blankets he's subscribed to mighty likely it's the fifth drink, the
apoplectic begins to shed tears a heap profoose, an' relate to his
nurse--the former Miss Bark--how his two wives has died, leavin' him a
lonely man. She, the former Miss Bark, is his only friend--he
says--an' he winds up his lamentations by recommendin' that she become
his third.
"'You're the only hooman heart who ever onderstands me,' he wails,
gropin' for her hand, 'an' now my ongrateful boy has contracted a
messalliance I shore wants you for my wife.'
"She hangs her head like a flower at night, an' lets on she's a heap
confoosed.
"'Speak,' he pleads; 'tell me that you'll be mine.'
"'Which I'd shore admire to, but I can't,' she murmurs; 'I'm wedded to
your son.'
"The old apoplectic asks for more licker in a dazed way, an' sends for
Peets. The Doc an' him goes into execyootive session for most an
hour; meanwhile the camp's on edge.
"At the close the Doc eemerges plumb radiant.
"'Everything's on velvet,' he says; 'thar's never a more joodicious
convalescent. He freely admits, considerin' the sort of daughter-in-law
he's acquired, that Oscar has more sense than folks suspects.'
"Now that the skies is cl'ared, the bridegroom is fetched back from
Red Dog, an' thar's a grand reeconciliation.
"'We'll all go back East together,' sobs father-in-law Freelinghuysen,
holdin' both their hands.
"Two days later they starts, Missis Freelinghuysen Joonier lookin'
after father-in-law Freelinghuysen same as if he's a charlotte
roosse.
"The Votes For Women S'loon?
"It's kept a secret, at Peet's su'gestion, him bein' apoplectic that
a-way. The stock is bought by public subscription of the camp, an'
when the Freelinghuysen household is out of sight an' hearin' we
invites Red Dog over in a body an' onbelts in a mod'rate orgy. The
sign, 'Votes For Women S'loon,' is now preeserved in the custody of
the Wolfville Historical Society, which body is called into active
bein' upon motion of Peets, while Red Dog an' us is drinkin' up the
stock."
IV
OLD MONTE, OFFICIAL DRUNKARD
"Shore; Monte's the offishul drunkard of Arizona." The old cattleman
was answering my question. "Or, seein' that mebby Wolfville's
joorisdiction won't be held none to reach beyond, let's say the
offishul drunkard of Cochise County. That's Monte's civic designation;
offishul drunkard, an' meant to fix his social place.
"Does he resent it?
"Which he proudly w'ars that title like it's a kingly crown! It's as
good as even money that to ondertake to sep'rate him from it, or deny
the same, is the one single thing he bristles up at an' give you a
battle over.
"Which this yere last should mean a heap, since Monte's plumb pacific
by nacher, an' abhors war to the mean confines of bein' timid. To be
shore, he'll steam at the nose, an' paw the sod, an' act like he's out
to spread rooin far an' wide--that he's doo to leave everything in
front of him on both sides of the road. But in them perfervid
man'festations he don't reely intend nothin' either high or heenious,
or more'n jest to give his se'f-respect an outing that a-way. Let the
opp'sition call him down, an' the crafty old cimmaron'll go to the
diskyard instanter.
"Which at that, Monte ain't without his interestin' side. When onder
the inflooence of nosepaint, which last is constant, he has three
distinct moods. About the fo'th drink, let a stranger show up,
an'--all aff'ble an' garyoolous--Monte's right thar to do the honors.
When the stranger, gettin' weary, kicks Monte off him, the same bein'
shore to happen final since no one formed in the image of his Maker
can put up with them verbal imbecil'ties of his beyond a given len'th
of time, he'll arch his back an'--apparently--wax that f'rocious a
wronged grizzly to him is as meek as milk. An' yet, as I tells you,
it's simply a blazer; an' the moment the exasperated stranger begins
betrayin' symptoms of goin' to a showdown, Monte lapses into his third
mood of haughty silence, an' struts off like it's beneath him to bandy
words.
"That's the savin' clause in Monte's constitootion; he may get drunk,
but he never gets injoodicious. Thar's a sport from some'ers over
'round Shakespear in the dance hall one evenin', whose patience has
been plenty treespassed on by Monte. By way of bringin' matters to a
deecisive head, this yere Shakespear party tells Monte he's a liar. Do
you reckon Monte hooks up with him? Not a chance! He simply casts on
that maligner from Shakespear a look of disparagement, an' with nose
held high, as markin' his contempt, moves away with the remark.
"'That's something I refooses to discuss with you.'
"Which thar's no more real p'isin in Monte than in a hired girl.
"We has the chance once to try some experiments on Monte, an' it's the
mistake of our lives we don't. Peets, whose regrets is scientific,
feels speshully acoote. Thar's a partic'lar bar'l of nosepaint gets
trundled into camp, which is nothin' short of bein' the condensed
essence of hostility. Black Jack, after years as barkeep, says himse'f
he never sees nothin' like it. On the hocks of two drinks, folks gets
that ornery Enright has it freighted back to Tucson in alarm, fearin'
for the peace of the camp. At the time, none of us thinks of it; but
later it's a subject of gen'ral regret that some of it ain't saved to
try on Monte. Mebby that speshul brand of licker turns out to be the
missin' ingreedient, an' keys him up to deeds of heroism.
"Jest to show you some of the milder workin's of that licker. Boggs
files away four inches of it onder his belt, an' next, when he's
walkin' by the corral an' meets a Mexican, he reaches out in a
casyooal an' abstracted way, collars that Greaser an' hefts him over a
six-foot 'dobe fence, same as if he's a bag of bran; an' all apropos
of nothin'. Boggs says himse'f he don't know why none. He's thinkin'
of something else at the time, he declar's, an' the eepisode don't
leave no partic'lar traces on his mem'ry. The trooth is, it's that
veehement an' onmuzzled nosepaint, incitin' him to voylence.
"Is the Mexican hurt?
"Which, if I remembers rightly, Peets does mention about a busted
collarbone. But it don't create no interest--him bein' a Mexican. You
see, thar's a feelin', amountin' fa'rly to a onwritten law, that
Mexicans ain't got no rightful call to be seen in public no how; an'
when one does go pirootin' round permiscus, in voylation of this yere
tenet, nacherally he takes his chances. You-all can gamble, though,
that Boggs shore never would have reached for him, only he's
actchooated by that whiskey.
"As modest an' retirin' a sperit as Cherokee, to whom any form of
boastful bluff is plumb reepellant, subscribes to a mod'rate snifter
of that licker; an' in less time than it takes to rope a pony, he's
out in front of the Red Light, onbucklin' in a display of pistol
shootin'. Thar's a brace of towerists in camp, an' Cherokee let's on
he'll show 'em. Which he shore shows 'em! He tosses two tomatter cans
on high, an' with a gun in each hand keeps 'em dancin' an' jumpin'
about in the atmosphere ontil thar's six bullets through each. It's a
heap satisfyin' as a performance, as far as them pop-eyed towerists is
concerned, an' both leaves town that evenin' by speshul buckboard.
"Onaffected by that licker, Cherokee wouldn't have no more gone an'
made sech a spectacle of himse'f, though urged tharunto by the
yoonanimous voice of the outfit. When he so far recovers as to
'ppreeciate what Faro Nell has to say of them exploits--an', while
tender, she's plenty explicit--he comes mighty clost to blushin'
himse'f to death.
"It's after we notes what it does to Cherokee, an' hears of them
exhibitions of broote force by Boggs, that we gets timid about this
yere whisky, an' Enright orders the bar'l sent back. An' right he is!
S'ppose them Red Dogs was to have come prancin' over for a social
call, an' s'ppose in entertainin' 'em we all inadvertent has recourse
to that partic'lar licker, whatever do you-all reckon 'd have been the
finish? Son, thar'd have been one of them things they calls a
catyclism, an' nothin' short.
"It's shore a fightin' form of licker. Tutt reeserves out a tin cup of
it, an' sets it down by a prairie dog's hole. Accordin' to Tutt, the
dog comes out, laps it once, an' starts back same as if he's been shot
with a '45. Thar he squats, battin' his eyes, wrinklin' up his nose,
an' cogitatin'. After thinkin' the thing over, the dog approaches,
mighty gingerly, an' takes three or four more laps. Then he r'ars
back, an' considers for quite a spell. It looks final like he gets his
mind made up, an' with that he capers over, an' he'ps himse'f to what
for a prairie dog is shore a big drink.
"Two minutes later, ha'r bristlin', whiskers standin' out like wire,
eyes full of determination, that dog crosses over to another dog who's
livin' neighbor to him, an' says--accordin' to Tutt:
"'Wharever can I locate that coyote who's been domineerin' round yere
for mebby it's a month, harassin' folks into their holes? Whar's that
coyote at?'
"Peets allers allows Tutt exaggerates, but havin' sampled that licker
some myse'f, I'm a long ride from bein' so shore.
"That lack of war instinct in Monte ain't no speecific drawback. Him
drivin' stage that a-way, he ain't expected none to fight. The
hold-ups onderstands it, the company onderstands it, everybody
onderstands it. It's the law of the trail. That's why, when the stage
is stopped, the driver's never downed. Which if thar's money aboard,
an' the express outfit wants it defended, they slams on some sport to
ride shotgun that trip. It's for this shotgun speshulist to give the
route agents an argyooment. Which they're licensed to go bombardin'
each other ontil the goin' down of the sun. As for the driver,
however, the etikette simply calls for him to set his brake, an' all
peaceful hold his hands above his head. It's inside his rights, too,
accordin' to the rooles, for him to cuss out the hold-ups, an' call
'em all the hard names of which he's cap'ble; an' stage drivers, who
loves their art, spends their time between drinks practisin' new cuss
words, an' inventin' onheard of epithets, so as to be ready when dooty
an' o'casion calls. Havin' downed or driven off the shotgun sport, an'
seen the bottom of the express box, the hold-ups tells the stage
driver to pull his freight. Wharupon he picks up the reins, kicks free
the brake, lets fly a loorid an' final broadside of vitooperation--he
havin' carefully reeserved the same, by way of peroration--an' goes
his windin' way.
"Wolfville's been on the map for most a year, when Monte first shows
up. In the beginnin', an' ontil we-all gets adjusted to him, he's
something of a bore. Leastwise, he ain't what you'd go so far as to
call a boon companion. When it dawns on us that he's plottin' to make
himse'f a permanency, it certainly does look for a spell that, what
with his consumption of nosepaint an' what with his turrific genius
for snorin', he's goin' to be a trifle more'n we can stand.
"Does Monte snore?
"Not to create ondoo excitement, the bar'foot onclothed trooth is that
his snorin' falls nothin' short of bein' sinful. Boggs has plenty of
countenance when he brings them snores to the attention of Enright.
"'Thar's shore a limit somewhar, Sam,' Boggs says, 'to this yere
drunkard's right to snore. Which he's simply keepin' everybody over to
the O. K. House settin' up. Onless something's done to check him,
thar'll be a epidemic of St. Vitus dance. You ask Doc Peets; he'll
tell you that this yere Monte with his snorin' is a scourge.'
"It's not alone their volume, but their quality, which makes them
snores of Monte so ondesir'ble. Some folks snores a heap deprecatory,
an' like they're apol'gizin' for it as they goes along. Others snores
in a manner ca'mly confident, an' all as though the idee that any gent
objects would astonish 'em to death. Still others snores plumb
deefiant, an' like they ain't snorin' so much for comfort, that
a-way, as to show their contempt for mankind. It's to this yere latter
hostile school that drunkard, Monte, belongs.
"After Boggs lodges complaint, Enright takes a corrective peek into
the sityooation. Thar's two rooms over the O. K. kitchen, sort o' off
by themselves. Upon Enright's hint, Missis Rucker beds down Monte in
one, an' Deef Andy, who mends harness for the stage company an' can't
hear nothin', in the other.
"'It's for the safety of your excellent car'vansary, Ma'am,' Enright
explains. 'Which Dan's mighty easy moved; an' some mornin', onless you
adopts them improvements, that somnolent sot you're harborin' 'll go
too far with Dan. I takes it you-all don't want the shack all smoked
up with Dan's six-shooter? In which event you'll put that reverberant
drunkard in the far-corner room, with Andy next.'
"Peets once mentions a long-ago poet party, named Johnson, who,
speakin' of a fellow poet after he's dead an' down onder the
grass-roots, lets on that he teches nothin' he don't adorn. You can
go your ultimate simoleon that ain't Monte's style. The only things he
don't upset is bottles; the only flooid he never spills is licker.
This yere last would be ag'inst his religion. Wharever he goes, he's
otherwise draggin' his rope, an' half the time he's steppin' on it.
"It's him that coaxes that onhappy Polish picture painter our way.
This yere is long after he's drivin' stage, an' as Wolfville's
offishul drunkard becomes a tol'rated feachure of the camp. This
Polish artist person is as much out o' place in Arizona as a faro
lay-out at a Sunday school picnic. Monte crosses up with him over at
Tucson in the Oriental S'loon, an' while thar's no ties between 'em,
more'n what nacherally forms between two gents who sets drinkin'
together all night long, before ever they're through with each other
that inspired inebriate lands the locoed artist party on our hands.
Enright shore does go the limit in rebookin' Monte.
"'Why, Sam,' says Monte, an' he's that depreecatory he whines, 'I
allows you'll look on him as a acquisition.'
"'All the same,' returns Enright, an' I never knows him more
forbiddin', 'yereafter please confine your annoyin' assidooities to
drivin' stage, an' don't go tryin' to improve the outlook of this
camp.'
"Monte, with this, gets that dismal he sheds tears. 'Which it shore
looks like I can't do nothin' right,' he sobs.
"'Then don't,' says Enright.
"From the start, Monte graves himse'f upon the mem'ry of folk as the
first sport, to onroll his blankets in Cochise County, who consoomes
normal over twenty drinks a day. Upon festal occasions like Noo
Year's, an' Christmas, an' Fo'th of Jooly, an' Thanksgivin', no gent
who calls himse'f a gent thinks of keepin' tabs on a fellow gent, no
matter how freequent he signs up to Black Jack. On gala o'casions,
sech as them noted, the bridle is plumb off the hoss, an' even though
you drinks to your capac'ty an' some beyond, no one's that vulgar as
to go makin' remarks. But that ain't Monte; he's different a heap. It
looks like every day is Fo'th of Jooly with him, he's that inveterate
in his reemorseless hankerin' for nosepaint.
"Also, regyarded as to his social side, Monte, as I states former, is
a nooisance. Knowin' folks, too, is his fad. Only so you give him
licker enough, he'll go surgin' round accostin' every gent he sees. No
matter how austere a stranger is, Monte'll tackle him. An' at that he
never says nothin' worth hearin', an' in its total absence of
direction his conversation resembles nothin' so much as a dog chasin'
its tail.
"An' then thar's them footile bluffs he's allers tryin' to run. He's
been pesterin' in an' out of the Red Light one evenin' ontil he's got
Black Jack incensed. As he comes squanderin' along, for say the
twentieth time, Black Jack groans, an' murmurs,
"'Yere's that booze-soaked old hoss-thief ag'in!'
"Monte gets the echo of it, same as folks allers does when it ain't
wanted, but he's onable to say who. So he stands thar by the bar,
glarin' 'round an' snortin'. Final, he roars:
"'Who cuts loose that personal'ty?'
"Thar ain't no answer, an' Monte ag'in takes to pitchin' on his rope.
"'Show me the galoot who insults me,' he roars; 'let him no longer
dog it, but p'int himse'f out as the gent.'
"'All right,' says Black Jack, whose indignation gets the best of his
reespons'bilities as barkeep, 'which I'm the party who alloodes to you
as a booze-soaked old hoss-thief.'
"'An' so you're the gent,' says Monte, castin' a witherin' glance at
Black Jack; 'so you're the would-be sooicide who calls me a
booze-soaked old hoss-thief?'
"'Which I'm the identical stingin' lizard. Now what is it you're so
plumb eager to say?'
"'What am I eager to say? I merely wants to remark that you ain't done
nothin' to swell up over. You-all needn't go thinkin' you're the first
barkeep who calls me a booze-soaked old hoss-thief.'
"Havin' la'nched this yere, Monte turns off as stiffly pompous as
though he ain't left a grease-spot of Black Jack.
"When folks won't listen to him no longer, Monte goes bulgin' forth
into the highways an' the byways, an' holds long an' important
discussions with signs, an' dry-goods boxes, an' sim'lar inan'mate
elements of the landscape. Also, to mules an' burros. I remarks him
myse'f, whisperin' in the onregyardful y'ear of a burro, an' said
anamile as sound asleep as a tree. When that drunkard's through his
confidences, he backs off, an' wavin' his paw plumb myster'ous at the
burro says:
"'Remember, now; I'm givin' you this yere p'inter as a friend.'
"That time Black Jack offends Monte, after the latter hits the
sidewalk followin' what he clar'ly considers is his crushin' come-back
on Black Jack, he gets the feelin' that Jack's ha'ntin' along on his
trail. Before he's gone fifty foot, he w'irls about, an' shouts:
"'Don't you-all follow me! Which, if you crowds me, them places that
has knowed you won't know you no more forever.'
"When Monte gets off this menace, it seems like the Black Jack specter
becomes intim'dated, an' tries to squar' itse'f.
"'What's that?' Monte asks, after listenin' mighty dignified to the
spook's excuses; 'you begs my pardon? Not another word. If you-all
keeps on talkin' now you'll sp'ile it. Thar's my hand,' givin' the
fingers of the phantom a mighty earnest squeeze. 'I'm your friend, an'
that goes.'
"Havin' established a peace, Monte insists that the Black Jack phantom
b'ar him company to the O. K. Restauraw. In spite of all Missis Rucker
can say or do, he plants the spook at the table, feeds it on the best
that's in the kitchen, an' all as confident as if it's shorely troo.
Also, he insists on payin' for two.
"When Missis Rucker tries to show him he's down wrong, he refooses to
have it that way.
"'Do you-all reckon, Ma'am, that I can't trust my eyes none?' he
demands. 'Which you'll tell me next that them airtights I tops of with
is figments.'
"'But thar's only one of you-all,' Missis Rucker persists.
"'Ma'am,' returns Monte, his manner plumb s'picious, 'I don't jest
quite sense your little game. Whatever it is, however, you-all can't
play it on old Monte. You write back to my fam'ly an' the neighbors,
an' the least flatterin' among 'em'll tell you that I'm as cunnin' as
a squinch owl. Thar's two of us who feeds, an' for two of us I
settles. Bein' a woman, you're too feeble-witted for reason, too
mendacious for trooth.'
"'Don't you go callin' me no woman,' says Missis Rucker, her eyes
snappin', 'onless you're ready to cash in.'
"'Women!' repeats Monte, sort o' addressin' the scenery, but still
plenty cynical, 'what be they except a fleetin' show to man's
deloosion given. Also, thar's nothin' to 'em. You opens their front
door, an' you're in their back yard.'
"Texas has been givin' y'ear to the talk. It's before his Laredo wife
starts ropin' for that divorce; but she's already makin' war medicine,
an' the signs an' signal smokes which p'int to an uprisin' is vis'ble
on every hill. Texas is careful not to let Missis Rucker hear him
none, but as he walks away, he mutters:
"'That ghost-seein' sport's got the treemors, but all the same I
strings with him on them estimates of ladies.'
"Texas is that fav'rably affected about Monte, he talks things over
with Tutt, who himse'f ain't married to Tucson Jennie none as yet.
Them nuptials, an' that onbiased blessin', little Enright Peets Tutt,
who results tharfrom, comes along later.
"'Which thar's good in that Monte maverick,' says Texas; 'only so we
could get the nosepaint out of him.'
"'Now, I wouldn't wonder none, neither,' says Tutt.
"'He drinkt up two quarts an' a half yesterday,' says Texas.
"'Ain't thar no steps which can be took?' Tutt asks. 'Two quarts an' a
half, though, shore sounds like he's somethin' of a prop'sition.'
"These yere remarks is made in the Red Light, an' Tutt an' Texas
appeals to Cherokee, whar that courtier of fortune is settin' in
behind his lay-out. Cherokee waves 'em off, p'lite but firm.
"'Don't ask me none,' he says. 'You-all knows my doctrines. Let every
gent kill his own snakes.'
"'That's my theology,' remarks Boggs, who has just come ramblin' in
from the Noo York store, whar he's been changin' in a bundle of money
for shirts; 'I recalls how, when I'm a prattlin' yearlin', hearin'
Parson Ed'ards of the Cambellite Church quotin' whar Cain gives it out
cold that he's not his brother's keeper; an' even at that onthinkin'
age I fully endorses Cain's p'sition.'
"The talk takes in Black Jack, who, by virchoo of him bein' a barkeep,
nacherally savvys a heap about the licker question. Jack reelates how
a sot he knows back in Arkansaw is shocked into never takin' a drink,
by simply blowin' his hand off accidental while tanked up.
"'Whang! goes the old Betsy,' says Jack, 'an' that slave to licker's
shy his left hand. "Which it lets me out!" he exclaims; an' datin'
from said catastrophy he'd no more tech nosepaint, that a-way, than
he'd join the church.'
"'But it's doubtful,' observes Tutt, 'if Enright stands to let us
shoot this yere Monte drunkard's hand off.'
"'It's ten to one he won't,' says Texas; 'still thar ought to be other
schemes for shockin' a party into moral'ty, which stops short o'
cripplin' him for life.'
"'But is this yere inebriate worth the worry?' asks Boggs. 'Also, it
shore strikes me as mighty gratooitous for us to go reorganizin' the
morals of a plumb stranger, an' him not even asked.'
"'Which he's worth the worry all right,' Texas replies. 'Thar's no
efforts too great, when thar's a chance to save a party who has the
same thorough onderstandin' of ladies which this gent has.'
"Up over the Red Light bar is a stuffed bobcat, the same bein' held as
decorative. Only the day before Texas and Tutt stands talkin', a
couple of Enright's riders comes packin' a live bobcat into town,
which between 'em they ropes up over in the foothills of the Tres
Hermanas, an' jams labor'ously into a pa'r of laiggin's. The same idee
seizes on Texas an' Tutt yoonanimous. They sees that it only calls for
the intelligent use of that Bar-8 bobcat, which them cow-punchers of
Enright's ties down, to reegen'rate Monte, an' make him white as
snow.
[Illustration: A COUPLE OF ENRIGHT'S RIDERS COMES A PACKIN' A LIVE BOBCAT
INTO TOWN. p. 118.]
"Monte's ain't present none, bein' over to the O. K. House. By bein'
plumb painstakin', Tutt an' Texas gets a collar onto the captive Bar-8
bobcat, an' chains him up over the Red Light bar, in place of the
stuffed bobcat, deeposed. The Bar-8 bobcat jumps off once or twict
before he learns, an' comes mighty clost to lynchin' himse'f. But
Black Jack is patient, an' each time pokes him back with a cha'r.
After mebby the third jump, it gets proned into the bobcat that thar's
nothin' in it for him to go hurlin' himse'f into space that a-way, an'
bein' saved from death by hangin' only through the cha'r-laig
meditations of Black Jack. Acceptin' this yere view, he stands pat on
his shelf. Likewise, he shore looks mighty vivid up thar, an' has got
that former stuffed predecessor of his beat four ways from the jack.
"We're hankerin' around, now the Bar-8 bobcat's organized, waitin' for
Monte to come amblin' up, an' be reformed.
"'An' you can gamble,' Tutt says, 'that the shock it'll throw into
him'll have a ben'ficial effect. Shootin' off a hand or so ain't in it
with the way that drunkard's goin' to feel.'