100 Tales: Yellow
I'm doing 100 Tales again, working on Kye and the Kid ...
"Admit it, kid, you're yellow!"
I ignored my partner with dignity. A man of my years didn't respond to such taunts, even if the other fellow would benefit from a sound thrashing. Besides, I hadn't hit my growth spurt yet, so Kye's treetop height outreached me by quite a few inches. A professional man -- and Jess Knight was a professional -- knew when to avoid a fight.
This in no way indicated a streak of any color. Nor did my current disinclination.
I took a deep breath, counted to ten under it, and tried logic again. "I didn't like it the first time. Won't like it any better if we try it again."
"Chicken." Kye kneed his pinto and trotted ahead. We were currently headed across country, more in the line of away than toward. The fine town of Arthur Springs had taken offense to the robbing of their bank by the up-and-coming duo of Devon Day and the Sweetwater Kid two weeks earlier, and we'd decided to travel West, in a bit of a hurry.
As per our plan, Devon Day and the Sweetwater Kid vanished into the wilderness, and upright citizens Kye Devon and Jess Knight checked into Johnsonville's finest hotel while the Arthur Springs posse headed for the border. We'd used part of our ill-gotten gains to outfit new wardrobes for each of us in the tiny village of Spreckels. Eventually, we'd have a backup string of horses in case someone remembered that pinto and my Appaloosa. For now, we had to make do by changing the men alone.
Kye's blonde mop had been sheared short in Burns City, and he was trying yet again to get that mustache to thicken up. Maybe the Sweetwater Kid ought to grow one -- just to show the man how it was done. We'd bathed and shaved and duded ourselves up in our new outfits. As I'd told Kye, no attention was paid to a couple of dusty cowboys who'd pulled out their Sunday Best from their bags and ridden on the next morning wearing them.
Now, Johnsonville behind us, we were riding in the vague direction of California. My aim was to eventually reach one of the big cities out there and look into buying a house. Jess and Kye needed a stable headquarters if Dev and Sweet were going to be successful. We had to be solid, honest citizens, above reproach and beyond suspicion. San Francisco had always sounded nice. We'd get there in time. For now, it was enough to be headed in the right direction.
I heaved a sigh and urged my horse into a trot to keep up with Kye. The traitorous wretch was making clucking noises as I drew near. I rolled my eyes and sighed. Sometimes my partner could be quite immature.
"It's still no," I said.
"Yellow as a buttercup."
I leaned over to thump the back of his head. "I'm not eating rattlesnake again and you can't make me."
"Admit it, kid, you're yellow!"
I ignored my partner with dignity. A man of my years didn't respond to such taunts, even if the other fellow would benefit from a sound thrashing. Besides, I hadn't hit my growth spurt yet, so Kye's treetop height outreached me by quite a few inches. A professional man -- and Jess Knight was a professional -- knew when to avoid a fight.
This in no way indicated a streak of any color. Nor did my current disinclination.
I took a deep breath, counted to ten under it, and tried logic again. "I didn't like it the first time. Won't like it any better if we try it again."
"Chicken." Kye kneed his pinto and trotted ahead. We were currently headed across country, more in the line of away than toward. The fine town of Arthur Springs had taken offense to the robbing of their bank by the up-and-coming duo of Devon Day and the Sweetwater Kid two weeks earlier, and we'd decided to travel West, in a bit of a hurry.
As per our plan, Devon Day and the Sweetwater Kid vanished into the wilderness, and upright citizens Kye Devon and Jess Knight checked into Johnsonville's finest hotel while the Arthur Springs posse headed for the border. We'd used part of our ill-gotten gains to outfit new wardrobes for each of us in the tiny village of Spreckels. Eventually, we'd have a backup string of horses in case someone remembered that pinto and my Appaloosa. For now, we had to make do by changing the men alone.
Kye's blonde mop had been sheared short in Burns City, and he was trying yet again to get that mustache to thicken up. Maybe the Sweetwater Kid ought to grow one -- just to show the man how it was done. We'd bathed and shaved and duded ourselves up in our new outfits. As I'd told Kye, no attention was paid to a couple of dusty cowboys who'd pulled out their Sunday Best from their bags and ridden on the next morning wearing them.
Now, Johnsonville behind us, we were riding in the vague direction of California. My aim was to eventually reach one of the big cities out there and look into buying a house. Jess and Kye needed a stable headquarters if Dev and Sweet were going to be successful. We had to be solid, honest citizens, above reproach and beyond suspicion. San Francisco had always sounded nice. We'd get there in time. For now, it was enough to be headed in the right direction.
I heaved a sigh and urged my horse into a trot to keep up with Kye. The traitorous wretch was making clucking noises as I drew near. I rolled my eyes and sighed. Sometimes my partner could be quite immature.
"It's still no," I said.
"Yellow as a buttercup."
I leaned over to thump the back of his head. "I'm not eating rattlesnake again and you can't make me."