The Ramblin' Kid. Earl Wayland Bowman

The Ramblin' Kid - Earl Wayland Bowman


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Chuck went moodily out to attend to his horse, and the meal was finished in silence. Even Sing Pete seemed deeply depressed. After supper Old Heck straightened up and in a do-or-die tone said:

      "We'll all go out where it's cool and hold a caucus and figure what ought to be done."

      "There ain't nothing we can do but surrender, as far as I can see," Parker observed gloomily as they gathered on the porch in front of the house. "They seem plumb determined to arrive—"

      "I've already give up hope," Old Heck answered, "but what will we do with them when they get here? We can't just brand 'em and turn them loose on the range."

      "I make a motion we elect Skinny to ride herd on 'em!" Bert Lilly suggested.

      "Damned if I do!" Skinny exclaimed uneasily.

      "It's a good idea," Parker said. "From all accounts the young one expects to be made love to and if she ain't she'll probably be weeping around all the time—"

      "Well, I can't stand sobbin'!" Old Heck declared. "Any female is hard enough to endure and one that gets to mourning is plumb distasteful!

      "That's probably the best thing to do," he continued, "just appoint

       Skinny to be official love-maker to Carolyn June while she's at the

       Quarter Circle KT. It will probably save confusion—"

      "I brought the telegram telling about them coming and I've done my share," Skinny protested; "somebody else can be delegated to do the love-making!"

      "That's just the reason it ought to be your job," Old Heck argued; "you went and got the telegram in the first place and are sort of responsible for them being here."

      "Aw, let th' Ramblin' Kid do it," Skinny pleaded, "he's an easy talker and everything—"

      The Ramblin' Kid straightened up and started for the gate.

      "Where you going?"

      "To catch Capt'n Jack," he drawled; "after that for a little ride down to th' Pecos or over in Chihuahua somewhere a couple hundred miles. I decline with enthusiasm to fall in love on th' spur of th' moment for any damned outfit!"

      "You come on back," Parker called, "Skinny'll have to do it. He can have all his time for it and just pretend he's in love and sort of entertain her. He don't need to go and do it in earnest. Come on back, you darned chump, I need you on the beef hunt!"

      "What'll I have to do?" Skinny asked cautiously.

      "Just set on the front porch with her at night and make your eyes roll up like a calf's that's being branded and kind of sigh heart-broken once in a while," Bert volunteered. "It'll be easy when you get used to it—"

      "If you know so much about it why don't you enlist yourself?" Skinny asked irritably. "Some of you fellows go on and volunteer," he pleaded dolefully.

      "I would in a minute," Chuck chipped in, "if I was good-looking like

       Skinny and had a white shirt—"

      "What's a white shirt got to do with it?"

      "Listen to the innocent child," Chuck laughed, "as if any darned fool didn't know that the first thing a professional love-maker has to have is a white shirt!"

      "That settles it," Skinny declared with emphasis, "I won't wear a white shirt to make love to no blamed woman—"

      "Chuck's locoed," the Ramblin' Kid interposed; "you don't need to have no white shirt—of course it would be better but it ain't downright necessary—women don't fall in love with shirts, it's what's inside of them."

      "Where did you find out so much about women?" Bert queried.

      "I didn't find out—I'm just guessin'—"

      "There ain't no use arguing," Old Heck broke in. "Skinny will have to be expert love-maker for that Carolyn June niece of mine—I'll allow him ten dollars a month more wages while he's doing it. I ain't going to have her writing letters to her pa and telling him she didn't have no conveniences or nothing. Anyhow, she's young and I reckon it's sort of necessary."

      "What about th' other one—Ophelia Cobb or whoever she is?" Bert Lilly asked.

      "She's past the age for it, probably," Parker said uneasily.

      "They don't pass it," the Ramblin' Kid interrupted laconically; "when females get too old to want to be made love to they die—"

      "I'd like to know where in hell a juvenile like you got your education about women!" Bert insisted to the Ramblin' Kid.

      "I ain't got none—I'm just guessing I told you," the other replied, "but it's the truth, anyhow."

      "Well, if I've got to make love to the young one Old Heck or Parker or somebody's got to do it for the other one," Skinny declared positively.

      "Ophelia don't need it," Old Heck said hastily, "she's a widow and has done been—"

      "Widows are th' worst," the Ramblin' Kid drawled; "they've had experience an' don't like to give it up."

      "Th' Ramblin' Kid's right," Chuck broke in. "I read a book once that said that's the way they are. It's up to Old Heck or Parker to represent Cupid to the widow—"

      "Who the hell's Cupid?" Skinny asked curiously.

      "He's a dangerous little outlaw that ain't got no reg'lar range," the

       Ramblin' Kid answered for Chuck.

      "I'll not do it—" Old Heck and Parker spoke at once.

      "Then I won't either," Skinny declared flatly, "I'll quit the dog-goned

       Quarter Circle KT first!"

      "Let Sing Pete make love to the widow," Bert suggested.

      "No, no! Me busy cookee," Sing Pete, who had been listening from the open doorway, jabbered and darted, frightened, back into the house.

      "Anyhow I'd kill him if he did," the Ramblin' Kid said softly; "no darned Chink can make love to a white woman, old, young or indifferent, in my presence an' live!"

      "Well, Old Heck'll have to do it, then," Skinny said; "hanged if I'm going to be the only he-love-maker on this ranch!"

      "Let Parker and Old Heck divide up on Ophelia," Chuck advised, "one of them can love her one day and the other the next—"

      "That's reasonable," Bert declared, "she'd probably enjoy a change herself."

      "I tell you I ain't got time," Parker protested.

      "Neither have I," Old Heck added.

      "All right then, I ain't either!" Skinny declared. "If you two ain't willing to take turn about with the widow and love her off and on between you I'll be everlastingly hell-tooted if I'm going to stand for a whole one by myself all of the time! I'll go on strike first and start right now!"

      "We'll stay with you, Skinny," the Ramblin' Kid exclaimed with a laugh, "th' whole bunch will quit till Parker an' Old Heck grants our demands."

      "We'll all quit!" the cowboys chorused.

      "Oh, well, Parker," Old Heck grumbled, "I reckon we'll have to do it!"

      "It won't be hard work," the Ramblin' Kid said consolingly, "all you got to do is set still an' leave it to Ophelia. Widows are expert love-makers themselves an' know how to keep things goin'!"

      It was settled. Skinny Rawlins, at an increase of ten dollars a month on his wage, protestingly, was elected official love-maker to Carolyn June Dixon, Old Heck's niece, speeding unsuspectingly toward the Quarter Circle KT, and Old Heck and Parker between them were to divide the affections of Ophelia Cobb, widow and chaperon.

      In the mind of every cowboy on the ranch there was one thought unexpressed but very insistent that night, "Wonder what She looks like?" thinking, of course, of Carolyn June.

      Old Heck and Parker also


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