Thoughtfully, he stared out a t the arena. Eleven seconds, the time he had made yesterday, was fast time. It wa s fast enough to win in many shows, but could he equal it today?
He picked up the piggin' strings and kept one in his right hand. The other he pu t in his teeth. Suddenly his consciousness, directed at the arena where Bart Luby ha d just charged out after his calf, was jerked back to himself. His lips felt somethin g strange with the rawhide piggin' string. Jerking it from his teeth, he stared a t it. Both strings had been carefully frayed with a file or some rough object. Whe n drawn taut, to bind the calf's legs, they would snap like thread!
"Time!" Weaver's voice boomed out over the arena. "Bart Luby ties his calf in th e record-breaking time for this show of ten and nine tenths seconds!"
Cheers swept the arena, and Rowdy Horn felt something go sick inside of him. He hear d his name called, and he twisted in the saddle.
"Cass!" he yelled. "Piggin' strings! Quick!"
Webster sprang as if stuck with a pin and thrust some piggin' strings in Rowdy' s fingers. At the same instant, Rowdy tossed the frayed strings to the other contestant.
"Look!" he yelped.
He saw his calf leave the chute with a bound and take off down the arena like a bolt.
Silverside saw it go and was in a dead run, heading down the arena. Rowdy's rop e whirled and shot out, and he left the saddle with a leap, swept the calf from it s feet and down deftly, swiftly. His heart pounding and the dust swirling in his nostrils , he made his tie and sprang free, arm uplifted!
Dead silence held the arena, and then, his voice wild with excitement, Weaver announced:
"Folks! Rowdy Horn, ridin' the great Silverside, wins the calf ropin' with the recor d time of ten and eight tenths seconds!" Cheers boomed across the arena, and Rowd y swung into th e saddle and trotted his horse across to the judges' stand. His great horse reare d high, and Rowdy's hat swung wide, acknowledging the cheers. Then, to the martia l music of the band, Silverside dance-stepped across the arena to accompanying cheers.
Then Rowdy turned the horse and rode him back to the chutes.
The memory of those frayed piggin' strings was in his mind. There was only one tim e it could have been done, hastily but deftly, and obviously planned for, and tha t had been while he was exchanging his few words with the sheriff.
Bart Luby had been sitting his horse, awaiting his signal, right beside Silverside!
Swift work, but it could have been done, for several minutes must have elapsed befor e Rowdy had returned to his horse. Only the sudden feel of the frayed place by hi s lips had saved him, for a snapped piggin' string would have meant too much loss o f time.
He swung down and approached the tight little circle of men-Sheriff Ben Wells, Cas s Webster, Tony Sandoval, Neil Rice, and others. And in the center of them, pale an d defiant, his eyes hard with hatred, was Bart Luby.
Rowdy shoved through the crowd. "All right, blast you!" he flared. "Now you can hav e that beatin'!"
"Hold it, Horn!" Wells said sternly. "Step back now! This is in my hands!"
"All this talk is foolishness!" Luby declared harshly. "Why would I do a thing lik e that? I don't care what Webster says, I never touched those piggin' strings!"
"Same thing you done at White Rock!" Webster said flatly. "And you say I'm a liar , Bart Luby, and you've me to whip!" Wells turned on him, scowling.
"Will you shut up!" he said testily. "That piggin' string deal was bad enough, bu t I'm arrestin' Luby for fraud, and for rustlin'."
"What?" Luby's face paled. "What are you talkin' about?" "What I said," Ben Well s replied calmly. "This here hombre"-he gestured to Rice-"found Tom Slater's true wil l hid in a cabinet in the old Slash Bar ranch house. He also found a document ther e that had its seal removed. Mean time, I'd sent a couple of deputies with a poss e back to hunt for that valley Rowdy told us about. They hit the jackpot an'
He picked up the piggin' strings and kept one in his right hand. The other he pu t in his teeth. Suddenly his consciousness, directed at the arena where Bart Luby ha d just charged out after his calf, was jerked back to himself. His lips felt somethin g strange with the rawhide piggin' string. Jerking it from his teeth, he stared a t it. Both strings had been carefully frayed with a file or some rough object. Whe n drawn taut, to bind the calf's legs, they would snap like thread!
"Time!" Weaver's voice boomed out over the arena. "Bart Luby ties his calf in th e record-breaking time for this show of ten and nine tenths seconds!"
Cheers swept the arena, and Rowdy Horn felt something go sick inside of him. He hear d his name called, and he twisted in the saddle.
"Cass!" he yelled. "Piggin' strings! Quick!"
Webster sprang as if stuck with a pin and thrust some piggin' strings in Rowdy' s fingers. At the same instant, Rowdy tossed the frayed strings to the other contestant.
"Look!" he yelped.
He saw his calf leave the chute with a bound and take off down the arena like a bolt.
Silverside saw it go and was in a dead run, heading down the arena. Rowdy's rop e whirled and shot out, and he left the saddle with a leap, swept the calf from it s feet and down deftly, swiftly. His heart pounding and the dust swirling in his nostrils , he made his tie and sprang free, arm uplifted!
Dead silence held the arena, and then, his voice wild with excitement, Weaver announced:
"Folks! Rowdy Horn, ridin' the great Silverside, wins the calf ropin' with the recor d time of ten and eight tenths seconds!" Cheers boomed across the arena, and Rowd y swung into th e saddle and trotted his horse across to the judges' stand. His great horse reare d high, and Rowdy's hat swung wide, acknowledging the cheers. Then, to the martia l music of the band, Silverside dance-stepped across the arena to accompanying cheers.
Then Rowdy turned the horse and rode him back to the chutes.
The memory of those frayed piggin' strings was in his mind. There was only one tim e it could have been done, hastily but deftly, and obviously planned for, and tha t had been while he was exchanging his few words with the sheriff.
Bart Luby had been sitting his horse, awaiting his signal, right beside Silverside!
Swift work, but it could have been done, for several minutes must have elapsed befor e Rowdy had returned to his horse. Only the sudden feel of the frayed place by hi s lips had saved him, for a snapped piggin' string would have meant too much loss o f time.
He swung down and approached the tight little circle of men-Sheriff Ben Wells, Cas s Webster, Tony Sandoval, Neil Rice, and others. And in the center of them, pale an d defiant, his eyes hard with hatred, was Bart Luby.
Rowdy shoved through the crowd. "All right, blast you!" he flared. "Now you can hav e that beatin'!"
"Hold it, Horn!" Wells said sternly. "Step back now! This is in my hands!"
"All this talk is foolishness!" Luby declared harshly. "Why would I do a thing lik e that? I don't care what Webster says, I never touched those piggin' strings!"
"Same thing you done at White Rock!" Webster said flatly. "And you say I'm a liar , Bart Luby, and you've me to whip!" Wells turned on him, scowling.
"Will you shut up!" he said testily. "That piggin' string deal was bad enough, bu t I'm arrestin' Luby for fraud, and for rustlin'."
"What?" Luby's face paled. "What are you talkin' about?" "What I said," Ben Well s replied calmly. "This here hombre"-he gestured to Rice-"found Tom Slater's true wil l hid in a cabinet in the old Slash Bar ranch house. He also found a document ther e that had its seal removed. Mean time, I'd sent a couple of deputies with a poss e back to hunt for that valley Rowdy told us about. They hit the jackpot an'
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