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Then he spoke aloud: "I reckon you know," he said slowly, "why I'm ridin' at night about me killin' Sabota I'm leavin' " "But Sabota isn't dead," she interrupted again. "You don't need to go away!" "Sabota ain't dead!" the Ramblin' Kid exclaimed. "Then I'll go back to Eagle Butte instead of Mexico!" "Why?" Carolyn June asked. "To finish th' job!" and his voice was dangerously soft.
With a sneering laugh he raised his foot and brought it down on the garter, grinding the silver clasp and the satin ribbon under the sole of his shoe. "You damned black cur!" The Rambling' Kid spoke scarcely louder than a whisper, yet his voice echoed throughout the tense silence of the room. "I'll put my heel in your face for that!" Sabota threw back his head to laugh.
The bull-like guffaw of Mike Sabota, the gorilla-built, half-Greek proprietor of the Amusement Parlor roared out above the ripple of laughter from the others. The racing feud between the Y-Bar and the Quarter Circle KT was well known to all and Sabota himself had cleaned up a neat sum when the black horse from the Vermejo had outstepped the runner from the Quarter Circle KT.
At his side, profaning horrible, obscene oaths staggered Mike Sabota.
Sabota did not die. After the escape of the Ramblin' Kid the marshal reentered the pool-room and had the big Greek removed to the hotel. A doctor was called and set as well as possible the broken jaws, the crushed nose, picked out the fragments of bone and the loosened teeth, sewed up the terrible gashes on Sabota's face and left the bully groaning and profaning in half-conscious agony.
"Putting his gun in my ribs? Resisting an officer?" the lanky Missourian answered with a sly grin; "who said he put a gun on me or resisted an officer or anything? I ain't heard nothing about it!" Two days later Sabota, with the help of "Red" Jackson, managed to get to the Santa Fe station. He was able to travel and he did travel. Jackson said he went to the "Border."
I'll get the 'pills' for you to-night " "No killin', Sabota!" Gyp warned. "Just enough to put him out for an hour or two!" the Greek answered. Wednesday night the Ramblin' Kid slept in the stall with the Gold Dust maverick and Captain Jack. Thursday he remained close to the horses. Thursday night he again slept on a pile of hay in one corner of the box-compartment.
Skinny paused and said something in a low tone to Sabota. The two walked to the rear end of the bar where the proprietor of the place in turn spoke to Red and the latter furtively handed a pint bottle to the cowboy and which he dropped into the bosom of his flannel shirt. The Ramblin' Kid was recognized by the cowboys from the Purgatory.
Before he got the outlaw filly to the stables a half dozen cowboys had recognized the Cimarron maverick. Within an hour Dorsey and Sabota knew the identity of the Ramblin' Kid's entry in the big race that was to be run Friday afternoon and which was the big and closing event of the Rodeo. The Greek was furious.
She and Ophelia went into the hotel and Old Heck and Skinny drove the car over to the stock-yards where the cattle were being loaded. After Parker and the cowboys were on their way east with the steers and before he returned to the ranch Old Heck went into the room in which Sabota lay. The Greek's head was a mass of white bandages.