CHAPTER XIX
A COMMON BRAWL
There is a madness which comes to certain people at certain times andmakes them forget the whole world. In such a moment Bowles had stolen akiss--for the first time in his life--and Dixie Lee had forgiven him. Hehad stolen it quickly, and she had forgiven him quickly, and then theyhad ridden on together without daring so much as a glance. That kiss hadmeant a great deal to both of them, and they needed time to think. Sothey rode down to the hold-up herd in silence and parted without a word.
Dixie went on to camp, to rest and care for her hurts; and Bowles, witha sad and preoccupied smile, stayed by to help with the herd. But thejealous eyes of hate are quick to read such smiles, and as Bowles rodealong on the swing he was suddenly startled out of his dreams. HardyAtkins went out of his way to ride past him, and as he spurred his horsein against his stirrup he hissed:
"You leave my girl alone, you blankety-blank!" and went muttering on hisway.
This roused Bowles from his reverie, and he began to think. If HardyAtkins had noticed a change, there were others who would do the same.How Atkins had guessed, or what the clue had been, he could not tell;but, having been carefully brought up, Bowles knew exactly what he oughtto do. Before the first rumor had run its course it was his duty as agentleman to go to Henry Lee and make a report of the facts; then, ifany exaggerated statements came to his ears later, Mr. Lee would knowthat his conduct had been honorable and that green-eyed envy was raisingits hateful head. So, without more ado, he rode up to the point of theherd and saluted the austere boss.
"Mr. Lee," he said, as that gentleman turned upon him sharply, "I amsorry, but Miss Lee had a very bad fall this morning and she has goneahead to camp."
"Yes, I saw her," returned the boss. "What about it?"
"Well--I was afraid she might not mention it to you, or might minimizeher hurts, but as a matter of fact she fell on a steep hill, and if ithadn't been for a juniper tree she might have been seriously injured. Asit is, her knee gave her quite a lot of trouble and I had to help her tomount."
"Oh!" commented Henry Lee, and glanced at him again. "Well, what is it?"he inquired, as Bowles still rode at his side.
"Excuse me," stammered Bowles, holding resolutely to his task, "Ithought perhaps you might want to ride ahead and help her off herhorse."
For a moment the boss looked him over, then he grunted and bowed quiteformally.
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Will you call Hardy to take myplace?"
He waited until Hardy Atkins had started, and then put spurs to hishorse, and when the cowboys reached camp he was busy about the tent. Thenext day Dixie did not ride out on the round-up, and when they came backshe was gone. "Back to the home ranch," the cook reported, and he addedthat she was not very lame; but the cow-punchers glared at Bowles as ifhe had crippled her for life. And not only that, but as if he had doneit on purpose.
"These blankety-blank tenderfeet!" commented Hardy Atkins by the fire."They can make an outfit more trouble than a bunch of Apache Indians. Icain't stand 'em--it's onlucky to have 'em around."
"I'd rather be short-handed, any time," observed Buck Buchanan sagely.
"Now, there's Dix," continued Hardy, with a vindictive glance at Bowles;"worth any two men in the outfit--ride anywhere--goes out with thistenderfoot and comes within an ace of gittin' killed. She raced with me,rode with Jack and Slim, and left the Straw a mile--the Hinglishmancomes in behind her, crowds her outer the trail, and if it hadn't beenfer that juniper she'd a-landed in them rocks."
Bowles looked up scornfully from his place and said nothing, but Brighamappeared for the defense.
"Aw, what do _you_ know about it?" he growled. "You wasn't there. Whotold you he crowded her out of the trail?"
"Well, he says so himse'f!" protested Atkins, pointing an accusingfinger at Bowles. "Didn't he come into camp and tell all about it? Ibelieve that he was tryin' to do it so he could git a chance to----"
"Mr. Atkins," said Bowles, rising to his feet and speaking tremulously,"I shall have to ask----"
But that was as far as he got. With a tiger-like spring the ex-twisterwas upon him, and before he could raise his hands he struck him full inthe face.
"You will talk about my gal, will ye?" he shouted, as Bowles went downat the blow. "Stand up hyer, you white-livered Hinglishman; I'll learnyou to butt in on my game!"
"Here! What're you tryin' to do?" demanded Brigham, leaping up hastilyand confronting his old-time enemy. "You touch that boy again, and I'llslap yore dirty face off!"
"Well, he's been gittin' too important around hyer!" cried Atkinsnoisily. "And he's been talkin' about my gal--I won't take that from noman!"
"Huh!" sneered Brigham, drawing closer and clenching his hands. "You'remighty quick to hit a man when he ain't lookin'--why don't you take aman of yore size now and hit me?"
"I ain't got no quarrel with you!" raved Hardy Atkins. "That's thefeller I'm after--he's been talkin' about my gal!"
"He has not!" replied Brigham deliberately. "He never talked about nogal, and I'll whip the man that says so--are you bad hurt, pardner?"
He knelt by the side of the prostrate Bowles, who opened his eyes andstared. Then he looked about him and raised one hand to his cheek, whichwas bruised and beginning to swell.
"I'll learn you to cut me out!" taunted Hardy Atkins, shaking his fistand doing a war-dance. "I'll make you hard to ketch if you try to buttin on me!"
"Aw, shut up!" snarled Brigham, lifting his partner up. "You're bravewhen a man ain't lookin', ain't ye? Here, ketch hold of me, pardner, andI'll take you to yore bed."
Bowles dropped down on his blankets, still nursing his aching head; butin the morning he rose up with a purposeful look in his eye. He was along way from New York and the higher life now, and that one treacherousblow had roused his fighting blood. For the courage which prompts a manto strike in the dark, he had little if any respect, and he wentstraight over to Hardy Atkins the moment he saw him alone.
"Mr. Atkins," he said, "you hit me when I wasn't looking last night.Next time you won't find me so easy--but be so good as to leave MissLee's name out of this."
"Oho!" taunted the cow-puncher, straightening up and regarding him witha grin. "So you want some more, hey? That crack on the jaw didn'tsatisfy you. What's the matter with yore face this mawnin'?"
"Never you mind about my face," returned Bowles warmly. "If you are solow as to be proud of a trick like that, you are a coward, and nogentleman, and--put up your hands!"
He squared off as he spoke, falling back upon his right foot andpresenting a long, menacing left; but Hardy Atkins only laughed andloosened his pistol.
"Aw, go on away," he said. "D'ye think I want to _box_ with you? No, ifyou git into a fight with me you're liable to stop 'most anythin'--I'llhit you over the coco with _this_!"
He laid his hand on the heavy Colt's which he always wore in his shaps,and gazed upon Bowles insolently.
"You can't run no blazer over me, Mr. Willie-boy," he went on, as Bowlesput down his hands. "You're out West now, where everythin' goes. Ifyou'd happen to whip me in a fist-fight I'd git my gun and shoot you, sokeep yore mouth shut unless you want to go the limit. And while we'retalkin'," he drawled, "I think you might as well drift--it's goin' to bemighty onhealthy around hyer if I ketch you with Dixie again."
"I asked you to leave her name out of this," suggested Bowles, tryingbravely to keep his voice from getting thin. "If you've got a quarrelwith me, well and good, but certainly no gentleman----"
"Aw, go on away from me," sneered Hardy Atkins, waving him wearilyaside. "You seem to think you're the only gentleman in the outfit! Gochase yoreself--you make me tired!"
The sight of grinning faces about the corral recalled Bowles to thepresence of an audience and, choking with anger and chagrin, he went offto saddle his horse. Ever since his arrival Hardy Atkins had ignoredhim, glancing at him furtively or gazing past him with superciliousscorn. Now for the first time they had met as man to m
an, and in thatbrief minute the ex-twister had shown his true colors. He was a man oftreachery and violence, and proud of it. He did not pretend to fair playnor subscribe to the rules of the game. He did not even claim to be agentleman! There was the crux, and Bowles labored in his mind to findthe key. How could he compete--in either love or war--with a man who wasnot a gentleman?
It was Brigham who gave the answer, and to him it was perfectly simple.
"Well," he said, as they rode back together from the circle, "he'swarned you out of camp--what ye goin' to do about it?"
"Why, what can I do?" faltered Bowles, whose soul was darkened withtroubles.
"Fight or git out," replied Brigham briefly.
"But he won't fight fair!" cried Bowles. "He hits me when I'm notlooking; then when I offer to fight him with my hands he threatens mewith a pistol. What can a man do?"
"Threaten 'im with yourn!" returned Brigham. "He won't shoot--he's oneof the worst four-flushers in Arizona! He's jest runnin' it over youbecause he thinks you're a tenderfoot."
"How do you know he won't shoot?" inquired Bowles, to whom the wholeproposition was in the nature of an enigma. "What does he carry thatpistol for, then?"
"Jest to look ba-ad," sneered Brigham, "and throw a big scare intostrangers. _I_ ain't got no six-shooter, and he don't run it over me,does he? He's afraid to shoot, that's what's the matter--he knows verywell the Rangers would be on his neck before he could cross the line.Don't you let these Texicans buffalo you, boy--the only time they'redangerous is when they're on a drunk."
"Then you mean," began Bowles hopefully, "if I'd struck him this morninghe wouldn't have used his gun?"
"Well," admitted Brig, "he might've drawed it--and if you'd whipped himhe might've taken a shot at you. But you got a gun too, ain't you?"
"Ye-es," acknowledged Bowles; "but I don't want to kill a man. Iwouldn't like to shoot him with it."
"Well, then, for Gawd's sake, _take it off_!" roared Brigham. "If he'dshot you this mornin' he could a got off fer self-defense! Turn it overto the boss and tell him you don't want no trouble--then if Hardy shootsyou he'll swing fer it!"
"But how about me?" queried Bowles.
"You're twice as likely to git shot anyway," persisted Brig, "with a gunon you. If you got to pack a gun, leave it in yore bed, where you cangit it if you want it; but if the other feller sees you're heeled, andhe's got a gun, it makes him nervous, and if you make a sudden move heplugs you. But if you ain't armed he don't dare to--they're awful strictout here, and these Rangers are the limit. Hardy won't shoot--you ain'tafraid of 'im, are you?"
"No-o," said Bowles; "not if he'd fight fair."
"D'ye think you could whip 'im?" demanded Brigham eagerly.
"I can try," responded Bowles grimly.
"That's the talk!" cheered Brigham, leaning over to whack him on theback. "Stand up to 'im! He's nothin' but a big bluff!"
"I don't know about that," grumbled Bowles, with the affair of themorning still fresh in mind; "I'm afraid he'll hit me with his gun."
"Well, here, we'll fix that," said Brig, hastily stripping the heavyquirt from his wrist. "You turn yore pistol over to the boss and takethis loaded quirt--then if Hardy offers to club you with his gun youknock his eye out with _this_!"
He made a vicious pass into the air with the bludgeon-like handle,holding the quirt by the lash, and passed it over to Bowles.
"Now you're heeled!" he said approvingly. "That's worse'n a gun, anytime, and you kin hit 'im as hard as you please. Jest hang that on yorewrist, where it'll be handy, and turn that cussed six-shooter in."
The matter was still a little mixed in Bowles' mind, and he felt that hewas treading upon new and dangerous ground, but his evil passions werestill afoot and he longed gloomily for his revenge. So when they gotinto camp that evening he went over to Henry Lee's tent, with Brigham toact as his witness.
"Mr. Lee," he said, speaking according to instructions, "I've had alittle difficulty with one of the boys, and I'd like to turn in my gun.I don't want to have any trouble."
"All right, Mr. Bowles," answered the boss very quietly. "Just throw iton my bed. What's the matter, Brig?"
"Oh, nothin' much," replied Brigham. "You saw it yorese'f--last night."
"Um," assented Henry Lee, glancing for a moment at Bowles' skinnedcheek. "Well, we don't want to have any racket now, boys--not whilewe've got these wild cattle on our hands--and I'm much obliged. Hope youdon't have any more trouble, Mr. Bowles."
He bowed them out of the tent without any more words, and they proceededback to the camp. A significant smile went the rounds as Bowles cameback from the tent, but in the morning he went to the corral as usual.
"I thought you'd got yore time," ventured Buck Buchanan, as Bowles beganto saddle up; and as the word passed around that he had not, HardyAtkins rode over to inquire.
"What's this I hear?" he said. "I thought you was goin' to quit."
"Then you were mistaken, Mr. Atkins," answered Bowles politely. "I amnot."
"Then what did you see the boss fer? Makin' some kick about me?"
"Your name was not mentioned, Mr. Atkins," replied Bowles, stillpolitely. "I simply turned over my gun to Mr. Lee and told him I'd hadsome trouble."
"Well, it's nothin' to what you _will_ have!" scowled the ex-twisterhatefully. "I can tell you that! And I give you till night to pull. Ifyou don't----"
He paused with meaning emphasis and turned his horse to go, but HenryLee had been watching him from a distance and now he came spurring in.
"Hardy," he said, "I'll have to ask you to leave Bowles strictly alone.He's turned his gun in to me and is tending to his own business, sodon't let me speak to you again. D'ye understand?"
"Yes, sir!" mumbled the cow-puncher, fumbling sullenly with hissaddle-strings; but his mind was not turned from his purpose, as Bowlesfound out that same night.
They were swinging around toward the south and west, raking the lastbarren ridges before they started the day-herd for home; and in theevening they camped in the open and threw their beds down anywhere.After a hasty supper by the fire, Bowles spread out his blankets, coiledup his bed-rope, and rode forth to stand the first guard. For Bowles wasa top hand now, whatever his enemy might say, and he had his choice ofguards. It was very dark when he came in at ten-thirty, and he was toosleepy to notice the change, but after he had slipped under histarpaulin he felt something through the bed. It was his bed-rope,stretched carelessly across the middle, from side to side, and hegrumbled for a moment to himself as he squirmed down where it would nothurt him. Then he went to sleep.
After a man has ridden hard all day and stood his guard at night, alittle thing like a rope under his bed is not likely to disturb hisdreams--the way the pea did the soft-sleeping True Princess--but withthis particular rope it was different. Hardy Atkins had stretched itthere with malice aforethought; and when, later in the night, he saddledhis snorting night horse and prepared to ride out to the herd, he tiedthe two ends into a loop and silently stepped away with the slack. Thenhe took a turn around the horn, put spurs to his horse, and wentplunging out into the night.
A sudden yank almost snapped Bowles in two in the middle; he woke upclutching, to find himself side-swiping the earth; then an agonizingseries of bumps and jolts followed, and he fetched up against a juniperwith a jar that rattled his teeth. There was a strain, a snap, and asthe rope parted he heard a titter, and a horse went galloping on. It wasa practical joke--Bowles realized that the moment he woke up--but theterror of that first grim nightmare wrenched his soul to the verydepths. He came to, cursing and fighting, still bound by the loop of thelariat and half-buried in the wreck of the juniper. Then he jerkedhimself loose and sprang up, staring about in the darkness for someenemy that he could kill. The titter of the galloping horseman gave theanswer, and he knew it was Hardy Atkins. Hardy had given him tillnightfall to quit camp or look out for trouble. This was the trouble.
Bowles spread out his bed as best he could and slept where he lay til
ldawn. Then he went to Henry Lee and said he would like his gun. Hishands were bloody and torn from contact with the brush, and there was afresh welt above one eye that gave him a sinister leer. There was nodoubt about it--Bowles was mad--and after a cursory glance the boss sawhe was out for blood.
"Just a moment, Mr. Bowles," he said, advancing to the fire. "Boys," hecontinued, addressing the smirking hands who stood there, "I make it arule on my round-ups that nobody carries a gun. That includes you, too,Mr. Bowles," he added meaningly. "Mosby, get me a gunny-sack."
With the gunny-sack under one arm the wagon-boss went the rounds, andwhen he had finished his trip the sack was full of guns.
"I'll just keep these till we get back to the ranch," he observed."And," he added, "the next man that picks on Bowles will have to walk totown. Hardy, were you in on this?"
"No, sir!" replied Atkins stoutly. "I don't know a thing about it!"
"Well, be mighty careful what you do," charged Henry Lee severely."Brig, throw that herd on the trail--we might as well hit for theranch."