CHAPTER XXII
JERKLINE JO'S SURPRISE
Meantime events were happening out in the street which were to have adistinct bearing on Lucy and Al's plot to separate Basil Filer from thecontents of his buckskin poke.
These events, however, were quite commonplace on the face of them. Thefirst was the arrival of Jerkline Jo's wagon train, loaded to thegunwales with case goods, general merchandise, and food for stock.
The arrival of Jerkline Jo and her proud huskies always was an event ofimportance at Ragtown. They made a picture as the heavy eight andten-horse teams with the hundreds of bells a-jingle rolled the immensewagons down the street, while Jo's skinners, quite aware of the furorthey were creating, called "Gee" and "Haw" and manipulated theirjerklines unnecessarily, for the sole purpose of awing the spectators.One wagon was stopped at Huber's store; the rest continued on throughto Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One, a half mile beyond thetown.
It was Jo's whites that had been brought to a halt before Huber's. Theproprietor came out and asked that the load be discharged in the rear,as he had just completed a new freight platform at the back entrance.
"Right!" called Jo. Then, "Annie! Ned! Feel of it, white folks!Bert! Snip! All together. Let's go!"
Like a well-trained company of infantry, the ten whites leaned to thecollars, and the eight tons behind them moved off as easily as a babybuggy. The hub of all eyes, the attractive girl with cries of "Gee"and "Haw" and picturesque manipulation of the jerkline, swung her teamaround the corner and into the alley. Men with whom she had a standingagreement to unload freight for her when their services were neededalready had come through the store, and were waiting for her on the newplatform. Dexterously she guided the team with the jerkline and byword of mouth, so that the load crept along not two inches from theedge of the platform and came to a stop.
She left her team standing, for Hiram Hooker was to ride back on herblack saddle pony for them as soon as the remainder of the outfit hadreached the camp. Whistling, with her leather chaps swishing, shewalked through the store, smiling right and left at the clerks.
"Well, Jo, how was the trip?" asked Huber as she leaned on the edge ofthe window to the proprietor's office and handed him her bills oflading.
"Oh, much the same as usual," she replied. "The whirlwinds gave ussome trouble. They're prevalent this time of year on the desert, andare sometimes fearfully annoying--especially so if it's been dry for afew days and the top of the sand isn't moist."
"What do they do to you, Jo?" asked Huber interestedly.
"Drive you crazy sometimes," she laughed. "They're just like littlecyclones, you know. You'll be moving along serenely, when one of themwill steal up behind you, and before you know it you're the center of amaelstrom of sand and dust, unable to see, your hat gone, your mouthand nose filled with--well, about everything that the desert boasts of.I was feeding hay to a pair of my horses this noon, when a whirlwindslipped up on me. I threw myself flat on the ground, as one must do orbe swept off his feet, and when it had passed there was not one scrapof that dry alfalfa hay where I'd thrown it. I found my hat a miledistant. My nostrils and ears and eyes and mouth were literally loadedwith dirt and fine hay chaff. And my hair! Heavens!" She put herhands to it. "I usually wear it in braids, you know, but to-day Ithought I'd be smart and perk up a bit. Now I'll have to 'go to thecleaners,' as Heine says."
Huber laughed. "Say, Jo," he said, "that reminds me. There's a girlhere that'll give you a shampoo. She runs a shooting gallery, and hasa little beauty parlor on the side. Oh, we're getting quite urban atRagtown. We'll have Turkish baths next. Go to see her--she'll fix youup."
"I'll just do that," said Jo, and went out on the street.
Then for the first time she became aware that Lucy Dalles was theproprietress of Ragtown's beauty parlor, and even then she did not findit out until she was inside the parlor and Lucy entered by a side doorthat connected with the gallery. It was too late to back outgracefully, even had Jo been inclined to do so.
"Why, hello!" she said. "I didn't know you ran this place. MissDalles, isn't it? We met in the Palace Dance Hall one night, didn'twe?"
Lucy smiled professionally. She did not like this strong, rugged,beautiful girl who strode along the street with such a firm, conqueringtread and left men gaping after her. Still, she could not afford toshow her dislike.
"Oh, yes--I remember you perfectly well," she said. "Who wouldn'tremember the famous Jerkline Jo! Is there something I can do for you?"
"Mercy, yes!" laughed Jo. "One look at me ought to show you that."She told about the whirlwind, and Lucy smiled thinly, and indicated thechair.
Jo climbed into it, and was bundled with clean, perfumed towels thatcaused her to grow reminiscent of school days and dainty dresses andall the things that as Jerkline Jo she had been obliged to put aside.
"Do you know," she said as Lucy began her delicate ministrations, "I'venever before in my life been in a beauty parlor."
"You are one of the few women who do not need one," said Lucy, forcedto a sincere compliment by the undeniable, fresh beauty of her patron.
"Oh, thank you!" said Jo with a laugh. "It's not just that, though. Iexpect, if the truth were told, I've needed the services of a beautyartist for years. But I was raised in a construction camp, you know,until I was pretty much of a young lady, and such things were entirelyout of my ken. Then at Palada, where my foster father eventuallysettled and went into the freighting business and running a store, wewere not so progressive as Ragtown even. So when I went to boardingschool in the Middle West I was virtually immune from many of the newfads. You, then, are the first person that ever washed my hair--exceptmyself, of course. I remember even that my dear old foster motheralways made me wash it when I was a kid--once a year perhaps," sheended with a laugh. "Poor ma! She had little enough time to fuss witha child's hair, cooking for big, hungry men all the time as she was,and driving a slip team while she was resting."
Jo was merely trying to make conversation, for she could think oflittle to say that she thought might touch a responsive cord in thefluffy girl from the city. Jerkline Jo was a man's woman. She couldtalk about almost anything that other women could not bring into theirconversation.
"You've had an interesting life, haven't you?" observed Lucy,manipulating Jo's scalp till the skin tingled pleasantly. "I wish Icould have met you when I was writing moving-picture scenarios. What acharacter you would have made for the heroine of a Western thriller!"
"Oh, you've written scenarios! How interesting! And--and--if thisisn't trespassing on delicate ground--sold them?"
Lucy tittered. "Yes, I sold some of them," she replied.
This gave them a basis for conversation, and they progressed famouslyuntil the grinning face of a railroad-construction stiff appearedsuddenly at the door.
"Hey!" he called to other stiffs behind him. "Look wot's goin' on!"
"Hello, there, 'Squinty' Malley!" and Jo laughed. "Get your face outof that door. This is sacred ground, you roughneck!"
"Look at Jo!" derided Squinty, an old friend of the girl's in many ahalf-remembered camp. "Hey, youse plugs, gadder 'round here and lampJerkline Jo dollin' up! Good night!"
"Beat it now!" Jo reiterated.
"Say, dis here's good!" retorted Squinty. "I to't youse was a reg'larwoman, Jo! Youse know more 'bout cuffin' ole Jack an' Ned dan youse do'bout fixin' yer hair. Say, lady," he addressed Lucy, "fix 'erup--hey? Doll 'er up proper, an' le's see wot de ol'-timer looks like."
"You'll oblige me by getting out of the door," said Lucy indignantly.
"Oh, don't scold the poor eel!" pleaded Jerkline Jo. "He doesn't knowany better. So you want to see me dolled up, do you, Squint? ByGeorge, you're on, old-timer! I've got some glad rags here in thisburg. Go on now! I'll be the queen of the ball to-night!"
"Lucy," Jo laughed familiarly when the tramps had vanished, "fix up myhair the best you possibly can. Give me the
latest, will you? I'mgoing to have some fun to-night."
An hour later, when darkness had settled over Ragtown and the night'srevel was on, there entered the Palace Dance Hall a figure that broughtgamblers from their absorbing games, stopped the dizzying whirl of thedancers, and caused glasses that were halfway to eager lips to pause inmid-air.
Jerkline Jo's almost black hair was piled on top of her head inbewildering fashion, and set off with flashing rhinestone ornaments,furnished by Lucy Dalles. Jo wore a semievening dress of pale-bluesilk, and Lucy had powdered her face and neck until little contrastcould be noted between skin that had braved the desert winds and thatwhich had been protected. Jo wore fashionable slippers with greatshell buckles and high French heels. She cast a dazzling smile overthe silent assemblage, then threw back her glorious head and let herlaughter ring.
That laugh revealed her identity.
"Jerkline Jo!" came a chorus of yells, and men stared at her, whilewomen drew together in groups, their comments expressed in loweredvoices.
As they crowded around her Lucy Dalles peered in at the door, acontemptuous sneer on her lips.
"Have a good time, old girl!" she muttered, grinding her little whiteteeth. "But I learned something to-day that'll set _you_ back a stepor two. Get me to doll you up, will you, you impossible roughneck?You'll pay for that!"
The She Boss: A Western Story Page 22
