Читать книгу The X Bar X Boys in Thunder Canyon - Roger Garis - Страница 6
ОглавлениеA Message in the Night
At the ranch that evening, there was much talk of the landslide and of how Nick came upon the two boys “wanderin’ around within five hundred yards of each other an’ each thinkin’ the other was settin’ on the ground, tossin’ little rocks after big ones,” which was Nick’s way of telling of the incident.
Mr. Manley, the soul of bluff friendliness and humor, laughed until the ends of his long black mustache curled inward.
But Mrs. Manley, she whom the boys and their father often called, half jokingly, half seriously, “the blonde angel of the West,” smiled tenderly. Now that the danger was over, she would not worry. Still in her mother’s heart was a prayer of thankfulness for the boys’ safety. Often had she watched her sons off on a dangerous mission with a laugh on her lips and anguish in her soul, but they never knew that.
Perhaps Mr. Manley suspected, for at times he would gather her in his arms without a word of warning, and in a soft voice ask her if she was sorry she had come out to “this roughneck West where there’s nothin’ but cyclones an’ wild steers an’ rustlers.”
Then she would lift her face to his, her eyes shining with just a hint of tears—of happiness, and in a moment Mr. Manley’s laugh would go booming out into the sunny yard. Seldom would she answer his question. He knew the reply without being told.
Belle Ada, the daughter of the family, she of the dark eyes and wavy black hair, characterized by Sing Lung, the cook, as “Plitty like litta’ black jade house-god,” was disappointed that Teddy had not brought home the porcupine. Belle was twelve years old, and a fitting partner for Teddy when any joke was afoot.
“We could have had loads of fun with him,” she declared. “Golly! Imagine Pop Burns trying to get him to shoot his quills! I know we could have fixed up something, maybe with rubber bands, so when Pop went near him the quills would shoot! Of course I don’t say we could have. I just say maybe. But, anyway—”
“Hey, take it easy!” Teddy interrupted. “We haven’t got old Needleback; so what’s the use of supposing? You’re lucky to have us back at all, Miss Maybe. Do you realize that?”
“Bugs,” Belle stated definitely, with that callousness so attractive in sisters of twelve. “I know you and Roy. It ’ud take more than a landslide to put you under. Like that time you went after the rustlers. If I could have come with you, I’ll bet none of them would have gotten away!”
“Is that so!” Roy interrupted, getting up from the steps of the front porch, where he had been sitting, and walking toward Belle. “Is that so! How would you work? What would you do? Shoot ’em all? Would you? Would you? Would—”
“Roy Manley, don’t you touch my hair! I just combed it! Roy! If you don’t stop—”
With a bound, Roy cleared the railing, while Belle stood in mock fury, shaking her fist.
“Come on, Teddy,” the departed brother called back. “Let’s go see Nick down at the bunk-house. We can’t be bothering with children.”
With a laugh, Teddy arose and followed his brother.
“We’ll see you later,” he whispered as he passed Belle. “Think up a good one, and I’ll help you.”
Approaching the bunk-house, the two boys saw that Nick, Pop Burns, and Gus Tripp were leaning against the side talking—“settling their supper.” In the dusk of the evening, they resembled a picture, so quietly did they stand. The cowboy will seldom move unless it is necessary, but at those times he makes up for his former quiescence.
“Greetings, boys,” Teddy called softly.
“And to you, great chiefs, the blessing of the harvest moon,” came from Gus. “What brings you-all to the abode of the humble?”
“Make talk,” Teddy grunted. “Where do you get that ‘humble’ stuff? Been getting more love letters, Gus?”
“You tell ’em,” Pop chuckled. “Pop” was the oldest puncher on the X Bar X. He claimed to have invented the brand of the Manley ranch when the present owner’s father first settled it. Thus he felt entitled to a certain consideration from the “youngsters,” as he called the other hands. This respect he often sought to enforce by criticizing the rising generation, much to his later dismay. In the words of Nick, they “hopped all over him.”
“Never mind about my love letters,” Gus responded, grinning. “I guess Nick, here, can tell us all we want to know about love. He’s the hombre that writes the ‘advice to the lovelorn’ in the Hawley Register; ain’t you, Nick? An’ I know where he gets his dope from, too! Me, if I liked Norine as well as you do, I’d marry the girl, that’s what I’d do! Yessir!”
“Dry up,” Nick growled. Norine was the daughter of Mrs. Moore, a widow, who for many years had been the housekeeper at the ranch house of the X Bar X. Norine was Irish—and pretty. Nick was not the only puncher on the ranch who had fallen a victim to her charms.
“Yep, these kids amuse me,” Pop chuckled, sliding gently down the side of the bunk-house until he sat upon the ground, when he proceeded to light and fill a pipe. “They sure tickle me! Talkin’ about love! Huh! Why, you birds don’t know what love means. Me, I had experience. First gal I ever loved was the dar’ter of a bouncer in a drinkin’ place over Tacoma way. She was a gal fer yuh! Shoot? That gal could shoot the eye outta a fly at ten paces. That’s the reason I didn’t marry her. She was too good. The next one was—”
“Aw, take a rest!” Nick exploded. “How do you get thataway? Must think you’re King Solomon, or somebody! Pop, there’s only one trouble with you. You’re too verbose.”
“Here!” the old man sat upright, startled. “Don’t go callin’ names at me, Nick, ’cause I won’t have it. I’m tellin’ yuh now, I—”
“Take it easy, Pop,” Roy broke in. “That doesn’t mean anything to get sore about. It means you talk too much.”
“Oh!” Pop returned, mollified. “I thought it meant somethin’ else. Got to be careful these days, with all the youngsters readin’ dictionaries. When I was your age, Nick, all my knowledge I got out of Harvey’s Encyclopedia an’ an almanack containin’ the names of every bird, animal an’ fish in creation, with a remedy for all ills the flesh is heir to. Yep, an’ she stood me in good stead, too. I remember the time—”
“Gettin’ late,” Gus declared, stretching high. “Got a pack of tobacco, Nick? I’m all out. Say, what you boys been doin’ all day? Seems like I heard some talk of a landslide.”
“That was us,” Teddy said grimly. He told the story of their escape once more, since Nick had not yet repeated it.
“Guess you were glad to be on the backs of Flash an’ Star,” Gus commented when Teddy had finished.
“I’ll tell a maverick we were!” Roy burst out. “Those horses are almost human! Now you take that jump that Flash made, with Teddy on him. I saw the place, and, baby, it was some leap! How many horses could do that? Then when I gave Star his head, as the rocks started to play tag with me, why, he knew which way to go. Brought me right out of it. By golly, I—”
“Guess during the time the rustlers had them broncs you didn’t lose any love for ’em, did ya?” Nick remarked dryly. “Well, you’re right, Roy. They’re sure some horses!”
“Can’t tell me different!” Teddy agreed. “Say, Roy, did you let the boys know about that rider you saw on the mountain? Maybe they know who it is.”
“What was that?” Gus asked quickly.
“Well, nothing much,” Roy answered, “except that I saw a man who looked a great deal like one of those punchers we rounded up when they tried to steal our cattle. As I remember there was one hombre who sat kind of slouched in the saddle—leaning to the left. Any of you recall that?”
“I do,” Nick stated definitely. “When he heard that Froud had knifed Brand, he took a pot shot at him, only he missed. Sure, I remember that slouch. But as far as I know he’s in the hoosegow at Hawley. There were only three of the rustlers that made a getaway. That waddy who rides leanin’ in his saddle we got. Still, I reckon there’s more than one side-winder in these parts.”
“Guess so,” Roy said musingly. He stared up at the sky through which tiny stars were now peeping. “Going to be a nice day to-morrow,” he said in a low tone. “Just right for a ride. Maybe—”
“Maybe,” Teddy repeated. “Why not? I’ll go with you.”
“Huh?” Roy came to with a jerk and looked at his brother. “What do you mean—you’ll come with me? Do you think you’re a mind reader?”
“Sure do,” Teddy replied, grinning broadly. “Guessed right, didn’t I? You mean to ride over to the 8 X 8 and see Nell and Ethel, don’t you? Oh, never mind denying it. Anyway, I’ll go along to see that you get there all right. Can’t have bogie-mans get my ’ittle brother. No, sir! Would be terrible. Would be awful. Would be—”
“Chuck it,” Roy growled, making a pass at Teddy. “If you come along, it’s not to save me from any bogie-man. It’s for just one thing—to see Curly! Hey, Pop, what about that? You qualify as an expert. What should a man do when he wants to see a girl and she’s ten miles off on another ranch?”
“Buy an airship,” Pop chuckled. “Then you can make flyin’ visits. Pete Ball would be glad to see you comin’, I know. He’d maybe climb up on the roof an’ wave to you.”
“You’re all locoed, I think,” Teddy said casually. “I’m going in. Got some work to do.”
“Yea, work! Going to write a note to Curly because too many people may listen in if you telephone! Do you call that work?” gibed Roy.
“I would not—anything but!” returned Teddy. “The note wouldn’t be poetry though,” and he grinned at his brother, who was a lover of verse. “Say, Gus,” he went on in a different tone of voice, “how’s that cow that was sick? Getting better?”
“She’s comin’ along all right, Teddy,” Gus replied.
Mr. Manley gave the charge of the ranch over to the boys on alternate weeks, and this week Teddy was the foreman. He was responsible for the management of the entire business of the X Bar X.
“Don’t let her mix with the others until she’s entirely well,” Teddy went on. “We don’t want any more sickness on our hands. Well, see you boys in the morning. Coming in, Roy?”
“Not just yet. I want to—”
Roy had been facing Nick while he was talking, and now he stopped suddenly and whirled about. From around the corner of the bunk-house came the clatter of a pony’s feet. The five men stood perfectly still, waiting. The rider appeared, flashing through the night like an apparition. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, and Teddy noticed that he rode not straight up, but leaning to the left.
Close to the five punchers he swung. When he got opposite them, he yelled something and tossed a light stick at Roy. Fluttering from the stick was a piece of white paper. The next moment the rider had swept out of sight behind the bunk-house. The beating of his pony’s feet upon the hard earth sounded loud, then the noise grew gradually fainter and at last died away in the distance. He went as he had come.
Teddy stooped forward and picked up the stick with the paper tied to it. He walked into the bunk-house and held it under the lamp. The others crowded around eagerly. Teddy spread the paper out. On it were scribbled the words:
“Bardwell Manley:
“If you press the charge against those men at Hawley you’ll get yours with interest. Take our advice and let it drop if you want to stay healthy. We mean what we say.
“Reltsur.”
