"WOMAN--SHE DON'T NEED NO TOOTER"
The Cimarron doctor's fears for the wound on Hollis's head had proved
unfounded and on the tenth day after his experience on the night of the
storm, Hollis was sitting on the Hazelton porch, his head still swathed
in bandages, his left wrist in a splint, but his spirit still untouched.
The marks on his face had all disappeared, except an ugly gash under his
right eye--which still showed a slight discoloration--and a smaller cut
on the chin. The Cimarron doctor had told him that the wound under his
eye would leave a permanent scar--the wound had been deep and in spite
of the doctor's care, had drawn together queerly, affecting the eye
itself and giving it an odd expression. Many times since becoming able
to move about had Hollis looked at his face in his mirror, and each time
there had come into his eyes an expression that boded ill for the men
who had been concerned in the attack on him.
It was mid-afternoon and the sun was coming slant-wise over the roof of
the cabin, creating a welcome shade on the porch. Ed Hazelton had been
gone since morning, looking after his cattle, and Nellie was in the
house, busily at work in the kitchen--Hollis could hear her as she
stepped about the room.
Norton had left the cabin an hour before and a little later Potter had
stopped in on his way over to Dry Bottom to set up an article that he
had written at Hollis's dictation. Hollis had told Norton of his
experiences on the night of the storm.
After the flash of lightning had revealed Dunlavey and his men, Hollis
had attempted to escape, knowing that Dunlavey's intentions could not be
peaceable, and that he would have no chance in a fight with several men.
He had urged his pony toward the two buttes that he had seen during the
lightning flash, making a circuit in order to evade his enemies. He
might have succeeded, but unfortunately the darkness had lifted and they
had been able to intercept him. He could give no clear account of what
had happened after they had surrounded him. There had been no words
spoken. He had tried to break out of the circle; had almost succeeded
when a loop settled over his shoulders and he was dragged from his
pony--dragged quite a distance.
The fall had hurt him, but when the rope had slackened he had regained
his feet--to see that all the men had surrounded him. One man struck at
him and he had immediately struck back, knocking the man down. After
that the blows came thick and fast. He hit several more faces that were
close to him and at one time was certain he had put three of his
assailants out of the fight. But the others had crowded him close. He
fought them as well as he could with the great odds against him, and
once was inspired with a hope that he might escape. Then had come a
heavy blow on the head--he thought that one of the men had used the butt
of a revolver. He could dimly remember receiving a number of other blows
and then he knew nothing more until he had awakened in the Hazelton
cabin.
Hollis's opinion of Dunlavey's motive in thus attacking him coincided
with Norton's. They might easily have killed him. That they did not
showed that they must have some peculiar motive. Aside from a perfectly
natural desire on Dunlavey's part to deal to Hollis the same sort of
punishment that Hollis had inflicted on Dunlavey on the occasion of
their first meeting, the latter could have no motive other than that of
preventing the appearance of the _Kicker_ on its regular
publication day.
Hollis was convinced that Dunlavey had been inspired by both motives.
But though Dunlavey had secured his revenge for the blow that Hollis had
struck him in Dry Bottom, Hollis did not purpose to allow him to prevent
the appearance of the _Kicker_. It had been impossible for him to
make the trip to Dry Bottom, but he had summoned Potter and had dictated
considerable copy, Potter had written some, and in this manner they had
managed to get the _Kicker_ out twice.
Ace had not been able to get any of his poems into the _Kicker_. He
had submitted some of them to Potter, but the printer had assured him
that he did not care to assume the responsibility of publishing them.
Thereupon Ace had importuned Norton to intercede with Hollis on his
behalf. On his visit this morning Norton had brought the matter to
Hollis's attention. The latter had assured the range boss that he
appreciated the puncher's interest and would be glad to go over some of
his poems. Therefore Hollis was not surprised when in the afternoon he
saw Ace loping his pony down the Coyote trail toward the Hazelton cabin.
Ace's approach was diffident, though ambition urged him on. He rode up
to the edge of the porch, dismounted, and greeted his boss with an
earnestness that contrasted oddly with his embarrassment. He took the
chair that Hollis motioned him to, sitting on the edge of it and
shifting nervously under Hollis's direct gaze.
"I reckon Norton told you about my poems," he began. He caught Hollis's
nod and continued: "Well, I got a bunch of 'em here which I brung over
to show you. Folks back home used to say that I was a genyus. But I
reckon mebbe they was hittin' her up a little bit strong," he admitted,
modestly; "folks is that way--they like to spread it on a bit. But"--and
the eyes of the genius flashed proudly--"I reckon I've got a little
talyunt, the evidence of which is right here!" With rather more
composure than had marked his approach he now drew out a prodigious
number of sheets of paper, which he proceeded to spread out on his knee,
smoothing them lovingly.
"Mebbe I ain't much on spellin' an' grammar an' all that sort of thing,"
he offered, "but there's a heap of sense to be got out of the stuff I've
wrote. Take this one, for instance. She's a little oday to 'Night,'
which I composed while the boys was poundin' their ears one night--not
bein' affected in their feelin's like I was. If you ain't got no
objections I'll read her." And then, not waiting to hear any objections,
he began:
The stars are bright to-night;
They surely are a sight,
Sendin' their flickerin' light
From an awful, unknown height.
Why do they shine so bright?
I'm most o'ercome with fright----
"Of course I reely wasn't scared," he offered with a deprecatory smile,
"but there wasn't any other word that I could think of just then an' so
I shoved her in. It rhymes anyhow an' just about says what I wanted."
He resumed:
When I look up into the night,
An' see their flickerin' light.
He ceased and looked at Hollis with an abashed smile. "It don't seem to
sound so good when I'm readin' her out loud," he apologized. "An' I've
thought that mebbe I've worked that 'night' an' 'light' rhyme over-time.
But of course I've got 'fright' an' 'sight' an' 'height' in there to
kind of off-set that." He squirmed in his chair. "You take her an' read
her." He passed the papers over to Hollis and rose from his chair. "I'll
be goin' back to the outfit; Norton was sayin' that he wanted me to look
up some strays an' I don't want him to be waitin' for me. But I'd like
to have one of them pomes printed in the _Kicker_--just to show the
folks in this here country that there's a real pote in their midst."
"Why----" began Hollis, about to express his surprise over his guest's
sudden determination to depart. But he saw Nellie Hazelton standing just
outside the door, and the cause of Ace's projected departure was no
longer a mystery. He had gone before Hollis could have finished his
remonstrance, and was fast disappearing in a cloud of dust down the
trail when Hollis turned slowly to see Nellie Hazelton smiling broadly.
"I just couldn't resist coming out," she said. "It rather startled me to
discover that there was a real poet in the country."
"There seems to be no doubt of it," returned Hollis with a smile. But he
immediately became serious. "Ace means well," he added. "I imagine that
it wasn't entirely an ambition to rush into print that moved him to
submit his poems; he wants to help fill up the paper."
Miss Hazelton laughed. "I really think," she said, looking after the
departing poet, "that he might have been fibbing a little when he said
that the 'night' had not 'scared' him. He ran from me," she added,
amusement shining in her eyes, "and I should not like to think that any
woman could appear so forbidding and mysterious as the darkness."
Hollis had been scanning one of the poems in his hand. He smiled
whimsically at Miss Hazelton as she concluded.
"Here is Ace's opinion on that subject," he said. "Since you have
doubted him I think it only fair that you should give him a hearing.
Won't you read it?"
She came forward and seated herself in the chair that the poet had
vacated, taking the mass of paper that Hollis passed over to her.
"Shall I read it aloud?" she asked with a smile at him.
"I think you had better not," he returned; "it might prove
embarrassing."
She blushed and gave her attention to the poem. It was entitled:
"Woman," and ran;
"Woman she dont need no tooter,
be she skule mam or biscut shooter.
she has most curyus ways about her,
which leads a man to kinda dout her.
Though lookin at her is shure a pleasur
there aint no way to get her measure
i reckon she had man on the run
a long while before the world begun.
I met a biscut shooter in the chance saloon
when i was blowin my coin in ratoon
while the coin lasted i owned her an the town
but when it was gone she throwed me down.
An so i say she dont need no tooter
be she skule mam or biscut shooter
she fooled me an my hart she stole
which has opened my eyes an hurt my sole."
Miss Hazelton laid the manuscript in her lap and laughed heartily.
"What a harrowing experience!" she declared. Hollis was grinning at her.
"That was a bad thing to have happen to a man," he observed; "I suppose
it rather shattered Ace's faith in woman. At least you could observe by
his actions just a moment ago that he isn't taking any more chances."
She fixed him with a defiant eye. "But he still admits that he takes
pleasure in looking at a woman!" she told him triumphantly.
"So he does. Still, that isn't remarkable. You see, a man couldn't help
that--no matter how badly he had been treated."
She had no reply to make to this, though she gave him a look that he
could not mistake. But he laughed. "I think Ace's effort ought to go
into the _Kicker_" he said. "I have no doubt that many who read the
poem will find in it a great deal of truth--perhaps a reflection of
their own personal experiences."
Her face clouded and she regarded him a little soberly. "Of your own,
perhaps?" she suggested.
"Not guilty," he returned laughing. "You see, I have never had any time
to devote to the study of women, let alone time to allow them to fool
me. Perhaps when I do have time to study them I may find some truth in
Ace's effort."
"Then women do not interest you?" She was looking down the Coyote trail.
"Well, no," he said, thinking of the busy days of his past, and not
being aware of the furtive, significant glance she threw toward him.
"You see, there have always been so many important things to engage my
attention."
"How fortunate!" she said mockingly, after a pause during which he had
time to realize that he had been very ungracious. He saw Ace's
manuscript flutter toward him, saw her rise and heard the screen door
slam after her. During the remainder of the afternoon he was left alone
on the porch to meditate upon the evils that arise from thoughtless
speech.