“Never ’ad so much fun in all me bloomin’ life,” says Hicks,
tearful-like, after about the seventh. “I never ’ad any fun in me
blawsted life before. I got the limersine outside if you wants to go
some place.”
“Where can we see the most, Hicks?” asks Taos.
“Whitehalls, sir. Like to go? I ain’t never ’ad no fun in me----”
“Maybe I better find my wife,” says I. “You fellers don’t know Aurora
like I do.”
“Gol dang, I plumb forgot her,” says Taos. “Where is she, Yallerstone?
Leave her in Chicago?”
“Aurora ain’t the kind you can leave places, Taos,” says I. “When I
married Aurora Metcalf I got a cross between a range-boss and a first
mate, if you asks me.”
* * * * *
Hicks is leaning against the bar, with tears of sympathy for himself
running down his face. Now he stops sobbing and says--
“Wha’ did you shay your wife’s name wash?”
“Aurora Metcalf.”
“The one you lately married?” he asks.
“I never married but one lately, and she’s it, Hicks.”
“Blyme!” says Hicks, staggering toward the door. “Blyme, I’ve
woozled the whole bloomin’ mess! Picked the wrong pershon. Now I’ll
get ---- from the missus.” And Hicks weaved out of the door.
“Wardner!” exclaims Taos. “Wonder who he is?”
Just then I remembers, and I starts to laugh.
“I’m him,” says I. “My wife married me under an alias, Taos. She don’t
like the name of Brown so she changed it to Jack Wardner.”
“Jack Wardner? Does she know anything about Jack Wardner?”
“Read about him in a paper, Taos. Didn’t she pick some name?”
“Beyond the shadder of a doubt. Jack Wardner lifted half the cows in
Mescal County, and had the sheriffs in that country setting on cactus
for a year or two. I’d ’a’ sure picked some other name.”
“Me too,” says I. “But when Aurora starts picking--well, I got it.”
“Do you know where you live?” he asks.
“I do not. I’ve got to find her or get thunder.”
We had a few more drinks, and then we starts down the street. Taos
suggests that we ask a policeman, which we do.
“No,” says he. “Never heard of the name around here.”
The next one has the same answer.
“Reckon we’ll have to make a house to house canvass, Yallerstone,” says
Taos, and just then a feller comes up to us and says--
“Are either of you gents Jack Wardner, the Montana cowman?”
“One of us must be,” admits Taos. “We’re looking for the wickiup of one
named Aurora Metcalf. Ever heard of her?”
“Aurora?” he asks.
“Same as Northern Lights,” says I. “Last name is Metcalf.”
“Never heard of her,” says he. “Live around here?”
“This is Hillsdale, ain’t it?” I asks, and he nods.
“You ain’t a officer of the law, are you?” asks Taos, and the feller
laughs.
“No, I am a society reporter. We have the story of the wedding in the
paper this afternoon, but I want to get an interview with Mr. Wardner
on the vast herds he controls and all that.”
“Vast herds!” snorts Taos. “Did you ever have vast herds, Yal--Jack?”
“One unit,” says I. “Bought and paid for, and killed to make a Dawson
County barbecue.”
“Your wife said that you were the greatest hustler that the State of
Montana ever knew, and that you were strong enough to lift any cow in
the State.”
Me and Taos looks foolish-like at each other, and then Taos takes me by
the arm.
“Somebody’s crazy, Yallerstone,” says he. “Let’s me and you get away
from here.”
We left him gawping at us and went around a corner, where we sat down on
the sidewalk and rolled a smoke.
“Strangers in a stranger land,” sighs Taos.
“Did you write to Box 1234?” I asks, and he nods.
“Yep, but I ain’t heard from it yet.”
“Keep away from the post-office,” says I. “Shun anything that might lead
your feetsteps toward the altar, Taos. Look at the mess I’m in.”
Just then a shiny automobile rolls up to where we’re setting and we
looks up at the driver. It’s Hicks.
“I’m still ’untin’,” says he, sad-like. “I don’t believe Miss Carter
ever ’ad a ’usband. Blyme, if I does.”
“----!” says Taos. “This must be a matrimonial mill. Has she got a
husband?”
“She thinks she ’as,” says Hicks, confidential-like. “I ain’t been ’ome
since I left you. I’ve ’unted and ’unted.”
“Maybe he’s out at Whitehalls, Hicks,” I suggests.
“Want to ride out and see, sir?”
“Of course not,” says Taos. “We’re busy, Hicks. We’ve got a lot of work
to do today. How do you get into this gas greenhouse?”
Whitehalls was some place for to see. The king of spades let us in
the door, and the jack of the same suit led us to a table. He didn’t
want to serve drinks to Hicks, but Taos spoke softly to the waiter,
and Hicks got served ahead of us.
We’ve been there about two quarts when a fat feller comes to the side
of our table, and stares at Hicks. I figured he must be the boss of the
place, so I asked him to have a drink.
“Hello, shour face,” whoops Hicks.
“Hicks, you are discharged,” says he, and then he looks at us. “If
either of you gentlemen is Mr. Wardner I can say that your wife is
waiting for you.”
“Which one of us is him?” asks Taos, and Hicks shakes his head.
“Please,” says fatty. “She’s prostrated.”
“Slipped?” asked Taos. “Gosh A’mighty, Yallerstone, she’s accidented!”
“Hicks,” says I, “we’re going home.”
“Never ’ad no fun in my bloomin’ life,” weeps Hicks. “Never ’ad----”
“Please,” says fatty, “let the rest stay, and I’ll take you home.”
“Who in ---- do you think is running this here party?” I asks. “Who are
you?”
“Butler,” says he, dignified-like.
“Good!” says Taos. “Butler, you drive the hack.” And he took fatty by
the arm and hustled him outside.
“Get up on that seat and show us speed,” orders Taos. “You do some
driving, old-timer, or I’ll shoot the pockets out of your panties.”
“Haw!” whoops Hicks, when the hack started with a jerk. “Goo’ joke!
Shour face never drove limershine----”
Just then the front end of that million-dollar hack went up in the air,
and we rattled around like three dice in a box. Then comes the first
total eclipse I ever seen, and I ain’t got no smoked glass. I woke up
after a while and finds that I’ve got my feet up a tree. Taos’ feet are
sticking out of one of the hack windows.
“Blyme,” wails a familiar voice on the other side of the fence, “the
missus will be sore as a bloomin’ boil! Limersheen all ’ammered to
----!”
I pulled Taos out of the hack and spread him out on the ground. He
shudders after a while and looks up at us.
“Yallerstone,” says he, soft and sweet, “she was only a passenger.”
And then he sort of shakes his head and says, “Yallerstone, did we
meet Aurora?”
“Not so bad as that,” says I. “Butler must have been a hurdle-rider in
his youth. Are you hurt, Hicks?”
“Hurt ----!” wails Hicks. “I’m heart-sick.”
I hunted around in the busted hack until I finds a bottle of silver
lining, which I passes around to those assembled. When we got lined
a little, we all locks arms and started down the road. We don’t see
nothing of Butler, so we figures that he ain’t come down yet.
“Hicks,” says Taos, “do you know any good songs?”
“‘Bringing in the Sheaves,’ sir.”
“This ain’t no farmers’ convention, Hicks,” says I. “Let’s all sing ‘Old
Man Lute was a gol darn brute and he couldn’t get his cattle up the gol
darned chute.’”
“What was the matter with the cow--scared?” asks Hicks, and then he
says, “Right around the next corner is ’ome, so we better act
dignified.”
“This ain’t home is it?” asks Taos, peeking over the fence. “This here
is a hotel, Hicks.”
“The Wardner residence, sir,” says Hicks. “This is the ’ome of Miss
Agnes Carter, daughter of the minin’-man, Mr. James Alexander Carter.”
Me and Taos looks foolish-like at each other, and then all takes the
last drink out of the bottle.
“Wrong again, Hicks,” says I. “I never married her. I married Aurora
Metcalf, Hicks. Know any Metcalfs around here?”
“No, sir. No Metcalfs in Miss Carter’s set, sir.”
“My gosh!” grunts Taos. “They come in sets here, Yallerstone.”
* * * * *
Taos is gazing toward the house, and we all looks. Up the walk staggers
Butler, and right into the midst of a herd of females. They seem to hang
on to him while he pours out his soul. He still retains one coat sleeve
and one pant leg, but his nerve is all gone.
Then a couple of males breaks from the herd, lopes away to where an
automobile is standing, and away they goes up the road. The rest help
Butler into the house.
“S’whelp me, he told ’er about the limerseen!” wails Hicks. “Now I ain’t
got no more job than a bloomin’ canary bird.”
“That’s hard lines,” says Taos. “Our fault too, Hicks. Let’s go up and
square things for Hicks, Yallerstone.”
We went up and sat down on the porch.
“You do the talking, Yallerstone, and me and Hicks will back you up; eh,
Hicks?”
“Jack! You!”
We turns around quick-like, and there stands Aurora, backed up by a
whole swarm of females.
“Hicks,” says I, “you’ll never regret what you’ve done for me. You sure
are some guide, I’d tell a man.”
“Brought ’im ’ome, ma’am,” says Hicks, foolish-like.
“Jack, where have you been?” wails Aurora.
“Ask Hicks,” says Taos. “Hicksie knows, eh, Hicks?”
“You!” Aurora looks just like a panther that I cornered in a blind cañon
once over on the Tillicum River. She sure shows displeasure toward Taos.
“You--er--thing!”
“Yes’m,” says Taos, “I don’t blame you, ma’am, but you ought to go out
West and learn to cuss.”
“West!” she snorts. “I hate it! Jack, what will people think? I’ve even
had the police looking for you.”
“That’s nothing,” says I. “You might introduce me to the ladies.”
“This is Jack Wardner, of Montana,” says Taos, “owner of vast herds.
I am Taos Thompson. I was born in a cane-brake and rocked in a bark
cradle, and I’m the pizenest old pelican that ever made a track in
the sand. Whale-bone warp and bob-cat filling. Let me make you used
to Hicks who never had any fun in his blooming life. Me and Jack has
done the best we can toward him.”
“Jack,” snaps Aurora, “take that person away, will you? Hicks, take them
up to Mr. Wardner’s rooms. Jack, I should think you’d be ashamed. Change
your clothes at once.”
“Amarilly would love to see you now, old-timer,” grins Taos. “I can just
see her broken ear stand straight up.”
“Broken ear?” asks a lady. “Broken ear?”
“Yes’m,” nods Taos. “She loves Jack, and he loves her, but one day she
got too rambunctious and Jack hit her over the head with a pick-handle.
But she don’t show no grudge--Amarilly don’t. She kissed us both
good-by. You go on up and sluice off a little, Jack. I’ll wait here.”
“Come on,” says I. “There’s two basins, ain’t there?”
“Bawth, sir?” asks Hicks, after he takes us to a room that has got the
New York hotel in Rawhide beat a mile for looks.
“No,” says I. “Not before Saturday.”
Taos is examining some clothes which are laid out on the bed, and then
he turns.
“Hicks, who owns them duds?”
“Mr. Wardner, sir. Mrs. Wardner ’ad me get them. I ’opes they fits,
sir.”
“Got any more like ’em, Hicks?”
“No, sir. No more, sir--unless I might be so bold as to offer you a suit
of mine, sir.”
“Hicks, I’d love you as a brother,” grins Taos, and does a bear dance
around Hicks.
Hicks comes back in a few minutes with his arms full of clothes.
“May I dress you now, sir?” he says.
“Hicks,” says I, “I was wearing suspenders and dressing myself when you
was keeping yours up with a safety-pin. Vamoose!”
Then me and Taos sets down on that bed and whoops a few lines.
“Yallerstone, I want a diagram of the whole situation,” says Taos.
“Well,” says I, “you can blame yourself. You dragged me out of a
comfortable desert and away from a friendly jackass, and flung me into
this proposition. She’s got a uncle out West some place who proclaims
that she’s got to marry a Western man or lose her inheritance. _Sabe?_
Otherwise his _dinero_ goes to a home for indignant prospectors.
“You can see for yourself, Taos, that she ain’t no Adonis to look upon.
Aurora can’t pick and choose, so she slams her pick into me, ’cause I’m
a type. _Sabe?_ She orates that all I’ve got to do is to marry her, be
her hubby in appearance only, and hang around until James Alexander
Carter shows up and departs, and then I get one thousand dollars, a
safe passage back to the sage, while she sues me for dessert. She don’t
want a husband no more than I do, but she sure does covet her uncle’s
roll. According to her he must be a locoed old jigger.”
“I wish we’d ’a’ stayed back on the desert, Yallerstone,” says he. “I
ain’t heard a word from Box 1234, and now I reckon I’ve got to go back
to Rawhide alone.”
“Stick around, Taos. Her uncle has been sent for, and after he’s gone
I’ll slip you half that thousand. We’re making expenses.”
“Do you love her, Yallerstone?”
“No, I can’t say that I do, Taos.”
“Could you learn to love her?”
“Not at that price.”
“I can’t blame you, Yallerstone. Love comes from the heart. Wish I
hadn’t held up that stage. That sure was one angel, old-timer. She
told me she hoped to see me hanged, and when I gave her back her
watch and locket she commuted it to life imprisonment. Wish I knowed
how to get into these clothes, Yallerstone.”
I looks mine over and has the same feelings. A blue-print might help a
lot, but there ain’t even a recipe in sight.
In the first place the person who made them pants didn’t have me in
mind. They’re all right, except that they don’t come all the way down
the leg, and the top button laps plumb around to my hip where I has
to pin it. Taos says I looks twisted, but they covers me plenty. I
manages to get that shirt fastened at the top. There’s button-holes
all the way down the front but no buttons, and every time I bend over
I open up like an envelope. I tries the coat and finds it guilty. She
don’t meet in front by twelve inches. There’s a medicine-show actor’s
hat there, and a cane, but I ain’t got no drugs to sell, and I ain’t
got no sprained ankle, so I passes both.
I admires myself in a glass and then looks at Taos. He never considered
Hicks when he borrowed that suit. That suit fits Taos like a bandage on
a Christmas tree. The pants are too tight to go outside of his boots,
so he wears them inside. The sleeves are about six inches too short,
which gives a hy-iu view of Taos’ wrists and hands. I found a pocket in
the tail of that coat which will just hold a Colt .45. It hauls the
collar away from my neck quite a lot, but don’t interfere none to speak
of.
“Yallerstone,” says he, “all I need is some cologne to make me a regular
honka-tonk actor. You look like ----, Yallerstone Brown.”
“You don’t favor Venus none to speak about,” says I. “If anybody asks me
I’d say you was something to scare kids with.”
We sneaked out in the hall, and I peeks over the railing of the stairs.
I seen a lot of folks standing around down there, so I back right into
Taos. Just then Hicks came along, and I says to him--
“Ain’t it awful, Hicks?”
Hicks looks us over and says:
“Yes, sir. You should ’ave let me dress you.”
I peeks down again, and here comes my wife. She’s dressed like Summer at
the Equator. She hustles us around the corner and says--
“Jack Wardner, I want to tell--my Heavens, who dressed you?”
“Who undressed you?” I asked.
She looks me over for a moment, and then: “Oh, what tangled webs we
weave. Jack, my name is not Aurora Metcalf. I am Agnes Carter. I just
gave you the first name that came into my head, because I never thought
it would lead to this. It wasn’t much worse than marrying you under the
name of Jack Wardner. Thank the Lord, it won’t be for long.”
“Amen,” says Taos.
Aurora gives him a hard look and says to me:
“Jack, you must get rid of your friend. I will have to stand for one
Westerner, but not for two. This is not a hotel.”
“Yes’m,” says Taos, sad-like. “The more I see of the gentle sex around
here the more I love Amarilly.”
* * * * *
Then we went down-stairs. The bunch stands up to greet us, and I met
more folks right there than there is in the town of Rawhide, if you
count greasers and dogs. My wife smiles with her mouth, and we all
hits the trail for the feed-room.
A big, tall female hooks on to Taos, and he acts like he enjoyed it.
Him and her sets down across from me and Aurora, and on my other side
is a fat little female with a lot of yaller hair on top of her head,
and not much clothes on above the table top.
We got soup without ordering it, and I immediate and soon digs into the
stuff. I love soup, and I’m some hungry. That yaller-haired person sets
there like a statue, and I’m just about to tell her that if she don’t
want her soup I’ll take it, when I glances across at Taos. He’s staring
at the lady and pouring sugar into his soup. He puts every lump in sight
into that soup and then starts stirring it with his finger.