Tangled Trails: A Western Detective Story, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  WILD ROSE TAKES THE DUST

  "Wild Rose on Wild Fire," shouted the announcer through a megaphonetrained on the grand stand.

  Kirby Lane, who was leaning against the fence chatting with a friend,turned round and took notice. Most people did when Wild Rose held thecenter of the stage.

  Through the gateway of the enclosure came a girl hardly out of herteens. She was bareheaded, a cowboy hat in her hand. The sun, alreadyslanting from the west, kissed her crisp, ruddy gold hair and set itsparkling. Her skin was shell pink, amber clear. She walked as mighta young Greek goddess in the dawn of the world, with the free movementof one who loves the open sky and the wind-swept plain.

  A storm of hand-clapping swept the grand stand. Wild Rose acknowledgedit with a happy little laugh. These dear people loved her. She knewit. And not only because she was a champion. They made over herbecause of her slimness, her beauty, the aura of daintiness thatsurrounded her, the little touches of shy youth that still clung to hermanner. Other riders of her sex might be rough, hoydenish, ormasculine. Wild Rose had the charm of her name. Yet the muscles thatrippled beneath her velvet skin were hard as nails. No bronco alivecould unseat her without the fight of its life.

  Meanwhile the outlaw horse Wild Fire was claiming its share ofattention. The bronco was a noted bucker. Every year it made thecircuit of the rodeos and only twice had a rider stuck to the saddlewithout pulling leather. Now it had been roped and cornered. Half adozen wranglers in chaps were trying to get it ready for the saddle.From the red-hot eyes of the brute a devil of fury glared at the mentrying to thrust a gunny sack over its head. The four legs were wideapart, the ears cocked, teeth bared. The animal flung itself skywardand came down on the boot of a puncher savagely. The man gave aninvoluntary howl of pain, but he clung to the rope snubbed round thewicked head.

  The gunny sack was pushed and pulled over the eyes. Wild Firesubsided, trembling, while bridle was adjusted and saddle slipped on.The girl attended to the cinching herself. If the saddle turned itmight cost her life, and she preferred to take no unnecessary chances.

  She was dressed in green satin riding clothes. A beaded bolero jacketfitted over a white silk blouse. Her boots were of buckskin,silver-spurred. With her hat on, at a distance, one might have takenher for a slim, beautiful boy.

  Wild Rose swung to the saddle and adjusted her feet in the stirrups.The gunny sack was whipped from the horse's head. There was a wildscuffle of escaping wranglers.

  For a moment Wild Fire stood quivering. The girl's hat swept throughthe air in front of its eyes. The horse woke to galvanized action.The back humped. It shot into the air with a writhing twist of thebody. All four feet struck the ground together, straight and stiff asfence posts.

  The girl's head jerked forward as though it were on a hinge. Theoutlaw went sunfishing, its forefeet almost straight up. She was stillin the saddle when it came to all fours again. A series of jarringbucks, each ending with the force of a pile-driver as Wild Fire's hoofsstruck earth, varied the programme. The rider came down limp, half inthe saddle, half out, righting herself as the horse settled for thenext leap. But not once did her hands reach for the pommel of thesaddle to steady her.

  Pitching and bucking, the animal humped forward to the fence.

  "Look out!" a judge yelled.

  It was too late. The rider could not deflect her mount. Into thefence went Wild Fire blindly and furiously. The girl threw up her legto keep it from being jammed. Up went the bronco again before WildRose could find the stirrup. She knew she was gone, felt herselfshooting forward. She struck the ground close to the horse's hoofs.Wild Fire lunged at her. A bolt of pain like a red-hot iron searedthrough her.

  Through the air a rope whined. It settled over the head of the outlawand instantly was jerked tight. Wild Fire, coming down hard for asecond lunge at the green crumpled heap underfoot, was dragged sharplysideways. Another lariat snaked forward and fell true.

  "Here, Cole!" The first roper thrust the taut line into the hands of apuncher who had run forward. He himself dived for the still girlbeneath the hoofs of the rearing horse. Catching her by the arms, hedragged her out of danger. She was unconscious.

  The cowboy picked her up and carried her to the waiting ambulance. Theclosed eyes flickered open. A puzzled little frown rested in them.

  "What's up, Kirby?" asked Wild Rose.

  "You had a spill."

  "Took the dust, did I?" He sensed the disappointment in her voice.

  "You rode fine. He jammed you into the fence," explained the young man.

  The doctor examined her. The right arm hung limp.

  "Broken, I'm afraid," he said.

  "Ever see such luck?" the girl complained to Lane.

  "Probably they won't let me ride in the wild-horse race now."

  "No chance, young lady," the doctor said promptly. "I'm going to takeyou right to the hospital."

  "I might get back in time," she said hopefully.

  "You might, but you won't."

  "Oh, well," she sighed. "If you're going to act like that."

  The cowboy helped her into the ambulance and found himself a seat.

  "Where do you think you're going?" she asked with a smile a bit twistedby pain.

  "I reckon I'll go far as the hospital with you."

  "I reckon you won't. What do you think I am--a nice little parlor girlwho has to be petted when she gets hurt? You're on to ride inside offifteen minutes--and you know it."

  "Oh, well! I'm lookin' for an alibi so as not to be beaten. That ColeSanborn is sure a straight-up rider."

  "So's that Kirby Lane. You needn't think I'm going to let you beatyourself out of the championship. Not so any one could notice it. Hopout, sir."

  He rose, smiling ruefully. "You certainly are one bossy kid."

  "I'd say you need bossing when you start to act so foolish," sheretorted, flushing.

  "See you later," he called to her by way of good-bye.

  As the ambulance drove away she waved cheerfully at him a gauntletedhand.

  The cowpuncher turned back to the arena. The megaphone man wasannouncing that the contest for the world's rough-riding championshipwould now be resumed.