CHAPTER VIII
A MAN'S SIZE HORSE
At dusk the sonorous boom of a Japanese gong gave warning of theapproach of the supper hour. A few minutes later a second boomingsummoned all in to the meal. Miss Isobel sat at one end of the table;her father at the other. Along the sides were the employes, Ashton andGowan at the corners nearest the girl. A large coal oil lamp with anartistic shade cast a pink light on the clean white oilcloth of thetable and the simple tasteful table service.
Yuki, the silent Jap, served all with strict impartiality, startingwith the mistress of the house and going around the table in regularsuccession, either one way or the other. The six rough-appearinghaymakers used their knives with a freedom to which Ashton wasunaccustomed, but their faces were clean, their behavior quiet, andtheir occasional remarks by no means inapt.
After the meal they wished Miss Knowles a pleasant "Good-night," andleft for the bunkhouse. But Ashton and Gowan, at the smilinginvitation of the girl, followed her into the front room. Knowlescame in a few minutes later and, with scarcely a glance at the youngpeople, settled down beside a tableful of periodicals and magazines tostudy the latest Government report on the reclamation service.
Ashton had entered the "parlor" under the impression that here hewould have Gowan at a disadvantage. To his surprise, the puncherproved to be quite at ease; his manners were correct and hisconversation by no means provincial. A moment's reflection showedAshton that this could not well be otherwise, in view of the youngfellow's intimacy with Miss Chuckie Isobel.
Another surprise was the discovery that Gowan had a remarkably goodear for music and knew even more than the girl about the masters andtheir works. There was a player attachment to the piano, and the girland Gowan had a contest, playing the same selections in turn, to seewhich could get the most expression by means of the mechanicalapparatus. If anything, the girl came out second best. At least shesaid so; but Ashton would not admit it.
Between times the three chatted on a thousand and one topics, the girlalways ready to bubble over with animation and merriment. She bestowedher dimpled smiles on both her admirers with strict impartiality andas impartially stimulated each to his best with her tact and gaywit.
At nine o'clock sharp Knowles closed his report and rose from hiscomfortable seat.
"Time to turn in, boys. Coal oil costs more than sunlight," heannounced, in the flat tone of a standing joke. "We'll take a jog downcreek to the Bar-Lazy-J ranch, first thing tomorrow, Kid.--Ashton,you'd better start off in the cool, before sunup. Here's my bunch ofletters, case I might forget them."
He handed over half a dozen thinly padded envelopes. Gowan was alreadyat the door, hat in hand.
"Good night, Mr. Knowles. Good night, Miss Chuckie. Pleasant dreams!"he said.
"Same to you, Kid!" replied the girl.
"May I give and receive the same?" asked Ashton.
"Of course," she answered. "But wait a moment, please. I've someletters to go, myself, if you'll kindly take them with Daddy's."
As she darted into a side room, Knowles stepped out after Gowan. Whenthe girl returned, Ashton took the letters that she held out to himand deliberately started to tie them in a packet with those of herfather. His sole purpose was to prolong his stay to the last possiblemoment. But inadvertently his eye caught the name "Blake" on one ofthe envelopes. His smile vanished; his jaw dropped.
"Why, Mr. Ashton, what is the matter?" said the girl.
"I--I beg your pardon," he replied. "I did not realize that--But it'stoo absurd--it can't be! You did not mean what you said thisafternoon. It can't be you're writing to that man to come here."
"I am," she replied.
"But you can't--you must not. He's the very devil for doing impossiblethings. He'll be sure to turn loose a flood on you--drown youout--destroy your range!"
"If it can be done, the sooner we know it the better," she argued."Daddy says little, but it is becoming a monomania with him--thedread. I wish to put an end to his suspense. Besides, if--if this Mr.Blake is as remarkable as you and the reports say he is, it will beinteresting to meet him. My only fear is that so great an engineerwill not think it worth while to come to this out-of-the-waysection."
"The big four-flusher!" muttered Ashton.
"How you must dislike him! It makes me all the more curious to seehim."
"Does your father know about this letter?" queried Ashton.
"You forget yourself, sir," she said.
Meeting her level gaze, he flushed crimson with mortification. Hestood biting his lip, unable to speak.
She went on coldly: "I do not ask you to tell me the cause of yourhatred for Mr. Blake. I assume that you are a gentleman and will notdestroy my letter. But even if you should do so, it would mean only ashort delay. I shall write him again if I receive no reply to this."
Ashton's flush deepened. "I did not think you could be so hard. But--Ipresume I deserved it."
"Yes, you did," she agreed, with no lessening of her coldness.
"I see you will not accept an apology, Miss Knowles. However, I giveyou my word that I will deliver your letter to the postmaster atStockchute."
He started out, very stiff and erect. As he passed through the doorwayshe suddenly relented and called after him: "Good night, Mr. Ashton!Pleasant dreams!"
He wheeled and would have stepped back to reply had not Knowles spokento him from the darkness at the end of the porch: "This way, Ashton.Kid is waiting to show you to the bunkhouse. You'll find a clean bunkand new blankets. I've also issued you corduroy pants and a pair ofleather chaps from the commissary. Those city riding togs aren'thardly the thing on the range. There's a spare saddle, if you want tochange off from yours."
"Thank you for the other things; but I prefer my own saddle," repliedAshton.
He now perceived the dim form of Gowan starting off in the starlight,and followed him to the bunkhouse. The other men were already intheir beds, fast asleep and half of them snoring. Gowan silently lit alantern and showed the tenderfoot to an unoccupied bunk in the farcorner of the rough but clean building. After a curt request forAshton to blow out the lantern when through with the light, hewithdrew, to tumble into a bunk near the door.
Ashton removed twice as many garments as had the puncher, and slippedin between his fresh new blankets, after several minutes spent infinding out how to extinguish the lantern. For some time he laylistening. He had often read of the practical jokes that cowboys aresupposed always to play on tenderfeet. But the steady concert of thesnoring sleepers was unbroken by any horseplay. Presently he, too,fell asleep.
He was wakened by a general stir in the bunkhouse. Day had not yetcome, but by the light of a lantern near the door he could see hisfellow employes passing out. He dressed as hastily as he could in hisgloomy corner, putting on his new trousers and the stiff leatherchapareras in place of his breeches and leggings. Gowan came in,glanced at him with a trace of surprise, and went out with thelantern.
Ashton followed to the house and around into the side porch. The othermen were making their morning toilets by lantern light, each dryingface and hands on his own towel. Ashton and Gowan waited their turnat the basins, and together went into the lamplit dining-room, wherethe Jap cook was serving bacon, coffee, and hot bread. Ashton lingeredover his meal, hoping to see Miss Isobel. But neither she nor herfather appeared.
Gowan had gone out with the other men. Presently he came back to theside door and remarked in almost a friendly tone: "Your hawss is readywhenever you are, Ashton."
"Thanks," said Ashton, rising. "The poor old brute must be ratherstiff after the spurring I gave him yesterday."
Gowan did not reply. He had gone out again. Somewhat nettled, Ashtonhastened after him. Dawn had come. The gray light in the east wasbrightening to an exquisite pink. The clear twilight showed thepuncher waiting at the front of the house beside a saddled horse. Aglance showed Ashton that the saddle and bridle were his own, but thatthe horse was a big, rawboned beast.
"That's not my pony,"
he said.
"This here Rocket hawss ain't _any_ pony," agreed Gowan. "He's a man'ssize hawss. Ain't afraid you'll drop too far when you fall off, areyou?"
"You're trying to get me on a bucking bronco!" said Ashton,suspiciously eying the bony, wild-eyed brute.
"He's no outlaw," reassured Gowan. "Most all our hawsses are liableto prance some when they've et too many rattlers. But Miss Chuckiesaid you can ride."
"I can," said Ashton, tightening the thong of his sombrero down acrossthe back of his head and buttoning his coat.
"Roped this Rocket hawss for you because Mr. Knowles wants his mail bysundown," remarked Gowan. "He shore can travel some when he feels likeit. Don't know as you'll need your spurs. Here's a five-spot Mr.Knowles said to hand you by way of advance. Thought you might want torefresh yourself over at Stockchute. Wouldn't rather have anothersaddle and bridle, would you?"
"Kindly thank Mr. Knowles for me," said Ashton, pocketing the fivedollar bill. "No--the horse is hard-mouthed, but I prefer my ownsaddle and bridle."
He drew his rifle from its sheath, wiped the dew from the butt, andtested the mechanism. The horse cocked his ears, but stood motionlesswhile the rifle was taken out and replaced. Ashton picked up the reinsfrom the ground and threw them over the horse's head. The beast didnot swing around, but his ewe neck straightened and his entire bodystiffened to a peculiar rigidity.
Ashton tested the tightness of his saddle girth, and paused to gaze atthe closed front door of the house. Aside from his saddle andburlesque sombrero, he looked every inch a puncher, both in dress andin bearing. But Miss Isobel missed the effect of his new _ensemble_.She missed also the interesting spectacle of his mounting.
If he had never ridden a cow pony he would have been thrown anddragged the instant he put his foot in the narrow metal stirrup. Thehorse was watching him alertly, every muscle tense. Ashton smiledconfidently, spoke to the beast in a quiet tone, and pulled on the offrein. The horse bent his head to the pull, for the moment off hisguard. In a twinkling Ashton had his foot in the stirrup and was up inthe saddle. His toe slipped into the other stirrup as the horse jumpedsideways.
The leap was tremendous, but it failed to unseat Ashton. It wasinstantly followed by other wild jumps--whirling forward and sidelongleaps, interspersed with frantic plunging and rearing. Gowan lookedon, agape with amazement. The tenderfoot stuck fast on his flat littlesaddle and only once pulled leather. Rocket was not a star bucker, buthe had thrown more than one half-baked cowboy.
Finding that he could not unseat his rider, the beast suddenly gaveover his plunging, and bolted at furious speed down the smooth slopetowards Plum Creek. Before they had gone half a furlong Ashtonrealized that he was on a blooded horse of unusual speed and arunaway. He could not hope to pull down so tough-mouthed a beast withhis ordinary curb. The best he could do was to throw all his weight onthe right rein. Unable altogether to resist the steady tug at hishead, the racing horse gradually swerved until he was headed acrossthe mesa towards the jagged, snow-streaked twin crests of Split Peak.
Horse and rider were still in the curve of their swift flight whenIsobel Knowles came out into the porch, yawning behind her plump,sunbrowned hand. A glance at Gowan cut the yawn short. She lookedalertly afield and at once caught sight of the runaway.
"Kid!--O-oh!" she cried. "Mr. Ashton!--on Rocket!"
Gowan spun about to her with a guilty start, but answered almostglibly: "You said he could ride, Miss Chuckie."
"He'll--he'll be killed!--Daddy!"
Knowles stepped out through the doorway, cocking his big blue-barreledColt's. Gowan hastily pointed towards the runaway. Knowles looked, anddropped the revolver to his side. "What's up?" he growled.
"Kid--he--he put Mr. Ashton on Rocket!" breathlessly answered hisdaughter.
"Sorry to contradict you, Miss Chuckie," said Gowan. "He put himselfon."
"He's on yet," dryly commented the cowman. "May be something to thatboy, after all."
"But, Daddy!--"
"Now, just stop fussing yourself, honey. He and Rocket are goingsmooth as axlegrease and bee-lining for Stockchute. How did the hawssstart off?--skittish?"
"Enough to make the tenderfoot pull leather," said Gowan.
"If he stuck at all, with that fool saddle--!" rejoined Knowles."Don't you worry, honey. He sure can fork a hawss--that tenderfoot."
"Oh, yes," the girl sighed with relief. "If Rocket started offbucking, and he kept his seat, of course it's all right. See him takethat gully!"
"You sure gave me a start, honey, calling out that way.--Well, Kid,it's about time we were off. I'll get my hat."
Gowan stepped nearer the girl as her father went inside. "I'll leaveit to the tenderfoot to tell you, Miss Chuckie. He'll have to own up Igave him fair warning. Told him he wouldn't need his spurs, and askedif he'd have another bit and saddle; but it wasn't any use. He's thekind that won't take advice."
"I know you meant it as a joke, Kid. You did not realize the danger ofhis narrow stirrups. Had he been caught in mounting or had he beenthrown, he would almost certainly have been dragged. And for you togive him our one ugly hawss!"
"You said he could ride," the puncher defended himself.
"I'll forgive you for your joke--if he comes back safe," shequalified, without turning her gaze from the now distant horse andrider.
Gowan started for the corral, the slight waddle of his bowlegged gaitrather more pronounced than usual. When Knowles came out with his hat,the runaway was well up on the divide towards Dry Fork. Rocket wasjustifying his name.
In a few seconds the flying horse and rider had disappeared down thefar slope. The girl followed her father and Gowan to the corral, andafter they had ridden off, she roped and saddled one of the threehorses in the corral. She mounted and was off on the jump, ridingstraight for the nearest point on the summit of the divide.
As, presently, she came up towards the top of the rise, she gazedanxiously ahead towards Dry Fork. Before she could see over the benddown to the creek channel, she caught sight of a cloud of dust far outon the mesa beyond the stream. She smiled with relief and wheeledabout to return. The tenderfoot had safely crossed the stream bed. Hewould have Rocket well in hand before they came to rough country.