Pulp Fiction, 1926 · page 50 of 212
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48 “Yuh hadn’t ought to make fun of a horse,” said Sleepy. “No, I suppose not. Really, I shouldn’t make fun of anybody. I ought to put in most of my time being thankful I’m alive. I am, too. I’ve got to go and have the doctor dress my head, but I thought I’d stop and see Miss Taylor. She’s going to need some help around here, and I thought Id offer my services. The AK really don’t need me.”’ “What can you do?” asked Hashknife. Jimmy shuffled his feet. “Well,” he said slowly, “I really don’t know. Unless, of course, she has some horses that need to have some one fall off them. Johnny Grant says I’m the best he has ever seen. He says if you’re a champion rider there’s always a dispute over it. But if you’re a champion faller-off, you've got a cinch title.” The two cowboys laughed at Jimmy, or rather, with him. “Can yuh handle a rope?” asked Hash- knife. “Not ona horse. There’s too many things to remember. I always fell off, trying to keep from tripping my own horse. On the ground, I’m pretty good. Eskimo says I can heat a branding-iron handle hotter than anybody he ever seen. And _ that about lets me out, I guess.” “Well, yo’re honest about it, anyway,” laughed Sleepy. ‘If yuh live long enough, you'll prob’ly be a top-hand about the time they stop raisin’ cattle and start on sugar- beets.”” | “‘T’d have an even chance with the rest of the cowboys at raising sugar-beets, I suppose.” “You sure are an optimist, pardner,”’ laughed Hashknife. ‘I hope Miss Taylor can use yuh. We need an optimist around us.” “Fine,” grinned Jimmy. ‘And I’d learn just as much about being a cowboy.” “And maybe live longer,’ said Sleepy. “Things that might make others shoot— make us laugh. You better tie up yore bronc.”’ Jimmy tied his horse to a ring in the patio wall, and they went inside the patio, where they found Marion and Barnhardt. She shook hands with Jimmy, who protested that he was better than he ever was. Barn- hardt looked him over coldly, but no one bothered to introduce them. W. C. TUTTLE “T’m looking for a job,” laughed Jimmy. “T told Mr. Bonnette that I was going to offer my services to you, and he said it would be all right with him. He was very nice about it.” “He knows the salary,” said Hashknife. “We split it three ways.” “Well, that’s mighty nice of you, Jimmy,” said Marion. “Don’t mention it, Marion.” Barnhardt cleared his throat raspingly. He wanted to voice an objection, but had none. Hashknife’s eyes were smiling, but his mouth was serious, as he watched. the lawyer’s face. “T think we are being well taken care of, Mr. Barnhardt,” said Marion, her eyes dancing. : “Oh, hu—er—yes, indeed.”” Barnhardt mopped his face with a silk handkerchief. “Very, very well, Miss Taylor. I—TI guess I will be going along.” “Come again,”’ said Hashknife cordially. Barnhardt flashed a glance at him, as he held out his hand to Marion. They walked to the patio gate and watched Barnhardt ride away, sitting stiffly in his saddle, his horse trotting, every jerk of which drew Barnhardt’s trousers up nearer his knees, and caused his ill-fitting sombrero to shift from side to side. “Looks like the joker in a deck of playin’- cards,” observed Sleepy. ‘He means well, I think,’ said Marion, as they turned back. ‘““Means well to Lee Barnhardt,” smiled Hashknife. “T don’t like him,” said Jimmy. ‘Oh, it isn’t because of anything he has ever done to me,” he hastened to say. “But it is just something about him that—vwell, I don’t like him.”’ ‘Shall we show our new member to the bunk-house?”’ asked Hashknife. “TI like him a lot better, since I’ve heard he don’t like lawyers.”’ “Oh, my remark does not cover the entire profession,” said Jimmy quickly. Marion laughed and went into the house, while Hashknife and Sleepy introduced Jimmy to the bunk-house. They sat down and rolled cigarets. Jimmy was not very adept, but he managed to make his own smoke. “You know Miss Taylor pretty well, don’tcha?”’ asked Hashknife. Jimmy colored quickly. cConniclool (C@