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Updated: May 7, 2025
Carolyn June had disappeared down the trail that led to the upper ford. "Go, Little Man, go for th' love of God, go!" the Ramblin' Kid whispered as he leaned forward over the neck of the horse.
Her forefeet came down across the back of Captain Jack she had all but cleared the little roan. The shock almost threw the stallion to the ground. As he surged from under her the filly slid and sprawled on her shoulder and side. Instantly she was on her feet, the Ramblin' Kid still in the saddle.
"So far you're the only one that's escaped. The rest of us are breaking our hearts " For an instant the Ramblin' Kid flashed on Bert a look of hot anger while a dull red glow spread over his sun-tanned cheeks. "There's enough damned fools loose on th' Kiowa range without me bein' one, too!" he retorted slowly, getting up and going toward Captain Jack.
Before the sun dipped into the Costejo peaks the Ramblin' Kid left the Rodeo and returned alone to the Quarter Circle KT. He told Parker and the cowboys, all of whom intended to remain in Eagle Butte every night during the Rodeo, that he would be back in town the next afternoon and bring with him the Gold Dust maverick.
The Ramblin' Kid rode the mile more as an automaton than as a living, conscious human being. He had no memory of time, place, events save for the instants of rationality he forced his will to bring. Gradually, though, his mind was clearing. But which was it the first half? the last half? How long had they been running? How many times had they gone around the track? He could not remember!
"You want to be loved, too, you little devil!" the Ramblin' Kid laughed gently, " you thought I was mean last night, didn't you?" For a while he fooled with the horses, then started toward the kitchen. A few steps from where Carolyn June had been standing he glanced down at a broad pink satin elastic band lying on the ground. It had been fastened with a silver butterfly clasp.
The blow went home. A film, like a veil drawn across the fiendish glare in them, spread over the eyes of Sabota, his grip on the throat of the cowboy relaxed and as a bull, struck by the hammer of the butcher, he dropped to the floor. The Ramblin' Kid crouched, panting, over the massive bulk. Sabota slowly opened his eyes and started to raise his battered head.
Parker and the Ramblin' Kid only, were at ease and undisturbed. "You wouldn't think she was one by looking at her, would you?" Chuck said in an undertone to Charley. "Some of them's so blamed slick they can't hide it." "I reckon that's right," Chuck whispered back, "it's an awful jolt to Old Heck, ain't it?" "Yes, he's taking it pretty hard," Charley mumbled.
Gie them plenty to eat; show them the rum bottle, let them hae the rin o' the hoose, an' say that I bade ye treat them weel." "Ay," was Ramblin' Peter's laconic reply.
"By golly," Chuck said earnestly and half-pleadingly, "I wish you'd put her against that Y-Bar outfit's Thunderbolt horse in the two-mile sweepstakes this year! It would be " "Fun to see her run!" the Ramblin' Kid interrupted, looking up quickly and straight into the eyes of Carolyn June as he finished the contemptuous quotation of her words, spoken the day before at the corral.
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