Tex

E. Mulford Clarence

Description

A newcomer to the small town of Windsor, Kansas, Tex Ewalt isn't your average cowboy. But even though he's educated and well-spoken, he's racked up more than his fair share of enemies over the course of his life -- and it just so happens that one of them is the top dog in Windsor.

Sujets

• Westerns
• Western (genre)
• Western

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9781776592470
• Langue: English

Extrait

TEX
A HOPALONG CASSIDY NOVEL
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CLARENCE E. MULFORD
 
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Tex A Hopalong Cassidy Novel First published in 1922 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-247-0 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-248-7 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - The Trail Calls Chapter II - Refreshed Memories Chapter III - Tempted Anew Chapter IV - A Crowded Day Chapter V - A Trimmer Trimmed Chapter VI - Friendly Interest Chapter VII - Weights and Measures Chapter VIII - After Dark Chapter IX - A Pleasant Excursion Chapter X - Speed and Guile Chapter XI - Empty Honors Chapter XII - Closer Friendships Chapter XIII - Outcheating Cheaters Chapter XIV - Tact and Courage Chapter XV - A Good Samaritan Chapter XVI - Buffalo Creek in the Spotlight Chapter XVII - The Rush Chapter XVIII - "Here Lies the Road to Rome!" Chapter XIX - A Lecture Wasted Chapter XX - Plans Awry Chapter XXI - An Equal Guilt Chapter XXII - The False Trail and the True
Chapter I - The Trail Calls
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Memory's curtain rises and shows a scene softened by time and blurred byforgetfulness, yet the details slowly emerge like the stars at twilight.There appears a rain-washed, wind-swept range in Montana, a greatpasture level in the center, but rising on its sides like a vast,shallow saucer, with here and there a crack of more somber hue where aravine, or sluggish stream, lead toward the distant river. Greenunderfoot, deep blue overhead, with a lavender and purple rim under ahorizon made ragged and sharp by the not too distant mountains andfoothills. An occasional deep blue gash in the rim's darker tones markswhere some pass or canyon cuts through the encircling barriers. Acloser inspection would reveal a half-dozen earthy hollows, the ruttingholes of the once numerous buffalo which paused here on their periodicmigrations. In the foreground a white ranchhouse and its flanking redbuildings, framed by the gray of corral walls, nestles on the southernslope of a rise and basks in the sunlight. From it three faint trailsgrow more and more divergent, leading off to Everywhere. Scattered overthe vast, green pastures are the grazing units of a great herd, placidand content, moving slowly and jerkily, like spilled water down agentle, dusty slope. But in the total movement there is one thread withdefinite directness, even though it constantly turns from side to sidein avoiding the grazing cattle. This, as being different and indicatingpurpose, takes our instant attention.
A rider slowly makes his way among the cattle, by force of habitobserving everything without being fully conscious of it. His chaps ofsoft leather, worn more because of earlier associations than from anyurgent need on this northern range, have the look of long service andthe comfort coming from such. His hat is a dark gray sombrero, worn ina manner suggesting a cavalier of old. Over an open vest are thecareless folds of a blue kerchief, and at his right hip rubs a holsterwith its waiting, deadly tenant. A nearer approach reveals him to be aman in middle life, lean, scrupulously neat, clean shaven, with lines ofdeep humor graven about his eyes and mouth, softening a habitualexpression which otherwise would have been forbiddingly hard andcynical.
His roving glances reach the purple horizon and are arrested by thecerulean blue of a pass, and he checks his horse with a gesturehopelessly inadequate to express the restlessness, the annoyinguncertainty of his mood, a mood fed unceasingly by an inborn yearning towander, regardless of any aim or other condition. Here is a prospectabout him which he knows cannot be improved upon; here are duties lightenough practically to make him master of his time, yet heavy enough tobe purposeful; his days are spent in the soothing solitudes of clean,refreshing surroundings; his evenings with men who give him perfectfellowship, wordless respect, and repressed friendship, speaking whenthe mood urges, or silent in that rare, all-explaining silence of strongmen in perfect accord. His wants are few and automatically supplied:yet for weeks the longing to leave it all daily had grown stronger—toleave it for what? Certainly for worse; yet leave it he must.
He sat and pondered, retrospective, critical. The activities of hisearlier days passed before him, with no hypocritical hiding or bluntingof motives. They revealed few redeeming features, for he carelessly hadfollowed the easy trails through the deceptive lowlands of morality, andamong men and women worse even than himself in overt acts and shamelessplanning, yet better because they did not have his intelligence or moralstandards. But he slowly rose above them as a diver rises abovetreacherous, lower currents, and the reason was plain to those who knewhim well. First he had a courage sparkling like a jewel, unhesitant,forthright, precipitate; next he had a rare mixture of humor andcynicism which better revealed to him things in their right proportionsand values; and last, but hardly least by any means, an intelligence ofhigh order, buttressed by facts, clarified by systematic study, andedged by training. In his youth he had aimed at the practice ofmedicine, but gave too much attention to more imaginative targets andfound, when too late, that he had hit nothing. His fondness fordrinking, gambling at cards, and other weedy sowings resulted from,rather than caused, the poor aim. Certain unforgivable episodes,unforgivable because of their notoriety more than because of the thingsthemselves, brewed a paternal tempest, upon which he had turned ascornful back, followed Horace Greeley's famous advice, and sought thehealing and the sanctuary of the unasking West.
In his new surroundings he soon made a name for himself, in bothmeanings, and quickly dominated those whose companionship he eithercraved or needed. An inherent propensity for sleight of hand providedhim an easy living at cards; and his deftness and certainty with asix-gun gave him a pleasing security. However, all things have an end.There came a time when he nearly had reached the lowest depths of moralsubmersion when he met and fought a character as strong as his own, butin few other ways resembling him; and from that time on he swam on thesurface. It would be foolish to say that the depths ceased to lure him,for they did, and at times so powerfully that he scarcely could resistthem. For this he had to thank to no small degree one of the bitterestexperiences of his life: his disastrous marriage. Giving blind love andunquestioning loyalty, he had lost both by the unclean evidenceunexpectedly presented to his eyes. In that crisis, after the firstmadness, his actions had been worthy of a nature softer than his own andhe had gone, by devious ways, back to his West and started anew with aburning cynicism. But for the steadying influence of his one-timeenemy, and the danger and the interest in the task which HopalongCassidy had set before him, the domestic tragedy certainly would havesent him plunging down to his former level or below it.
Time passed and finally brought him news of the tragic death of hisfaithless wife, and he found that it did not touch him. He had feltneither pity, sorrow, nor relief. It is doubtful if he ever had given athought to the question of his freedom, for with his mental attitude itmeant nothing at all to him. He had put among his belongings the letterfrom his former employer, who had known all about the affair and thenames and addresses of several of his western friends, telling him thathe was free; and hardly gave it a second thought.
Turning from his careless scrutiny of the distant pass he rode on againand soon became aware of the sound of hoofbeats rapidly nearing him. Ashe looked up a rider topped a rise, descried him, and waved a sombrero.The newcomer dashed recklessly down the slope and drew rein sharply athis side, a cheerful grin wreathing his homely, honest face. Pete wasslow-witted, but his sterling qualities masked this defect even in theeyes of a man as sharp as his companion, who felt for him a strong, warmfriendship.
"Hello, Tex!" said the newcomer. "What's eatin' you? You shore lookglum."
Tex thought if it was plain enough for Pete Wilson to notice it, it mustbe plain, indeed. "Mental worms an' moral cancer, Pete," replied thecynic, smiling in spite of himself at the cogitation started in hisfriend by the words.
"Whatever that means," replied Pete, cautiously. "However, if it's whatI reckon it is, there's just two cures." Pete was dogmatic by nature."An' that's likker, or a new range."
"Somethin's th' matter with you today, Pete," rejoined Tex. "Yo're asquick as a reflex." He studied a moment, and added: "An' yo're deadright, too."
"There ain't no reflection needed," retorted Pete; "an' there ain'tnothin' th' matter with me a-tall. I'm tellin' you common sense; butit's shore a devil of a choice. If it's likker, then you lose; if it'sdriftin' off som'ers, then we lose. Tell you what: Go down to TwinRiver an' clean 'em out at stud, if you can find anybody that ain'tplayed you before," he suggested hopefully. "Mebby there's a strangerin town. You'll shore feel a whole lot better, then." He grinnedsuddenly. "You might find a travelin' man: they're so cussed smart theydon't think anybody can learn 'em anythin'. Go ahead—try it!"
Tex laughed. "Where you goin'?" he abruptly demanded. He could notafford to have any temptations thrown in his way just then.
"Over Cyclone way, for Buck. Com