The Texican. Coolidge Dane
Читать онлайн.| Название | The Texican |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Coolidge Dane |
| Жанр | Языкознание |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Языкознание |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn | 4064066383091 |
Dane Coolidge
The Texican
Western Novel
Illustrator: Maynard Dixon
e-artnow, 2021
Contact: [email protected]
EAN 4064066383091
Table of Contents
CHAPTER II GOOD EYE, THE MAVERICK KING
CHAPTER VI "THE VOICE OF REASON"
CHAPTER XIV THE KANGAROO COURT
CHAPTER XV THE REVOLUTION IN FACT
CHAPTER XVII THE POWER OF THE PRESS
CHAPTER XX THE LAW AND THE EVIDENCE
"Oh, out from old Missouri
I set me forth to roam
Indicted by a jury
For toling hawgs from home.
"With faithful Buck and Crowder
I crossed the Western plains
Then turned them loose in the Cow-Country
And waited for my gains.
"And now I'm called a Cattle King
With herds on many a stream—
And all from the natural increase
Of that faithful old ox-team."
The Song of Good-Eye.
CHAPTER I
VERDE CROSSING
The languid quiet of midday lay upon the little road-house that stood guard by Verde Crossing. Old Crit and his wild Texas cowboys had left the corral at dawn, riding out mysteriously with their running irons in their chaps; the dogs had crawled under José Garcia's house and gone to sleep; to the north the Tonto trail stretched away vacant and only the brawling of the Verde as it rushed over the rocky ford suggested the savage struggle that was going on in the land. Within the adobe fort that served for both store and saloon Angevine Thorne, Old Crit's roustabout, sat tipped back in his chair breathing thoughtfully through a mouth-organ while a slender Mexican girl, lingering by the doorway, listened in childish adoration.
"Oyez, Babe," she pleaded, lisping in broken English, "sing 'Work iss Done' for me, otra vez, once more."
"Yore maw will be singin' a different tune if you don't hurry home with that lard," counselled Babe, but seeing that she was in no mood to depart he cleared his throat to sing. "You don't know how bad this makes me feel, Marcelina," he said, rubbing his hand over his bald spot and smoothing down his lank hair, "but I'll sing you the first verse—it ain't so bad." He stood up and turned his eyes to heaven; a seraphic smile came into his face, as if he saw the angels, and in a caressing tenor voice he began:—
"A jolly group of cowboys, discussing their plans one day
When one says, 'I will tell you something, boys, before I'm gone away.
I am a cowboy as you see, although I'm dressed in rags.
I used to be a wild one, a-taking on big jags.
I have a home, boys, a good one, you all know,
Although I have not seen it since long ago.
I am going back to Dixie, once for to see them all;
I am going back to Dixie to see my mother when work is done this Fall.
"'After the round-ups are over, after the shipping is all done,
I am going to see my mother before my money is all gone.
My mother's heart is breaking, breaking for me, and that's all.
And with God's help I will see her when work is done this Fall.'"
A pause followed his last words and the singer limped in behind the counter. "Well, that's all, now," he said, waving her away, "go on home, child—can't you see it makes me feel powerful bad?"
The girl smiled with the sweet melancholy of her race. "I like to feel bad," she said. "Sing about the wind."
Angevine Thorne looked down upon her and shook his head sadly. "Ah, Marcelina," he said, "you are growing up to be a woman." Then he sighed and began again:—
"That very same night this poor cowboy went out to stand his guard.
The wind was blowing fiercely and the rain was falling hard.
The cattle they got frightened and ran in a mad stampede.
Poor boy, he tried to head them while riding at full speed.
Riding in the darkness so loudly he did shout,
A-trying to head the cattle, a-trying to turn them about,
When his saddled night-horse stumbled and upon him did fall.
Now the poor boy will not