Sundown Slim Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  PIE; AND SEPTEMBER MORN

  When a Westerner, a native-born son of the outlands, likes a man, helikes him. That is all there is to it. His horses, blankets, money,provender, and even his saddle are at his friend's disposal. If thefriend prove worthy,--and your Westerner is shrewd,--a lifelongfriendship is the result. If the friend prove unworthy, it is well forhim to seek other latitudes, for the average man of the outlands has apeculiar and deep-seated pride which is apt to manifest itself inprompt and vigorous action when touched by ridicule or ingratitude.There are many Davids and Jonathans in the sagebrush country. Davidmay have flocks and herds, and Jonathan may have naught but the care ofthem. David may possess lands and water-rights, and Jonathan nothingmore than a pick, a shovel, a pan, and an incurable itch for placering.A Westerner likes a man for what he is and not because of his vocation.He usually proceeds cautiously in the matter of friendship, but suddenand instinctive friendships are not infrequent. It so happened thatJohn Corliss had taken a liking to the Hobo, Sundown Slim. Knowing agreat deal more about cattle than about psychology, the rancher wastedno time in trying to analyze his feelings. If the tramp had courageenough to walk another thirty miles across the mesas to get a jobcooking, there must be something to him besides legs. Possibly thecattle-man felt that he was paying a tribute to the memory of hisbrother. In any event, he greeted Sundown next morning as the lattercame to the water-hole to drink. "You can't lose your way," he said,pointing across the mesa. "Just keep to the road. The first ranch onthe right is the Concho. Good luck!" And he led Chinook through thegateway. In an hour he had topped the hill. He reined Chinook round.He saw a tiny figure far to the south. Half in joke he waved hissombrero. Sundown, who had glanced back from time to time, saw thesalute and answered it with a sweeping gesture of his lean arm. "Andnow," he said, "I got the whole works to meself. That Concho guy is amighty fine-lookin' young fella, but he don't look like Billy. Ridesthat hoss easy-like jest as if he was settin' in a rockin'-chairknittin' socks. But I reckon he could flash up if you stepped on histail. I sure ain't goin' to."

  It was mid-afternoon, when Sundown, gaunt and weary, arrived at theConcho. He was faint for lack of food and water. The Mexican cook, orrather the cook's assistant, was the only one present when Sundowndrifted in, for the Concho was, in the parlance of the riders, "A man'sranch from chuck to sunup, and never a skirt on the clothes-line."

  Not until evening was Sundown able to make his errand known, andappreciated. A group of riders swung in in a swirl of dust,dismounted, and, as if by magic, the yard was empty of horses.

  The riders disappeared in the bunk-house to wash and make ready forsupper. One of the men, who had spoken to him in passing, reappeared.

  "Lookin' for the boss?" he asked.

  "Nope. I seen him. I'm lookin' for Mr. Shoop."

  "All right, pardner. Saw off the mister and size me up. I'm him."

  "The boss said I was to be cook," said Sundown, rather awed by thepersonality of the bluff foreman.

  "Meet him at Antelope?"

  "No. It was the American Hotel. He said for me to tell you if Iwalked in I could get a job cookin'."

  "All right. What he says goes. Had anything to eat recent?"

  "I et a half a rabbit yesterday mornin'."

  "Well, sufferin' shucks! You fan it right in here!"

  Later that evening, Sundown straggled out to the corral and stoodwatching the saddle-stock of the Concho pull hay from the longfeed-rack and munch lazily. Suddenly he jerked up his hand and jumpedround. The men, loafing in front of the bunk-house, laughed. Chance,the great wolf-dog, was critically inspecting the tramp's legs.

  Sundown was a self-confessed coward, physically. Above all things hefeared dogs. His reception by the men, aside from Bud Shoop'sgreeting, had been cool. Even the friendship of a dog seemedacceptable at that moment. Plodding along the weary miles between thewater-hole and the ranch, he had, in his way, decided to turn over anew leaf: to ignore the insistent call of the road and settle down tosomething worth while. Childishly egotistical, he felt in a vague waythat his virtuous intent was not appreciated, not reasoning that themen knew nothing of his wanderings, nor cared to know anything otherthan as to his ability to cook. So he timidly stroked the long muzzleof the wolf-dog, and was agreeably surprised to find that Chance seemedto like it. In fact, Chance, having an instinct superior to that ofhis men companions of the Concho, recognized in the gaunt and lonelyfigure a kindred spirit; a being that had the wander-fever in itsveins; that was forever searching for the undiscoverable, the somethingjust beyond the visible boundaries of day. The dog, part Russianwolf-hound and part Great Dane, deep-chested, swift and powerful, shookhis shaggy coat and sneezed. Sundown jumped. Again the men laughed."You and me's built about alike--for speed," he said, endeavoring toconvey his friendly intent through compliment. "Did you ever ketch arabbit?"

  Chance whined. Possibly he understood. In any event, he leapedplayfully against Sundown's chest and stood with his paws on thetramp's shoulders. Sundown shrunk back against the corral bars. "Goto it," he said, trying to cover his fear with a jest, "if you likebones."

  From behind him came a rush of feet. "Great Scott!" exclaimed Shoop."Come 'ere, Chance. I sure didn't know he was loose."

  The dog dropped to his feet and wagged his tail inquiringly.

  "Chance--there--he don't cotton to strangers," explained Shoop,slipping his hand in the wolf-dog's collar. "Did he nip you?"

  "Nope. But me and him ain't strangers, mister. You see, I knowed theboss's brother Billy, what passed over in a wreck. He used to ownChance, so the boss says."

  "You knew Billy! But Chance don't know that. I'll chain him up tillhe gets used to seein' you 'round."

  Shoop led the dog to the stable. Sundown felt relieved. Thesolicitude of the foreman, impersonal as it was, made him happier.

  Next morning he was installed as cook. He did fairly well, and the menrode away joking about the new "dough-puncher."

  Then it was that Sundown had an inspiration--not to write verse, but tomanufacture pies. He knew that the great American appetite is keen forpies. Finding plenty of material,--dried apples, dried prunes, andapricots,--he set to work, having in mind former experiences on thevarious "east-sides" of various cities. Determined that his reputationshould rest not alone upon flavor, he borrowed a huge Mexican spur fromhis assistant and immersed it in a pan of boiling water. "And speakin'of locality color," he murmured, grinning at the possibilities beforehim, "how's that, Johnny?" And he rolled out a thin layer of pie-doughand taking the spur for a "pattern-wheel," he indented a free-handsketch of the Concho brand on the immaculate dough. Next he wheeledout a rather wobbly cayuse, then an equally wobbly and ferocious cow.Each pie came from the oven with some symbol of the range printed uponit, the general effect being enhanced by the upheaval of the piecrustin the process of baking. When the punchers rode in that evening andentered the messroom, they sniffed knowingly. But not until thepsychological moment did Sundown parade his pies. Then he stepped tothe kitchen and, with the lordly gesture of a Michael Angelo unveilinga statue for the approval of Latin princes, commanded the assistant to"Bring forth them pies." And they were "brung."

  Each astonished puncher was gravely presented with a wholepie--bubbling kine, dimpled cayuses, and sprawling spurs. Silence--assilence is wont to do in dramatic moments--reigned supreme. Then itwas that the purveyor of spontaneous Western exclamations missed hisopportunity, being elsewhere at the time.

  "Whoop! Let 'er buck!" exclaimed Bud Shoop, swinging an imaginary hatand rocking from side to side.

  "So-o, Boss!" exclaimed a puncher from the Middle West.

  "Hand-made and silver mounted," remarked another. "Hate to eat 'em."

  "Trade you my pinto for a steer," offered still another.

  "Nothin" doin'! That hoss of yours has got colic--bad."

  "Swap this here goat for that rooster of you
rs," said "Sinker," a youthwhose early education in art had been neglected.

  "Goat? You box-head! That's a calf. Kind 'a' mired down, but it'ssure a calf. And this ain't no rooster. This here's a eagle settin'on his eggs. You need specs."

  "Noah has sure been herdin' 'em in," said another puncher.

  Meanwhile, "Noah" stood in the messroom doorway, arms folded and facebeaming. His attitude invited applause, and won it. Eventually hisreputation as a "pie-artist" spread far and wide. When it leaked outthat he had wrought his masterpieces with a spur, there was somemurmuring. Being assured by the assistant that the spur had beenpreviously boiled, the murmuring changed to approval. "That new cookwas sure a original cuss! Stickin' right to the range in hispicture-work. Had them there old Hopi picture-writin's on the rocksbeat a mile." And the like.

  Inspired by a sense of repletion, conducive to generosity and humor,the boys presented Sundown with a pair of large-rowelled Mexican spurs,silver-mounted and altogether formidable. Like many an historicadventurer, he had won his spurs by a _tour-de-force_ that swept hiscompatriots off their feet; innuendo if you will--but the averagecowboy is capable of assimilating much pie.

  Although Sundown was offered the use of a bunk in the men's quarters,he chose to sleep in a box-stall in the stable, explaining that he wasaccustomed to sleep in all kinds of places, and that the unusedbox-stall with fresh clean straw and blankets would make a verycomfortable bedroom. His reason for declining a place with the menbecame apparent about midnight.

  Bud Shoop had, in a bluff, offhand way, given him a flannel shirt,overalls, an old flop-brimmed Stetson, and, much to Sundown's delight,a pair of old riding-boots. Hitherto, Sundown had been too preoccupiedwith culinary matters to pay much attention to his clothing.Incidentally he was spending not a little time in getting accustomed tohis spurs, which he wore upon all occasions, clinking and clankingabout the cook-room, a veritable Don Quixote of the (kitchen) range.

  The arrival of Corliss, three days after Sundown's advent, had astimulating effect on the new cook. He determined to make the bestappearance possible.

  The myriad Arizona stars burned with darting radiance, in thin,unwavering shafts of splintered fire. The moon, coldly brilliant,sharp-edged and flat like a disk of silver paper, touched the twinklingaspens with a pallid glow and stamped a distorted silhouette of thelow-roofed ranch-buildings on the hard-packed earth. In the corral theshadow of a restless pony drifted back and forth. Chance, chained to apost near the bunk-house, shook himself and sniffed the keen air, forjust at that moment the stable door had opened and a ghostly figureappeared; a figure that shivered in the moonlight. The dog bristledand whined. "S-s-s-h!" whispered Sundown. "It's me, ain't it?"

  With his bundle of clothes beneath his arm, he picked a hesitatingcourse across the yard and deposited the bundle beside thewater-trough. Chance, not altogether satisfied with Sundown'sassurance, proclaimed his distrust by a long nerve-reaching howl. Someone in the bunkhouse muttered. Sundown squatted hastily in the shadowof the trough. Bud Shoop rose from his bunk and crept to the door. Hesaw nothing unusual, and was about to return to his bed when anapparition rose slowly from behind the water-trough. The foreman drewback in the shadow of the doorway and watched.

  Sundown's bath was extensive as to territory but brief as to duration.He dried himself with a gunny-sack and slipped shivering into his newraiment. "That there September Morn ain't got nothin' on me exceptlooks," he spluttered. "And she is welcome to the looks. Shirts andpants for mine!"

  Then he crept back to his blankets and slept the sleep of one who hasatoned for his sins of omission and suffered righteously in the ordeal.

  Bud Shoop wanted to laugh, but forgot to do it. Instead he padded backto his bunk and lay awake pondering. "Takin' a bath sure does make afella feel like the fella he wants to feel like--but in thedrinkin'-trough, at night . . .! I reckon that there Hobo ain't rightin his head."

  Sundown dreamed that he was chasing an elusive rabbit over endlesswastes of sand and greasewood. With him ran a phantom dog, a lean,shaggy shape that raced tirelessly. When Sundown wanted to give up thedream-hunt and rest, the dog would urge him on with whimperings andshort, explosive barks of impatience. Presently the dream-dog ranahead and disappeared beyond a rise. Sundown sank to the desert andslept. He dreamed within his dream that the dog was curled beside him.He put out his hand and stroked the dog's head. Presently a side ofthe box-stall took outline. A ray of sunlight filtered in; sunlightflecked with fine golden dust. The straw rustled at his side and hesat up quickly. Chance, stretching himself and yawning, showed hislong, white fangs in an elaborated dog-smile. "Gee Gosh!" exclaimedSundown, eyeing the dog sideways, "so it's you, eh? You wasn't foolin'me, then, when you said we'd be pals?"

  Chance settled down in the straw again and sighed contentedly.

  From the corral came the sound of horses running. The boys werecatching up their ponies for the day's work. Chance pricked his ears."I guess it's up to me and you to move lively," said Sundown,stretching and groaning. "We're sleepin' late, account of themmidnight abolitions."

  He rose and limped to the doorway. Chance followed him, evidentlyquite uninterested in the activities outside. Would this queer,ungainly man-thing saddle a horse and ride with the others, or would henow depart on foot, taking the trail to Antelope? Chance knew quite aswell as did the men that something unusual was in the air. Hi Wingle,the cook, had returned unexpectedly that night. Chance had listenedgravely while his master had told Bud Shoop that "the outfit" wouldmove over to Bald Knoll in the morning. Then the dog had barked andcapered about, anticipating a break in the monotony of ranch-life.

  Sundown hurried to the cook-room. Chance at his heels. Hi Wingle wasalready installed in his old quarters, but he greeted Sundown heartily,and set him to work helping.

  After breakfast, Bud Shoop, in heavy wing chaps and trailing his spurs,swaggered up to Sundown. "How you makin' it this mornin'?" heinquired. There was a note of humorous good-fellowship in his voicethat did not escape Sundown.

  "Doin' fine without crutches," replied Sundown, grinning.

  "Well, you go eat now, and I'll catch up a cayuse for you. We're goin'to fan it for Bald Knoll in about ten minutes."

  "Do I go, too?"

  "Sure! Do you think we don't eat pie only onct a year? You bet yougo--helpin' Hi. Boss's orders."

  "Thanks--but I ain't no rider."

  Shoop glanced questioningly at Sundown's legs. "Mebby not. But if Iowned them legs I'd contract to ride white-lightnin' bareback. I'djust curl 'em 'round and grab holt of my feet when they showed up onthe other side. Them ain't legs; them's _cinchas_."

  "Mebby they ain't," sighed Sundown. "It's the only pair I got, and I'mkind of used to 'em."

  "Did you let Chance loose?" queried the foreman.

  "Me? Nix. But he was sleepin' in the stall with me this mornin'."

  "Heard him goin' on last night. Thought mebby a coyote or a wolf hadstrayed in to get a drink."

  "Get a drink! Can't they get a drink up in them hills?"

  "Sure! But they kind of fancy the flavor of the water-trough. Theycome in frequent. But you better fan it for chuck. See you later."

  Sundown hurried through breakfast. He was anxious to hear more aboutthe habits of coyotes and wolves. When he again came to the corral,many of the riders had departed. Shoop stood waiting for John Corliss.

  "You said them wolves and coyotes--" began Sundown.

  "Yes, ding 'em!" interrupted Shoop. "Looks like they come down lastnight. Somethin' 's been monkeyin' with the water."

  "Did you ever see one--at night?" queried Sundown, nervously.

  "See 'em? Why, I shot droves of 'em right from the bunk-house door. Inever miss a chance. Cut loose every time I see one standin' with hisfront paws on the trough. Get 'em every time."

  "Wisht I'd knowed that."

  "So?"

  "Uhuh. I'd 'a' borrowed a gun off you and s
et up and watched for 'emmyself."

  Bud Shoop made a pretense of tightening a cinch on Sundown's pony, thathe might "blush unseen," as it were.

  Presently Corliss appeared and motioned to Shoop. "How's the new cookdoing?" he asked.

  "Fine!"

  Sundown retired modestly to the off-side of the pony.

  "Got a line on him already," said Shoop. "First thing, Chance, here,took to him. Then, next thing, he manufactures a batch of pies thatain't been matched on the Concho since she was a ranch. Then, nextthing after that, Chance slips his collar and goes and bushes with theBo--sleeps with him till this mornin'. And you can rope me for aparson if that walkin' wish-bone didn't get to ramblin' in his sleeplast night and come out and take a _bath_ in the _drinkin_'-trough!He's got on them clothes I give him, this mornin'. Can you copperthat?"

  "Bad dream, Bud."

  "You wait!" said the grinning foreman. "You watch him. Don't pay no'tention to me."

  Corliss smiled. Shoop's many and devious methods of estimatingcharacter had their humorous angles. The rancher appreciated a jokequite as much as did any of his employees, but usually as a spectatorand not a participant. Bud Shoop had served him well and faithfully,tiding over many a threatened quarrel among the men by a humoroussuggestion or a seemingly impersonal anecdote anent disputes ingeneral. So Corliss waited, meanwhile inspecting the ponies in thecorral. He noticed a pinto with a saddle-gall and told Shoop to turnthe horse out on the range.

  "It's one of Fadeaway's string," said Shoop.

  "I know it. Catch him up."

  Shoop, who felt that his opportunity to confirm his dream-likestatement about Sundown's bathing, was slipping away, suddenly evolveda plan. He knew that the horses had all been watered. "Hey!" hecalled to Sundown, who stood gravely inspecting his own mount. "Comeover here and make this cayuse drink. He won't for me."

  Shoop roped the horse and handed the rope to Sundown, who marched tothe water-trough. The pony sniffed at the water and threw up his head."I reckoned that was it!" said Shoop.

  "What?" queried Corliss, meanwhile watching Sundown's face.

  "Oh, some dam' coyote's been paddlin' in that trough again. No wonderthe hosses won't drink this mornin'. I don't blame 'em."

  Sundown rolled a frightened eye and tried to look at everything but hiscompanions. Corliss and Shoop exploded simultaneously. Slowly thelight of understanding dawned, rose, and radiated in the dull red ofthe new cook's face. He was hurt and a bit angry. The anticipatingand performing of his midnight ablutions had cost Slim a mightystruggle, mentally and otherwise.

  "If you think it's any early mornin' joke to take a wash-up in thatthere Chinese coffin--why, try her yourself, about midnight." Then headdressed Shoop singly. "If I was _you_, and you got kind ofabsent-minded and done likewise, and I seen _you_, do you think I'd gosnitch to the boss? Nix, for it might set him to worryin'."

  Shoop accepted the compliment good-naturedly, for he knew he had earnedit. He swaggered up to Sundown and slapped him on the back. "Cheerup, pardner, and listen to the good news. I'm goin' to have thattrough made three foot longer so it'll be more comfortable."

  "Thanks, but never again at night. Guess if I hadn't been feelin'all-to-Gosh happy at havin' a home and a job, I'd 'a' froze stiff."