The Ramblin Kid | Page 9

and carried that well-preserved assurance no woman
in the world save the American of mature development acquires.
There was energy in every line of her body and Ophelia gave Old Heck,
the embarrassed owner of the Quarter Circle KT, more thrills in that
one moment of silent scrutiny than he ever before had felt in the
presence of any woman.
As they looked, Skinny and Old Heck Instinctively, a bit awkwardly
perhaps, removed the Stetson they wore on their heads.
"Howdy-do!" Old Heck finally managed to say.
Skinny gulped like an echo, another "Howdy-do!" in the direction of
Carolyn June.
"I reckon you are Carolyn June and Missus Ophelia Cobb," Old Heck
stammered "Which one of you is which?" unconsciously paying tribute
to the well preserved youthfulness of the widow.
"Oh, Ophelia, beware!" Carolyn June laughed, not in the least offended;

"the gay old rascal is at it already!"
"He didn't mean nothing" Skinny interposed, sensing that Old Heck
some way had made a blunder. "I guess you must be Carolyn June?"
looking questioningly at the girl.
"Excuse me," Old Heck said, "I'm your uncle, I suppose, and this is
Skinny Rawlins--"
"Howdy-do; I'm glad to meet you," Skinny muttered, reaching for the
hand Carolyn June frankly extended.
"I'm glad, too," she replied candidly; "and this is Mrs. Ophelia
Cobb--just Ophelia--Uncle Josiah," Carolyn added, turning to Old Heck
who clumsily shook hands with the widow while his weather-tanned
face flushed a burning, uncomfortably red.
"We was expecting you," he said, retaining life hold on her hand.
"That was very kind," Ophelia murmured. "I am sure we are delighted
to be here."
"Now I guess we are all acquainted," Carolyn June said with a little
laugh. "It's easy for folks to get acquainted, isn't it?" turning suddenly
to Skinny.
"Seems like it after they once get started," Skinny answered.
"We'd better be heading for home I reckon," Old Heck said, releasing at
last the widow's hand and lifting the bags in the car. "Sing Pete will
have dinner ready by the time we get there."
"We have some trunks," Carolyn June said, "can we take them with
us?"
"Yes," Old Heck replied, "get in, and we'll drive over to the depot and
get them."
With Carolyn June and Ophelia in the rear seat and Skinny and himself

in the front Old Heck drove the car across to the station and the trunks
were fastened with ropes on the hood of the engine and running-boards
of the car.
As they started away Carolyn June asked:
"Which way now, Uncle Josiah?"
"Out to the ranch."
"Hadn't we better stop at the drug store," she asked soberly, "and get
some medicine?"
"Medicine? Who for?" Old Heck inquired innocently.
"Why, the patients, of course," Carolyn June answered with a
mischievous chuckle.
"What patients?"
"Out at the Quarter Circle KT where that epidemic of smallpox is
raging!" she answered sweetly.
"That's all a mistake," Old Heck said hastily; "we thought is was
smallpox but it wasn't--"
"No, everybody's got over it," Skinny added nervously; "they're all
cured!"
"Yes, they was just broke out with the heat and didn't have the
smallpox at all--" Old Heck explained.
"Liars, both of them," Carolyn June said laughingly to Ophelia; "they
just didn't want us to come!"
"Very likely," Ophelia answered.
"No, honest, we thought we had it," Old Heck stammered.

"We were plumb uneasy for fear you wouldn't arrive," Skinny declared.
"After we found out it wasn't smallpox we were going to send a special
delivery message and tell you it was all a misunderstanding and to
come anyhow!"
"Shall we forgive them?" Carolyn June asked the widow.
"Perhaps, this time--their first offense!"
"I'll tell you," Carolyn June said, "well suspend sentence pending good
behavior!"
Skinny leaned close to Old Heck.
"Stop a minute at the Golden Rule," he whispered; "I want to do some
personal trading."
"If it ain't important," Old Heck answered, "we oughtn't to take the time.
What do you want to buy?"
"I want to get me a white shirt--"
"Gosh," Old Heck exclaimed, "that bad already! What'll he be in
week?"
"Did you speak, Uncle Josiah?" Carolyn asked.
"Huh--no, I--Skinny just thought I was going to hit a rock!" he
answered, and giving the engine more gas, he headed the car, at a
thirty-mile clip, toward the east and the Quarter Circle KT.
The party rode in silence. The speed of the car and the fan of the warm
wind against their faces made conversation difficult. A mile from Eagle
Butte they crossed the long, low, iron-railed bridge over the Cimarron
River and climbed out on to the bench away from the bottom lands.
From that point on to the Quarter Circle KT the road followed the brow
of the bench on the south side of the