Read Online the Outlaws Of Mesquite (Ss) (1990) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louis L'amour
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the arena, he sat perfectly still, his face dead-white, his eyes bright, waiting for stillness. It came at last. Then he waved his hat once more and, turning his horse, walked him quietly from the arena, leaving dead silence behind him.
Old John stood beside Peg Graham, who watched, her eyes wide. "That," Old John commented dryly, "took sand!"
She turned quickly to look at him. Then her eyes went back to the man riding from the arena. "I ... guess it did," she agreed hesitantly. Her brows puckered. "I don't know you, do I?"
Old John rolled his quid in his jaws. "No, ma'am, you don't. Nor a real man when you see him!" He turned abruptly and walked off, leaving the girl's face flushing with embarrassment and shame.
As she turned away, she wondered. Had she wronged Marty Mahan? Was he a coward because he refused to ride that horse? If a man went inffcontest riding, he was not expected to be afraid of bad horses. He was expected to ride anything given him. Mostly the riders wanted bad horses because it gave them the best chance to make a good ride.
Even if this horse was as bad as Mahan claimed, was it reason for refusing?
In the last analysis, she guessed it was simply that she could not bear to have him called a coward, or to love a man who was yellow.
Yannell Stoper won the bareback bronc riding in both the first and second go-rounds. Then he appeared in his usual exhibition of trick riding, and the first day of the rodeo ended with Stoper as the hero of the show despite his loss to Marty in the calf roping.
His insistence on riding the horse that Mahan refused caught the crowd's interest.
Mahan was disconsolate. He walked the streets, feeling singularly out of place in his expensive trappings, and wishing he were miles away. Only the knowledge that if he left the show he would be branded a quitter, and through in the arena, kept him in town. That and the fascination exerted over him by the dun horse.
As the evening drew on he heard more and more talk of the dun. Despite their willingness to call him a coward for refusing the horse, people were beginning to wonder if the animal were not a killer after all. At all these rumors Yannell scoffed.
Marty Mahan was at supper when the cafe door slammed open and big, tawny-haired Stoper came in with Red Carver and Peg Graham. When the girl saw Marty sitting at the table alone she would have turned to leave, but Yannell would have none of it.
They trooped in and, with several hangers-on, seated themselves at tables near Mahan's. At the counter not far away sat Old John, calmly eating doughnuts and drinking coffee.
"Sure I'll ride him!" Stoper boomed loudly. "I'm not yellow! I'll ride anything that wears hair!"
Mahan looked up. Inside he was strangely still and at ease. It was only his mind that seemed suddenly white-hot, yet his eyes were clear and hard. He looked across at Yannell Stoper and their eyes met.
"Finally got showed up, didn't you?" Stoper sneered. "You was always a four-flusher!"
"And you were always a loudmouth," Marty said quietly.
Stoper's face flushed red. Then his blue-white eyes narrowed down and he began to smile. He pushed back from the table.
"I always wanted to get my hands on you and in just about a minute I'll slap all the coward to the surface!"
He got up and started around the table. Carver called to him, and Peg Graham got up, her hand going to her mouth, eyes wide and frightened.
"And in just about a half minute," Marty said, sliding out of his chair, "you'll wish you'd never opened your mouth!"
Stoper walked in smiling and when he got to arm's length, he swung. It was a powerful, wide-armed punch, but Mahan's left shot straight from the shoulder to Stoper's mouth, setting the big rider back on his heels. Then Marty crossed with a smashing right that dropped Yannell to his haunches.
Mahan stepped back, his face calm. "If you want to ride that horse tomorrow," he said, "you'd better save it!"
Stoper came up with a lunge and dove for
Old John stood beside Peg Graham, who watched, her eyes wide. "That," Old John commented dryly, "took sand!"
She turned quickly to look at him. Then her eyes went back to the man riding from the arena. "I ... guess it did," she agreed hesitantly. Her brows puckered. "I don't know you, do I?"
Old John rolled his quid in his jaws. "No, ma'am, you don't. Nor a real man when you see him!" He turned abruptly and walked off, leaving the girl's face flushing with embarrassment and shame.
As she turned away, she wondered. Had she wronged Marty Mahan? Was he a coward because he refused to ride that horse? If a man went inffcontest riding, he was not expected to be afraid of bad horses. He was expected to ride anything given him. Mostly the riders wanted bad horses because it gave them the best chance to make a good ride.
Even if this horse was as bad as Mahan claimed, was it reason for refusing?
In the last analysis, she guessed it was simply that she could not bear to have him called a coward, or to love a man who was yellow.
Yannell Stoper won the bareback bronc riding in both the first and second go-rounds. Then he appeared in his usual exhibition of trick riding, and the first day of the rodeo ended with Stoper as the hero of the show despite his loss to Marty in the calf roping.
His insistence on riding the horse that Mahan refused caught the crowd's interest.
Mahan was disconsolate. He walked the streets, feeling singularly out of place in his expensive trappings, and wishing he were miles away. Only the knowledge that if he left the show he would be branded a quitter, and through in the arena, kept him in town. That and the fascination exerted over him by the dun horse.
As the evening drew on he heard more and more talk of the dun. Despite their willingness to call him a coward for refusing the horse, people were beginning to wonder if the animal were not a killer after all. At all these rumors Yannell scoffed.
Marty Mahan was at supper when the cafe door slammed open and big, tawny-haired Stoper came in with Red Carver and Peg Graham. When the girl saw Marty sitting at the table alone she would have turned to leave, but Yannell would have none of it.
They trooped in and, with several hangers-on, seated themselves at tables near Mahan's. At the counter not far away sat Old John, calmly eating doughnuts and drinking coffee.
"Sure I'll ride him!" Stoper boomed loudly. "I'm not yellow! I'll ride anything that wears hair!"
Mahan looked up. Inside he was strangely still and at ease. It was only his mind that seemed suddenly white-hot, yet his eyes were clear and hard. He looked across at Yannell Stoper and their eyes met.
"Finally got showed up, didn't you?" Stoper sneered. "You was always a four-flusher!"
"And you were always a loudmouth," Marty said quietly.
Stoper's face flushed red. Then his blue-white eyes narrowed down and he began to smile. He pushed back from the table.
"I always wanted to get my hands on you and in just about a minute I'll slap all the coward to the surface!"
He got up and started around the table. Carver called to him, and Peg Graham got up, her hand going to her mouth, eyes wide and frightened.
"And in just about a half minute," Marty said, sliding out of his chair, "you'll wish you'd never opened your mouth!"
Stoper walked in smiling and when he got to arm's length, he swung. It was a powerful, wide-armed punch, but Mahan's left shot straight from the shoulder to Stoper's mouth, setting the big rider back on his heels. Then Marty crossed with a smashing right that dropped Yannell to his haunches.
Mahan stepped back, his face calm. "If you want to ride that horse tomorrow," he said, "you'd better save it!"
Stoper came up with a lunge and dove for
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