“Maybe,” Deke said shortly, starting to turn away. But Bly’s voice stopped him, and he turned back.
“Just for fun,” Bly said, “an’ since you’re such a good rider, I’ll bet you twenty bucks you can’t stay up ten seconds on Sonora, there.”
Sonora, a mean-eyed buckskin with a splash of white on one hip, stared thoughtfully at them. Deke glanced at him.
“I can ride him,” he said.
“Then put up your money! Talk is cheap!” Bly taunted.
Deke flushed. “I can ride him!” he said stubbornly, but he glanced left and right, looking for an escape.
“Come on!” Bly insisted, his eyes sneering at Deke under the guise of affability. “You said you could ride him! Let’s see you do it! Put up your money!”
Several people had gathered around, and among them was a man of sixty-odd years, a white-haired man with keen blue eyes and a worn Stetson.
“Don’t insist, Bill!” Carol said gently. “Maybe he doesn’t feel like riding!”
“All right, honey.” Bly looked back at Murphy. “Don’t let me hear any more of that big talk! You got to put up or shut up,” he said sharply.
Slowly the crowd drifted away and Deke Murphy turned miserably toward the corral, leaning against it, his head down. He had been made to look like a four-flusher. Anyway you take it, she would think he was a piker, a loud mouth. But how could he admit he didn’t have twenty dollars? Or ten, or even five? How could he admit in front of Carol that he was broke?
She didn’t know him, and she probably never would. She would not care, but he did. He cared desperately. From the first moment he had seen her, he knew she was the girl for him, and yet the gulf that separated them was bottomless.
“You think that Shadow horse can buck?” The voice was friendly.
Murphy looked up. “You just bet he can buck!” he said sharply. “Highbinder won’t come near him!”
“You seen him?” the man persisted. It was the oldish man with the blue eyes and white hair, his brown face seamed and wind worn.
“Me? Why, uh, not exactly.” Deke’s words stumbled and he hesitated. “A friend of mine told me about him.”
“I see.” The old man nodded. “I’m Tim Carson. Been around long?”
“Just pulled in,” Deke admitted, “I don’t know nobody here. Saw this rodeo, an’ braced ’em for a job feedin’ an’ waterin’ stock.”
“Got any money?”
Deke’s head came up sharply, his eyes cold and bitter. “That just ain’t none of your business!” he said.
Carson shrugged. “If you had money you wouldn’t get so het up about it,” he said. “Figured you might need a few bucks for grub an’ such.”
Murphy studied him suspiciously.
“What do I have to do?” he demanded. “I won’t do nothing crooked an’ I won’t take money for nothin’.”
“I figured on a loan, but if you want to earn it—” Carson waved a hand at the buckskin. “Throw a saddle on that horse an’ I’ll pay off if you ride him.”
“How much?” Deke demanded.
“Oh, say twenty bucks!” Carson suggested.
“What you want to see me ride him for?” Deke asked cautiously.
“See if I’m right or not,” Carson said. “I figure I know folks. I figure the only reason you wouldn’t get up on that horse was because you didn’t have the money to bet an’ wouldn’t admit it in front of that girl.”
“Old man,” Deke said, “you figure too darn close. Now put up your money.”
“It’s in my pocket,” Carson said. “You get a saddle an’ we’ll ride this horse.”
Without another word Deke went off to get a saddle, and as he walked away Carol Bell came from between the buildings, slapping her boots with a quirt. “Uncle Tim,” she demanded, “what are you up to now? Why do you want that boy to ride that horse?”
* * *
DEKE MURPHY CAME back trailing a saddle which he grasped by the horn, and with a bridle over his shoulder. With the help of Carson he saddled and bridled the buckskin. The arena was empty at this early hour and Deke climbed the bars of the chute to mount the horse. Carol had drawn back to one side, and he had not seen her. He dropped into the saddle and Carson turned the horse loose.
The buckskin made a run for the center of the arena, skidded to halt with his head down, and when his rider stayed in the saddle, scratching with both heels, the buckskin swapped ends three times as fast as he could move and then buck-jumped all over the arena, ending his spurt and the ten seconds by sunfishing wildly for three full seconds. Carson yelled, and Deke unloaded hurriedly.
Together they caught up the buckskin and led him back to the corral. “They’ll raise Old Nick when they find out I rode this horse!” Deke said worriedly.
“Forget it. I know them.” He dug into his pocket—“An’ here’s your twenty bucks, son. Good luck!”
“Thanks,” Deke said, gripping the twenty and staring at it with unbelieving eyes. “Man, that’s the fastest money I ever made!”
Carson studied him. “You ride mighty well, son. Ever do any ridin’ in a rodeo?”
Deke looked up, hesitated, then shook his head. “Not exactly,” he replied. “I’d better beat it. I’ve got a lot of work to do an’ I want to go up to town for a little bit!”
Tim Carson watched him go, glanced toward the place where his niece had been watching, and seeing she was gone, he turned toward the office with purposeful strides. “It’s him!” he said grimly. “I’d bet money it’s the same kid!”
* * *
DEKE MURPHY WALKED down the town’s dusty, banner-hung street and turned into a general store. “I want to buy a new pair of Levi’s,” he said, “an’ a shirt, a good shirt!”
A half an hour later, with the new clothes on and a good meal under his belt, he walked back to the corrals. It would soon be time for the parade down the main street that would end at the rodeo grounds, and then the Grand Entry Parade that would open the show. He would have much to do.
In his pocket were three dollars and some change, but he felt better. Still a far cry from the glamorous clothes of the rodeo stars, his were at least neat, and he looked much better than in the shabby clothes he had been wearing, too redolent of the stable, and slept in too many times.
There was a job to do here, and he had to get on with it. He shook his head over his dislike of Bill Bly. It would never do to have trouble with him. All he knew was horses and cattle, and if he made an enemy of Bly he would be blackballed around every rodeo in the country. And he wanted very much to stick close to rodeos. The man he was looking for was somewhere around them, and if he looked long enough, somehow he would find him. Wherever the man was, he still wore the brand Deke Murphy had given him.
* * *
TIM CARSON WATCHED him return to his job in the new clothes and studied him through careful eyes. The build was similar. The kid was lean and rugged, muscular, but not big. He carried himself well and moved well. It could be the same one.
Bill Bly watched his horse being saddled for him and then turned to greet Carol as she walked up. “Hello, Bill.” She smiled up at him. “Say, it’s lucky that kid didn’t take you up on your bet this morning. Uncle Tim offered him twenty dollars to ride the buckskin, and the kid rode him—scratched him high, wide, and handsome!”
Bly’s brows tightened a little. “He did? Well, good for him!” His words were affable, but there was none of that in his mood. Deke had irritated him, and he did not like being irritated. Moreover, he had decided that Deke was a loudmouth and he disliked being proved wrong.
Another idea struck him. “Why did your uncle do that?”
“Oh, there’s no accounting for Uncle Tim! He’s liable to do anything! But it isn’t that this time: he’s interested in this fellow, I can see it. He was watching him like a cat all the time.”
“I wonder why?” Bly remarked absently. He was thinking of how he would look in the parade with this girl beside him. Old Curly Bell’s only child—not a bad idea, marrying her.
“I don’t know,” Carol said, “but Uncle Tim’s funny. He used to be a United States marshal, you know. Over in Nevada.”
Bly turned abruptly. “In Nevada, you say?” He caught himself. “You’d never suspect it. He seems so quiet.”
“I know, but he’s that way. He’s still angry, and has been for the past three years over that gold shipment robbery.”