Read Online The Wrong Woman by Charles D Stewart - Free Book Online Page A

resolved to
kill or cure. He gave the rope another turn round the horn of his saddle and
started up at imminent risk to her neck. Her legs were rooted in the tough muck
as if they were the fangs of a colossal tooth, but Tuck pulled it; and having
now rounded out an honest day's work, his fancy turned toward the fire of the
sheep-herding Pete Harding. Pete was a congenial spirit, even if he was not much
of a horseman, and he had a pack of cards with which he passed much time, trying
to beat himself at solitaire.
    Tuck did not know that Pete Harding was not at present in charge of the
sheep. He eventually made the discovery by the light of Steve's fire; and he
made it at remarkably long range. Like others whose vision has been trained on
far-off cattle, he was very long-sighted; his eye could reach out and read the
half-obliterated brand on a distant cowa faculty which saves a horse many
steps, especially on a ranch where the cattle do not all belong to one owner.
Tuck, being one of this kind, was as yet afar off when he saw that there were
two persons at the fire. Closer approach making the fact vividly plain, he
pulled rein and came to a stop. Sure enough, it was a woman! She was sitting
there eating supper!
    The extraordinary spectacle quite balked his comprehension. Having taken in
all visible details and circumstances, he very considerately turned his horse
and made himself "scarce."
    On the following day, while everybody was waiting for the mail to be
distributed, Tuck was loitering up and down past the various groups on
Thornton's principal thoroughfare. Coming finally to where the subject of horse
was being discussed, he joined himself to this multitude of counselors; and
finding Hank Bullen among those present, he related his experience of the night
before. While the two speculated and conjectured, others became included in the
conversation, a process which requires a story to be several times repeated.
    "Did you say this was yesterday?" asked Ed Curtis, who had just caught the
drift of it.
    "Last night," said Tuck.
    "You say she wore a white collar and cuffs and a black felt hat?"
    "No; I did n't see what sort of a hat she had. She did n't have any hat on. I
said she had on a dark dress with white around the wrists and a wide white
collar turned down."
    "I passed that girl on the road yesterday. She was going out that way. She
rode a sorrel with one stocking behind and a star."
    "Why!" exclaimed Reedy, "that must 'a' been the horse I seen out on the
grass. He was a short-coupled sorrel with a stocking on his near hind leg, and
he had a star. I thought to myself that he looked corn-fed."
    "That's hers. She wore a man's hat. It was turned up on one side with a big
breastpin. I noticed it wasn't any eight-dollar hat; she had to fix it that way
to stiffen the brim in front. It was a black hat."
    "She must be intending to make a stay to turn him loose like that," remarked
Bill Whallen.
    Further discussion yielding nothing but these same facts, the talk came round
to horse-lore again.
    A while later, Whallen, having called for his mail and received none, stepped
out of the post-office and ran his eye along the row of horses at the
hitching-rack. At the end of the row was an extremely starved-looking animal;
and he was being stoutly defended by his owner, Al Todd, against the aspersions
of the drug clerk.
    "All that horse needs," said Al Todd, "is a little something to eat. What do
you expect of a horse that is just out of the poor-house? There's a real horse.
Look at his framework. Look at them legs. Look at how he's ribbed up."
    Whallen examined the horse's bones and teeth; then he stepped back and took a
general all-over view.
    "What do you think of it?" asked the drug clerk.
    "Is he for sale?" inquired Whallen, before answering.
    "No, he ain't for sale," answered Todd. "This fellow thinks he ain't a nice
horse."
    "Well," said Whallen, "a man can easy enough put meat on a horse.