“Yeah, I’ll say it is. You were a fool to quit that job.”
Honey left him there and rode out of town. He intended going straight back to the Lazy B, but began thinking about Laura Hatton so strongly that he found himself crossing the Tumbling River bridge before he realised where he was heading.
Jim Wheeler arrived there ahead of Honey, and was sitting on the porch, talking with Peggy and Laura, while Jack Ralston, of the Circle M, sat on a step, hat on the back of his head. Ralston was a tall, curly-headed young man who thought quite a lot of Jack Ralston. He was a clever roper, and one of the best bronc riders in the country.
Honey scowled and wanted to keep right on riding, but he was so close that it might look queer if he didn’t stop. Peggy went into the house before Honey arrived. Ralston looked critically at Honey, nodded shortly, and resumed conversation with Laura.
Honey dismounted. Then he uncinched his saddle, shook it a little, and took plenty of time cinching it again. He knew he was of a hair-trigger disposition, and was trying to curb it. Ralston was telling Laura about how he rode Derelict, a locally famous outlaw horse, at a recent rodeo. Honey’s ears reddened slightly. Derelict had thrown Honey the day before Ralston had ridden him, and it had taken ten minutes for Honey to recover consciousness.
“It must be wonderful to ride a bucking horse,” said Laura. “I saw Lonnie Myers ride one at the Flying H. Oh, it was a lot of fun!”
“That was just an ordinary bucker,” said Ralston. “Any puncher can ride a half-broke bucker. Lots of the boys in this country think they’re riders, but when it comes to fannin’ the real buckers—they don’t show much. You wait until we have another rodeo, and I’ll show yuh some ridin’.”
“Yeah, he’s a good rider,” said Honey, still fussing with his latigo. “Awful good rider. I shouldn’t be surprised if he’s half as good as he thinks he is. Ridin’ broncs makes folks talk thataway. Of course, us ord’nary punchers don’t go lookin’ for glory in the bronc corral, so we never do get shook up very bad. But you can tell them good riders every time. They’re kinda buck-drunk, as yuh might say. They ain’t very tight-brained to begin with, and all that shock and jerk soon gits the inside of their heads kinda rattly.
“Oh, they’re all right, as far as that goes. Nobody expects ’em to do anythin’ but ride buckers. But they don’t know it, and the way them p’fessional bronc riders do talk! Mebbe they ain’t so much to blame, at that; but everythin’ is ‘I’ with ’em. Rodeos are all right, I s’pose. Folks get a lot of fun out of it; but them buckin’ contests shore do bring in undesirable citizens.”
Honey had spoken so earnestly that Laura Hatton did not realise he was talking about Jack Ralston.