Where Whiskey Billy Died.
"Lies in the lump that a-way," said the Old Cattleman, apropos of
some slight discussion in which we were engaged, "is bad--an' make
no doubt about it!--that is, lies which is told malev'lent.
"But thar's a sort of ranikaboo liar on earth, an' I don't mind him
nor his fabrications, none whatever. He's one of these yere amiable
gents who's merely aimin' to entertain you an' elevate your moods;
an' carryin' out sech plans, he sort o' spreads himse'f, an' gets
excursive in conversation, castin' loose from facts as vain things
onworthy of him. Thar used to be jest sech a mendacious party who
camps 'round Wolfville for a while--if I don't misrecollect, he gets
plugged standin' up a through stage, final--who is wont to lie that
a-way; we calls him 'Lyin' Amos.' But they're only meant to
entertain you; them stories be. Amos is never really out to put you
on a wrong trail to your ondoin'.
"We-all likes Amos excellent; but, of course, when he takes to the
hills as a hold-up, somebody has to down him; an' my mem'ry on that
p'int is, they shorely do. What for lies would this yere Amos tell?
Well, for instance, Amos once regales me with a vivid picture of how
he backs into a corner an' pulls his lonely gun on twenty gents, all
'bad.' This yere is over in Deming. An' he goes on dilatin' to the
effect that he stops six of 'em for good with the six loads in his
weepon, an' then makes it a stand-off on the remainin' fourteen with
the empty gun.
"'It is the slumberin' terrors of my eye, I reckons,' says this
Lyin' Amos.
"Which it's reason, an' likewise fact, that sech tales is merest
figments on their faces; to say nothin' of the hist'ry of that camp
of Deming, which don't speak of no sech blood.
"But, as I says, what of it? Pore Lyin' Amos!--he's cashed in an'
settled long ago, like I mentions, goin' for the Wells-Fargo boxes
onct too frequent! Which the pitcher goes too often to the well,
that a-way, an' Amos finds it out! Still, Amos is only out to
entertain me when he onfurls how lucky an' how ferocious he is that
time at Deming. Amos is simply whilin' the hours away when he
concocts them romances; an' so far from bein' distrustful of him on
account tharof, or holdin' of him low because he lets his fancy
stampede an' get away with him, once we saveys his little game in
all its harmlessness, it makes Amos pop'lar. We encourages Amos in
them expansions.
"Speakin' of lyin', an' bein' we're on the subject, it ain't too
much to state that thar's plenty o'casions when lyin' is not only
proper but good. It's the thing to do.
"Comin' to cases, the world's been forever basin' its game on the
lies that's told; an' I reckons now if every gent was to turn in an'
tell nothin' but the trooth for the next few hours, thar would be a
heap of folks some hard to find at the close of them mootual
confidences. Which places now flourishin' like a green bay-tree
would be deserted wastes an' solitoodes. Yes, as I says, now I gets
plumb cog'tative about it, sech attempts to put down fiction might
result in onpreecedented disaster. Thar be times when trooth should
shorely have a copper on it; but we lets that pass as spec'lative.
"As my mind is led back along the trail, thar looms before the
mirror of mem'ry a hour when the whole Wolfville outfit quits every
other game to turn itse'f loose an' lie. Which for once we takes the
limit off. Not only do we talk lies, we acts 'em; an' Enright an'
Doc Peets an' Texas Thompson, as well as Moore an' Tutt an' Boggs,
to say nothin' of myse'f an' Cherokee Hall, an' the rest of the
round-up, gets in on the play. Which every gent stands pat on them
inventions to this yere day, disdainin' excooses an' declinin'
forgiveness tharfor. Moreover, we plays the same system ag'in,
layout an' deal box bein' sim'lar. The fact is, if ever a outfit's
hand gets crowded, it's ours.
"The demands for these yere falsehoods has its first seeds one
evenin' when a drunken party comes staggerin' into camp from Red
Dog. It's strange; but it looks like Wolfville has a fasc'nation for
them Red Dog sots; which they're allers comin' over. This victim of
alcohol is not a stranger to us, not by no means; though mostly he
holds his revels in his Red Dog home. His name I disremembers, but
he goes when he's in Wolfville by the name of 'Whiskey Billy.' If he
has a last name, which it's likely some he has, either we never
hears it or it don't abide with us. Mebby he never declar's himse'f.
Anyhow, when he gets his nose-paint an' wearies folks in Wolfville,
sech proceedin's is had onder the nom de ploome of 'Whiskey Billy,'
with nothin' added by way of further brands or y'ear-marks tharonto.
"This partic'lar date when he onloads on us his companionship,
Whiskey Billy is shore the drunkest an' most ediotic I ever sees.
Troo, he saveys enough to pull his freight from Red Dog; but I
allers allows that's merely the work of a loocid interval.
"Whiskey Billy ain't brightened Wolfville with his society more'n an
hour--he only gets one drink with us--when he lapses into them
treemors. An', you hear me, son, he shorely has 'em bad; Huggins'
attacks that a-way is pooerile to 'em.
"It looks like that Red Dog whiskey is speshul malignant. I've
beheld gents who has visions before ever Whiskey Billy emits that
preelim'nary yelp in the Red Light, an' allows that Black Jack is
pawin' 'round to skelp him; but I'm yere to remark, an' ready to
enforce my statements with money, argyments or guns, I never
witnesses no case which is a four-spot to Whiskey Billy's.
"Why, it gets so before he quits out--which he does after frothin'
at the mouth for days, an' Boggs, an' Tutt, an' Jack Moore, with Doc
Peets soopervisin', ridin' herd onto him an' holdin' him down in his
blankets all the time--that if Whiskey Billy goes to take a drink of
water, he thinks the beverage turns to blood. If he sees anythin' to
eat, it changes into a Gila monster, or some sech creepin' an'
disrepootable reptile; an' Billy jest simply r'ars back an' yells.
"As I intimates, he yields to them errors touchin' his grub an'
drink for days; followin' which, Billy nacherally gives way to
death, to the relief of all concerned.
"'You can gamble I'm never so pleased to see a gent die in my life!'
says Dan Boggs.
"It's most likely the second day after Billy's been seein' things,
an' we've corraled him in a wickeyup out back of the dance hall,
when Doc Peets is in the Red Light thoughtfully absorbin' his
whiskey.
"'This yere riotous patient of mine,' says Peets, as he leans on the
bar an' talks general an' free to all, 'this noisy party whom you
now hears callin' Dan Boggs a rattlesnake, bein' misled to that
extent by Red Dog licker, has a ca'm moment about first drink time
this mornin', an' beseeches me to send for his mother. As a sick
gent has a right to dictate terms that a-way, I dispatches a
telegram to the lady he names, sendin' of the same by Old Monte to
be slammed through from Tucson. I reckons she gets it by now. Old
Monte an' the stage has been in Tucson for more'n an hour, an' as
'lectricity is plenty sudden as a means, I takes it Whiskey Billy's
mother is informed that he's askin' for her presence.'
"'Which if he's callin' an' honin' for his mother,' says Texas
Thompson, who's at the bar with Peets, 'it's cattle to sheep he's a
goner. You can allers tell when a sport is down to his last chip; he
never omits to want to see his mother.'
"'That's whatever!' says Enright. 'Like Texas, I holds sech desires
on the part of this yere Red Dog martyr as markin' the beginnin' of
the end.'
"'Bein' he's plumb locoed,' remarks Pests, after Texas an' Enright
expresses themse'fs, 'I takes the liberty to rustle them clothes of
Billy's for signs. I developed letters from this near relatif he's
clamorin' for; also a picture as shows she's as fine a old lady as
ever makes a flapjack. From the way she writes, it's all plain an'
easy he's been sendin' her some rainbows about how he's loomin' up,
like Slim Jim does his sister that a-way. He's jest now
industriously trackin' 'round, lookin' to locate himse'f as a
lawyer. I don't reckon this yere mother has the slightest idee he's
nothin' more'n a ragged, busted victim of Red Dog. Lookin' at it
that a-way,' concloodes Pests, 'I'm wonderin' whether I don't make a
crazy-boss play sendin' this lady them summons.'
"'When she gets here, if she comes,' says Enright, an' his voice
shows a heap of sympathetic interest; 'when she finds out about
Whiskey Billy, it's goin' to break her heart. That she ain't game to
make the trip is shorely to be hoped.'
"'You can gamble a pony she comes,' says Texas. 'If it's a wife,
now, like mine--which goes ropin' 'round for a divorce over in
Laredo recent; an', as you-all is aware, she shorely ties it down--
thar might be a chance out ag'in her advent. But bein' she's his
mother, Wolfville may as well brace itse'f for the shock.'
"'I don't reckon thar's no doubt of it, neither,' replies Enright,
drawin' a sigh; 'which bein' the case, we've got to organize. This
camp must turn in when she gets here an' deloode that pore old
mother into the belief that her son Billy's been the prop an' stay
of Arizona, an' that his ontimely cuttin' off quenches the most
shinin' light that a-way of the age wherein we lives.'
"'Mighty likely,' says Peets, 'we gets a message from her to-morry,
when Old Monte trails in. That'll tell us what to expect. I'm like
you-all, however; I don't allow thar's a morsel of doubt about that
mother comin'.'
"'Which I shorely hopes she does,' says Texas 'an' I yereby drinks
to it, an' urges every gent likewise. If thar's a thing on earth
that melts me, it's one o' them gray-ha'red old ladies. Young
females that a-way is all right, an' it's plenty nacheral for a gent
to be cur'ous an' pleased tharwith; but I never does track up with
an old lady, white-ha'red an' motherly mind you, but I takes off my
sombrero an' says: "You'll excuse me, marm, but I wants to trespass
on your time long enough to ask your pardon for livin'." That's
right; that's the way I feels; plumb religious at the mere sight of
'em. If I was to meet as many as two of 'em at onct, I'd j'ine the
church. The same bein' troo, I'm sayin' that this yere Whiskey
Billy's mother can't strike camp too soon nor stop too long for
Texas Thompson.'
"'Every gent I reckons feels all sim'lar,' says Cherokee Hall. 'A
old lady is the one splendid thing the Lord ever makes. I knows a
gent over back of Prescott, an' the sight of a good old woman would
stop his nose-paint for a week. Wouldn't drink a drop nor play a
kyard, this party wouldn't, for a week after he cuts the trail of
somebody's old mother. He allows it revives mem'ries of his own, an'
that he ain't out to mix no sech visions with faro-bank an' whiskey
bottles.'
"'An' I applauds this yere Prescott person's views,' says Texas
Thompson, 'an' would be proud to know the gent.'
"'How long, Peets,' says Enright, who's been thinkin' hard an'
serious, 'how long--an' start at onct--before ever this yere Whiskey
Billy's parent is goin' to strike the camp?'
"'It'll be five days shore,' answers Peets. 'She's 'way back yonder
the other side of the Missouri.'
"When Old Monte comes rumblin' along in next day, thar's the message
from Whiskey Billy's mother. She's shore a-comin'. This yere Billy
is so plumb in the air, mental, he never does know it, an' he dies
ten hours before the old lady drives in. But Wolfville's ready.
That's the time when the whole band simply suspends everythin' to
lie.
"Whiskey Billy is arrayed in Doc Peets' best raiment, so, as Peets
says, he looks professional like a law sharp should. An' bein' as we
devotes to Billy all the water the windmill can draw in a hour, he
is a pattern of personal neatness that a-way.
"Enright--an' thar never is the gent who gets ahead of that old
silver tip--takin' the word from Peets in advance, sends over to
Tucson for a coffin as fine as the dance-hall piano, an' it comes
along in the stage ahead of Billy's mother. When she does get thar,
Billy's all laid out handsome an' tranquil in the dinin'-room of the
O. K. Restauraw, an' the rest of us is eatin' supper in the street.
It looks selfish to go crowdin' a he'pless remainder that a-way, an'
him gettin' ready to quit the earth for good; so the dinin'-room
bein' small, an' the coffin needin' the space, the rest of us
vamoses into the causeway, an' Missis Rucker is dealin' us our chuck
when the stage arrives.
"Thar's a adjournment prompt, however, an' we-all goes over to cheer
up Whiskey Billy's mother when she gets out. Enright leads off, an'
the rest trails in an' follows his play, shakin' the old lady's hand
an' givin' her the word what a success her boy is while he lives,
an' what a blow it is when he peters. It comes plumb easy, that
mendacity does, for, as Texas Thompson surmises, she is shorely the
beautifulest old lady I ever sees put a handkerchief to her eyes.
"'Don't weep, marm,' says Enright. 'This yere camp of Wolfville,
knowin' Willyum an' his virchoos well, by feelin' its own onmeasured
loss, puts no bound'ries on its sympathy for you.'
"'Death loves a shinin' mark, marm,' says Doc Peets, as he presses
the old lady's hand an' takes off his hat, 'an' the same bein' troo,
it's no marvel the destroyer experiments 'round ontil he gets your
son Willyum's range. We're like brothers, Willyum an' me, an' from a
close, admirin' friendship which extends over the year an' a half
since he leaves you in the States, I'm shore qualified to state how
Willyum is the brightest, bravest gent in Arizona.'
"An' do you know, son, this yere, which seems a mockery while I
repeats it now, is like the real thing at the time! I'm a coyote! if
it don't affect Texas Thompson so he sheds tears; an' Dan Boggs an'
Tutt an' Moore an' Cherokee Hall is lookin' far from bright about
the eyes themse'fs.
"We-all goes over to the O. K. House, followin' the comin' of the
stage, an' leads the old gray mother in to the side of her son, an'
leaves her thar. Enright tells her, as we turns cat-foot to trail
out so she won't be pestered by the presence of us, as how Peets'll
come back in a hour to see her, an' that as all of us'll be jest
across the street, it'll be plenty easy to fetch us if she feels
like company. As we starts for the Red Light to get somethin' to
cheer us up, I sees her where she 's settin' with her arm an' face
on the coffin.
"It's great work, though, them lies we tells; an' I notes how the
mother's pride over what a good an' risin' sport her son has been,
half-way breaks even with her grief.
"Thar is only one thing which happens to disturb an' mar the hour,
an' not a whisper of this ever drifts to Whiskey Billy's mother.
She's busy with her sorrow where we leaves her, an' she never hears
a sound but her own sobs. It's while we're waitin', all quiet an'
pensif, camped about the Red Light. Another outlaw from Red Dog
comes cavortin' in. Of course, he is ignorant of our bein' bereaved
that a-way, but he'd no need to be.
"'Whatever's the matter with you-all wolves yere?' he demands, as he
comes bulgin' along into the Red Light. 'Where's all your howls?'
"Texas arises from where he's settin' with his face in his hands,
an' wipin' the emotion outen his eyes, softly an' reverentially
beats his gun over this yere party's head; whereupon he c'llapses
into the corner till called for. Then we-all sets down silent an'
sympathetic ag'in.
"It's the next day when Whiskey Billy takes his last ride over to
Tucson on a buckboard. A dozen of us goes along, makin' good them
bluffs about Billy's worth; Enright an' Peets is in the stage with
the old mother, an' the rest of us on our ponies as a bodygyard of
honor.
"'An' it is well, marm,' says Enright, as we-all shakes hands, as
Billy an' his mother is about to leave Tucson, an' we stands b'ar-
headed to say adios; 'an' death quits loser half its gloom when one
reflects that while Willyum dies, he leaves the world an' all of us
better for them examples he exerts among us. Willyum may die, but
his mem'ry will live long to lead an' guide us.'
"I could see the old mother's eyes shine with pride through her
tears when Enright says this; an' as she comes 'round an' shakes an'
thanks us all speshul, I'm shorely proud of Wolfville's chief. So is
everybody, I reckons; for when we're about a mile out on the trail
back, an' all ridin' silent an' quiet, Texas ups an' shakes Enright
by the hand a heap sudden, an' says:
"'Sam Enright, I ain't reported as none emotional, but I'm yours to
command from now till death, an' yere's the hand an' word of Texas
Thompson on it.'"