Cow-Country [65]
His rheumatism was caused by your bullet that nicked his shoulder. So you see what sort we are--go. Don't wait--go now."
Bud looked up, and there was Honey leaning over the counter, smiling at him.
"Well, how much is it?" she teased when she saw he had discovered her.
Bud drew a line across the note and added imaginary columns of figures, his hat-brim hiding his face.
"Over eleven thousand dollars," he announced, and twisted the paper in his fingers while he went over to her. "Almost enough to start housekeeping!"
Honey blushed and leaned to look for something which she pretended to have dropped and Bud seized the opportunity to tuck the paper out of sight. "I feel pretty much intoxicated to-night, Honey," he said. "I think I need soothing, or something--and you know what music does to the savage breast. Let 's play."
"All right. You've been staying away lately till I thought you were mad," Honey assented rather eagerly, and opened the little gate in the half partition just as Bud was vaulting the counter, which gave her a great laugh and a chance for playful scuffling. Bud kissed her and immediately regretted the caress.
Jerry had told him to play the piano, but Bud took his mandolin and played that while Honey thumped out chords for him. As he had half expected, most of the men strayed in and perched here and there listening just as if there had not been a most unusual horserace to discuss before they slept. Indeed, Bud had never seen the Little Lost boys so thoughtful, and this silence struck him all at once as something sinister, like a beast of prey stalking its kill.
Two waltzes he played--and then, in the middle of a favorite two-step, a mandolin string snapped with a sharp twang, and Bud came as close to swearing as a well-behaved young man may come in the presence of a lady.
"Now I'll have to go get a new E string," he complained. "You play the Danube for the boys--the way I taught you--while I get this fixed. I've an extra string down in the bunk-house; it won't take five minutes to get it." He laid the mandolin down on his chair, bolted out through the screen door which he slammed after him to let Jerry know that he was coming, and walked halfway to the bunk-house before he veered off around the corner of the machine shed and ran.
Jerry was waiting by the old shed, and without a word he led Bud behind it where Sunfish was standing saddled and bridled.
"You got to go, Bud, while the going's good. "I'd go with yuh if I dared," Jerry mumbled guardedly. "You hit for Crater, Bud, and put that money in the bank. You can cut into the stage road where it crosses Oldman Creek, if you go straight up the race track to the far end, and follow the trail from there. You can't miss it--there ain't but one way to go. I got yuh this horse because he's worth more'n what the other two are, and he's faster. And Bud, if anybody rides up on yuh, shoot. Don't monkey around about it. And you RIDE!"
"All right," Bud muttered. "But I'll have to go down in the pasture and get my money, first. I've got my own private bank down there, and I haven't enough in my pockets to play penny ante more than one round."
"Hell!" Jerry's hand lifted to Bud's shoulder and gripped it for a minute. "That's right on the road to the Sinks, man!" He stood biting his lips, thinking deeply, turning his head now and then as little sounds came from the house: the waltz Honey was playing, the post-office door slamming shut.
"You tell me where that money's cached, Bud, and I'll go after it. I guess you'll have to trust me--I sure wouldn't let yuh go down to the pasture yourself right now. Where is it?"
"Look under that flat rock right by the gate post, where the top bars hit the ground. "It's wrapped up in a handkerchief, so just bring the package. "It's been easy to tuck things under the rock when I was putting up the bars. I'll wait here."
"Good enough--I'd sure have felt easier if I'd known you wasn't carrying all that money." Whereupon Jerry disappeared, and his going made no sound.
Bud stood beside Sunfish,
Bud looked up, and there was Honey leaning over the counter, smiling at him.
"Well, how much is it?" she teased when she saw he had discovered her.
Bud drew a line across the note and added imaginary columns of figures, his hat-brim hiding his face.
"Over eleven thousand dollars," he announced, and twisted the paper in his fingers while he went over to her. "Almost enough to start housekeeping!"
Honey blushed and leaned to look for something which she pretended to have dropped and Bud seized the opportunity to tuck the paper out of sight. "I feel pretty much intoxicated to-night, Honey," he said. "I think I need soothing, or something--and you know what music does to the savage breast. Let 's play."
"All right. You've been staying away lately till I thought you were mad," Honey assented rather eagerly, and opened the little gate in the half partition just as Bud was vaulting the counter, which gave her a great laugh and a chance for playful scuffling. Bud kissed her and immediately regretted the caress.
Jerry had told him to play the piano, but Bud took his mandolin and played that while Honey thumped out chords for him. As he had half expected, most of the men strayed in and perched here and there listening just as if there had not been a most unusual horserace to discuss before they slept. Indeed, Bud had never seen the Little Lost boys so thoughtful, and this silence struck him all at once as something sinister, like a beast of prey stalking its kill.
Two waltzes he played--and then, in the middle of a favorite two-step, a mandolin string snapped with a sharp twang, and Bud came as close to swearing as a well-behaved young man may come in the presence of a lady.
"Now I'll have to go get a new E string," he complained. "You play the Danube for the boys--the way I taught you--while I get this fixed. I've an extra string down in the bunk-house; it won't take five minutes to get it." He laid the mandolin down on his chair, bolted out through the screen door which he slammed after him to let Jerry know that he was coming, and walked halfway to the bunk-house before he veered off around the corner of the machine shed and ran.
Jerry was waiting by the old shed, and without a word he led Bud behind it where Sunfish was standing saddled and bridled.
"You got to go, Bud, while the going's good. "I'd go with yuh if I dared," Jerry mumbled guardedly. "You hit for Crater, Bud, and put that money in the bank. You can cut into the stage road where it crosses Oldman Creek, if you go straight up the race track to the far end, and follow the trail from there. You can't miss it--there ain't but one way to go. I got yuh this horse because he's worth more'n what the other two are, and he's faster. And Bud, if anybody rides up on yuh, shoot. Don't monkey around about it. And you RIDE!"
"All right," Bud muttered. "But I'll have to go down in the pasture and get my money, first. I've got my own private bank down there, and I haven't enough in my pockets to play penny ante more than one round."
"Hell!" Jerry's hand lifted to Bud's shoulder and gripped it for a minute. "That's right on the road to the Sinks, man!" He stood biting his lips, thinking deeply, turning his head now and then as little sounds came from the house: the waltz Honey was playing, the post-office door slamming shut.
"You tell me where that money's cached, Bud, and I'll go after it. I guess you'll have to trust me--I sure wouldn't let yuh go down to the pasture yourself right now. Where is it?"
"Look under that flat rock right by the gate post, where the top bars hit the ground. "It's wrapped up in a handkerchief, so just bring the package. "It's been easy to tuck things under the rock when I was putting up the bars. I'll wait here."
"Good enough--I'd sure have felt easier if I'd known you wasn't carrying all that money." Whereupon Jerry disappeared, and his going made no sound.
Bud stood beside Sunfish,