Arizona -- Fiction; Bildungsromans; Western stories
Stockton let the remark pass without further comment; still, he appeared
to be doing some hard thinking. He put Dick at one end of the long cave,
me at the other. Our bedding was unpacked and placed at our disposal. We
made our beds. After that I kept my eyes open and did not miss anything.
“Leslie, I'm going to treat you and Ward white,” said Stockton. “You'll
have good grub. Herky-Jerky's the best cook this side of Holston, and
you'll be left untied in the daytime. But if either of you attempts to
get away it means a leg shot off. Do you get that?”
“All right, Stockton; that's pretty square of you, considering,” replied
Dick. “You're a decent sort of chap to be mixed up with a thief like
Buell. I'm sorry.”
Stockton turned away at this rather abruptly. Then Bill appeared on
the wall above, and began to throw down firewood. Bud returned from the
canyon, where he had driven the horses. Greaser sat on a stone puffing a
cigarette. It was the first time I had taken a good look at him. He was
smaller than I had fancied; his feet and hands and features resembled
those of a woman, but his eyes were live coals of black fire. In the
daylight I was not in the least afraid of him.
Herky-Jerky was the most interesting one of our captors. He had a short,
stocky figure, and was the most bow-legged man I ever saw. Never on
earth could he have stopped a pig in a lane. A stubby beard covered
the lower half of his brick-red face. The most striking thing about
Herky-Jerky, however, was his perpetual grin. He looked very jolly, yet
every time he opened his mouth it was to utter bad language. He cursed
the fire, the pans, the coffee, the biscuits, all of which he handled
most skillfully. It was disgusting, and yet aside from this I rather
liked him.
It grew dark very quickly while we were eating, and the wind that dipped
down into the gorge was cold. I kept edging closer and closer to the
blazing campfire. I had never tasted venison before, and rather disliked
it at first. But I soon cultivated a liking for it.
That night Stockton tied me securely, but in a way which made it easy
for me to turn. I slept soundly and awoke late. When I sat up Stockton
stood by his saddled horse, and was giving orders to the men. He
spoke sharply. He made it clear that they were not to be lax in their
vigilance. Then, without a word to Dick or me, he rode down the gorge
and disappeared behind a corner of yellow wall.
Bill untied the rope that held Dick's arms, but left his feet bound. I
was freed entirely, and it felt so good to have the use of all my limbs
once more that I pranced round in a rather lively way. Either my antics
annoyed Herky-Jerky or he thought it a good opportunity to show his
skill with a lasso, for he shot the loop over me so hard that it stung
my back.
“I'm all there as a roper!” he said, pulling the lasso tight round my
middle. The men all laughed as I tumbled over in the gravel.
“Better keep a half-hitch on the colt,” remarked Bud.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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