“I’m going to make it warm for that driver!”
“I envy him,” says I, “’cause I’m danged near froze.”
“Never missed us,” she wails. “None of them.”
“Except the horses,” says I. “They likely do.”
Just then the buckboard shows up again, with everybody looking for us.
Chuck is almost overcome with emotion. Mama sets in the seat this time,
and the doctor joins me in the rear. I can’t see Chuck’s face, but I can
see his ears wiggling.
“This is terrible,” says the doctor. “Wet all over.”
“We were stunned,” wails daughter, “but the driver felt sure he knew
where to find you, mama.”
“I never lost anybody yet,” says Chuck, and then we drove into the yard
of the Cross J ranch house.
* * * * *
“I feel sure that you have made a mistake,” declares the doctor. “This
is not the place at all.”
“Not the remotest possibility,” adds the daughter, whose name is Violet.
“Uncle sent us the pictures of his estate and——”
Just then Magpie comes out of the front door. I takes one look at him,
and I almost falls off that trunk. He’s got his shirt on backwards, one
shoe and one boot on his feet, and on his head he’s got a little green
derby hat which Weinie Lopp stole from a pin-headed gambler three years
before.
It sets right on the top of Magpie’s head, sort of balancing-like.
Magpie grins like a danged fool, and comes down the steps, stiff as a
board, tryin’ to balance that fool hat. He turns his whole body when he
turns his head, and he sort of holds his hands like a dancin’ bear holds
its paws.
The doctor takes off his glasses and squints at Magpie, breathes on the
glasses, rubs ’em on his handkerchief and puts ’em on again, and all the
while that long, crazy-looking puncher stands there and just grins.
“Well, we got ’em,” says Chuck, choking-like.
“Can this be he?” gasps mama.
“How absolutely impossible,” whispers Violet.
“I am glad to see you, sir,” says the doctor, climbing down. “You—uh——”
“He, he, he!” chuckles Magpie. “You’re just in time for the May-pole.”
“Well,” says the doctor weak-like, “well—uh—that’s very nice. We may as
well go into the house.”
“But this isn’t the place,” protests Violet. “Those photographs——”
“Exaggerated maybe,” says Chuck.
“Exaggerated?” puffs mama, looking around. “Heavens, I wonder what kind
of a camera took them?”
“Let us go inside,” says the doctor. “My dear, perhaps we can get you
some dry clothes, at least.”
The three of them files up the steps, and right behind them goes Magpie,
stiff as a peeved grizzly, trying to balance that dog-goned derby on his
head.
We takes the team down to the corral, and then both of us went down to
the bunkhouse and cried on each other’s shoulders. We’re almost sick
from internal combustion, when the door opens and in comes the doctor.
He shuts the door soft-like, and peers at us.
“What can we do for you?” asks Chuck.
“I—I just don’t know how to—er—express it,” says he foolish-like.
“I—er—have you noticed anything queer about my brother-in-law?”
“Oh, him,” says Chuck, glancing at me. “He’s always that way. He’s
grieving.”
“Grieving? What about, pray tell?”
“Pray tell?” asks Chuck solemn-like. “Well, if you puts it thataway I
don’t mind. Ordinarily I wouldn’t breathe a word of it, but you bein’
one of the family I don’t mind telling you about it. He’s grieving about
his sons.”
“Oh, I see. What about them, if I may ask?”
Chuck sneaks over to the door and peers outside. Then he comes back and
whispers to the doctor—
“They’re in jail for stealing sheep!”
“Heavens! You don’t mean it!”
“Absolutely.”
“Well, I—I—don’t know what to say or do.”
“Nice boys, too,” says Chuck sad-like. “Poor fellers!”
Just then we hears voices outside, and Chuck slips to the door. He takes
one look and closes the door softly.
“They’ve come back,” he whispers, “both of ’em. They must have broke
jail.”
We stands there sort of silent for a while, and pretty soon the door
opens and Muley Bowles’ fat carcass comes in. He’s dragging a saddle
which he hangs on a peg, and then he sees the doctor.
“Howdy, Lemuel,” says Chuck solemn-like. “How are yuh?”
“Never felt better nor had less,” grins Muley. “Had the best time I ever
had in my life.”
“You—er—really ought to be ashamed of yourself,” states the doctor.
Muley stares at him, then at us.
“Yeah,” grunts Muley. “Ought to be.”
“You should!” snaps the doctor, drawing himself up like he expected a
fight. “Have you no consideration for your poor father? Have you no
sense of right or wrong, young man? Your wild escapades have disturbed
his mental balance, and I fear for his sanity.
“Now you further aggravate the situation by defying the law. I have no
time for such as you,” and he walks to the door.
Muley watches him go and then looks at us with his mouth open and his
eyes staring.
“Well—well, I’m a —— liar if I—uh—”
and then he sets down on a bunk.
“Gents,” says he slow-like, “I went to a circus. I seen the animiles and
the clowns and the freaks. I had a few drinks, and then I thought I came
home, but by the pins on a porkypine, I ain’t sure of the last. Who in ——
was that preacher—if it was?”
“Ha, ha, ha!” whoops Chuck. “He—he made a mistake, Muley. He thought you
was Telescope. We told him that Telescope just came in, and he thought
you was him.”
“But who in —— is he?”
“He was sent up here from Telescope’s home town,” explains Chuck.
“Telescope’s paw is losing his mind, and they think Telescope is to
blame. Seems that Telescope got mixed up in some trouble down there and
broke jail. It has preyed on his paw’s mind until——”
“Telescope did? Why, he told me his paw was dead.”
“Ashamed to tell the truth maybe.”
“Maybe,” nods Muley. “Seems funny though, Chuck. Telescope tells me that
there’s seventeen children in their family, and if that’s a fact, how in ——
can his paw’s mind dwell on any certain one of ’em?”
“Ask the investigator,” advises Chuck. “I’m no encyclopedia, Muley.”
“None of my business,” says Muley. “Any man whose brains can get
affected over the misdeeds of a _hombre_ like Telescope ought to be
given a sheep and plenty of range to roam over. I’m going to sleep—me.”
Muley piles into a bunk and me and Chuck goes outside.
“My——!” grunts Chuck. “Take a look!”
Telescope is standing near the corner of the porch watching Magpie, who
is out in the front yard doing a war-dance and balancing that little
derby hat on his head. There ain’t nothing wild and free about that
dance, but it sure is weird. He takes one or two little teetering steps
and then a shuffle; and all the time he’s singing:
“Hiyah, hiyah, hiyah, hiyah! Hiyah, hiyah, hiyah!”
Me and Chuck sort of walk slow-like up to Telescope, who turns and looks
at us wondering-like, and then back at Magpie. Just then the doctor
comes out on the porch. Telescope glances at him, blinks his eyes and
looks at Magpie.
“Chuck,” whispers Telescope, “what’s the matter with him?”
“You can ask that?” says the doctor. “You can ask that?”
Telescope stares at the doctor and then at Magpie.
“I—I th-think I can,” stutters Telescope.
“You ungrateful son,” says the doctor pious-like. “Look upon your
handiwork.”
“Mine?” croaks Telescope.
“Yes—yours! Your greed for your neighbors’ sheep.”
“Hiyah, hiyah, hiyah, hiyah!” chants Magpie, shuffling past us, with his
neck held stiff to balance that hat.
Telescope blinks his eyes and starts away. He acts like a dazed man. He
looks sad-like at me and Chuck, and says:
“Any man is a —— fool to mix circuses and whisky. I’m through with
both,” and he weaves toward the bunk-house.
Magpie shuffles past us again and then climbs on the fence-post, where
he humps up like a buzzard, flaps his arms a few times and then appears
to go to sleep.
The doctor stares at Magpie for quite a while, and then goes back into
the house. Magpie watches him go, and then hisses at us—
“Betcha forty dollars he decides I’m crazy.”
“Betcha forty dollars he ought to be examined if he don’t,” says Chuck.
“I’m doing my dangdest,” states Magpie. “But after seeing that fat
female and her offspring I’m sure as —— going to keep away from Jay
Bird—he’s loco as a shepherd.”
“Keep up the good work,” says Chuck. “You’re doing fine.”
Magpie nods, and me and Chuck walks down to the corral, where we humps
up on the top pole and sobs on each other’s shoulder. We can hear
Magpie’s voice chanting, “Hiyah, hiyah, hiyah, hiyah!” again, so we
figures he’s got another audience. We sees Telescope saddle his bronc,
swing into the saddle and hit off across the hills toward Piperock.
“Wonder where he’s going?” says Chuck as Telescope fades out of sight.
“_Ps-s-s-s-st!_”
We turns and looks down into the face of Mighty Jones. His whiskers
twitch a heap, and then he climbs up beside us.
“Did—did they come?” he asks.
“Uh-huh,” grunts Chuck. “They did, Mighty, and you’ve sure got a chance
to feel sorry for yourself.”
“Huh? Feel sorry for me?”
“Yeah. This brother-in-law of yours comes out here to invest money.
_Sabe?_ He’s anxious to get a herd of goats—and you own all the visible
supply. If you hadn’t ’a’ lied to him you might ’a’ sold him your herd
for a danged good price. He don’t know goats.”
“Does he know?” gasps Mighty. “Does he?”
“He don’t know much,” admits Chuck.
“Does Amandy have any suspicions, Chuck?”
“No, but I reckon she’s got everything else, Mighty.”
“What did yuh tell ’em? Are they here now?”
“What could I tell ’em? You can’t lie in a case like this. Your sister
said she was sorry you lied, and wished you hadn’t. The doctor says
he’ll never forgive yuh, Mighty. He wants to raise goats for scientific
purposes.”
“Well, won’t he buy my goats, Chuck? I’ve got eighty-seven as fine goats
as ever—uh—as yuh ever need. I won’t lie about them goats, will I?”
“Goats ain’t nothin’ to lie about, Mighty,” says Chuck. “Innocent little
goaties.”
Mighty climbs down off the fence and hitches up his belt.
“I wish to gosh I’d ’a’ jist faced ’em out on it.”
“Uh-huh,” says Chuck sad-like. “I wish you had, Mighty. You’d sure ’a’
saved me a lot of annoyance. Better go up to the house and confess your
sins.”
“No-o-o-o, I ain’t prepared—yet.”
He walks over to his horse and fogs away.
“Chuck,” says I, “will you ever tell the truth?”
“The truth is stranger than fiction, Henry.”
“To you—yes,” says I. “An absolute stranger.”
“I’d like to tell the truth,” says he sad-like, “but nobody’d believe
me. Would you, Henry?”
“Not by a —— sight; I know you too well. If you had different kind of
eyes, maybe a feller could tell.”
“From the complications, Henry—I may have very soon.”
We climbs down and wanders toward the bunk-house when mama shows up. She
waddles down to us and we wait for her. She glares at Chuck, and says—
“You are discharged, young man.”
“I’m awful danged sorry,” says Chuck, wiggling his ears. “What for and
who fires me?”
“I do! I will not have my brother imposed upon any longer. I told him
what you done to me; told him all about you leaving me in the river, and
he, even with his enfeebled mind, grew hysterical over it. I think it is
a lucky thing for him that the doctor and I arrived when we did.
“Do you know where his wife is? We haven’t seen her since we came, and
he only stares at us when we question him.”
“My——!” gasps Chuck. “You don’t reckon he’s done away with her, do yuh?”
“Bet a dollar he has,” says I. “Wasn’t he dancing the Death-Dance a
while ago?”
“Heavens!” gasps mama hoarsely. “I must tell the doctor,” and she
waddles back toward the house as fast as she can waddle.
“Henry,” says Chuck, “shake. You do get an idea once in a while.”
“I’ve got the idea that I’m hungry,” says I. “Let’s go up to the house
and see what’s the chances of a feed.”
* * * * *
Night has settled down upon the Cross J, and we ain’t eaten since
breakfast. There ain’t a danged soul in the kitchen, but we can hear
voices in the other room. Magpie is saying:
“Mary had a little lamb;
Its hide was black and blue.
It wandered on a railroad track,
And the brakie had a stew.”