed shavin'. He was dum' near scared to death to see how his beard was growin'." And Overland chuckled as he turned out the lights. He could not go to sleep at once. He missed the desert night--the spaces and the stars. "I left here in a hurry once," he muttered. "'Bout three years ago. Then I was kiddin' Collie about wearin' silk pejammies. Now I got 'em--got 'em on, by thunder! Don't know as I feel any heftier in the intellec'. And I can't show 'em to nobody. What's the good of havin' 'em if nobody knows it? But I can hang 'em on the bedpost in the mornin', careless like, jest like I was raised to it. Them pejammies cost four dollars a leg. Some class...." And he drifted to sleep. After breakfast Dr. Marshall, who had taken a fancy to Overland, strolled with him over to the bunk-house. Most of the men were on the range. Collie was assembling bits and bridles, saddles, cinchas, and spurs, to complete an equipment for the proposed camping trip in the hills. He was astounded at Overland's appearance. However, he had absorbed Western ideals rapidly. He was sincerely glad, overjoyed, to see his old friend, but he showed little of it in voice and manner. He shook hands with a brief, "How, Red!" and went on with his work. Dr. Marshall, after expressing interest in the equipment, excused himself and wandered over to the corrals, where he admired the horses. "Where did you get 'em?" queried Collie, adjusting the length of a pair of stirrup-leathers. "These?" And Overland spread his coat-tails and ruffled. "Why, out of the old Mojave. Dug 'em up with a little pick and shovel." "You said in your letter you found the claim." "Uhuh. Almost fell over it before I did, though. We never found the other things, by the track. New ties. No mark. Say, that Billy Winthrop I writ about is the brother of them folks stayin' here! What do you think!" "Wish I was out there with you fellows," said Collie. "You're doin' pretty good right here, kiddo. The boss don't think you're the worst that ever came acrost, and I expect the ladies can put up with havin' you on the same ranch by the way they talk. Got a hoss of your own yet?" "Nope. I got my eye on one, though. Say, Red, this is the best place to work. The boss is fine. I'm getting forty a month now, and savin' it. The boys are all right, too. Brand Williams, the foreman--" "Brand who?" "Williams. He came from Wyoming." "Well, this here's gettin' like a story and not like real livin'. Why, I knowed old Brand in Mex. in the old days when a hoss and a gun was about all a guy needed to set up housekeepin'. We was pals. So he's foreman here, eh? Well, you follow his trail close about cattle or hosses and you'll win out." "I been doing that," said Collie. "The other day he told me to keep my eye on one of the boys. Silent Saunders, he's called. Kind of funny. I don't know anything about Saunders." "Well, you bank on it. Stack 'em up chin-high on it, Collie, if Brand says that. He knows some-thin' or he would never talk. Brand is a particular friend of yours?" "You bet!" "Well, tie to him. What he says is better than fine gold as the pote says. I reckon coarse gold suits me better, outside of po'try. How does the Saunders insec' wear his clothes?" "He's kind of lame in one arm and--here he comes now. You can see for yourself. The one on that pinto." As Saunders rode past the two men, he turned in his saddle. Despite Overland's finery he recognized him at once. Overland's gaze never left the other's hands. "Mornin'," said Overland, nodding. "Ain't you grazin' pretty far this side of Gophertown?" "Who the hell are you talkin' to?" Saunders asked venomously, and his eyes narrowed. Overland grinned, and carelessly shifted the lapel of his coat from beneath which peeped the butt of his automatic pistol. Collie felt his scalp tightening. There was something tense and suggestive in the air. "I'm talkin' to a fella that ought to know better than to get sassy to me," said Overland, "or to cut my trail like that." Saunders rode on. "Seen him before?" asked Collie. "Yep. Twice--over the end of a gun. He come visitin' me and Billy at a water-hole out in the dry spot. We got to exchangin' opinions. Two of mine he ain't forgot, I guess." "Saunders is branded above the elbows on both arms," said Collie. "He's been shot up pretty bad." "You don't tell! Wonder how that happened. Mebby he was practicin' the double roll and got careless. Now, I wonder!" "He's one of the 'bunch'?" said Collie, suddenly awake to the situation. "Come on over to the bunk-house where we can talk, Red. I'll introduce you regular to Silent." "All right. Here, you walk on the other side. I'm left-handed when I shake with him." But Saunders was not at the bunk-house. Instead he had ridden on down to the gate and out upon the Moonstone Trail. He had become acquainted with Deputy Tenlow. He would make things interesting for the man who had "winged" him out in the desert. "I smell somethin' burnin'," said Overland significantly. "The Saunders man has got somethin' up his sleeve. He didn't turn his pony into the corral, did he?" "No." "All right. Now, about them papers and your part of this here claim ..." For an hour they talked about the claim, Winthrop, Collie's prospects, and their favorite topic, the Rose Girl. They were speaking of her when she appeared at the bunk-house door. "Good-morning, Mr. Summers. Mrs. Marshall wished to know if you would tell her more about her brother--when you have visited with Collie. She was afraid you might leave without her seeing you again." "I was thinkin' about that myself," replied Overland. "Yes, Miss, I'll be right over direct." Louise nodded, smiled, and was gone. "Say, Red, you better go quick, in the machine," said Collie, fearful that Saunders was up to mischief. "Grand idea, that," said Overland, calmly brushing his hat. "But Tenlow and Saunders--that you're thinkin' about--ain't neither of 'em goin' to ride up too close to me again. They are goin' to lay for me down the canon. They'll string a riata across the road and hold up the car, most likely. They know I can't get out of here any other road." "Then what will you do?" "Me? Why, me and the Guzzuh'll go down the trail jest as slow and easy as a baby-buggy pushed by a girl that's waitin' in the park for her beau." "You'll ditch the machine and get all broke up," ventured Collie. "I am havin' too good a time to last, I know, seein' the Rose Girl again and you and visitin' the folks up to the house. Well, if it's my turn, I ain't kickin'. Sorry Brand ain't here. I'd like to see him. Here's a little old map I drawed of the hills, and how to get to the claim in case I get detained for speedin'. Get Brand, if anything happens. He's a steady old boat and he'll tell you what to do." "But, Red, you don't think--?" "Not when it hurts me dome," interrupted Overland. "I got a hunch I'll see you again before long. So long, Chico. I got to shine some of the rust off my talk and entertain the ladies. You might get into my class, too, some day, if you knowed anything except hoss-wrastlin' and cow-punchin'," he added affectionately. And Overland departed, sublimely content and not in the least disturbed by future possibilities. "He's the great kid!" he kept repeating to himself. "He's the same kid--solid clean through.... Good-morning, ladies. Now about Billy--er--Mr. Winthrop; why, as I was say-in' last night.... No, thanks, I'll set facin' the road. Sun? Why, lady, I'm sun-cured, myself." _ |
||