Curly Part 36

"Curly," says I, "pull that wig straight, and hide up that scar on yo'

brow. Cayn't you even pretend to act like a lady?"

"Like a woman, you mean."

"You're not safe--you'll be seen by some gossip through the window.

You'd ought to hole up in the bedroom."

"And choke? I'd as lief get choked with a rope."

"Think of the risk!"

"I reckon a little excitement keeps me from feelin' dull. Now don't you look so solemn--with yo' eye like a poached aig, or I'll throw my wig at you-all. Say, Chalkeye, d'you cal'late the Lawd made them two old ladies vicious?"

"Why for?"

"Looks to me 'sif they was bawn broke in, and raised gentle, with lil'

lace caps on they'r haids, and mittens on they'r pasterns. I been thinking fearful hard, tryin' to just imagine Miss Pansy bad; spose she was to kick, or strike, or rair up, or buck, or pitch, or sunfish around to kill! And Miss Blossom, she only makes-believe to be dangerous to hide up her soft ole heart. Are real ladies all like that?"

"Well, usual they don't bite."

"I was raised wild"--Curly lay back tired--"my tribe are the young wolves, and I reckon when the Lawd was serving out goodness, He was sort of 'shamed lest we'd claim our share. He must be plumb busy, too, with His own people telling Him they'r prayers. Why, these two ladies requires whole heaps of attention. I allow theyr souls must have got out of order a lot, 'cause they has to put in enough supplications to save a whole cow camp entire. They're so plumb talkative that a-way that I cayn't get a prayer in edgeways."

She was getting tired and sleepy, so I sat quiet, watching. Then somebody came outside, hammering the front door, and I pulled my gun to be ready in case of trouble.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE SAVING OF CURLY

Miss Blossom was at the front door having great arguments with a man.

"If you got baby carriages to sell," says she, "I claim to be a spinster, and if it's lightning-rods, I don't hold with obstructing Providence. If it's insurance, or books, or pianolas, or dress patterns, or mowing machines, you'd better just go home. I'm proof against agents of all sorts, I'm not at home to visitors, and I don't feed tramps. Thar now, you just clear out."

"'Scuse me, ma'am, I----"

"No, you mayn't."

"Allow me to introduce----"

"No you don't. You come to the wrong house for that."

"Wall, I'm blessed if----"

"Yo're much more apt to get bit by my dawg, 'cause yo' breath smells of liquor, and I'm engaged."

"Glad to hear it, ma'am. I congratulate the happy gentleman you've chosen."

"Well, of all the impudence!"

"That's what my wife says--impudence. Will the dawg bite if I inquire for Misteh Curly McCalmont?"

My blood went to ice, and I reckon Miss Blossom collapsed a whole lot to judge by the bang where she lit.

"Wall, since yo're so kind, ma'am, I'll just step in."

I heard him step in.

"This way!" the lady was gasping for breath.

"The dining-room? Wall, now, this is sh.o.r.ely the purtiest room, and I do just admire to see sech flowers!"

Miss Blossom came cat-foot to shut the parlour door, and I heard no more.

Curly was changing the cartridges in her revolver, as she always did every evening.

"Scared?" she inquired, sort of sarcastic about the nose.

"Shut yo' haid. D'you want to be captured?"

"It would be a sort of relief from being so lady-like."

Then a big gust of laughter shook the house, and I knew that Miss Blossom's guest was the whitest man on the stock-range, Sheriff Bryant.

Naturally I had to go and see old d.i.c.k, so I told Curly to keep good, quit the parlour, crossed the pa.s.sage, and walked right into the dining-room, one hand on my gun and the other thrown up for peace.

d.i.c.k played up in the Indian sign talk: "Long time between drinks."

"Thirsty land," says my hand.

"Now may I inquire?" says Miss Blossom.

"Wall, ma'am"--old d.i.c.k c.o.c.ked his grey eye sideways--"this Chalkeye person remarked that he languished for some whisky, upon which I rebuked him for projecting his drunken ambitions into a lady's presence."

The way he subdued Miss Blossom was plenty wondrous, for she lit out to find him the bottle.

"Sheriff," says I, as we shook hands, "yo' servant, seh."

"I left the sheriff part of me in my own pastures." d.i.c.k wrung my hand limp. "I don't aim to ride herd on the local criminals heah, so the hatchet is buried, and the chiefs get nose-paint. Miss Blossom, ma'am, we only aspire to drink to the toast of beauty." He filled up generous.

"I look towards you, ma'am."

"I du despise a flatterer," says Miss Blossom, but I saw her blush.

"Wall, to resume," said d.i.c.k, "this lady's guest, Miss Hilda Jameson, of Norfolk, in old Virginie, is ent.i.tled to her own habits. She is wounded most unfortunate all day, but all night she's ent.i.tled to bulge around in a free country studying moonlight effects."

"She's due to be whipped," says Miss Blossom, mighty wrathful.

"On scenes of domestic bliss it is not my purpose, ma'am, to intrude. I only allude to the fact that this young lady was pervading Main Street late last night, happy and innocent, in a gale of wind, which it blew off her hat."