CHAPTER X
"STICK TO YOUR SADDLE"
The old Arizona fashion of settling a difference of opinion with thesix-gun had long fallen into disuse, but Saguache was still close enoughto the stark primeval emotions to wait with a keen interest for the crackof the revolver that would put a period to the quarrel between Soapy Stoneand young Flandrau. It was known that Curly had refused to leave town,just as it was known that Stone and that other prison bird Blackwell werehanging about the Last Chance and Chalkeye's Place drinking togethermorosely. It was observed too that whenever Curly appeared in public hewas attended by friends. Sometimes it would be Maloney and Davis,sometimes his uncle Alec Flandrau, occasionally a couple of the Map ofTexas vaqueros.
It chanced that "Old Man" Flandrau, drifting into Chalkeye's Place, foundin the assembled group the man he sought. Billie Mackenzie, grizzled ownerof the Fiddleback ranch, was with him, and it was in the preliminary pausebefore drinking that Alec made his official announcement.
"No, Mac, I ain't worrying about that any. Curly is going to get a squaredeal. We're all agreed on that. If there's any shooting from coverthere'll be a lynching _pronto_. That goes."
Flandrau, Senior, did not glance at the sullen face of Lute Blackwellhovering in the background but he knew perfectly well that inside of anhour word would reach Soapy Stone that only an even break with Curly wouldbe allowed.
The day passed without a meeting between the two. Curly grew nervous atthe delay.
"I'm as restless as a toad on a hot skillet," he confessed to Davis. "Thisthing of never knowing what minute Soapy will send me his leadencompliments ain't any picnic. Wisht it was over."
"He's drinking himself blind. Every hour is to the good for you."
Curly shrugged. "Drunk or sober Soapy always shoots straight."
Another day passed. The festivities had begun and Curly had to be much inevidence before the public. His friends had attempted to dissuade him fromriding in the bucking broncho contest, but he had refused to let his namebe scratched from the list of contestants.
A thousand pair of eyes in the grandstand watched the boy as he loungedagainst the corral fence laughing and talking with his friends. A dozenpeople were on the lookout for the approach of Stone. Fifty others hadwarned the young man to be careful. For Saguache was with him almost to aman.
Dick Maloney heard his voice called as he was passing the grandstand, Aminute later he was in the Cullison box shaking hands with Kate.
"Is--is there anything new?" she asked in a low voice.
Her friend shook his head. "No. Soapy may drift out here any minute now."
"Will he----?" Her eyes finished the question.
He shook his head. "Don't know. That's the mischief of it. If they shouldmeet just after Curly finishes riding the boy won't have a chance. Hisnerves won't be steady enough."
"Dad is doing something. I don't know what it is. He had a meeting with alot of cattlemen about it---- I don't see how that boy _can_ sit there onthe fence laughing when any minute----"
"Curly's game as they make 'em. He's a prince, too. I like that boy betterevery day."
"He doesn't seem to me so----wild. But they say he's awfully reckless."She said it with a visible reluctance, as if she wanted him to deny thecharge.
"Sho! Curly needs explaining some. That's all. Give a dog a bad name andhang him. That saying is as straight as the trail of a thirsty cow. Thekid got off wrong foot first, and before he'd hardly took to shavingrespectable folks were hunting the dictionary to find bad names to throwat him. He was a reprobate and no account. Citizens that differed oneverything else was unanimous about that. Mothers kinder herded theiryoung folks in a corral when he slung his smile their way."
"But why?" she persisted. "What had he done?"
"Gambled his wages, and drank some, and, beat up Pete Schiff, and shot thelights out of the Legal Tender saloon. That's about all at first."
"Wasn't it enough?"
"Most folks thought so. So when Curly bumped into them keep-off-the-grasssigns parents put up for him he had to prove they were justified. That'sthe way a kid acts. Half the bad men are only coltish cowpunchers gonewrong through rotten whiskey and luck breaking bad for them."
"Is Soapy that kind?" she asked, but not because she did not know theanswer.
"He's the other kind, bad at the heart. But Curly was just a kid crazywith the heat when he made that fool play of rustling horses."
A lad made his way to them with a note. Kate read it and turned to Dick.Her eyes were shining happily.
"I've got news from Dad. It's all right. Soapy Stone has left town."
"Why?"
"A dozen of the big cattlemen signed a note and sent it to Stone. Theytold him that if he touched Curly he would never leave town alive. He wasgiven word to get out of town at once."
Maloney slapped his hand joyously on his thigh. "Fine! Might a-known Luckwould find a way out. I tell you this thing has been worying me. Some ofus wanted to take it off Curly's hands, but he wouldn't have it. He's aman from the ground up, Curly is. But your father found a way to butt inall right. Soapy couldn't stand out against the big ranchmen when they gottogether and meant business. He had to pull his freight."
"Let me tell him the good news, Dick," she said, eagerly.
"Sure. I'll send him right up."
Bronzed almost to a coffee brown, with the lean lithe grace of youthgarbed in the picturesque regalia of the _vaquero_, Flandrau was a takingenough picture to hold the roving eye of any girl. A good many centeredupon him now, as he sauntered forward toward the Cullison box cool andeasy and debonair. More than one pulse quickened at sight of him, for hisgallantry, his peril and his boyishness combined to enwrap him in theatmosphere of romance. Few of the observers knew what a wary vigilance laybehind that careless manner.
Kate gathered her skirts to make room for him beside her.
"Have you heard? He has left town."
"Who?"
"Soapy Stone. The cattlemen served notice on him to go. So he left."
A wave of relief swept over the young man. "That's your father's finework."
"Isn't it good?" Her eyes were shining with gladness.
"I'm plumb satisfied," he admitted. "I'm not hankering to shoot out mylittle difference with Soapy. He's too handy with a six-gun."
"I'm so happy I don't know what to do."
"I suppose now the hold-up will be put off. Did Sam and Blackwell go withhim?"
"No. He went alone."
"Have you seen Sam yet?"
"No, but I've seen Laura London. She's all the nice things you've saidabout her."
Curly grew enthusiastic, "Ain't she the dandiest girl ever? She's theright kind of a friend. And pretty--with that short crinkly hair the colorof ripe nuts! You would not think one person could own so many dimples asshe does when she laughs. It's just like as if she had absorbed sunshineand was warming you up with her smile."
"I see she has made a friend of you."
"You bet she has."
Miss Cullison shot a swift slant glance at him. "If you'll come back thisafternoon you can meet her. I'm going to have all those dimples and allthat sunshine here in the box with me."
"Maybe that will draw Sam to you."
"I'm hoping it will. But I'm afraid not. He avoids us. When they met hewouldn't speak to Father."
"That's the boy of it. Just the same he feels pretty bad about thequarrel. I reckon there's nothing to do but keep an eye on him and beready for Soapy's move when he makes it."
"I'm so afraid something will happen to Sam."
"Now don't you worry, Miss Kate. Sam is going to come out of this allright. We'll find a way out for him yet."
Behind her smile the tears lay close. "You're the _best_ friend. How canwe ever thank you for what you're doing for Sam?"
A steer had escaped from the corral and was galloping down the track infront of the grandstand with its tail up. The young man's eyes followedthe animal absently as he answered in a lo
w voice.
"Do you reckon I have forgot how a girl took a rope from my neck onenight? Do you reckon I ever forget that?"
"It was nothing. I just spoke to the boys."
"Or that I don't remember how the man I had shot went bail for a rustlerhe did not know?"
"Dick knew you. He told us about you."
"Could he tell you any good about me? Could he say anything except that Iwas a worthless no-'count----?"
She put her hand on his arm and stopped him. "Don't! I won't have you saysuch things about yourself. You were just a boy in trouble."
"How many would have remembered that? But you did. You fought good for mylife that night. I'll pay my debt, part of it. The whole I never couldpay."
His voice trembled in spite of the best he could do. Their eyes did notmeet, but each felt the thrill of joy waves surging through their veins.
The preliminaries in the rough riding contest took place that afternoon.Of the four who won the right to compete in the finals, two were CurlyFlandrau and Dick Maloney. They went together to the Cullison box to getthe applause due them.
Kate Cullison had two guests with her. One was Laura London, the other hehad never seen. She was a fair young woman with thick ropes of yellow haircoiled round her head. Deep-breasted and robust-loined, she had the richcoloring of the Scandinavian race and much of the slow grace peculiar toits women.
The hostess pronounced their names. "Miss Anderson, this is Mr. Flandrau.Mr. Flandrau--Miss Anderson."
Curly glanced quickly at Kate Cullison, who nodded. This then was thesweetheart of poor Mac.
Her eyes filled with tears as she took the young man's hand. To hissurprise Curly found his throat choking up. He could not say a word, butshe understood the unspoken sympathy. They sat together in the back of thebox.
"I'd like to come and talk to you about--Mac. Can I come this evening,say?"
"Please."
Kate gave them no more time for dwelling on the past.
"You did ride so splendidly," she told Curly.
"No better than Dick did," he protested.
"I didn't say any better than Dick. You both did fine."
"The judges will say you ride better. You've got first place cinched,"Maloney contributed.
"Sho! Just because I cut up fancy didoes on a horse. Grandstand stunts arenot riding. For straight stick-to-your-saddle work I know my boss, and hisname is Dick Maloney."
"We'll know to-morrow," Laura London summed up.
As it turned out, Maloney was the better prophet. Curly won the firstprize of five hundred dollars and the championship belt. Dick took secondplace.
Saguache, already inclined to make a hero of the young rustler, went wildover his victory. He could have been chosen mayor that day if there hadbeen an election. To do him justice, Curly kept his head remarkably well.
"To be a human clothes pin ain't so much," he explained to Kate. "Justbecause a fellow can stick to the hurricane deck of a bronch withoutpulling leather whilst it's making a milk shake out of him don't provethat he has got any more brains or decency than the law allows. Say, ain'tthis a peach of a mo'ning."
A party of young people were taking an early morning ride through theoutskirts of the little city. Kate pulled her pony to a walk and glancedacross at him. He had taken off his hat to catch the breeze, and the sunwas picking out the golden lights in his curly brown hair. She foundherself admiring the sure poise of the head, the flat straight back, thevirile strength of him.
It did not occur to her that she herself made a picture to delight theheart. The curves of her erect tiger-lithe young body were modeled bynature to perfection. Radiant with the sheer pleasure of life, happy asGod's sunshine, she was a creature vividly in tune with the glad morning.
"Anyhow, I'm glad you won."
Their eyes met. A spark from his flashed deep into hers as a star fallsthrough the heavens on a summer night. Each looked away. After onebreathless full-pulsed moment she recovered herself.
"Wouldn't it be nice if----?"
His gaze followed hers to two riders in front of them. One was Maloney,the other Myra Anderson. The sound of the girl's laughter rippled back tothem on the light breeze.
Curly smiled. "Yes, that would be nice. The best I can say for her--andit's a whole lot--is that I believe she's good enough for Dick."
"And the best I can say for him is that he's good enough for her," thegirl retorted promptly.
"Then let's hope----"
"I can't think of anything that would please me more."
He looked away into the burning sun on the edge of the horizon. "I canthink of one thing that would please me more," he murmured.
She did not ask him what it was, nor did he volunteer an explanation.Perhaps it was from the rising sun her face had taken its swift glow ofwarm color.
PART II
LUCK