Part 36 (1/2)
Sundown was at a loss to continue this pleasant conversation. He brightened, however, as a thought inspired him. ”And the leetle hoss, is he doin' well?”
”That Sarko I do not like that he should keeck you!” flamed Anita, and Sundown's cup of happiness was full to overflowing.
Quite unconsciously he was leading his horse toward the gate and quite unconsciously Anita was walking beside him. Forgotten was the Loring ranch, the Concho, his own homestead. He was with his inamorata, the ”Linda Rosa” of his dreams.
At the gateway he turned to her. ”I'm comin' over to see your folks soon as I git things to runnin' on me ranch. Keeps a fella busy, but I'm sure comin'. I ain't got posies to growin' yet, but I'm goin' to have some--like them,” and he indicated the bud which she held.
”You like it?” she queried. And with bashful gesture she gave him the rose, smiling as he immediately stuck it in the band of his sombrero.
Then he held out his hand. ”Linda Rosa,” he said gently, ”I can't make the big talk in the Spanish lingo or I'd say how I was lovin' you and thinkin' of you reg'lar and deep. 'Course I got to put your pa and ma wise first. But some day I'm comin'--me and Chance--and tell you that I'm ready--that me ranch is doin' fine, and that I sure want you to come over and boss the outfit. I used to reckon that I didn't want no woman around bossin' things, but I changed me mind. Adios!
Senorita!--for I sure got to feed them hens.”
Sundown extended his hand. Anita laid her own plump brown hand in Sundown's hairy paw. For an instant he hesitated, moved by a most natural impulse to kiss her. Her girlish face, innocently sweet and trusting, her big brown eyes glowing with admiration and wonder, as she gazed up at him, offered temptation and excuse enough. It was not timidity nor lack of opportunity that caused Sundown to hesitate, but rather that innate respect for women which distinguishes the gentle man from the slovenly generalization ”gentleman.” ”Adios! Linda Rosa!” he murmured, and stooping, kissed her brown fingers. Then he gestured with magnificence toward the flowers bordering the roadway. ”And you sure are the lindaest little Linda Rosa of the bunch!”
And Anita's heart was filled with happiness as she watched her brave caballero ride away, so tall, so straight, and of such the gentle manner and the royal air!
It was inevitable that he should turn and wave to her, but it was not inevitable that she should have thrown him a pretty kiss with the grace of her pent-up emotion--but she did.
CHAPTER XXIV
AN UNEXPECTED VISIT
It was late in the evening when Sundown returned to his ranch. Chance welcomed him with vocal and gymnastic abandon. Sundown hastened to his ”tame cow” and milked her while the four hens peeped and clucked from their roost, evidently disturbed by the light of the lantern.
Meanwhile Chance lay gravely watching his master until Gentle Annie had been relieved of the full and creamy quota of her donation to the maintenance of the household. Then the wolf-dog followed his master to the kitchen where they enjoyed, in separate dishes, Gentle Annie's warm contribution, together with broken bread and ”a leetle salt to bring out the gamey flavor.”
Solicitous of the welfare of his stock, as he termed them, he betook himself to the hen-house to feed the chickens. ”Huh!” he exclaimed, raising the lantern and peering round, ”there's one rooster missin'!”
_The_ rooster had in truth disappeared. He put down the lantern and turned to Chance. ”Lemme look at your mouth. No, they ain't no signs on you. Hold on! Be Gosh, if they ain't some leetle red hairs stickin' to your chops. What's the answer?”
Chance whined and wagged his tail. ”You don't look like you was guilty. And that there rooster wasn't sportin' red hair the last time I seen him. Did you eat him fust and then swaller a rabbit to cover his tracks? I reckon not. You're some dog--but you ain't got boiler-room for a full-size Rhode Island Red and a rabbit and two quarts of bread-and-milk. It ain't reas'nable. I got to investigate.”
The dog seemed to understand. He leaped up and trotted to the yard, turning his head and silently coaxing his master to follow him.
Sundown, with a childish and most natural faith in Chance's intelligence, followed him to the fence, scrambled through and trailed him out on the mesa. In a little hollow Chance stopped and stood with crooked fore leg. Sundown stalked up. At his feet fluttered his red rooster and not far from it lay the body of a full-grown coyote.
Chance ran to the coyote and diving in shook the inanimate shape and growled. ”Huh! Showin' me what you done to him for stealin' our rooster, eh? Well, you sure are goin' to get suthin' extra for this!
You caught him with the goods--looks like. And look here!”--and Sundown deposited the lantern on a knoll and sat down facing the dog.
”What I'm goin' to give you that extra for ain't for killin' the coyote. That is your business when I ain't to home. You could 'a'
finished off Jimmy”--and he gestured toward the rooster--”and the evidence would 'a' been in your favor, seein' as you was wise to show me the coyote. I got some candy put by for--for later, if she likes it, but we're goin' to bust open that box of candy and celebrate. Got to see if I can repair Jimmy fust, though, or else use the axe. I dunno.”
Jimmy was a sad spectacle. His tail-feathers were about gone and one leg was maimed, yet he still showed the fighting spirit of his New England sires, for, as Sundown essayed to pick him up, he pecked and squawked energetically.
They returned to the house, where Sundown examined the bedraggled bird critically. ”I ain't no doc, but I have been practiced on some meself.
Looks like his left kicker was bruk. Guess it's the splints for him and nussin' by hand. Here, you! Let go that b.u.t.ton! That ain't a bug! There! 'T ain't what you'd call a perfessional job, but if you jest quit runnin' around nights and take care of your health, mebby you'll come through. Don' know what them hens'll think, though. You sure ain't no Anner Dominus no more. If you was a lady hen, you could pertend you was wearin' evenin' dress like--low-neck and suspenders.
But bein' a he, 't ain't the style. Wonder if you got your crow left?
You ain't got a whole lot more to tell you from jest a hen.”