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The Wagon Tire

From: Arizona Nights

About noon she emerged from the room, fully refreshed and wide awake.
She and Susie O'Toole had unpacked at least one of the trunks, and now
she stood arrayed in shirtwaist and blue skirt.

At once she stepped into the open air and looked about her with
considerable curiosity.

"So this is a real cattle ranch," was her comment.

Senor Johnson was at her side pressing on her with boyish eagerness the
sights of the place. She patted the stag hounds and inspected the
garden. Then, confessing herself hungry, she obeyed with alacrity
Sang's call to an early meal. At the table she ate coquettishly,
throwing her birdlike side glances at the man opposite.

"I want to see a real cowboy," she announced, as she pushed her chair

"Why, sure!" cried Senor Johnson joyously. "Sang! hi, Sang! Tell
Brent Palmer to step in here a minute."

After an interval the cowboy appeared, mincing in on his high-heeled
boots, his silver spurs jingling, the fringe of his chaps impacting
softly on the leather. He stood at ease, his broad hat in both hands,
his dark, level brows fixed on his chief.

"Shake hands with Mrs. Johnson, Brent. I called you in because she
said she wanted to see a real cow-puncher."

"Oh, BUCK!" cried the woman.

For an instant the cow-puncher's level brows drew together. Then he
caught the woman's glance fair. He smiled.

"Well, I ain't much to look at," he proffered.

"That's not for you to say, sir," said Estrella, recovering.

"Brent, here, gentled your pony for you," exclaimed Senor Johnson.

"Oh," cried Estrella, "have I a pony? How nice. And it was so good of
you, Mr. Brent. Can't I see him? I want to see him. I want to give
him a piece of sugar." She fumbled in the bowl.

"Sure you can see him. I don't know as he'll eat sugar. He ain't that
educated. Think you could teach him to eat sugar, Brent?"

"I reckon," replied the cowboy.

They went out toward the corral, the cowboy joining them as a matter of
course. Estrella demanded explanations as she went along. Their
progress was leisurely. The blindfolded pump mule interested her.

"And he goes round and round that way all day without stopping,
thinking he's really getting somewhere!" she marvelled. "I think that's
a shame! Poor old fellow, to get fooled that way!"

"It is some foolish," said Brent Palmer, "but he ain't any worse off
than a cow-pony that hikes out twenty mile and then twenty back."

"No, I suppose not," admitted Estrella.

"And we got to have water, you know," added Senor Johnson.

Brent rode up the sorrel bareback. The pretty animal, gentle as a
kitten, nevertheless planted his forefeet strongly and snorted at

"I reckon he ain't used to the sight of a woman," proffered the Senor,
disappointed. "He'll get used to you. Go up to him soft-like and rub
him between the eyes."'

Estrella approached, but the pony jerked back his head with every
symptom of distrust. She forgot the sugar she had intended to offer

"He's a perfect beauty," she said at last, "but, my! I'd never dare
ride him. I'm awful scairt of horses."

"Oh, he'll come around all right," assured Brent easily. "I'll fix him."

"Oh, Mr. Brent," she exclaimed, "don't think I don't appreciate what
you've done. I'm sure he's really just as gentle as he can be. It's
only that I'm foolish."

"I'll fix him," repeated Brent.

The two men conducted her here and there, showing her the various
institutions of the place. A man bent near the shed nailing a shoe to
a horse's hoof.

"So you even have a blacksmith!" said Estrella. Her guides laughed

"Tommy, come here!" called the Senor.

The horseshoer straightened up and approached. He was a lithe,
curly-haired young boy, with a reckless, humorous eye and a smooth
face, now red from bending over.

"Tommy, shake hands with Mrs. Johnson," said the Senor. "Mrs. Johnson
wants to know if you're the blacksmith." He exploded in laughter.

"Oh, BUCK!" cried Estrella again.

"No, ma'am," answered the boy directly; "I'm just tacking a shoe on
Danger, here. We all does our own blacksmithing."

His roving eye examined her countenance respectfully, but with
admiration. She caught the admiration and returned it, covertly but
unmistakably, pleased that her charms were appreciated.

They continued their rounds. The sun was very hot and the dust deep.
A woman would have known that these things distressed Estrella. She
picked her way through the debris; she dropped her head from the
burning; she felt her delicate garments moistening with perspiration,
her hair dampening; the dust sifted up through the air. Over in the
large corral a bronco buster, assisted by two of the cowboys, was
engaged in roping and throwing some wild mustangs. The sight was
wonderful, but here the dust billowed in clouds.

"I'm getting a little hot and tired," she confessed at last. "I think
I'll go to the house."

But near the shed she stopped again, interested in spite of herself by
a bit of repairing Tommy had under way. The tire of a wagon wheel had
been destroyed. Tommy was mending it. On the ground lay a fresh
cowhide. From this Tommy was cutting a wide strip. As she watched he
measured the strip around the circumference of the wheel.

"He isn't going to make a tire of that!" she exclaimed, incredulously.

"Sure," replied Senor Johnson.

"Will it wear?"

"It'll wear for a month or so, till we can get another from town."

Estrella advanced and felt curiously of the rawhide. Tommy was
fastening it to the wheel at the ends only.

"But how can it stay on that way?" she objected. "It'll come right off
as soon as you use it."

"It'll harden on tight enough."

"Why?" she persisted. "Does it shrink much when it dries?"

Senor Johnson stared to see if she might be joking. "Does it shrink?"
he repeated slowly. "There ain't nothing shrinks more, nor harder.
It'll mighty nigh break that wood."

Estrella, incredulous, interested, she could not have told why, stooped
again to feel the soft, yielding hide. She shook her head.

"You're joking me because I'm a tenderfoot," she accused brightly. "I
know it dries hard, and I'll believe it shrinks a lot, but to break
wood--that's piling it on a little thick."

"No, that's right, ma'am," broke in Brent Palmer. "It's awful strong.
It pulls like a horse when the desert sun gets on it. You wrap
anything up in a piece of that hide and see what happens. Some time
you take and wrap a piece around a potato and put her out in the sun
and see how it'll squeeze the water out of her."

"Is that so?" she appealed to Tommy. "I can't tell when they are making
fun of me."

"Yes, ma'am, that's right," he assured her.

Estrella passed a strip of the flexible hide playfully about her wrists.

"And if I let that dry that way I'd be handcuffed hard and fast," she

"It would cut you down to the bone," supplemented Brent Palmer.

She untwisted the strip, and stood looking at it, her eyes wide.

"I--I don't know why--" she faltered. "The thought makes me a little
sick. Why, isn't it queer? Ugh! it's like a snake!" She flung it
from her energetically and turned toward the ranch house.

Next: Estrella

Previous: The Arrival

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