At the end of that time it was worth it.
Had you lived anywhere within fifty miles of Sundown Ranch1 you would have heard of it. It possessed2 a quantity of jet-black hair, a pair of extremely frank, deep-brown eyes and a laugh that rippled3 across the prairie like the sound of a hidden brook4. The name of it was Rosita McMullen; and she was the daughter of old man McMullen of the Sundown Sheep Ranch.
There came riding on red roan steeds—or, to be more explicit5, on a paint and a flea-bitten sorrel—two wooers. One was Madison Lane, and the other was the Frio Kid. But at that time they did not call him the Frio Kid, for he had not earned the honours of special nomenclature. His name was simply Johnny McRoy.
It must not be supposed that these two were the sum of the agreeable Rosita's admirers. The bronchos of a dozen others champed their bits at the long hitching6 rack of the Sundown Ranch. Many were the sheeps'-eyes that were cast in those savannas7 that did not belong to the flocks of Dan McMullen. But of all the cavaliers, Madison Lane and Johnny McRoy galloped8 far ahead, wherefore they are to be chronicled.
Madison Lane, a young cattleman from the Nueces country, won the race. He and Rosita were married one Christmas day. Armed, hilarious9, vociferous10, magnanimous, the cowmen and the sheepmen, laying aside their hereditary11 hatred12, joined forces to celebrate the occasion.
Sundown Ranch was sonorous13 with the cracking of jokes and sixshooters, the shine of buckles14 and bright eyes, the outspoken15 congratulations of the herders of kine.
But while the wedding feast was at its liveliest there descended16 upon it Johnny McRoy, bitten by jealousy17, like one possessed.
"I'll give you a Christmas present," he yelled, shrilly18, at the door, with his .45 in his hand. Even then he had some reputation as an offhand19 shot.
His first bullet cut a neat underbit in Madison Lane's right ear. The barrel of his gun moved an inch. The next shot would have been the bride's had not Carson, a sheepman, possessed a mind with triggers somewhat well oiled and in repair. The guns of the wedding party had been hung, in their belts, upon nails in the wall when they sat at table, as a concession20 to good taste. But Carson, with great promptness, hurled21 his plate of roast venison and frijoles at McRoy, spoiling his aim. The second bullet, then, only shattered the white petals22 of a Spanish dagger23 flower suspended two feet above Rosita's head.
The guests spurned24 their chairs and jumped for their weapons. It was considered an improper25 act to shoot the bride and groom26 at a wedding. In about six seconds there were twenty or so bullets due to be whizzing in the direction of Mr. McRoy.
"I'll shoot better next time," yelled Johnny; "and there'll be a next time." He backed rapidly out the door.
Carson, the sheepman, spurred on to attempt further exploits by the success of his plate-throwing, was first to reach the door. McRoy's bullet from the darkness laid him low.
The cattlemen then swept out upon him, calling for vengeance27, for, while the slaughter28 of a sheepman has not always lacked condonement, it was a decided29 misdemeanour in this instance. Carson was innocent; he was no accomplice30 at the matrimonial proceedings31; nor had any one heard him quote the line "Christmas comes but once a year" to the guests.
But the sortie failed in its vengeance. McRoy was on his horse and away, shouting back curses and threats as he galloped into the concealing32 chaparral.
That night was the birthnight of the Frio Kid. He became the "bad man" of that portion of the State. The rejection33 of his suit by Miss McMullen turned him to a dangerous man. When officers went after him for the shooting of Carson, he killed two of them, and entered upon the life of an outlaw34. He became a marvellous shot with either hand. He would turn up in towns and settlements, raise a quarrel at the slightest opportunity, pick off his man and laugh at the officers of the law. He was so cool, so deadly, so rapid, so inhumanly35 blood-thirsty that none but faint attempts were ever made to capture him. When he was at last shot and killed by a little one-armed Mexican who was nearly dead himself from fright, the Frio Kid had the deaths of eighteen men on his head. About half of these were killed in fair duels36 depending upon the quickness of the draw. The other half were men whom he assassinated37 from absolute wantonness and cruelty.
Many tales are told along the border of his impudent38 courage and daring. But he was not one of the breed of desperadoes who have seasons of generosity39 and even of softness. They say he never had mercy on the object of his anger. Yet at this and every Christmastide it is well to give each one credit, if it can be done, for whatever speck40 of good he may have possessed. If the Frio Kid ever did a kindly41 act or felt a throb42 of generosity in his heart it was once at such a time and season, and this is the way it happened.
One who has been crossed in love should never breathe the odour from the blossoms of the ratama tree. It stirs the memory to a dangerous degree.
One December in the Frio country there was a ratama tree in full bloom, for the winter had been as warm as springtime. That way rode the Frio Kid and his satellite and co-murderer, Mexican Frank. The kid reined43 in his mustang, and sat in his saddle, thoughtful and grim, with dangerously narrowing eyes. The rich, sweet scent44 touched him somewhere beneath his ice and iron.
"I don't know what I've been thinking about, Mex," he remarked in his usual mild drawl, "to have forgot all about a Christmas present I got to give. I'm going to ride over to-morrow night and shoot Madison Lane in his own house. He got my girl—Rosita would have had me if he hadn't cut into the game. I wonder why I happened to overlook it up to now?"
"Ah, shucks, Kid," said Mexican, "don't talk foolishness. You know you can't get within a mile of Mad Lane's house to-morrow night. I see old man Allen day before yesterday, and he says Mad is going to have Christmas doings at his house. You remember how you shot up the festivities when Mad was married, and about the threats you made? Don't you suppose Mad Lane'll kind of keep his eye open for a certain Mr. Kid? You plumb45 make me tired, Kid, with such remarks."
"I'm going," repeated the Frio Kid, without heat, "to go to Madison Lane's Christmas doings, and kill him. I ought to have done it a long time ago. Why, Mex, just two weeks ago I dreamed me and Rosita was married instead of her and him; and we was living in a house, and I could see her smiling at me, and—oh! h––––l, Mex, he got her; and I'll get him—yes, sir, on Christmas Eve he got her, and then's when I'll get him."
"There's other ways of committing suicide," advised Mexican. "Why don't you go and surrender to the sheriff?"
"I'll get him," said the Kid.
Christmas Eve fell as balmy as April. Perhaps there was a hint of far-away frostiness in the air, but it tingles46 like seltzer, perfumed faintly with late prairie blossoms and the mesquite grass.
When night came the five or six rooms of the ranch-house were brightly lit. In one room was a Christmas tree, for the Lanes had a boy of three, and a dozen or more guests were expected from the nearer ranches47.
At nightfall Madison Lane called aside Jim Belcher and three other cowboys employed on his ranch.
"Now, boys," said Lane, "keep your eyes open. Walk around the house and watch the road well. All of you know the 'Frio Kid,' as they call him now, and if you see him, open fire on him without asking any questions. I'm not afraid of his coming around, but Rosita is. She's been afraid he'd come in on us every Christmas since we were married."
The guests had arrived in buckboards and on horseback, and were making themselves comfortable inside.
The evening went along pleasantly. The guests enjoyed and praised Rosita's excellent supper, and afterward48 the men scattered49 in groups about the rooms or on the broad "gallery," smoking and chatting.
The Christmas tree, of course, delighted the youngsters, and above all were they pleased when Santa Claus himself in magnificent white beard and furs appeared and began to distribute the toys.
Berkly, a sheepman, an old friend of Lane, stopped Rosita as she was passing by him on the gallery, where he was sitting smoking.
"Well, Mrs. Lane," said he, "I suppose by this Christmas you've gotten over being afraid of that fellow McRoy, haven't you? Madison and I have talked about it, you know."
"Very nearly," said Rosita, smiling, "but I am still nervous sometimes. I shall never forget that awful time when he came so near to killing51 us."
"He's the most cold-hearted villain52 in the world," said Berkly. "The citizens all along the border ought to turn out and hunt him down like a wolf."
"He has committed awful crimes," said Rosita, "but—I—don't—know. I think there is a spot of good somewhere in everybody. He was not always bad—that I know."
Rosita turned into the hallway between the rooms. Santa Claus, in muffling53 whiskers and furs, was just coming through.
"I heard what you said through the window, Mrs. Lane," he said. "I was just going down in my pocket for a Christmas present for your husband. But I've left one for you, instead. It's in the room to your right."
"Oh, thank you, kind Santa Claus," said Rosita, brightly.
Rosita went into the room, while Santa Claus stepped into the cooler air of the yard.
She found no one in the room but Madison.
"Where is my present that Santa said he left for me in here?" she asked.
"Haven't seen anything in the way of a present," said her husband, laughing, "unless he could have meant me."
The next day Gabriel Radd, the foreman of the X O Ranch, dropped into the post-office at Loma Alta.
"Well, the Frio Kid's got his dose of lead at last," he remarked to the postmaster.
"That so? How'd it happen?"
"One of old Sanchez's Mexican sheep herders did it!—think of it! the Frio Kid killed by a sheep herder! The Greaser saw him riding along past his camp about twelve o'clock last night, and was so skeered that he up with a Winchester and let him have it. Funniest part of it was that the Kid was dressed all up with white Angora-skin whiskers and a regular Santy Claus rig-out from head to foot. Think of the Frio Kid playing Santy!"
《The Stories Of O.Henry欧亨利短篇小说集》
《The Stories Of O.Henry欧亨利短篇小说集》
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1
ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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hitching
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| 搭乘； （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的现在分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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savannas
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| n.（美国东南部的）无树平原( savanna的名词复数 )；（亚）热带的稀树大草原 | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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hilarious
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| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
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vociferous
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| adj.喧哗的，大叫大嚷的 | |
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hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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offhand
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| adj.临时，无准备的；随便，马虎的 | |
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concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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spurned
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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rejection
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| n.拒绝，被拒，抛弃，被弃 | |
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outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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inhumanly
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| adv.无人情味地，残忍地 | |
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duels
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| n.两男子的决斗( duel的名词复数 )；竞争，斗争 | |
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assassinated
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| v.暗杀( assassinate的过去式和过去分词 )；中伤；诋毁；破坏 | |
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impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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plumb
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| adv.精确地，完全地；v.了解意义，测水深 | |
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tingles
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| n.刺痛感( tingle的名词复数 )v.有刺痛感( tingle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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ranches
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| 大农场， （兼种果树，养鸡等的）大牧场( ranch的名词复数 ) | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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52
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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muffling
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| v.压抑，捂住( muffle的现在分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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