Читать книгу Tiger Eye - B. M. Bower - Страница 8

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THE kid eased himself in the saddle and pulled his mouth organ from his shirt pocket. He polished it gravely upon his sleeve, set its little pigeonholed edge against his young lips and began to play softly while he rode along. He played "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" three times, with intricate variations of his own invention. Then he played "The Spanish Cavalier", and after he had played that twice, he sang it softly, each note true as a silver bell but so faint a man within pistol shot could not hear one note of the song.

"Say, darling, say, when I am far away-ay,

Sometimes you may think of me, dear!

Bright sunny days will soon pass away—

Remember what I say, and be true, dear!"

The kid was not thinking of any girl in particular while he sang that. He was singing because he felt like singing, and there was a yearning tenderness in the song that seemed to fit his mood.

Twenty yards from the cabin he heard the plaintive cry of a night bird that sounded scared. After a guilty pause he answered it faithfully and rode on.

"Damn you, Tiger Eye," Babe cursed him with exasperated relief, "don't you know I darn near took a shot at yuh?"

"Thought yo'all would be in baid," the kid apologized in his melodious drawl.

"You thought wrong. I been on edge, wonderin' what was keepin' yuh."

"Shoah mighty sorry foh that, Babe."

The kid unsaddled Pecos, rubbed him dry and went whistling up the path. The cabin was warm and reeked with the smell of coal-oil fumes and stale cigarette smoke. Babe's paper novel lay open, face down on the table, only two or three pages left unread at the back. Babe's gun was thrust inside his waistband just where his hand would drop easiest to the grip. Babe closed the door behind the kid, shutting out the lamplight from any one in the valley, and looked the kid over.

"I damn' near saddled up and took out after yuh, Tiger Eye," he said querulously. "These are shore bad times to be ridin' around alone. Nester see yuh—well, you oughta know."

"Shoah do, Babe." The kid's eyes were shining with a strange, soft light.

"Have any trouble? If it's a fair question."

"Not to call trouble. Trailed some nestahs to Sam Becker's ranch. Had a meetin' theah. Right smaht gatherin'. They aim to call the Poole men into a trap. Some talk of drivin' cattle into Oxbow Bend. Poole men'll go theah and half the nestahs will be cached in the pass—"

"Yeah?" Babe looked startled. "Say, that might 'a' drawed the Poole riders out, at that, if they didn't know it was a frame-up. We been watchin' our chance to get 'em in the act, the damn' cow thieves! Say, you got no call to take a chance like that," Babe frowned as the kid's exploit recurred to him. "'F they'd 'a' caught yuh there, they'd 'a' strung yuh up in a holy minute. Don't yuh take another chance like that, Tiger Eye."

The kid did not say anything to that. He had discovered that Babe had made fresh coffee not so long ago, and he was cuddling the pot with his fingers and trying to judge whether the coffee would be fit to drink without reheating. He decided that it would, and reached for a cup hanging on a nail beside him.

"Say, you goin' to promise me yuh won't take no more chances like that?" Babe pressed the point.

"Shoah would hate to worry yo'all, Babe," the kid said softly, pouring coffee and not lifting his glance from the dark stream.

"You got something more under your hat than what you told me," Babe charged, hesitating between anger and amusement. "Damn you, Tiger Eye, what more you been doin' to-night?"

The kid turned and looked long at Babe over his cup. His yellow eye was curiously softened.

"I been hearin' talk about Nate Wheeler," he said finally, and blinked when he saw how Babe failed to repress a start. "I been findin' out I didn't shoot so wide. I aimed to hit his gun ahm down, and that ahm shoah was hit, just like I aimed it would be."

"Yeah?" Babe's eyes took on a hard, watchful look.

"I heahd men say it was a rifle bullet hit him in the haid," the kid drawled softly. "I reckon yo'all thought he was goin' to shoot me. I shoah am much obleeged to yo'all, Babe."

Babe Garner stared, then laughed shortly and turned away.

"Yo're welcome, Tiger Eye." He turned and began thumping pillows with savage energy. "Which side the bed you want? Me, I like to lay on the edge, where I can roll out quick."

"Just lay wheah yo'all feels the best, Babe," grinned the kid, swallowing the last of the coffee. "I'm sleepin' sound to-night, no mattah wheah I lay my haid."