Wild Western Tales 2: 101 Classic Western Stories Vol. 2 (Civitas Library Classics)

by Various

  "'Don't you go callin' me no woman,' says Missis Rucker, her eyes snappin', 'onless you're ready to cash in.'

  "'Women!' repeats Monte, sort o' addressin' the scenery, but still plenty cynical, 'what be they except a fleetin' show to man's deloosion given. Also, thar's nothin' to 'em. You opens their front door, an' you're in their back yard.'

  "Texas has been givin' y'ear to the talk. It's before his Laredo wife starts ropin' for that divorce; but she's already makin' war medicine, an' the signs an' signal smokes which p'int to an uprisin' is vis'ble on every hill. Texas is careful not to let Missis Rucker hear him none, but as he walks away, he mutters:

  "'That ghost-seein' sport's got the treemors, but all the same I strings with him on them estimates of ladies.'

  "Texas is that fav'rably affected about Monte, he talks things over with Tutt, who himse'f ain't married to Tucson Jennie none as yet. Them nuptials, an' that onbiased blessin', little Enright Peets Tutt, who results tharfrom, comes along later.

  "'Which thar's good in that Monte maverick,' says Texas; 'only so we could get the nosepaint out of him.'

  "'Now, I wouldn't wonder none, neither,' says Tutt.

  "'He drinkt up two quarts an' a half yesterday,' says Texas.

  "'Ain't thar no steps which can be took?' Tutt asks. 'Two quarts an' a half, though, shore sounds like he's somethin' of a prop'sition.'

  "These yere remarks is made in the Red Light, an' Tutt an' Texas appeals to Cherokee, whar that courtier of fortune is settin' in behind his lay-out. Cherokee waves 'em off, p'lite but firm.

  "'Don't ask me none,' he says. 'You-all knows my doctrines. Let every gent kill his own snakes.'

  "'That's my theology,' remarks Boggs, who has just come ramblin' in from the Noo York store, whar he's been changin' in a bundle of money for shirts; 'I recalls how, when I'm a prattlin' yearlin', hearin' Parson Ed'ards of the Cambellite Church quotin' whar Cain gives it out cold that he's not his brother's keeper; an' even at that onthinkin' age I fully endorses Cain's p'sition.'

  "The talk takes in Black Jack, who, by virchoo of him bein' a barkeep, nacherally savvys a heap about the licker question. Jack reelates how a sot he knows back in Arkansaw is shocked into never takin' a drink, by simply blowin' his hand off accidental while tanked up.

  "'Whang! goes the old Betsy,' says Jack, 'an' that slave to licker's shy his left hand. "Which it lets me out!" he exclaims; an' datin' from said catastrophy he'd no more tech nosepaint, that a-way, than he'd join the church.'

  "'But it's doubtful,' observes Tutt, 'if Enright stands to let us shoot this yere Monte drunkard's hand off.'

  "'It's ten to one he won't,' says Texas; 'still thar ought to be other schemes for shockin' a party into moral'ty, which stops short o' cripplin' him for life.'

  "'But is this yere inebriate worth the worry?' asks Boggs. 'Also, it shore strikes me as mighty gratooitous for us to go reorganizin' the morals of a plumb stranger, an' him not even asked.'

  "'Which he's worth the worry all right,' Texas replies. 'Thar's no efforts too great, when thar's a chance to save a party who has the same thorough onderstandin' of ladies which this gent has.'

  "Up over the Red Light bar is a stuffed bobcat, the same bein' held as decorative. Only the day before Texas and Tutt stands talkin', a couple of Enright's riders comes packin' a live bobcat into town, which between 'em they ropes up over in the foothills of the Tres Hermanas, an' jams labor'ously into a pa'r of laiggin's. The same idee seizes on Texas an' Tutt yoonanimous. They sees that it only calls for the intelligent use of that Bar-8 bobcat, which them cow-punchers of Enright's ties down, to reegen'rate Monte, an' make him white as snow.

  "Monte's ain't present none, bein' over to the O. K. House. By bein' plumb painstakin', Tutt an' Texas gets a collar onto the captive Bar-8 bobcat, an' chains him up over the Red Light bar, in place of the stuffed bobcat, deeposed. The Bar-8 bobcat jumps off once or twict before he learns, an' comes mighty clost to lynchin' himse'f. But Black Jack is patient, an' each time pokes him back with a cha'r. After mebby the third jump, it gets proned into the bobcat that thar's nothin' in it for him to go hurlin' himse'f into space that a-way, an' bein' saved from death by hangin' only through the cha'r-laig meditations of Black Jack. Acceptin' this yere view, he stands pat on his shelf. Likewise, he shore looks mighty vivid up thar, an' has got that former stuffed predecessor of his beat four ways from the jack.

  "We're hankerin' around, now the Bar-8 bobcat's organized, waitin' for Monte to come amblin' up, an' be reformed.

  "'An' you can gamble,' Tutt says, 'that the shock it'll throw into him'll have a ben'ficial effect. Shootin' off a hand or so ain't in it with the way that drunkard's goin' to feel.'

  "'That's the way I figgers,' Texas remarks. 'One glance at that bobcat, him on the verge of the treemors, an' thar'll a thrill go through his rum-soaked frame like the grace of heaven through a camp meetin'. For one, I antic'pate most excellent effects. Whatever do you think, Doc?'

  "'Whatever do I think?' Peets repeats. 'Which I thinks that, as the orig'nators of this yere cure for the licker habit, it'll be up to you an' Dave to convey the patient to his room at the O. K. House, as soon as ever you can control his struggles.'

  "Monte at last heaves in sight, an' comes shiverin' up to the bar, every nerve as tight as a fiddle string. Black Jack shoves him the bottle.

  "'What stuffed anamile sharp,' says Tutt, craftily directin' himself at Black Jack, 'mounts that bobcat up thar?'

  "Monte nacherally raises his eyes. Thar's that Bar-8 feline, half-crouched, glarin' down on him with green eyes, big as moons.

  "That settles it.

  "Monte gives a yell which they hears in Red Dog. Wharupon the bobcat, takin' it for a threatenin' deemonstration, onfolds in an answerin' yell, an' makes a scramblin' jump at Monte's head. Shore, he don't land none, bein' brought up short, like a roped pony. Thar he swings, cussin' an' spittin' an' clawin', as mad as a drunken squaw, an' begins all over to hang himse'f afresh.

  "Monte?

  "That victim of appetite falls to the floor as dead an' flat as a wet December leaf.

  "Actin' on them instructions, Tutt an' Texas picks Monte up an' packs him across to Peets, who, after fussin' over him for mebby an hour, brings him round s'fficient so he goes from one convulsion into another, in what you-all might deescribe as an endless chain of fits. Thar's nothin' to it; Peets is indoobitable the best equipped drug sharp that ever breaks loose in Arizona. At that, while Monte lives, he don't but jest. He's shore close enough at one time to kingdom come to hear the singin'.

  "For two weeks Monte's boilin' an' boundin' round in his blankets, Texas an' Tutt, feelin' a heap reemorseful, standin' watch and watch. It's decided that no more attempts to reform him will be made, him bein'--accordin' to Peets--too far gone that a-way.

  "'He's plumb onreform'ble,' explains Peets; 'whiskey's got to be so much a second nacher with him, that the only way you-all could cure him now is kill him.'

  "By way of partial rep'ration for what he suffers, as soon as Monte can ag'in move about, Enright calls a meetin' of the camp, an' dooly commissions him 'Offishul Drunkard,' with a absoloote an' non-reevok'ble license to go as far as he likes.

  "'This yere post of offishul drunkard,' Enright explains to the meetin', 'carries with it no money, no power, an' means only that he's free to drink from dark to daylight an' to dark ag'in, oncriticized, onreproved, an' onsaved. Colonel Sterett imparts to us in the last Daily Coyote how them Hindoos has their sacred cobras. Cobras not bein' feas'ble none in Arizona, Wolfville in loo of sech accepts old Monte. Yereafter, w'arin' the title of offishul drunkard, he takes his place in the public regyard as Wolfville's sacred cobra.'

  "When Monte learns of his elevation, his eyes fills up with gratified pride, an' as soon as ever he's able to stand the w'ar an' t'ar, he goes on a protracted public drunk, by way of cel'bration, while we looks tol'rantly on.

  "'Gents,' he says, 'I thanks you. Yereafter the gnawin' tooth of conscience will be
dulled, havin' your distinguished endorsement so to do. Virchoo is all right in its place. But so is vice. The world can't all be good an' safe at one an' the same time. Which if we all done right, an' went to the right, we'd tip the world over. Half has got to do wrong an' go to the left, to hold things steady. That's me; I was foaled to do wrong an' go to the left. It's the only way in which a jealous but inscroot'ble Providence permits me to serve my hour. Offishul drunkard! Ag'in I thanks you. Which this yere's the way I long have sought, an' mourned because I found it not, long meter.'

  "Boggs is the only gent who takes a gloomy view.

  "'That's fine for this yere egreegious Monte,' says Boggs, talkin' to Enright; 'as Wolfville's pet drunkard an' offishul cobra, he's mighty pleasantly provided for. But how about the camp? Whar does Wolfville come in? We're a strong people; but does any gent pretend that we possesses the fortitoode reequired to b'ar up through all the comin' rum-soaked years?--an' all onder the weight of this yere onmatched inebriate, whom by our own act an' as offishul drunkard, we onmuzzles in our shrinkin' midst? Gents, this thing can't last.'

  "'Not necessar'ly, Dan,' retorts Enright, his manner trenchin' on the cold; 'not necessar'ly. Let me expound the sityooation. I need not remind you-all that Sand Creek Riley, who drives the Tucson stage, gets bumped off the other evenin', while preeposterously insistin' that aces-up beats three-of-a-kind. Realizin' the trooth of half what you has said, Dan, I this evenin' enters into strategic reelations with the stage company's agent; an' as a reesult, an' datin' from now on, old Monte will be hired to fill the place of Sand Creek Riley, whom we all regrets. It's hardly reequired that I p'int out the benefits of this yere arrangement. As stage driver, old Monte for every other night will get sawed off on Tucson. An' I misjedges the vitality of this camp if, with the pressure on it thus relieved, an' Tucson carryin' half the load, it's onable to live through. In my opinion, Dan, by the light of this explanation, you at least oughter hope for the best.'

  "'That's whatever!' says Boggs, who's plumb convinced; 'if I'd waited ontil you was heard, Sam, I'd never voiced them apprehensions. But the fact is, this yere Monte cobra of ours, with his bibbin's an' his guzzlin's, has redooced me to a condition of nervous prostration. It's all right now. Which I will say, however, that I can't reeflect none without a shudder on what them Tucson folks'll say an' think, so soon as ever they wakes up to what's been played on 'em.'"

  Contents

  PROPRIETY PRATT, HYPNOTIST

  By Alfred Henry Lewis

  "Do I ever see any folks get hypnotized? Which I witnesses a few sech instances. But it's usually done with a gun. If you're yearnin' to behold a party go into a trance plumb successful an' abrupt, get the drop on him. Thar ain't one sport in a hundred who can look into the muzzle of a Colt's .45, held by a competent hand, without lapsin' into what Peets calls a 'cataleptic state.'

  "Shore, son, I savvys what you means."

  The last was because I had begun to exhibit signs of impatience at what I regarded as a too flippant spirit on the part of my old cattleman. In the polite kindliness of his nature he made haste to smooth down my fur.

  "To be shore I onderstands you. As to the real thing in hypnotism, however, thar arises as I recalls eevents but few examples in Arizona. The Southwest that a-way ain't the troo field for them hypnotists, the weak-minded among the pop'lation bein' redooced to minimum. Now an' then of course some hypnotic maverick, who's strayed from the eastern range, takes to trackin' 'round among us sort o' blind an' permiscus. But he never stays long, an' is generally tickled to death when some vig'lance committee so far reelents as to let him escape back.

  "Over in Bernilillo once, I'm present when a mob gets its rope onto one of these yere wizards, an' it's nothin' but the mercy of hell an' the mean pars'mony of what outcasts has him in charge, which saves him from bein' swung up. Mind you, it ain't no vig'lance committee, but a mob, that's got him.

  "Whatever is the difference?

  "Said difference, son, is as a spanless gulf. A vig'lance committee is the coolest kind of comin' together of the integrity an' the brains of a commoonity. A mob, on the other hand, is a chance-blown convention of deestructionists, as savagely brainless as a pack of timber wolves. A vig'lance committee seeks jestice; a mob is merely out for blood."

  "About this Bernilillo business?"

  The old gentleman, as though the recital might take some time, signalled the black attendant to bring refreshments. The bottle comfortably at his elbow, he proceeded.

  "I was thar, as I says, but I takes no part for either 'yes' or 'no,' bein' no more'n simply a 'looker on in Vienna,' as the actor party observes over in the Bird Cage Op'ry House. Thar's one of them hypnotizin' sharps who's come bulgin' into Bernilillo to give a show. Nacherally the local folks raps for a showdown; they insists he entrance some one they knows, an' refooses to be put off by him hypnotizin' what herd of hirelin's he's brought with him, on the argyooment that them humbugs is in all likelihood but cappers for his game.

  "Thus stood up, the professor, as he calls himself, begins rummagin' 'round for a subject. Thar's a little Frenchman who's been pervadin' about Bernilillo, claimin' to be a artist. Which he's shore a painter all right. I sees him myse'f take a bresh an' a batch of colors, an' paint a runnin' iron so it looks so much like wood it floats. Shore; Emil--which this yere genius' name is Emil--as a artist that a-way is as good as jacks-up before the draw.

  "The hypnotic professor runs his eye over the audjence. In a moment he's onto Emil, an' begins to w'irl his hypnotic rope. It's Emil bein' thin an' weakly an' bloodless, I reckon, that attracts him. This yere Emil ain't got bodily stren'th to hold his own ag'in a high wind, an' the professor is on at a glance that, considered from standp'ints of hypnotism, he ought to be a pushover.

  "Emil don't hone to be no subject, but them Bernilillo hold-ups snatches onto him in spite of his protests, an' passes him up onto the stage to the professor. They're plenty headlong, not to say boorish, them Bernilillo ruffians be; speshully if they've sot their hearts on anythin', an' pore Emil stands about the same show among 'em as a cottontail rabbit among a passel of owls.

  "For myse'f, I allers adheres to a theery that what follows is to be laid primar'ly to the door of the Bernilillo pop'lace. Which it's themselves, not the professor, they'd oughter've strung up. You see this Emil artist person blinks out onder the spells of the professor, an' never does come to no more. The professor hypnotizes Emil, but he can't onhypnotize him. Thar he sets as dead as Davy Crockett.

  "This yere Emil bein' shore dead, Bernilillo sent'ment begins to churn an' wax active. Thar ain't a well-conditioned vig'lance committee between the Pecos an' the Colorado which, onder the circumstances, would have dreamed of stretchin' that professor. What he does, them Bernilillo dolts forces him to do. As for deceased, his ontimely evaporation that a-way is but the frootes of happenstance.

  "What cares the Bernilillo pop'lace, wolf hungry for blood? In the droppin' of a sombrero they've cinched onto the professor, an' the only question left open is whether they'll string him up to the town windmill or the sign in front of the First National Bank.

  "While them Bernilillo wolves is howlin' an' mobbin' an' millin' 'round the professor--who himse'f is scared plumb speechless an' is as white as a lump of chalk--relief pushes to the front in most onexpected shape. It's a kyard sharp by the name of Singleton, otherwise called the Planter, who puts himse'f in nom'nation to extricate the professor.

  "Climbin' onto the top step in front of the bank, the Planter lifts up his voice for a hearin'.

  "'Folks!' he shouts, 'I'm in favor of this yere lynchin' like a landslide. But, all the same, thar's a bet we overlooks. It's up to us not only to be jest, but to be gen'rous. This yere murderer, who's done blotted out the only real artist I ever meets except myse'f, has a wife down to the hotel. As incident to these festiv'ties she's goin' to be a widow. Is it for the manhood an' civic virchoo of Bernilillo to leave a widow of its own construction broke an' without a dollar? I hears
the incensed echoes from the Black Range roarin' back in scornful accents "No!" Sech bein' the sityooation, as preelim'nary to this yere hangin' I moves we takes up a collection for that widow. Yere's a fifty to 'nitiate the play'--at this p'int the Planter throws a fifty-dollar bill into his hat--'an' as I passes among you I wants every sport to come across, lib'ral an' free, an' prove to the world lookin' on that Bernilillo is the band of onbelted philanthropists which mankind's allers believed.

  "Hat in hand, same as if it's a contreebution box an' he's passin' the platter in church, the Planter begins goin' in an' out through the multitood like a meadowlark through standin' grass. That is, he starts to go in an' out; but, at the first motion, that entire lynchin' party exhales like mist on the mornin' mountains. It's the same as flappin' a blanket at a bunch of cattle. Every profligate of 'em, at the su'gestion he contreebute to the widow, gets stampeded, an' thar's nobody left but the Planter, the professor, an' me.

  "'Which I shore knows how to tech them ground-hawgs on the raw,' says the Planter, as he onlooses the professor. 'If I was to have p'inted a gun at 'em now, they'd've give me a battle. But bein' to the last man jack a bunch of onmitigated misers, a threat leveled at their bankrolls sets 'em to hidin' out like quail!'

  "The professor?

  "The instant he's laig-free, an' without so much as pausin' to congrachoolate his preeserver on the power of his eloquence, he vanishes into the night. He's headin' towards Vegas as he's lost to sight, an' I learns later from Russ Kishler he makes that meetropolis more or less used up. No; he don't have no wife. That flight of fancy is flung off by the Planter simply as furnishin' 'atmosphere.'

  "Wolfville never gets honored but once by the notice of a hypnotist. This yere party don't proclaim himse'f as sech, but bills his little game as that of a 'magnetic healer,' an' allows in words a foot high that he's out to 'make the deef hear, the blind see, the lame to walk an' the halt to skip an' gambol as doth the hillside lamb.' Also, on them notices, the same bein' the bigness of a hoss-blanket an' hung up lib'ral in the Red Light, the post office, the Dance Hall, an' the Noo York store, is a picture of old Satan himse'f, teachin' Professor Propriety Pratt--that bein' the name this yere neecromancer gives himse'f--his trade.