At two o'clock the next afternoon, the Smith outfit came back, limping
along on three bare rims. Casey's jaw dropped a little when he saw them
coming, but nature had made him an optimist. Now, perhaps, that
hungry-looking Smith would dig into his pocket and find the price of new
tires. It had been Casey's experience that a man who protested the loudest
that he was broke would, if held rigidly to the no-credit rule, find the
money to pay for what he must have. In his heart he believed that Smith
had money dangling somewhere in close proximity to his lank person.
But if Smith had any money he did not betray the fact. He asked quite
humbly for the loan of tools, and tube cement, and more blow-out patches,
and set awkwardly to work mending his tattered tires. And once more Casey
sent Juan to borrow the Oasis tub, and watered the goats and picked his
way amongst the Smith offsprings and pretended to be deaf half of the
time, and said he didn't know the other half. His green glass water
pitcher was practically useless to travelers, and Juan was worse. A goat
got away from Humbolt and Greeley and went exploring in the corner of the
garage where Casey lived, and ate three pounds of bacon. You know what
bacon costs. Maw Smith became acquainted with Casey and followed him about
with a detailed recital of her family history, which she thought would
make a real exciting book. What Casey thought I must not tell you.
That night Casey patched tires and tubes. He had to, you see, or go crazy.
Next morning he listened to the departure of the Smith family and the
Smith goats, and prayed that their tires would hold out even as far as
Bagdad,--though I don't see why, since there was no garage in Bagdad, or
anything else but a flag station.
That afternoon at three o'clock, they came back again! And Casey neglected
to send Juan after the tub to water the goats. Wherefore paw sent Humbolt,
and watered the goats himself from Casey's barrel and seemed peevish
because he must. Maw Smith came after coffee again, and helped herself
with no more formality than a shrill, "I'm borrying some more coffee!"
sent to Casey out in front.
That night Casey patched tires and tubes.
At six o'clock Smith pounded on the back door and called in to Casey that
he would have to have some gas before he started. So Casey pulled on his
pants and gave Smith some gas, and paid the garage out of his own pocket.
He didn't swear, either. He was past that.
That afternoon Casey watched apprehensively the road that led west. It was
two-thirty when he saw them coming. Casey set his jaw and went in and hid
every blow-out patch he had in stock, and all the cement.
Smith went into camp, sent Greeley after the Oasis tub and watered the
goats from one of Casey's water barrels. Casey went on with his work,
waiting upon customers who paid, and tried not to think of the Smiths,
although most of them were underfoot or at his elbow.
"Them tires you mended ain't worth a cuss," Smith came around finally to
complain. "I didn't get ten mile out with 'em before I had another
blowout. I tell yuh what I'll do. I'll trade yuh goats fer tires. I got
two milk goats that's worth a hundred dollars apiece, mebby more, the way
goats is selling on the Coast. I hate to part with 'em, but I gotta do
somethin'. Er else you'll have to trust me till I c'n get to my brother
an' git the money. It ain't," he added grievedly, "as if I wasn't honest
enough to pay my debts."
"Nope," said Casey wearily, "I don't want yer goats. I've had more goats
a'ready than I want. And tires has gotta roll outa this shop paid for. We
talked that all over, the first night."
"What am I goin' to do, then?" Smith inquired in exasperation.
"Hell; I dunno," Casey returned grimly. "I quit guessin' day before
yesterday."
Smith went off to confer with maw, and Casey overheard some very harsh
statements made concerning himself. Maw Smith was so offended that she
refused to borrow coffee from Casey that night, and she called her
children out of his garage and told them she would warm their ears for
them if they went near him again. Hearing which Casey's features relaxed a
little. He could even meet customers with his accustomed grin when Smith
in his anger sent the goats over to the water tank next day, refusing to
show any friendship for Casey by emptying a water barrel for him. But he
had to fire Juan for pouring gasoline into the radiator of a big sedan,
and later he had to stalk that lovesick youth into the very camp of the
Smiths and lead him back by the collar, and search him for stolen tools.
He recovered twice as many as you would believe a Mexican's few garments
could conceal.
Casey was harassed for two days by the loud proximity of the Smiths, but
not one of them deigned to speak to him or to show any liking for him
whatever, beyond helping themselves superciliously to the contents of his
water barrel. On the morning of the third day the lean man presented his
thin shadow and then himself at the front door of the garage, with a
letter in his hand and a hopeful look on his face.
"Well, mebby I c'n talk business to yuh now an' have somethin' to go on,"
he began abruptly. "I went an' sent off a telegraft to my brother in San
Jose about you, and he's wrote a letter to yuh. My brother's a business
man. You c'n see that much fer yourself. An' mebby you'll see your way
clear t' help me leave this dod-rotten hole. Here's yer letter."
Casey held himself neutral while he read the letter.
As it happens that I have a copy, here it is:
(Printed Letterhead)
VISTA GRANDE RANCHO
Smith Bros.
San Jose, Calif.
_Garage Owner, Patmos, Calif._
Dear Sir: I am informed that my brother Eldreth William Smith, having
suffered the mishap to lose his tires at your place or thereabouts, and
having the misfortune to fall short of immediate funds with which to pay
cash for replacement, has been denied credit at your hands.
I regret that because of business requirements in my own business it is
impossible for me to place the amount necessary at his immediate disposal.
It is therefore my advise that you lend to my brother Eldreth William
Smith such money or moneys as will be necessary to purchase railroad
tickets for himself and family from Patmos to this place, and
Furthermore that you take as security for said loan such motor truck and
equipment etc. as he has now stored at your place of business. I am aware
of the fact that a motor truck in any running condition would amply secure
such loans as would purchase tickets from Patmos to San Jose, and I hereby
enclose note for same, duly made out in blank and signed by me, which
signature will be backed by the signature of my brother. Upon receiving
from you such money as he may require he will duly deliver note and
security duly signed and filled with the amount. I trust this will be
perfectly satisfactory to you as amply securing you for the loan of the
desired amount.
Thanking you in advance,
Yours very Truly,
J. Paul Smith.
In spite of himself, Casey was impressed. The very Spanish name of the
prune orchard impressed him, and so did the formal business terms used by
J. Paul Smith; and that "thanking you in advance" seemed to place him
under a moral obligation too great to shirk. There was the note, too,--
heavy green paper with a stag's head printed on it, and looking almost
like a check.
"Well, all right, if it don't cost too much and the time don't run too
long," surrendered Casey reluctantly. "How much--"
"Fare's a little over twenty-five dollars, an' they'll be four full fares
an' three half. I guess mebby I better have a hundred an' seventy-five
anyway, so'st we kin eat on the way."
Casey chanced to have almost that much coming to him out of the business,
so that he would not be lending Bill's money. He watched the lean Smith
fill in the amount and sign the note, identifying the truck by its engine
and license numbers, and he went and borrowed fifteen dollars from the
proprietor of the Oasis and made up the amount. There was a train at noon,
and from his garage door he watched the Smith family start off across the
lava rocks to the depot, each one laden with bundles and disreputable
grips, the spotted dog trotting optimistically ahead of the party with his
pink tongue draped over the right side of his mouth. Smith turned, the
baby in his arms, and called back casually to Casey:
"Yuh better tie up them two milk goats when yuh milk 'em. They won't stand
if yuh don't."
Casey's jaw sagged. He had not thought of the goats. Indeed, the last two
days they had not troubled him except by their bleating at dawn. Humbolt
and Greeley had grazed them over by the railroad track so that they could
watch the trains go by. Casey looked and saw that the goats were still
over there where they had been driven early. He took off his hat and
rubbed his palm reflectively over the back of his head, set the hat on his
head with a pronounced tilt over one eyebrow, and reached for his plug of
tobacco.
"Oh, darn the goats! Me milkin' goats! Well, now, Casey Ryan never milked
no goats, an' he ain't goin' to milk no goats! You can ask anybody if they
think't he will."
Casey was very busy that day, and he had no dull-eyed Juan to do certain
menial tasks about the cars that stopped before his garage. Nevertheless
he kept an eye on the station of Patmos until the westbound train had come
and had departed, and on the rough road between the railroad and the
garage for another half hour, until he was sure that the Smith family were
not coming back. Then he went more cheerfully about his work, now and then
glancing, perhaps, at the truck which had been driven into the rear of the
garage where it was very much in his way, but was safe from pilfering
fingers. It was not such a bad truck, give it new tires. Casey had already
figured the price at which he could probably sell it, on an easy payment
plan, to the man who hauled water for Patmos. It was more than the amount
of his loan, naturally. By noon he was rather hoping the "Smith Bros."
would fail to take up that note.
Casey, you see, was not counting the goats at all. He had a vague idea
that, while they were nominally a part of the security, they were actually
of no importance whatever. They would run loose until Smith came after
them, he guessed. He did not intend to milk any nanny goats, so that
settled the goat question for Casey.
Casey simply did not know anything about goats. He ought to have used a
little logic and not so much happy-go-lucky "t'ell with the goats." That
is all very well, so far as it goes, and we all know that everybody says
it and thinks it. But it does, not settle the problem. It never occurred
to Casey, for instance, that the going of Humbolt and Greeley and the
little spotted dog would make any difference. It really did make a great
deal, you see. And it never occurred to Casey that goats are domesticated
animals after they have been hauled around the country for weeks and weeks
in a trailer to a truck, or that they will come back to the only home they
know.
I don't know how long it takes goats to fill up. I never kept a goat or
goats. And I don't know how long they will stand around and blat before
they start something. I don't know much more about goats than Casey, or
didn't, at least, until he told me. By that time Casey knew a lot more, I
suspect, than he could put into words.
Casey says that he heard them blatting around outside, but he was busy
trying to straighten a radius rod--Casey _said_ he was taking the kinks
outa that hootin'-annie that goes behind the front ex and turns the
dingbats when you steer--for a man who walked back and forth and slapped
his hands together nervously and kept asking how long it was going to
take, and how far it was to Barstow, and whether the road from there up
across the Mojave was in good condition, and whether the Death Valley road
out from Ludlow went clear through the valley and was a cut-off north, or
whether it just went into the valley and stopped. Casey says that the only
time he ever was in Death Valley it was with a couple of burros and that
he like to have stayed there. He got to telling the man about his trip
into Death Valley and how he just did get out by a scratch.
So he didn't pay any attention to the goats until he went back after some
cold water for the white little woman in the car, that looked all tuckered
out and scared. It was then he found the whole corner chewed off one water
bag and the other water bag on the ground and a lot more than the corner
gone. And the billy was up on his hind feet with his horns caught in the
fullest barrel, and was snorting and snuffling in a drowning condition and
tilting the barrel perilously. The other goats were acting just like plain
damn goats, said Casey, and merely looking for trouble without having
found any.
Casey says he had to call the Oasis man to help him get Billy out of the
barrel, and that even then he had to borrow a saw and saw off one horn--
either that, or cave in the barrel with Maud--and he needed that barrel
worse than the billy goat needed two horns; but he told me that if he'd
had Maud in his two hands just then he sure would have caved in the goat.
At that, the nervous man got away without paying Casey, which I think
rankled worse than a spoiled barrel of water.
Casey told me that he aged ten years in the next two weeks, and lost
eighty-nine dollars and a half in damages and wages, not counting the two
water bags he had to replace out of his stock, at nearly four dollars
wholesale price. When he chased the goats out of his back door they went
around and came in at the front, determined, he supposed, to bed down near
the truck.
It was late before that occurred to him, and when it did he cranked up and
drove the truck a hundred yards down the road that led to the spring. The
goats did not follow as he expected, but stood around the trailer and
blatted. Casey went back and hooked on the trailer and drove again down
the road. The goats would not follow, and he went back to find that Billy
had managed to push open the back door and had led his flock into Casey's
kitchen. There was no kitchen left but the little camp stove, and that was
bent so that it stood skew-gee, Casey said, and developed a habit of
toppling over just when his coffee came to a boil.
Casey told me that he had to barricade himself in his garage that night,
and he swore that Billy stood on his hind feet and stared at him all night
through the window in spite of wrenches and pliers hailing out upon him.
However that may be, Billy couldn't have stood there all night, unless
Casey got his dates mixed. For at six o'clock the Oasis man came over,
stepping high and swinging his fists, and told Casey that them damn goats
had et all the bedding out of one tent and the soap, towel and one pillow
out of another, and what was Casey going to do about it?
Casey did not know,--and he was famous for his resourcefulness too. I
think he paid for the bedding before the thing was settled.
Casey says that after that it was just one thing after another. He told me
that he never would have believed twelve goats could cover so much
cussedness in a day. He said he couldn't fill a radiator but some goat
would be chewing the baggage tied behind the car, or Billy would be
rooting suitcases off the running board. One party fell in love with a
baby goat and Casey in a moment of desperation told them they could have
it. But he was sorry afterward, because the mother stood and blatted at
him reproachfully for four days and nights without stopping.
Casey swears that he picked up and threw two tons of rocks every day, and
he has no idea how many tons the six families of Patmos heaved at and
after the goats. When they weren't going headfirst into barrels of water
they were chewing something not meant to be chewed. Casey asserts that it
is all a bluff about goats eating tin cans. They don't. He says they never
touched a can all the while he had them. He says devastated Patmos wished
they would, and leave the two-dollar lace curtains alone, and clotheslines
and water barrels and baggage. He says many a party drove off with chewed
bedding rolls and didn't know it, and that he didn't tell them, either.
You're thinking about Juan, I know. Well, Casey thought of Juan the first
day, and took the trouble to hunt him up and hire him to herd the goats.
But Juan developed a bad case of sleeping sickness, Casey says, which
unfortunately was not contagious to goats. He swears that he never saw one
of those goats lying down, though he had seen pictures of goats lying down
and had a vague idea that they chewed their cuds. Casey tried to be funny,
then. He looked at me and grinned, and observed, "Hunh! Goats don't chew
cuds. That's all wrong. They chew _duds._ You ask anybody in Patmos." So
Juan slept under sagebushes and grease-wood, and the goats did not.
Casey declares that he stood it for two weeks, and that it took all he
could make in the garage to pay the six families of Patmos for the damage
wrought by his security. He lost fifteen pounds of flesh and every friend
he had made in the place except the man who hauled water, and he liked it
because he was getting rich. Once Casey had a bright idea, and with much
labor and language he loaded the goats into the trailer and had the
water-hauler take them out to the hills. But that didn't work at all. Part
of the flock came back afoot, from sheer homesickness, and the rest were
hauled back because they were ruining the spring which was Patmos' sole
water supply.
Casey would have shot the goats, but he couldn't bring himself to do
anything that would offend J. Paul Smith of the _Vista Grande Rancho._
Whenever he read the letter J. Paul Smith had written him he was ashamed
to do anything that would lower him in the estimation of J. Paul Smith,
who trusted him and took it for granted that he would do the right thing
and do it with enthusiasm.
"If he hadn't wrote so dog-gone polite!" Casey complained to me. "And if
he hadn't went an' took it for granted I'd come through. But a man can't
turn down a feller that wrote the way he done. Look at that letter! A
college perfessor couldn't uh throwed together no better letter than that.
And that there 'Thanking you in advance'--a feller _can't_ throw a man
down when he writes that way. You ask anybody." Casey's tone was one of
reminiscent injury, as if J. Paul Smith had indeed taken a mean advantage
of him.
One day Casey reached the limit of his endurance,--or perhaps of the
endurance of Patmos. There were not enough male residents to form a mob
strong enough to lynch Casey, but there was one woman who had lost a sofa
pillow and two lace curtains; Casey did not say much about her, but I
gathered that he would as soon be lynched as remonstrated with again by
that woman. "Sufferin' Sunday! I'd shore hate to be her husband. You ask
anybody!" sighed Casey when he was telling me.
Casey moralized a little. "Folks used to look at the goats that I'd maybe
just hazed off into the brush fifty yards or so with a thousand pounds
mebby of rocks, an' some woman in goggles would say, 'Oh, an' you keep
goats! How nice!' like as if it were something peaceful an' homelike to
keep goats! Hunh! Lemme tell yuh; never drive past a place that _looks_
peaceful, and jump at the idea it _is_ peaceful. They may be a woman
behind them vines poisinin' 'er husband's father. How could them darn
tourists tell'what was goin' on in Patmos? They seen the goats pertendin'
to graze, an' keepin' an eye peeled till my back was turned, an' they
thought it was _nice_ to keep goats. Hunh!"
At last Casey could bear no more. He gathered together enough hardwood,
three-inch crate slats to make twelve crates, and he worked for three
nights, making them. And Casey is no carpenter. After that he worked for
three days, with all the men in Patmos to help him, getting the goats into
the crates and loaded on the truck. Then he drove over to the station and
asked for tags, and addressed the crates to J. Paul Smith, _Vista Grande
Rancho,_ San Jose, Calif. Then he discovered that he could not send them
except by express, and that he could not send them by express unless he
prepaid the charges. And the charges on goats sent by express, was, as
Casey put it, a holy fright.
But he had to do it. Patmos had been led to believe that he would send
those goats off on the train, and Casey did not know what would happen if
he failed. There were the heads of the six families, and all the children
who were of walking age, grouped around the crates and Casey expectantly.
Casey went back to the garage safe and got what money he had, borrowed the
balance from the male citizens of Patmos and prepaid the express. Patmos
helped to load them into the first express car going west, and Casey felt,
he said, as if some one had handed him a million dollars in dimes.
Casey seemed to think that ended the story, but I am like the rest of you.
I wanted to know what the Smith family did, and J. Paul Smith, and whether
Casey kept the truck and sold it to the man who hauled water.
"Who? Me? Say! D'you ever know Casey Ryan to ever come out anywheres but
at the little end uh the horn? Ain't I the bag holder pro tem?" I don't
know what he meant by that. I think he was mistaken in the meaning of "pro
tem."
"You ask anybody. Say, I got a letter sayin' in a gen'ral way that I'm a
thief an' a cutthroat an' a profiteer an' so on, an' that I would have to
pay fer the goat that was missin'--that there was the one I give away--an'
that the damages to the billy goat was worth twenty-five dollars and same
would be deducted from the amount of the loan. _Darn_ these fancy word
slingers!" said Casey. "An' the day before the note come due, here comes
that shoestring in pants with the money to pay the note minus the damages,
and four new tires fer the truck! Yessir, wouldn't buy tires off me, even!
Could yuh beat that fer gall? And he wouldn't hardly speak."
Casey grinned and got his plug of tobacco and inspected the corners
absently before he bit into it. "But I got even with 'im," he added. "I
laid off till he got his tires on--an' I wouldn't lend him no tools to put
'em on with, neither. And then I looked up an' down the road an' seen
there was no dust comin' an' we wouldn't be interrupted, an' I went up to
the old skunk an' I says, 'I got a bill to colleck off you. _Thankin' you
in advance!'_ an' then I shore collected. You ask anybody in Patmos. Say,
I bet he drove by-guess-an'-by-gosh to the orange belt, anyway, the way
his eyes was swellin' up when he left!"
I mentioned his promise to Bill, that he would not fight a customer. Casey
spat disgustedly. "Hell! He wasn't no customer! Didn't he ship his rubber
in by express, ruther'n to buy off me?" He grinned retrospectively and
looked at his knuckles, one of which showed a patch of new skin, pink and
yet tender.
"'Thankin' you in advance!' that's just what I told 'im. An' I shore got
all I thanked 'im for! You ask anybody in Patmos. They seen 'im
afterwards."