Wolfville Nights Part 18

"At the rifle crack, mounted on a pony that's the flower of the Strike Axe herd, the Saucy Willow comes chargin' for the Crooked Claws like a shootin' star. The Saucy Willow is a sunburst of Osage richness! an' is packin' about five hundred dollars' worth of blankets, feathers, beads, calicoes, ribbons, an' buckskins, not to mention six pounds of bra.s.s an'

silver jewelry. Straight an' troo comes the Saucy Willow; skimmin' like a arrow an' as rapid as the wind!

"As Saucy Willow embarks on this expedition, thar starts to meet her--afoot they be but on the run--Tom Six-killer an' a brace of squaw cousins of Bill's. Nacherally, bein' he out-lopes the cousins, Tom Six-killer runs up on the Saucy Willow first an' grabs her bronco by the bridle. The two young squaw cousins ain't far behind the Six-killer, for they can run like rabbits, an' they arrives all laughter an' cries, an' with one move searches the Saucy Willow outen the saddle. In less time than it takes to get action on a drink of licker the two young squaws has done stripped the Saucy Willow of every feather, bead an' rag, an' naked as when she's foaled they wrops her up, precious an' safe in a blanket an' packs her gleefully into the camp of Crooked Claw. Here they re-dresses the Saucy Willow an' piles on the gew-gaws an' adornments, ontil if anything she's more gorgeous than former. The pony which the Saucy Willow rides goes to the Six-killer, while the two she-cousins, as to the balance of her apparel that a-way, divides the pot.

"An' now like a landslide upon the Crooked Claws comes the Strike Axe household. Which they're thar to the forty-'leventh cousin; savages keepin' exact cases on relatives a mighty sight further than white folks.

The Crooked Claw fam'ly is ready. It's Crooked Claw's turn to make the feast, an' that eminent Osage goes the distance. Crooked Claw sh.o.r.ely does himse'f proud, while Bill's mother, the Silent Comanche, is hospitable, but dignified. It's a great weddin'. The Wild Cat is pirootin' about, makin' mean an' onfeelin' remarks, as becomes a widow lady with a knowledge of the world an' a bundle the size an' shape of a roll of blankets. The two fam'lies goes squanderin' about among each other, free an' fraternal, an' thar's never a cloud in the sky.

"At last the big feed begins. Son, you should have beheld them fool Osages throw themse'fs upon the Crooked Claw's good cheer. It's a p'int of honour to eat as much as you can; an' b'arin' that in mind the revellers mows away about twenty pounds of beef to a buck--the squaws, not bein' so ardent, quits out on mighty likely it's the thirteenth pound. Tom Six-killer comes plenty clost to sacrificin' himse'f utter.

"This last I knows, for the next day I sees the medicine men givin' some sufferer one of their aboriginal steam baths. They're on the bank of Bird River. They've bent down three or four small saplin's for the framework of a tent like, an' thar's piled on 'em blankets an' robes a foot deep so she's plumb airtight. Thar's a fire goin' an' they're heatin' rocks, same as Colonel Sterett tells about when they baptises his grandfather into the church. When the rocks is red-hot they takes 'em, one by one, an' drops 'em into a bucket of water to make her steam. Then they shoves this impromptoo cauldron inside the little robe house where as I'm aware--for I onderstands the signs from the start--thar's a sick buck quiled up awaitin' relief. This yere invalid buck stays in thar twenty minutes. The water boils an' bubbles an' the steam gets that abundant not to say urgent she half lifts the robes an' blankets at the aiges to escape. The ailin' buck in the sweat tent stays ontil he can't stay no more, an' then with a yowl, he comes burstin' forth, a reek of sweat an' goes splas.h.i.+n' into the coolin' waters of Bird River. It's the Six-killer; that weddin' feast comes mighty near to downin' him--gives him a 'bad heart,' an' he ondergoes the steam bath for relief.

"But we're strayed from that weddin'. Bein' now re-arrayed in fullest feather the Saucy Willow is fetched into the ring an' receives a platter with the rest. Then one of the bucks, lookin' about like he's amazed, says: 'Wherever is the Jack Rabbit?' that bein' Bill's Osage t.i.tle.

Crooked Claw shakes his head an' reckons most likely the Jack Rabbit's rummagin' about loose some'ers, not knowin' enough to come in an' eat. A brace of bucks an' a young squaw starts up an' figgers they'll search about an' see if they can't round him up. They goes out an' thar's Bill settin' off on a rock a quarter of a mile with his back to the camp an'

the footure.

"The two sharps an' the squaw herds Bill into camp an' stakes him out, shoulder to shoulder, with the little Saucy Willow. Neither Bill nor the little Saucy Willow su'gests by word, screech or glance that they saveys either the game or the stakes, an' eats on, takin' no notice of themse'fs or any of the gluttons who surrounds 'em. Both Bill an' the little Saucy Willow looks that witless you-all would yearn to bat 'em one with the b.u.t.t of a mule whip if onfortoonately you're present to be exasperated by sech exhibitions. At last, however, jest as the patience of the audience is plumb played, both Bill an' the little Saucy Willow gives a start of surprise. Which they're pretendin' to be startled to find they're feedin' off the same dish. Thar you be; that makes 'em 'buck an'

squaw'--'man an' wife;' an' yereafter, in Osage circles they can print their kyards 'Mister an' Missis Bill Connors,' while Bill draws an'

spends the little Saucy Willow's annooty on payment day instead of Strike Axe."

CHAPTER XIII.

When Tutt first saw Tucson.

"An' speakin' of dooels," remarked the Old Cattleman, apropos of an anecdote of the field of honour wherewith I regaled his fancy, "speakin' of dooels, I reckons now the encounter Dave Tutt involves himse'f with when he first sees Tucson takes onchallenged preecedence for utter bloodlessness. She's sh.o.r.e the most lamb's-wool form of single combat to which my notice is ever drawn. Dave enlightens us concernin' its details himse'f, bein' incited tharunto by hearin' Texas Thompson relate about the Austin shootin' match of that Deaf Smith.

"'Which this yere is 'way back yonder on the trail of time,' explains Dave, 'an' I'm hardened a heap since then. I've jest come b.u.t.tin' into Tucson an' it's easy money I'm the tenderest an' most ontaught party that ever wears store-moccasins. What I misses knowin' would make as husky a library,--if it's printed down in books,--as ever lines up on shelves. Also, I'm freighted to the limit with the tenderfoot's usual outfit of misinformation. It's sad, yet troo! that as I casts my gaze r'arward I identifies myse'f as the balmiest brand of shorthorn who ever leaves his parents' shelterin' roof.'

"'All the same,' says Dan Boggs, plenty conceited, 'I'll gamble a hoss I'm a bigger eediot when I quits Missouri to roam the cow country than ever you-all can boast of bein' in your most drivelin' hour.'

"'Do they lock you up?' asks Dave.

"'No,' says Dan, 'they don't lock me up none, but----'

"'Then you lose,' insists Dave, mighty prompt.

"'But hold on,' says Dan; 'don't get your chips down so quick. As I starts to explain, I ain't locked up; but it's because I'm in a camp like Wolfville yere that ain't sunk to the level of no calaboose. But what comes to be the same, I'm taken captive an' held as sech ontil the roodiments of Western sense is done beat into me. It takes the yoonited efforts of four of the soonest sharps that ever happens; an'

final, they succeeds to a p'int that I'm deemed cap'ble of goin' about alone.'

"'Well,' retorts Dave, 'I won't dispoote with you; an' even at that I regyards your present att.i.toode as one of bluff. I thinks you're sh.o.r.e the cunnin'est wolf in the territory, Dan, an' allers is. But, as I'm sayin', when I first begins to infest Tucson, I'm so ignorant it's a stain on that meetropolis. At this yere epock, Tucson ain't spraddled to its present proud dimensions. A gent might have thrown the loop of a lariat about the outfit an' drug it after him with a pony. No one, however, performs this labour, as the camp is as petyoolant as a t'rant'ler an' any onauthorised dalliance with its sensibilities would have led to vivid plays. Still, she ain't big, Tucson ain't; an' I learns my way about from centre to suburbs in the first ten minutes.

"'At the beginnin' I'm a heap timid. I suffers from the common eastern theery an' looks on Arizona as a region where it's murder straight an'

lynchin' for a place. You-all may jedge from that how erroneous is my idees. Then, as now, the distinguis.h.i.+n' feacher of Tucson existence is a heavenly ca'm. Troo, thar's moments when the air nacherally fills up with bullets like they're a pa.s.sel of swallow-birds, an' they hums an'

sings their merry madrigals. However, these busy seasons don't set in so often nor last so long but peaceful folks has ample chance to breathe.

"'Never does I b'ar witness to as many as seven contemporaneous remainders but once; and then thar's cause. It's in a poker game; an'

the barkeep brings the dealer a cold deck onder a tray whereon he purveys the drinks. Which the discovery of this yere solecism, as you-all well imagines, arouses interest, earnest an' widespread like I deescribes. I counts up when the smoke lifts an' finds that seven has sought eternal peace. Commonly two is the number; three bein' quite a s.h.i.+pment. Sh.o.r.e, it's speshul sickly when as many as seven quits out together!

"'Bein' timid an' ignorant I takes good advice. It's in the Oriental.

Thar's that old gray cimmaron hibernatin' about the bar whose name is Jeffords.

"'"Be you-all conversant with that gun you packs?" asks Jeffords.

"'I feels the hot blush mountin' in my tender cheeks, but I concedes I ain't. "Pard," I replies, "speakin' confidenshul an' between gent an'

gent, this yere weepon is plumb novel to me."

"'"Which I allows as much," he says, "from the egreegious way you fidges with it. Now let me pa.s.s you-all a p'inter from the peaks of experience. You caper back to the tavern an' take that weepon off. Or what's as well, you pa.s.s it across to the barkeep. If you-all goes romancin' 'round with hardware at your belt it's even money it'll get you beefed. Allers remember while in Arizona that you'll never get plugged--onless by inadvertence--as long as you wander about in onheeled innocence. No gunless gent gets downed; sech is the onbreakable roole."

"'After that I goes guiltless of arms; I ain't hungerin' for immortality abrupt.

"'Old Jeffords is sh.o.r.e right; in the Southwest if you aims to b'ar a charmed life, never wear a six-shooter. This maxim goes anywhere this side of the Mississippi; east of that mighty river it's the other way.

"'Bein' nimble-blooded in them days, I'm a heap arduous about the dance-hall. I gets infatyooated with the good fellows.h.i.+p of that hurdygurdy; an' even after I leaves Tucson an' is camped some miles away, I saddles up every other evenin', rides in an', as says the poet, "shakes ontirin' laig even into the wee small hours."

"'Right yere, gents,' an' Dave pauses like he's prounced on by a solemn thought, 'I don't reckon I has to caution none of you-all not to go repeatin' these mem'ries of gay days done an' gone, where my wife Tucson Jennie cuts their trail. I ain't afraid of Jennie; she's a kind, troo he'pmeet; but ever since that onfortunate entanglement with the English towerist lady her suspicions sets up nervous in their blankets at the mere mention of frivolities wherein she hears my name.

I asks you, tharfore, not to go sayin' things to feed her doubts. With Tucson Jennie, my first business is to live down my past.'

"'You-all can bet,' says Texas Thompson, while his brow clouds, 'that I learns enough while enjoyin' the advantages of livin' with my former wife to make sech requests sooperfluous in my case. Speshully since if it ain't for what the neighbours done tells the lady she'd never go ropin' 'round for that divorce. No Dave; your secrets is plumb safe with a gent who's suffered.

"'Which I saveys I'm safe with all of you,' says Dave, his confidence, which the thoughts of Tucson Jennie sort o' stampedes, beginnin' to return. 'But now an' then them gusts of apprehensions frequent with married gents sweeps over me an' I feels weak. But comin' back to the dance-hall: As I su'gests thar's many a serene hour I whiles away tharin. Your days an' your _dinero_ sh.o.r.e flows plenty swift in that temple of merriment; an' chilled though I be with the stiff dignity of a wedded middle age, if it ain't for my infant son, Enright Peets Tutt, to whom I'm strivin' to set examples, I'd admire to prance out an' live ag'in them halcyon hours; that's whatever!

"'Thar's quite a sprinklin' of the _elite_ of Tucson in the dance-hall the evenin' I has in mind. The bar is busy; while up an' down each side sech refres.h.i.+n' pastimes as farobank, monte an' roulette holds prosperous sway. Thar's no quadrille goin' at the moment, an' a lady to the r'ar is carollin' "Rosalie, the Prairie Flower."

"Fair as a lily bloomin' in May, Sweeter than roses, bright as the day!

Everyone who knows her feels her gentle power, Rosalie the Prairie Flower."

"'On this yere o'casion I'm so far fortunate as to be five drinks ahead an' tharfore would sooner listen to myse'f talk than to the warblin' of the cantatrice. As it is, I'm conversin' with a gent who's standin'

hard by.

"'At my elbow is posted a s.h.a.ggy an' forbiddin' outlaw whose name is Yuba Tom, an' who's more harmonious than me. He wants to listen to "Rosalie the Prairie Flower." Of a sudden, he w'irls about, plenty peevish.

"'Stick a period to that pow-wow," observes Yuba; "I wants to hear this prima donna sing."

"'Bein' gala with the five libations, I turns on Yuba haughty. "If you're sobbin' to hear this songstress," I says, "go for'ard an' camp down at her feet. But don't come pawin' your way into no conversations with me. An' don't hang up no bluff."

"'Which if you disturbs me further," retorts Yuba, "I'll turn loose for sh.o.r.e an' crawl your hump a lot."

"'Them foolhardy sports," I replies, "who has yeretofore attempted that enterprise sleeps in onknown graves; so don't you-all pester me, for the outlook's dark."

"'It's now that Yuba,--who's a mighty cautious sport, forethoughtful an' p.r.o.ne to look ahead,--regyards the talk as down to cases an' makes a flash for his gun. It's concealed by his surtoot an' I ain't noticed it none before. If I had, most likely I'd pitched the conversation in a lower key. However, by this time, I'm quarrelsome as a badger; an' a willin'ness for trouble subdooes an' sets its feet on my nacheral cowardice an' holds her down.'

"'Dave, you-all makes me nervous,' says Boggs, with a flash of heat, 'settin' thar lyin' about your timidity that a-way. You're about as reluctant for trouble as a grizzly bar, an' you couldn't fool no gent yere on that p'int for so much as one white chip.'

"'Jest the same,' says Dave, mighty dogmatic, 'I still a.s.serts that in a concealed, inborn fas.h.i.+on, I'm timid absoloote. If you has ever beheld me stand up ag'in the iron it's because I'm 'shamed to quit.

I'd wilt out like a jack-rabbit if I ain't held by pride.

"'"You're plenty ready with that Colt's," I says to Yuba, an' my tones is severe. "That's because you sees me weeponless. If I has a gun now, I'd make you yell like a coyote."