All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 96: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

86 against the broad, comfortable bosom, “thank you, Ma Wickson; we'll go right after dinner.”’ CHAPTER XV. AT THE CHAPARRAL COCK. URLANE’S ride to the Chaparral Cock was anything but cheerful. Firstly, the Wickson cayuse, sober, steady, a bit nagging in his gait, was so different from huge Midnight, with his pretty pasears, deep-chested whickerings, prancings, friendly-wise nods of loyal head. Secondly, confound it, there was Bere- nice! She had misunderstood his reasons for wishing to talk to Maretta. Hang girls, anyway ! Thirdly, there was the Mexican girl, bold, over-ready, but who might, in some way known to her breed and calling, come at knowledge of Midnight’s whereabouts. The afternoon was drowsing to a heated climax. The trail was over-hot; dust puffs whiffed up from under the cayuse’s hoofs. Ed got past the Ox Bow turn-off without meeting any one. He let the cayuse am- ble. He described the Chaparral Cock 300n afterward and reined the steady cay- use in. Mid-afternoon sloth reigned in the place. The cayuse, head a-nod, knees all but un- sprung, promptly dozed as soon as Ed had alined him with the tie-rack. Inside there ‘vas only Maretta, behind the bar, seem- ingly asleep, her head on her crossed arms that were on the deals. Her lately fired cigarette sent up a spiral of blue vapor— ‘ast flicker of its fire. as Ed stepped softly over the sill.’ He paused a moment to glance at the woman, so ripe, so potent for heartache to men of fiery passions. He noted.the little pursuing of the full, red lips at each breath’s outgoing, the way in which the lips drew in tenderly at each intake. Her glossy hair, in seeming disarray, was over one rounded arm. - She stirred, straightened indolently, yawned, brushed her eyes, then put her nair back with a pettish gesture. Not until then did she deign to notice that Ed That, even, ceased, ALL-STORY WEEKLY. was standing in mid-room, looking at her, smiling. . Instead of playing the prude and pre- tending confusion, she merely flashed him a happy smile, in which each of her pretty teeth did its duty. Then she signed him to approach and, with a quick, supple bending of arm and body, swung her re- bellious hair into place. ‘““Dhere, senor,’ she gave him; “ dhat hair, so saucee, she is what your ’Mericano girls say? Done up?” | ‘“Tha’s it,” Ed laughed, sidling easily to the bar and ordering a wee drink. She joined him. They lighted weeds and puffed across the bar. “You wanted that I’d come out this- away?” Ed queried. ‘* Yees, senor ’’—low, evenly, deep in her full chest. ‘“°Cause why? thing?”’ His interest was keen, unmistakable. She blew a pretty double smoke ring at the end of his nose. Ed, with Midnight in mind, laughed. ‘* Yees, no,” ‘““Come, _ sister,” know th’ worst.” ‘“A’m ’fraid—eet eesa deefeecult,’’ she procrastinated. “Eh?” his level eyes studying her. ‘“A’m ’shameed, senor, for tell you.” ‘“‘ Aw, now, sister—”’ ‘“A’m not a writer—’’ “ What’s that—”’ : ‘““A’m wanting you wreeté me a—a let- ter—lI sign weeith my mark, eh, senor?” The relieved expression on her face at having gotten out that artful confession of ignorance was matched by Ed’s as he real- ized the reason, it seemed, for her long preamble. He knew few of the border Mexican folk, women especially, could write or read, and that she would want him to write a letter for her was reasonable. That it might contain something she should not want to expose to the ribaldry of the casual barroom hangers-on he could appreciate. It had been a proper bit of acting on her part, and it removed every bit of doubt from the mind of the range rider. Up to that moment Ed had been divided Heard or seen any- she teased. Ed urged. “ Let’s cCoOmiclbooks C©