Happy Hawkins Part 8

The' wa'n't no fever in his eyes, an' he was sure earnest about it. I knew 'at if things was changed an' I was in his place he'd give me my way, so I sez to the doctor, "Dock, ol' Monody here is a cure-all himself; he give me the best salve ever I see for my own shoulder, an'

when he sez it's all up with him, he ain't bluffin'. I reckon you'd better just let him alone." I hadn't never seen this doctor before; he was a youngish buck with sharp features an' an obstinate chin. "No,"

sez he, "it wouldn't be professional. I got to make an examination. Now some o' you boys hold his feet an' some o' you hold his good hands an'--"

"Some o' you go to h.e.l.l!" sez I. "If ol' Monody here wants to die with his clothes on he's sure goin' to do it or else the' 's goin' to be consid'able more funerals on this place than we've already had. Now you git!"

The Dock, he was the first to go, an' then the rest o' the boys filed out.

"You're square, Happy," sez Monody, after they'd gone. "You're square, an' I knew it the first time I looked into your eyes. If I'd fell in with square ones at the start it would 'a' been a heap easier--a heap easier."

Cast Steel hadn't hardly taken his eyes off Barbie since lie 'd got up an' around again, but right after the Dock had left, in he popped.

"What's this I hear, Happy?" he sez, excited.

"I don't know, Jabez," I replied.

"Dock Wilson sez 'at you chased hire out o' the room with a gun an'

wouldn't let him examine this man."

"Well," sez I, "as far as that goes, this man has a right to judge for himself. He saved your life an' your outfit an' your daughter, an' I don't reckon you're goin' to tie him into a knot so as a doctor can go pokin' around in him when he don't want it."

"You're as obstinate as ever!" shouts Jabez. "He 's probably out of his head."

"No, he ain't out of his head," sez Monody, in a low, soft voice, but without openin' his eyes more'n a crack.

"He ain't out of his head an' he ain't forgot nothin' he ever knew, an'

it'll be better all around if he's allowed to go in peace."

Jabez looked at him in surprise, and Monody scowled up his face till he looked like a wounded Silver Tip, but the' came a queer hunted look into Jabez' eyes for a moment, an' then he muttered, "Well, this is a free country an' I reckon lie has the right to decide. He has sure saved us, an' if the' 's anything on earth I can give him, all lie has to do is to ask for it, an' I hope he pulls through in his own way."

Jabez fidgeted around a minute or two longer an' then he oozed out o'

the room. When he'd gone of Monody chuckled a wicked, contented chuckle, an' after a bit he sez, "It's him all right, it's him, but he never did me any harm, an' I wouldn't worry the child, not for worlds.

She ought to have a woman around her though. You get old Melisse back, Happy, an' remember--if it ever comes to a question of you or him--just call him George Jordan an' say 'at Jack Whitman wasn't killed "--Monody chuckled again, an' then sobered--"but don't spring it except as a last resort, 'cause the little girl couldn't help nothin' about the Creole Belle, an' she ain't no call to be worried by it. Jim Jimison, he's white, Happy, but he 'd 'a' been killed that trip if you hadn't taken bolt when you did. He's learned the game purty well now, though, an' I reckon he'll make good."

Poor old Monody kept on talkin' disconnected until about midnight, first tellin' some devilish deed he'd seen or took part in, an' then tellin' o' some joke or some act o' kindness. Just at midnight he took my hand, an' the' came a look into his eyes like as if he was about overcome by some beautiful vision; but in a moment he cohered down an'

he gripped my hand till it hurt. "Happy," he gasped, "I allus loved ya, Happy. You won't let--you won't let 'em--" an' it was all over with ol'

Monody.

I sat by the bed a long time thinkin' it over, an' then I went out into the settin' room. Jabez an' a couple o' the boys was there an' I told 'em it was over. I went out into the night to have a look at the stars.

Whenever somethin' has happened in my little wobbly life down here I like to get out an' see the same old stars in their same old places, calm an' steady an' true. That was one thing which allus drew me to the child Barbie,--she was a star-wors.h.i.+per too, same as me.

When I got back I see the little doctor explainin' somethin' to Jabez.

I thought he had gone long ago, but the hooked-nosed buzzard couldn't leave without satisfyin' his curiosity. "What do you reckon was the reason your friend wouldn't let himself be examined?" sez he, with a leer.

"It wasn't nowise my business," sez I, "so I didn't think about it at all."

"Well, it was because he wasn't a man at all--he was a woman."

For a moment I stood an' looked at him, while a lot o' things became clear as day to me. A woman--ol' Monody was a woman! When I thought of what a girl is, an' what it must have took to make one want to really be a man, I felt plumb ashamed o' my s.e.x; but here was another creature in man's clothes standin' an' grinnin' into my face as though he had done somethin' smart.

"How do you know?" I sez soft an' steady.

"I went in an' examined--it was my professional duty. She had been shot in the abdomen and the bullet had lodged in the spine. She had stuffed a rag into the hole an' all the bleedin' was internal. I found that--"

"Who was with you?" I asked him.

"n.o.body," he said with pride; "I went in alone an' I found--"

"I'm obliged to ya, Boys," sez I, "an' I'll be obliged to you still more if you'll just stand to one side an' watch me make an examination.

I only got one arm, so it's perfectly fair. It seems to be the fas.h.i.+on now days to examine human beings who wear men's clothes--but who ain't men--so I feel it my PROFESSIONAL DUTY to examine this here speciment before us."

The grin kind o' left his face when I started for him. He wasn't near my size, but me only havin' one workin' arm made it fair. He looked to the boys to help him, but they was unusual placid. I reached out an'

grabbed him by the collar an' put my knee in his stomach as a brace; he struck me in the face an' in my wounded shoulder, but in about one minute I had his clothes off him, an' there he stood the shamedest thing I ever see. "Now you get out o' here an' ride home," sez I, "an'

I believe if I was you I'd pick myself out a new home--one 'at would take about six weeks to ride to. You won't be popular around here from this on."

"Can't I put my clothes on," he sez.

"Not these," sez I. "If you have any more where you've been livin' you can put them on; but I hope in my heart the sun peels your back before you arrive, an' I hope when you do arrive the' 'll be enough women awake to give you a raw-hidin' for bein' indecent. Now git."

He looked into the boys' faces again, but they wasn't friendly--they wasn't even smilin', an' then he went outside, got his pony, an' rode away. He rode clear out o' the West I reckon, 'cause while I heard of the story purty much everywhere I went after that, I ain't never heard o' the buzzard himself since that day long, long ago.

It was dawn by the time he'd rode out o' sight with his white skin s.h.i.+nin' on his hunched up form, an' then I went in to set with ol'

Monody a while.

CHAPTER FIVE

JUST MONODY--A MAN

He looked mighty peaceful, did ol' Monody. Curious thing about death, is the way it seems to beautify a person. In life Monody was the homeliest human I ever see, an' yet the' was something so kindly, an'

gentle, an'--an' satisfied in his face there under the lamplight, that I reached out an' patted his hand, almost envious--even though my fool eyes was a-winkin' mighty fast.

We all of us would give the first ten years of our life to know what it's like out yonder; when he was here, ol' Monody would 'a' done anything he could for me,--well, he lay down his life an' I reckon that's about skinnin' the deck,--but here I was achin' to know how it was with him, an' there he was with all his guesses answered, an' him not able to pa.s.s back a single tip to me.

It wasn't him that I was lookin' down at, it was just the sh.e.l.l of him, scarred and battered and bruised, but all his life--or at least most of it--he had twisted up his face to make it as ugly as possible, so 'at no one wouldn't take him for a woman. Now it could relax an' give a sort of a hint as to what it might have been if he'd had a chance to live. Oh, it's sure a crime the way we torture some o' the white souls 'at drift to this Sorrowful Star, as I once heard a feller call it.

Injun, n.i.g.g.e.r, an' Greaser--why, such a combination as that ain't ent.i.tled to trial in a civilized nation--it's guilty on sight. Any one would know 'at such a bein' would be cruel an' treacherous an' thievin'

an' everything else 'at was bad--but yet the' come a good streak into Monody some way or other. All in the world I had ever done for him was to beat him over the head when he acted like a beast, an' then to treat hint like a human when he acted like one. The' wasn't nothin'

especially kind nor thoughtful in it, just simple justice as you might say, an' yet in spite of his treacherous mixture he wasn't askin' no favors; all he wanted was a square deal, an' when he got it he was square clear to the finish. It's a funny thing, life.

In spite of all he'd done to kill it the' was a mother streak in him which made him fair hungry for somethin' to pet an' fondle. He was allus good to any kind of an animal, an' though I didn't notice it at the time, he was allus motherin' me; an' look at the way he had soothed little Barbie with a touch that night in the cook shack! O' course I ain't questioning the judgment o' the Almighty, but for the life o' me the I can't see why it was necessary to make a woman as big an' as tall as ol' Monody was, an' yet perhaps if I just knew the story from the beginnin', I 'd see it was a mercy, after all.

Anyhow, it made it easy enough for him to work out his scheme.

The' ain't no rules for women anyhow, 'cause their hearts won't never surrender to their heads; when they do, they ain't all woman. Well, yes, there is one rule 'at 's safe for a man to foller In dealin with woman, an' that is that when a woman's in love, she 's in love all over. Sometimes a man's in love up to his pocket-book, sometimes up to his appet.i.te, an' sometimes up to his heart, but he's mighty seldom in love all over. If nothin' else stays dry he's generally able to take care of his head, but with a woman everything goes; so I'm purty tol'able sure that away back at the beginnin' it was love 'at drove ol'

Monody out of her own s.e.x down into ours.