Rowdy Rides to Glory (1987) (3 page)

When he got back home none of his problems were any nearer a solution either. Cub'
s
leg was but little better, and there was absolutely no chance of his recovering befor
e
the rodeo date. And more than ever now, Rowdy wanted to win that first place.

Again and again he studied the situation, comparing his own ability with that o
f
Luby, who would be the main competitor. Each time, it all came down to the ropin
g
event. A lot would depend, of course, on the kind of mounts each of them drew i
n
the bucking events, but there was little to choose between the two men. To give th
e
devil his due, Bart Luby was a hand.

At daylight Rowdy Horn was out looking at Cub's leg. Whe
n
he had done that, he saddled a powerful black for a ride ou
t
to the Point of Rocks. Today he must try to find out what was wrong with his wate
r
supply. He could delay no longer. He was just cinching the saddle tight when he hear
d
a rattle of hoofs and looked up to see Vaho Rainey sweep into the yard.

His face broke into a smile. This morning the girl was riding a blood bay, a splendi
d
horse. She reined in, swung down, and walked over to him with a free-swinging strid
e
that he liked.

"Rowdy," she asked excitedly, "did you ever hear of Silverside?"

"Silverside?" He looked at her curiously. "Who hasn't? The greatest roping hors
e
this country ever saw, I reckon. Buck Gordon rode him and trained him, and Buck wa
s
a roper. There will never be a greater horse."

"Could you win that rodeo on him?"

He laughed. "Could I? On tha
t
horse? Vaho, I could win anything on that horse. He had the speed of a deer and wa
s
smarter than most men. I saw him once, several years ago, before he was killed. H
e
was the finest roping horse I ever saw, and Buck the greatest hand."

"He's not dead, Rowdy. He's alive, and I know where h
e
is.

Rowdy Horn's heart missed a beat. "You aren't foolin'? This isn't a joke?" He shoo
k
his head. "It couldn't be Silverside," he protested, "and if you've heard it is
,
somebody is mistaken. Buck Gordon was riding Silverside when the Apaches got hi
m
down near Animas-in one of their last raids over the border. They killed Silversid
e
at the same time. A long time after that somebody found his skeleton, some of th
e
hide, and Buck's saddle. "

"He's alive, Rowdy!" Vaho repeated earnestly. "I know where he is, I tell you! Som
e
Mexican picked up Buck's saddle, and when he was killed later, riding a paint, i
t
was that horse tha
t
was found, or it must have been. Silverside was taken by the Apaches and they hav
e
him now."

Horn shook his head. "It couldn't be, Vaho. The Apaches are at least pretending t
o
be friendly now, and have been for a long time. If they had that horse, somebod
y
would have seen him." His eyes sparkled. "Man, I wish they had! With that horse I
c
ould sure make Luby back up! There never was a great roper without a great horse
,
and don't you forget it!"

"You said the Apaches were friendly," said Vaho. "All of them are not."

"Oh? You mean old Cochino? No, he sure isn't. But if that horse was alive and ol
d
Cochino had him, I'd still be out of luck. In the first place, nobody knows wher
e
he and his renegades hang out, and in the second place, it would be like committin
g
suicide to look for him-if you found him."

"You wouldn't try it?" she persisted. "Not even for Silverside?" "You bet I would!"

Rowdy stated emphatically. "I'd ride through perdition in a celluloid collar fo
r
that horse!"

Vaho laughed, and her eyes were bright. "All right, put on your celluloid collar!

I know where Cochino is, and I know he has Silverside!"

"If you mean that-"

Rowdy hesitated, thinking rapidly. She was positive, and after all, there had lon
g
been rumors of a friendship between old Cochino and Cleetus. The Navahos and th
e
Apaches had never been too friendly, but the two old chiefs had found something i
n
common. In fact, it had long been rumored that if Cleetus wanted to, he could tel
l
where Cochino was at any time. But that was just cow-country gossip, and nobody wa
s
really looking for the tough and wily old Apache any longer.

"Yes," Rowdy said finally, "if you're positive, Vaho, I'll take a chance. Tell m
e
where he is."

"I can't," Vaho said quietly, "but I'll take you there. But let me warn you-it'
s
an awful ride."

"You'll take me there?" He was incredulous. "Nothing doing! I'd take a chance o
n
Cochino myself, but not you!"

"Without me you wouldn't have a chance, Rowdy. With me, you may have. It's a bi
g
gamble, for old Cochino is peculiar and uncertain. He still believes the soldier
s
are after him, and he and the twenty or so renegade Apaches he has with him are dangerous.

But he knows me, and he likes old Cleetus. Will you chance it?"

"You're sure you'll be safe?" he protested.

She grew suddenly serious. "I think so, Rowdy. Nobod
y
knows about Cochino. He's like a tiger out of the jungle, one that has been partl
y
trained. He may be all right, and he might turn ugly. But I'm willing to chance it.

I want to see you win this rodeo, and I want to see you keep your ranch!"

He looked at her strangely, and as he looked into the soft depths of those lovel
y
dark eyes, he remembered the momentary hardness of jenny's blue eyes. Suddenly h
e
knew that Jenny would never have ridden with him in that weird, sun stricken deser
t
where the Apache lived. Aside from the danger, she would have shied at the discomfort.

Scarcely were Rowdy and Vaho on the trail when doubts began to assail him. The hors
e
Cochino had simply couldn't be Silverside-and it had probably been years since h
e
had been used for roping. Besides, the horse would be ten or eleven years old! Perhap
s
older. He scowled and mopped his brow, then glanced at the girl riding at his side
,
her eyes on the horizon.

The devil with it! If he found no horse, if he lost the ranch, if he couldn't bea
t
Luby, the ride with this girl would be worth any chance he took....

Back on the ranch, alone in the cabin, Neil Rice finished cleaning up, and put awa
y
the dishes. There was work to do outside, but he felt in no mood for it. Idly, h
e
began to rummage around the house, hunting for something to read. The few books faile
d
to strike his interest, but when he was about to give up he remembered having see
n
several books in an old desk and bookcase in the inner room.

He found them and studied them thoughtfully, one by one. He was about to replac
e
the last one, when he noticed what appeared to be a thin crack in the walnut of th
e
old desk. Curious, he ran his hand back into the space from which he had taken th
e
book. It was then that he noticed, on closer inspection, that there seemed to b
e
some waste space in the desk, or some unaccounted-for space.

Remembering that many such old secretaries or cabinets had secret compartments, h
e
felt around with his fingers, finally dug his nails into the crack, and pulled. Th
e
wood moved under his hand, and a small panel slid back!

In the small space beyond, he felt several pieces of paper. One had the feel of parchment.

Slowly, he got his fingers on them and drew them out, then took them to the windo
w
for better light.

The first was an old legal paper, a corporate charter of some long-defunct minin
g
company. What caught his eye at once was the missing seal. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Then he opened the next paper. Glancing at the heading, he read:

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF THOMAS B. SLATER

His eyes sharpening, he read on:

I, Thomas B. Slater, being of sound mind, make this my last will and testament. Afte
r
payment of my just debts and funeral expenses, I devise and bequeath all my worldl
y
goods and properties to Rowell D. Horn, who has been as a son to me through man
y
months and whose friendship and interest in the future and well-being of the Ba
r
0 have shown him a fit person to possess this property.

There was more, and it was followed by the signature of the old rancher and tha
t
of two witnesses. Rice had never heard of either of them. He studied the documen
t
for a long time, then closed the compartment and replaced the book. He retained th
e
charter with the missing seal and the will.

"Now wouldn't Bart Luby like to know about this!" he muttered thoughtfully.

He scowled. Possibly Luby di
d
know about it. Hadn't Rowdy said that this place had been for a long time a lin
e
cabin for the Bar 0? And after that for a while it had been headquarters for Bar
t
Luby's cattle buying. No doubt Luby had taken the seal from this document, and the
n
had concealed it and the will, believing that he might have some further use fo
r
it, at least for the signature; so he had hidden the will until he could make u
p
his mind. He might have expected the place to be in his possession longer than i
t
had been, but when Rowdy Horn had made his down payment without Luby's knowledg
e
and had appeared suddenly and unexpectedly to take over, it may have left no chanc
e
for Luby to get into the old cabinet-until he could slip back secretly. And he ha
d
probably believed it safely hidden.

That the will was in existence at all was a serious oversight on Luby's part. Onc
e
in his hands, he should have destroyed it.

Here, Rice thought, was the key to the whole situation in South Rim. With this, Rowd
y
could get the Bar 0 and prove that Luby was the crook Rowdy believed him to be. Bu
t
suppose Luby got it? There might be a lot of money in these papers if handled discreetly.

Neil Rice was painfully conscious of the emptiness of his own pockets. He came t
o
a decision suddenly. He would ride into town.

Out on the range with Rowdy Horn, Vaho Rainey led the way, and the route she too
k
led across the wide sagebrush flats toward the vague purple of distant mountains.

Before they had ridden a mile they seemed lost in a limitless sea of distance wher
e
they moved at the hub of an enormous wheel of mountains. They talked but little
,
riding steadily onward into the morning sunlight, but Rowdy Horn kept his mind o
n
the slim, erect girl who rode sometimes before him and sometimes behind.

As they drew nearer the mountains beyond the wide disk of the desert, Rowdy coul
d
see that what had appeared to be a wall of purple was actually broken into weir
d
figures and towers, strange, grotesque monsters sculptured from the sand stone b
y
sun, wind, and rain. The trail led along the valley floor between these rows of column
s
or battlemented walls, the sagebrush fell behind, and there was mesquite, a sur
e
sign of under-surface water.

The afternoon was spent among the columns of sandstone and granite, then Vaho guide
d
Rowdy into what was scarcely more than a crease between rolling hills. A mile o
f
this and it widened, and they went down through a forest of saguaro. Then the trai
l
wound steeply up among towering crags, and the saguaro was left behind, traded b
y
the trail for borders of pinon and juniper. Some of their squat, gnarled trunks seeme
d
gray with age and wind, but the bright green of their foliage was a vivid, livin
g
streak across the reds and pinks of the Kaibab sandstone.