“Magpie, there’s a curse on you, and you might as well spill it all now.
I’m not interested a danged bit, but any old time you starts out bobbin’
from flower to flower I knows what’s comin’. Spread your hand.”
Magpie smiles at me and then shoves back from the table.
“Ike, here’s where we jump fifty years ahead of Paradise and Curlew. We
has hung to the old order of things too long. We has become moth-eaten
and stale. Don’t yuh know we have?”
“Anything would--hung up for fifty years, Magpie.”
“We still dance quadrilles and waltzes, the same of which went out of
style with flint-lock muskets. Now, we sheds the scales off our eyes and
comes out of our shells into the dawn of a brighter day. Piperock
entereth a reign of classical dancing, Ike.
“Miss Harrison is goin’ to elevate us, but we have to give her our able
assistance. There seems to be a female sentiment against her here; but
that’s plumb natural, bein’ as we’re in a rut and don’t know no better.
Judge Steele and Testament Tilton has seen her dance. Them two are real
progressive, Ike, and they sees the possibilities.
“Testament Tilton says it’s got anythin’ beat he ever seen, and he’s had
his eyes open for sixty-six years. Miss Harrison says she’ll teach
Piperock the rhythm of motion and then give a show for the benefit of
the church. She’s gotta have a class of five to start with, and after
them five has learned all about it they can each take a class of five.
See how it’s done?”
“Has she picked her class?”
“I picked ’em for her, Ike. She kinda leans on me.”
“Might better ’a’ picked a fish-pole. Who’d you pick?”
“Me and Pete and Wick Smith and Art Wheeler and you.”
“I ain’t ripe,” says I. “You better put me back on the tree.”
“She wanted you, Ike. Mentioned you right off the reel. Said she wanted
a representative group. Well, I got ’em, didn’t I? Everybody wanted to
help, but five was all we could use.”
“Is Chuck still in jail?”
“Nope, Chuck’s mad. Yuh see, he told Mrs. Holt that him and Miss
Harrison was goin’ to get married, and he wanted Mrs. Holt to take care
of her and see that none of the men came near her. Chuck was showin’ her
some Injun dances, and it was a good chance to get even with him for
lyin’ all the time. Mrs. Holt was willin’ to take her in, bein’ as she
was to marry Chuck.
“Testament has talked Mrs. Holt into keepin’ her until this here church
benefit is over. It’s goin’ to be a e-leet affair, I’ll tell a man.
Nothin’ like it has ever been thought about before, Ike. This is one
time when Piperock shines as a social center and abolishes her rough
career.”
When it comes to dancing I sure have always shook a wicked hoof, but
this kinda stuff had me hoppled. You take two or three little running
steps ahead, stop and wave your arms in the air, and kick out behind
like a mule. Then you duck to one side, whirl around, lift up your arms
again and go hippety-hopping around the place, kinda singing--
“Tra-la-la--, tra-la-la, la, la.”
That represents a little zephyr of Spring, you understand. There was
five little zephyrs in our Spring. We zephyred around and around. Miss
Harrison said we was getting the idea. Then she had us zephyr alone,
while the other four little breezes set down and made smart remarks.
There was considerable feeling aroused during this lesson.
Five little zephyrs took her back to the hotel, and then one little
zephyr went home and packed up his burro. That one little zephyr had a
vision of a big blow coming and wanted to get out of the road.
Magpie tried to plead with us, but me and the mule remained firm.
Magpie’s voice was full of tears, but I shook my head, packed my jassack
and went to live a while with “Dirty Shirt” Jones, who lives several
miles away from the center of disturbance.
* * * * *
Dirty Shirt ain’t neither sane nor sanitary, but he appreciates me a
heap. Dirty is cockeyed, but he believes in handing you bokays while you
are yet in the land of the living and not waiting until you are ready
for your weight of sand.
Dirty squints at me and says:
“I know you’d show up, Ike. It’s about time for Piperock to make a fool
of itself again. What’s itchin’ the old town this time?”
“Interpretive dancing.”
“Oh yeah. I don’t know what in ---- that is, Ike; but it sounds like
Piperock might adopt it. Magpie’s the ring-leader, ain’t he? Sure.”
Dirty knows Piperock as well as I do. For a week I helped him on a
copper prospect, and not a word of Piperock’s doings percolated into our
happy home.
Then Dirty got dry. When Dirty Shirt gets dry there ain’t nothing short
of sudden death will stop him this side of Buck Masterson’s place.
Therefore we packs our burros and pilgrims to the city of Baal, as
Testament calls it every Sunday. Testament has just got two sermons. One
is on temperance and the other is on the evils of strong drink.
We has to pass Mighty Jones’ place on our way in, and we finds Mighty
settin’ on his wood-pile, playing with a coyote pup. He squints at us.
“Goin’ to Piperock?”