THE WEDDING
When in a discursive mood, Badger was wont to say, with the aggressive
local pride common to new communities, that the world had produced three
great men--Julius Caesar, Theodore Roosevelt and Lafe Johnson. They
accorded this ranking to Julius rather reluctantly, he having been a
"foreigner." Imagine, then, their feelings of helpless amazement when
they learned that Lafe was about to leave them.
"You don't need no sheriff here now," said he. "Things have got so
peaceful that what you want is a dog-catcher and a pound-man. I ain't a
candidate for that job. Go ahead and elect a city marshal, and let him
do the chores when he ain't busy on anything else."
He was obdurate in this resolution. To his intimates he confessed that
the hazards and journeyings of the office made it unfit for occupancy by
a married man. And, now that Moffatt was safely in jail and the country
cleared of its worst element, he proposed to become a married man. It
was Hetty who steeled him in this resolve, when the pleadings of his
friends and fellow-townsmen appeared to have him wavering. She had her
eyes fixed on Lafe's place beyond the Willows as on a haven of rest, and
the Widow Brown gathered from her conversation that Hetty's notion of a
respectable and happy citizen was a farmer with one hundred and sixty
acres and a flock of children. She mentioned this to Hetty, who grew
crimson and requested her to talk sense.
So Lafe resigned as sheriff of Badger, and they presented him with a
large watch which ticked so loudly that he could not sleep with it under
his pillow; and several staid, responsible property holders got very
drunk indeed.
The wedding was fixed for the day following that on which he laid down
the cares of office. He and Hetty were talking over final arrangements
on the eve.
"I've got a surprise for you," said Lafe.
"What is it?"
"Ol' man Horne has bought the Anvil range. He's made me boss, too. A
hundred a month."
Hetty exclaimed in delight as Johnson proudly exhibited a letter
received quite three weeks before, which he had been holding back in
order to cap his resignation. That made everything smooth and safe for
them. They would have their home in Hope Canon beyond the Willows, and
good fresh beef and butter and milk. Assuredly Lafe would himself become
a rich cowman some day. Hetty was sure of it.
Their wedding-morn broke, sullen and muttering like a man heavy with
sleep. Badger kicked off the blankets, sat up to ascertain just what
head it had contracted, and asked hoarsely for an eye-opener. An
eye-opener is a drink of undiluted whisky, gulped down before breakfast.
Then it stepped out into the road, cocked an eye aloft and opined that
the weather looked bad for the sheriff's wedding. They will always call
him "sheriff" in Badger.
Turner, the storekeeper, announced at a very early hour that it was mere
folly trying to work, and nobody need expect him to attend to business
that day or for several to come, perhaps. Thereupon he shut up shop and
carried a graphophone on to the front porch. It played "In the Shade of
the Old Apple Tree" eleven times, while the express agent's dog squatted
in the road, with its nose tilted back, and howled dismally.
About noon, nine of the Anvil boys rode into town to grace the occasion.
They had on clean shirts, and their boots were greased and odorous.
Following them came Mr. and Mrs. Horne in a buckboard. The couple had
driven forty miles to do honor to the new range boss, and Mrs. Horne
lost no time in repairing to the Widow Brown's to assist in attiring the
bride. She found that young woman aggravatingly cool--almost placid.
Next there arrived the Floyds, with their son Tommy, now grown to
overalls and boastful talk.
All the male population of Badger was gathered in the Fashion and in
the Cowboys' Rest across the street. Thither hastened Horne and Floyd to
hearten the sheriff, but they discovered only their own men and a crowd
of merry-makers. Escaping from them in good time, the two sought Turner,
who, as justice of the peace, was to perform the ceremony. The
storekeeper was found crouched behind some goods in the back portion of
his place. He was perspiring profusely. Some fiend in human form had
warned Bob not to mix the burial service with the marriage ceremony, as
he had done on another occasion best forgotten, and the justice of the
peace could not get the fearful idea out of his head. He was therefore
trying to commit as much as possible of the service to memory.
"You're looking pretty slick, Bob. Where's Lafe?" asked Horne.
"He's upstairs. I hid him out in that empty room where we keep the
stiffs," said Turner, hastily secreting the book. By "stiffs" he
referred to the custom of holding the bodies of gentlemen who met
violent deaths, until a coroner's jury pronounced on them.
"That's a good place for him," said Floyd.
They started upstairs. "Wait," cried Turner. "I'll take him his dinner."
The trio found Lafe sitting on a stool. He had on a new suit and his
hair was plastered down over his forehead, but despite this brave show,
he was wretched, gazing miserably out of the window into the street,
where numbers of his friends were surging up and down and across. As
they entered, a cowboy topped an outlaw mule and the frenzied shrieks of
encouragement to the rider drew Horne and Floyd and Turner to look. Then
his employer obtained a close view of the sheriff's face.
"You sick?" he demanded.
"No-oo. Why?"
"Then, man alive, brace up. You ain't going to be hung."
Lafe smiled in ghastly fashion and essayed to eat of the steak and
vegetables which the justice had brought. It was a vain pretense. His
throat was dry and he could not swallow without straining. After
watching him a while, Horne suggested that they all take a drink.
"I find a touch of rye helps me a heap when I'm poorly," said he.
To this proposal nobody objected.
"Got the ring?" said Horne.
Again the sheriff gave a sickly grin and stuck his forefinger into a
waistcoat pocket. Instantly his face turned a pea-green shade.
"Why," he exclaimed, "I done put it there not five--" He started going
through every pocket with shaking hands.
"Jumpin' Jupiter!" said Turner. "You done give me that ring to keep for
you an hour ago, Lafe. He kept taking it out so often to look at it, I
was scared he'd wear it out, Horne."
In any report of a wedding, it is proper to itemize the plunder. We will
therefore leave the bridegroom and his three tried friends to pass the
remaining hours playing "cold hands" with cards, whilst we take a peep
into the Widow Brown's abode. Hetty is dressing by the aid of Mrs. Horne
and Mrs. Floyd, and no peeping is permissible there. Out upon the
thought! Suffice that she wore that day certain fine linen and fluffy
creations, the like of which the ladies of Badger had never seen and of
whose existence in wardrobes the male residents had no suspicion. Mrs.
Horne was vastly gratified.
The presents were laid out in the parlor--all but one. That one was
given by the express agent, and was hidden deep in the barn, but rest
assured that it will ultimately be taken to the house in Hope Canon.
Ever a facetious and far-sighted man, the express agent had sent a
go-cart.
A piano lamp under a pink glass shade with green bead fringe centered
the display. The fact that it was made for gas--and they would be lucky,
indeed, always to have oil in the Canon--did not diminish its value in
Hetty's eyes at all. Moreover, there was not a piano in Badger. Somebody
had sent Lafe a silver-plated six-shooter; another, a chromo lithograph
of the prophet Elijah caught up in a chariot of fire. To Hetty had come
shawls and cruetstands, coffee pots and tidies and chair scarfs; also,
plated cake dishes, cutlery and rugs. An erstwhile admirer from the Lazy
L, who had partaken of many meals at the Fashion on her account, sent a
milch cow, and for Lafe came a black saddler from Floyd. This was the
horse that had carried the Lazy L boss across a swollen river on a
certain occasion in which Johnson had figured, and he had often admired
the beast. A very serviceable gift was that from Horne--a check for
fifty dollars.
"Wilt thou have this woman to--"
They were standing side by side in the parlor of the Widow Brown's,
under a wedding-bell made of cedar boughs, which was suspended from the
ceiling by a wire. All Lafe's nervousness was gone. His face was stern,
but there was a peaceful light in the eyes that was good to see.
Evidently Mrs. Horne thought so, for she and the Widow Brown cried
softly and without ceasing. The bride was rather pale, but entirely
composed. Only Turner and Horne fidgeted, the latter because his collar
chafed him. Turner skimmed over the words and paused twice to whisper in
an aside that he hoped to the Lord Lafe hadn't forgotten the ring.
"Wilt thou have this woman to--"
There was an inward surge, then a break in the ranks of the guests
grouped behind the pair and at the door, and Turner paused with his hand
raised.
"Hold on there! Hold on," cried a falsetto voice.
An enormously fat woman lurched through the company and confronted the
groom. A felt hat with a red plume wagged rakishly on top of her head.
She had on a blue calico skirt, and her feet were large and bulbous.
They could not discern her features because of a veil.
"What's this?" said she in a high-pitched voice. "What's this, Lafe
Johnson?"
"Ma'am?" said the sheriff.
"What does this mean? Who is this lady?"
"I don't take you, ma'am. This lady and me, we're just fixing to get
married. What's the matter?"
"Matter? Matter?" shrieked the intruder. "You do fine to ask, don't you,
Lafe Johnson? What about me that you left in Abilene, back in Texas?
Hey? How about li'l' Charlie and James, that's the dead image of you?
He's been a-cryin' for you, Lafe. Just after he got over the
measles--oh, you wretch!"
"Abilene?" repeated the sheriff dully. "Abilene? Charlie and James? Why,
I was never in Abilene longer than half an hour in my life, ma'am. You
can see for yourself--"
Hetty, who had shrunk back with a startled air at the entrance of the
fat woman, now moved suddenly and pulled up the veil, disclosing the
round, shining visage of the Anvil cook.
"Why!" said Horne. "If it ain't old Dave!"
Instead of throwing him into the street or into jail, as he deserved,
the company permitted Dave to retire with honor to the outer circle,
where he divested himself of skirt, waist and plumed hat, and was heard
to entreat one of the boys to help loosen the belt with which he had
painfully compressed his figure for the event. They could hear him
squeal, pretending to be tickled. All agreed that his portrayal of
feminine behavior was a marvel of similitude.
Neither Lafe nor the bride took the interruption in ill part. The
justice of the peace only appeared chagrined--Turner was in an agony of
fear lest he lose his place--but even he managed to join in the laugh.
The two faced him again. Three minutes later they were man and wife.