The Ridin' Kid from Powder River Part 12

"Wisht I had a hoss like that," said a cowboy. "Always did hate to climb offen a hoss. I like to have 'em set down and kind o' let me step off easy-like."

Pete sorely wanted to make a sharp retort, but he had learned the wisdom of silence. He knew that he had made himself ridiculous before these men. It would be hard to live down this thing. He deemed himself sadly out of luck, but he never lost sight of the main chance for an instant.

Bailey, through young Andy White, knew of Pete and was studying him.

The boy had self-possession, and he had not cursed the horse for stumbling. He saw that Pete was making a fight to keep his temper.

"You lookin' for work?" he said kindly.

"I was headed that way," replied Pete.

"Can you rope?"

"Oh, some. I kin keep from tanglin' my feet in a rope when it's hangin' on the horn and I'm standin' off a piece."

"Well, things are slack right now. Don't know as I could use you.

What's your name, anyhow?"

"I'm Pete Annersley. I reckon you know who my pop was."

Bailey nodded. "The T-Bar-T," he said, turning toward the men. They shook their heads and were silent, gazing curiously at the boy, of whom it was said that he had "b.u.mped off" two T-Bar-T boys in a raid some years ago. Young Pete felt his ground firmer beneath him. The men had ceased laughing. If it had not been for that unfortunate stumble . . .

"You're sportin' a right good rig," said the foreman.

"I aim to," said Pete quickly. "If I hadn't gone broke buyin' it, I'd ride up here on a real hoss."

"Things are pretty slack right now," said Bailey. "Glad to see you--but they won't be nothin' doin' till fall. Won't you set down?

We're goin' to eat right soon."

"Thanks. I ain't a-missin' a chanct to eat. And I reckon ole Rowdy there could do somethin' in that line hisself."

Bailey smiled. "Turn your horse into the corral. Better pack your saddle over here. That pup will chew them new latigos if he gets near it."

"That doggone pup come mighty nigh bustin' me,"--and Pete smiled for the first time since arriving. "But the pup was havin' a good time, anyhow."

"Say, I want to shake with you!" said a big puncher, rising and sticking out a strong, hairy hand.

Pete's face expressed surprise. "Why--sure!" he stammered, not realizing that his smiling reference to the pup had won him a friend.

"He's sure a hard-boiled kid," said one of the men as Pete unsaddled and led Rowdy to the corral. "Did you catch his eye? Black--and s.h.i.+nin'; plumb full of deviltry--down in deep. That kid's had to hit some hard spots afore he growed to where he is."

"And he can take his medicine," a.s.serted another cowboy. "He was mad enough to kill that hoss and the bunch of us--but he held her down and bellied up to us like a real one. Looks like he had kind of a Injun streak in him."

Bailey nodded. "Wish I had a job for the kid. He would make good.

He's been driftin' round the country with old man Montoya for a couple of years. Old man Annersley picked him up down to Concho. The kid was with a horse-trader. He would have been all right with Annersley, but you boys know what happened. This ain't no orphan asylum, but--well, anyhow--did you size up the rig he's sportin'?"

"Some rig."

"And he says he went broke to buy her."

"Some kid."

"Goin' to string him along?" queried another cowboy.

"Nope," replied Bailey. "The pup strung him plenty. Mebby we'll give him a whirl at a real horse after dinner. He's itchin' to climb a real one and show us, and likewise to break in that new rig."

"Or git busted," suggested one of the men.

"By his eye, I'd say he'll stick," said Bailey. "Don't you boys go to raggin' him too strong about ridin', for I ain't aimin' to kill the kid. If he can stick on Blue Smoke, I've a good mind to give him a job. I told Andy to tell him there wa'n't no chanct up here--but the kid comes to look-see for hisself. I kind o' like that."

"You 're gettin' soft in your haid, Bud," said a cowboy affectionately.

"Mebby, but I don't have to put cotton in my ears to keep my brains in," Bailey retorted mildly.

The cowboy who had spoken was suffering from earache and had an ear plugged with cotton.

Pete swaggered up and sat down. "Who's ridin' that blue out there?" he queried, gesturing toward the corral.

"He's a pet," said Bailey. n.o.body rides him."

"Uh-huh. Well, I reckon the man who tries 'll be one of ole Abraham's pets right off soon after," commented Pete. "He don't look good to me."

"You sabe 'em?" queried Bailey and winked at a companion.

"Nope," replied Pete. "I can't tell a hoss from a hitchin'-rail, 'less he kicks me."

"Well, Blue Smoke ain't a hitchin'-rail," a.s.serted Bailey. "What do you say if we go over and tell the missis we're starvin' to death?"

"Send Pete over," suggested a cowboy.

Bailey liked a joke. As he had said, things were dull, just then.

"Lope over and tell my missis we're settin' out here starvin' to death," he suggested to Pete.

Pete strode to the house and entered, hat in hand. The foreman's wife, a plump, cheery woman, liked nothing better than to joke with the men.

Presently Pete came out bearing the half of a large, thick, juicy pie in his hands. He marched to the bunkhouse and sat down near the men--but not too near. He ate pie and said nothing. When he had finished the pie, he rolled a cigarette and smoked, in huge content.

The cowboys glanced at one another and grinned.

"Well," said Bailey presently; "what's the answer?"

Pete grinned. "Misses Bailey says to tell you fellas to keep on starvin' to death. It'll save cookin'."

"I move that we get one square before we cross over," said Bailey, rising. "Come on, boys. I can smell twelve o'clock comin' from the kitchen."

CHAPTER X

"TURN HIM LOOSE!"