Death Waits at Sundown Read Online Free PDF

own.
    There is no one quite so alone as a famous bronc
twister. And with Vicky high-hatting him, Long Tom could not help but feel low.
    He had to do something.
    He had to somehow make Vicky understand that he loved
her and wanted her. . . .
    â€œMr. Branner,” said the arena boss respectfully, riding
close, “you’re out on Jesse James from chute six in about a minute.”
    â€œYeah,” said Long Tom. “Yeah, that’s right. I forgot.”
    He climbed up to the walk and went to the top of the
next chute.
    Jesse James was a sorrel with one blue eye and one brown
eye. He had feet like ashcans and was so thickly built that he could throw most
men in the first three leaps.
    The band changed off to “ Tipperary .”
    Long Tom stood up on the rails and watched Jesse James
lunge against the bars. Tom’s feet were wide apart and suddenly he could
concentrate on only one thing, this ride.
    The announcer roared, “Long Tom Branner! The Champeeen
bronco buster of the world! Coming out of chute six!”
    Everything hushed. The band stopped and the judges were
motionless and the crowd forgot peanuts and sat very still.
    Jesse James lashed out with a savage kick and splintered
the gate.
    â€œLet ’er go!” said Long Tom.
    He dropped, jamming toes into stirrups. He heard the
gate whine as it was rushed back. It was suddenly light in the chute.
    Jesse James drew in like a spring compressing. Suddenly
he streaked straight out and up. Ten feet from the chute his hind feet hit.
    Long Tom fanned and roweled .
    Jesse James went skyward, turning. Earth and sun and
people and band were all scrambled in a swift montage. Jar, slam, blowie! With
buckjumps vicious enough to kill a man, the outlaw fought his rider.
    Sunfish , lunge and then swap ends !
    Indians and punchers and judges and wet earth all mixed
up with clouds.
    Long Tom rode straight up, head high, a grin on his lips,
shoulders loose, hat swinging in rhythm to the leaps of the maniac horse.
    In a moment the gun would go. And nothing Jesse James
could do could disturb this lean and graceful rider.
    And in that instant a horrible thought hit Long Tom. If
he made this ride, he would be beating Vicky. She was the runner-up. He would
not lose his belt as it was not at stake. He did not need the purse. And if he
beat Vicky Stuart, he would never have a chance. Not a chance.
    He swung his arm around and touched his horn.
    And the gun banged.
    He felt funny. That was the first time he had ever done
that. He had pulled leather !
    A pair of riders jerked the horse one way and Long Tom
the other. Long Tom eased himself down to the ground.
    Vaguely he could hear people cheering and the announcer
was bellowing something which was flattering, and a rider said, “Gee, that was
pretty, Mr. Branner.”
    Long Tom went swinging back to the chutes. He was
irritated suddenly by that “Mr. Branner.” Everybody called him “Mr. Branner”
now and nobody ever came near him. It was as though he had measles or
something.
    Before he got to the chutes he saw Vicky. Three mounted
judges were gathered about her and she was slim and straight and angry.
    When Long Tom came near they all turned and stared at
him, so he edged in that direction.
    He could see that Vicky was mad. When she got mad she
got taller and prettier and her eyes were hot sparks. She got very dignified
and held her chin high and frost was white upon her words.
    â€œMr. Branner,” said a judge, “we saw you touch your
horn. Possibly we were mistaken. You were making a beautiful ride and I can’t
understand. What was the cause of it?”
    â€œI touched it,” said Long Tom.
    â€œOf course, you know that that will give today to Miss
Stuart,” said the judge.
    â€œYes,” said Long Tom.
    Vicky looked at him levelly. Her clenched hand was
trembling at her side. “You deliberately threw that contest to me!”
    Long Tom looked uneasy. He could