Twin Sombreros (1954) by Grey Zane

Author:Grey, Zane [Grey, Zane]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-02-28T06:16:04.406000+00:00

Chapter 7

On every Sunday the event of the day was the arrival and departure of the afternoon train. It was about as much of a social gathering as Las Animas saw except at dances and school entertainments. Brazos occupied his old stand against the wall of the station building.

Bess Syvertsen was there with some country folk. Brazos needed only one look to convince himself that none of the four men could be Bard Syvertsen or Orcutt. The fifth was a woman of rather bold and flashy appearance. Brazos studied them with interest.

The train arrived, and the woman, accompanied by the two best-dressed of the men, boarded it. Bess, with the other two, turned away to stroll along the station platform, following the crowd upstreet. Brazos, from under his sombrero brim, looked that trio over as if his eyes were magnifying glasses. The two men he had seen somewhere.

Monday brought back the bustle to the cattle town. Brazos felt that this day he would meet Bess Syvertsen and he was on edge for the event. Wherefore he was all primed and set for the momentous meeting when it came about at the post office.

Bess had dropped out of the sky, apparently, to follow him up to the window where Brazos was asking for mail. She pressed close to Brazos and asked the clerk for a stamp. What a hot gush ran along Brazos's veins at the sound of that young, high-pitched voice! For the stamp she tendered a hundred-dollar bill, which the clerk pushed back with a laugh.

"What will I do?" she complained.

"I'll trust you. Go to the bank and get change."

Brazos promptly produced some coins. "Heah, lady, I'll oblige yu," he drawled, handing her the money.

"Oh, thank you," she replied. She took two cents and paid for her stamp, but she had no letter upon which to put it. Then she turned to Brazos.

"Cowboy, how is it I haven't seen you?" she asked merrily.

Brazos took off his sombrero.

"Wal, I was just thinkin' the same about yu," he drawled, with his slow smile.

"I am Bess Syvertsen," she said.

Brazos made her a gallant bow. "I shore am happy to meet yu," he replied, but he did not mention his name.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Aw, I hate to tell yu."

"You needn't be afraid," she said, with a smile. "I can stand a shock."

"Wal, then, doggone it--I'm thet poor hombre, Brazos Keene."

"No!" she exclaimed. Despite her deceit she betrayed sincerity as well. "Not that hard-riding, hard-drinking, hard-shooting cowboy?"

"You forget yore West, my girl," he drawled. "Range talk blames me for a lot thet I'm innocent of."

"You might be taking a risk. My father has no use for cowboys."

"Is he heah?"

"Yes. Bard Syvertsen. He's a cattle buyer. We travel all over. Father has a deal on with Surface and Miller."

"Wal, it's just too bad. Always my luck! I ride the ranges an' I meet girls. Reckon I'm hard to please. I don't care for town hussies or camp trulls. I caint stand these nice goody-goody spoony little girls, neither.

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