The Cowpuncher by Bradford Scott Read Free Book Online

you?”
    “I can make it to the table, thanks just the same,” Huck told him, swinging his feet stiffly to the floor and reaching for his clothes, which lay neatly folded on a nearby bench.
    The darky grinned and bobbed his head.
    “By the way,” Huck called as he turned back to the cook car, “who was the big feller who was talking to me just now?”
    “Dat was de big feller, for sho’,” grinned the darky. “Dat gen’man was nobody else but Mistuh Jaggers Dunn, de gen’ral manager of dis whole railroad.”
    “Jaggers Dunn?”
    “Yassuh, dat’s what de boys call him when he ain’t ‘round—Jaggers—Mistuh James G. Dunn isde sorta uppity proper way of his namin’, I perspaculate. He jest headed back to his private car, de Winona, what’s hooked onter de rear end of de Western Flyer standin’ in back of us. Ol’ Flyer’s ‘bout ready to pull out, now de track is cleaned up again. Yeah, dere she comes now, whackety-whack-in’ past de sidin’. We all will be headin’ for Esmeralda soon as she clears.”
    However, two long coal drags rumbled past before the wreck train was given a clear block.
    “They’re switchin’ them strings of black diamonds in front of the second section of the Western Flyer,” the wreck train foreman remarked to Huck. “That will delay the second section still more, but it can’t be helped. Coal is mighty important on this division—can’t take a chance on the supply gettin’ too low. Have to haul it a long ways to Esmeralda—that’s a division point for the C. & P., you know—and the big yards and shops are there.”
    “Must be mighty expensive, making a long haul like that,” the cowboy observed.
    “It is,” said the foreman, “but they ain’t nothin’ to do ‘bout it. No mines in this district, and you gotta have fuel to keep a railroad goin’. Coal bill for the Mountain Division is jest ‘bout double, mebbe more, what it costs on any other division. There she clears, and old Sam’s tootin’ two shorts. All ‘board for Esmeralda, gents!”

VI
Sue Doyle
    The Bar X Ranch stood strategically in the center of a wide, sweeping valley. To the north and south as far as the eye could see, rolled rich and luxurious grassland, with heavy gramma grass reaching belly-high to a good-sized horse. Cotton-woods, cool and inviting in the warm autumn sun, dotted the range.
    To the east and west, hills rose gently to mark the outer boundaries of this pleasant, sun-warmed valley. A broad leisurely stream stemmed out of the upper reaches of the northern slopes, feeding the soil with its watery richness.
    Large herds of cattle watched by lazy-riding cowboys grazed and wandered along the banks of the meandering stream. The cattle were fat and sleek and content.
    Sue Doyle, in the midst of all this rich contentment and serenity, felt its gnawing contrast to her own state of mind. For a long time she had been lying on her back in the shade of a large elm tree that stood directly in front of the low, rambling ranchhouse. She stared moodily and sightlessly up through the leaves to the opaque blue of the Texas sky; her mouth was drawn in a fretful line and her slender fingers drummed nervously on the turf.
    Suddenly a shadow fell across her line of vision.For an instant it was only a patch of darkness. Then it took shape.
    “Dad!” she cried, suddenly agitated, and rose to her feet with inexplicable speed. In fact, she behaved just as she had, as a child, when she’d been caught trying to roll a cigarette behind the barn. “I didn’t see you.”
    “I reckon you didn’t,” said her father.
    Old Man Doyle, as he was called by all who knew him, including his hired hands, was short, thin and wiry; his hair was scraggly, with patches of red, sun-frazzled scalp showing through where the hair was thinning. The patches were hidden now, by an old, battered Stetson that crowned his top.
    From under its misshapen brim stared two mildly inquisitive brown eyes, between which ran a