Pulp - Adventure.20.01.18.Ike Harpers Historical Holiday - W. C. Tuttle (pdf)
Page 3
“I was just funning, Ike,” says he. “I’ll
Custer.”
go peaceful, ’cause I’m dry, too.”
“All right,” says I. “Why stop at
Then me and Hassayampa runs into an
modern history, Hassayampa? Let’s go further
argument. We finds Ricky Henderson, “Three
back and see Caesar or the last of the
Star” Thorndyke, Art Miller and “Coyote” Mohicans.”
Calkins arguing with Doughgod Smith.
We found a fairly peaceful bunch in
Doughgod holds-forth thusly:
front of the tent. Old Judge Steele wanders up
“You’ve got to show a little becoming
to us. His face sure looks like something had
class, ain’t you? I’m bossing the music end of
tried to erase his nose, and in his hand is the the program, and she can’t fall below the rest, remnants of that high hat. Just then I’m
can she?”
grabbed by the arm, and Magpie’s voice
“She can’t,” agrees Ricky. “She sure
grunts in my ear—
can’t, Doughgod.” And the four of them walks
“Feller wants to see you, Ike.”
away.
I suffers him to lead me around back
Doughgod looks at us and sort of of the tent, where he lifts the canvas enough to grins.
let us both under. I was glad to get away from
“Them is the Paradise brass band,” the judge right then, ’cause I don’t know what explains Doughgod. “Been tooting for two
Mike might have told him.
weeks for this celebration. Everything is sort
In there I meets the worst freak I’ve
of out of the ordinary, so I wishes my end to
seen this day and date. It happens to be Sad
show up well. A band is just a band unless
Samuels, but he sure is disguised. I reckon
they rides horses, which makes ’em a mounted
he’s dug up all the fringed buckskin in Yaller
band. Sabe? Them hombres is going to Rock County and hung it on his lanky carcass.
dispense music from their broncs.”
He stands there, leaning against the platform,
We looks back at the speaker’s tent,
puffing away on an extinct cigaret.
and here comes an apparition which we
“Ike, meet General Custer,” says
deciphers to be Mike Pelly. Mike sure looks
Magpie.
like the breaking up of a hard Winter. He’s got
“Howdy, Cus,” says I. “How’s all your
the brim of that stovepipe hat around his neck
little Big Horns?”
and in his hand he carries one of them rails he
“Poorly, Ike. You ain’t sore at Curlew,
was posing over. He’s still got on portions of
are you?”
that tight coat. He’s got a bump on his
“Not at the town itself, Sad. The town
forehead, and in his face is memories of long
ain’t to blame.”
ago. He weaves up in sort of waltz time and
“Let me explain it,” says Magpie.
pauses to look back.
“Curlew has ideas of her own as to who is to
“Who done it, Mike?” I asks.
blame for the Fourth, Ike. Being a free country
“Lincoln,”, says he sweet-like and and peace on earth to all men we lets each city weaves on.
worship as they see fit. Sabe? Curlew opines
“Lincoln was a great man,” states that General Custer is the one.”
Doughgod.
“All right with me,” says I. “Make it
“Was?” grunts Hassayampa. “If he anybody you want, just so you keeps the name hung that bump on Mike I’d say he is, not
of Harper out of the list. I won’t have my good was, Doughgod. Almost as great as Custer.
name sullied, Magpie.”
My gosh, I done forgot all about my
“We’ll respect your wishes, Ike,” says
contentions, Ike. Let’s go back and see Magpie. “Now here’s what Sad wants of you;
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10
he’s shy one actor for his living picture, and
celebration will be wrote up for posterity—if
you’re the only person he can depend upon.
anybody is left to write it.”
He honors you, Ike.”
Just then somebody shows their
“Yeah?” says I. “Honor of that kind is
impatience by shooting twice through the
like beauty—it don’t get under my skin. I
ridge-pole, so we wobbles up and takes our
won’t have a danged thing to do with it. Not a
position.
danged solitary thing! Rest in peace is my
Sad is on his hands and knees with his
motto, and I don’t care where the chips fall. I chin on a block of wood, and they places me
will not do it!”
on my knees, with my nose muffled in the
Well, they got me into that disguise,
back of his neck, and my hands are raised as
and I’m betting that nobody ever looked like
in prayer. Over us stands Rain-in-the-Face,
me.
with his soft-pine sword raised aloft. I’ve got
“Not so danged bad at that,” states a
my head toward the audience and I gets a
voice, and I turns around.
glimpse of the sign as the curtain goes up. It
It looks like a cross between an Injun
reads:
painted for the war-trail and an accident in a
paint factory. It’s wearing the headdress of the CUSTER DONE IT AFTER
Sioux, the breast-plate of a Cheyenne and the
POKYHONTAS SAVED HIM
pants of a Digger medicine-man, which FROM HER PAW. FROM CURLEW
consists of a pad at the knees and feathers at
the ankle—nothing more. He’s got a wooden
I hears a slight stir in the audience.
knife about three feet long. His face is painted Bang! goes a gun. I glances behind me.
like the rainbow, one end of his mustache
Mighty is standing there looking at his sword,
being pink and the other green.
which ain’t nothing but a splinter now.
“My ——!” says I. “That last drink
“Don’t never try to split up no ladies
broke the camel’s back!”
around here, dog-gone your painted picture!”
It is “Mighty” Jones.
whoops Dirty Shirt’s voice. “Don’t you never
“Shake hands with your paw,” says he.
do it!”
“I’m Rain-in-the-Face.”
Dirty is right up against the platform
I looked at Magpie and the tears are
and appears to be trying to get up with the
flowing down his cheeks. Any man must be
living pictures.
tender hearted to cry at a time like this.
“Yo-o-o-o-ow! ” yelps a voice from the
“Who in the —— am I?” I asks.
rear of the crowd. “Bust up my donation, will
“My daughter,” says Rain-in-the-Face.
you!”
“You’re Pokyhontas.”
All the history I ever knew stood on
HASSAYAMPA has got a horse, and just as I
it’s head and skidded out of the picture. I
glance up he sails a loop of rope to try and
looks at General Custer and then at my paw.
circle Dirty Shirt. He didn’t. That was the
/> “With a mustache?” I asks foolish-like.
second time he shoots high. I tries to move
“Your face don’t show,” says Magpie
quick, but my costume was made more for
choking-like. “You assumes a bowed attitude
show than for speed. That loop of rope settles
over Custer, who is about to get carved by
right over the rear of me, tightens behind my
Rain-in-the-Face. Curlew may be wrong in the
knees and over the small of my back, and poor
main facts, but that part is historical.”
Pokyhontas got uplifted.
“It will be,” I agrees. “I feel that this
I reckon that Pokyhontas didn’t want
Ike Harper’s Historical Holiday 11
to leave Custer there even if Rain-in-the-Face
fondles that club.
didn’t have no more sword than a toothpick,
“We will open with a spup-speech by
’cause when that rope hit me I got a strangle
me,” he whispers right back.
hold on Custer and we both moved away from
“Prayer!”
there.
“Speech!”
Me, I’m jack-knifed so that my toes
“Dearly beloved, we——”
are tickling my mustache and Sad is yelping
Bam!
like a trapped coyote pup. We turned over just
The old judge surges forward and taps
once, swung in under the railing, where we
Testament on the head and our preacher
seem to sort of hang up, and then, as far as I
shuddered deep-like and pokes his long nose
can see, the railing, platform, tent and all went into the dirt.
with us.
Judge Steele pokes his nose toward the
Man, I’d say that the strain was great. I
sky, shoves one hand inside his torn vest and
seemed to feel every muscle in my body begins—
stretch a foot and as we sailed into the air
“Friends, Romans and feller——”
somebody reached up and took one of my
Clank!
moccasins off.
I sees that lard bucket hop off the
I lost Custer at an altitude of about
judge’s head and the rock nestled right up
forty feet and when I landed I picked a tub of
against my shin.
lemonade to stop in, and then it seems that I
“He-heathen!” stutters a voice and I
took the tub along with me on a voyage of
turns to behold what is left of Hassayampa.
discovery. I’d say that Hassayampa and his
He’s got his head through one of the
bronc went regardless and nobody knows arm-holes of his vest, which makes him look whither we might have wandered if that rope
like he had a stiff neck. The belt of his chaps hadn’t busted.
has busted, and the two halves of his leather
Anyway, I think it busted, ’cause all to
panties are wrinkled down around his feet. His
once I gets relief from the cramps and the
hat is gone, and if his mind ain’t gone too his sandman visits Ike Harper.
eyes sure lie to me. He’s got another rock in
Then along comes a million needles to
his hand.
penetrate my carcass and I feels my nervous
“Pup-pick on a preacher, will you?” he
system yank me to a sitting position.
yelps.
I’ve got my back against a tent and
The old judge sets there on the ground,
right in front of me is Judge Steele and Old
looking sort of dazed-like, and then he seems
Testament. The sky pilot is kneeling in a to fuss around inside of his bosom. He hauls prayerful attitude, while the old judge squats
out a long six-shooter, cocks it deliberate-like on his heels in an attitude of deep thought.
and takes aim at Hassayampa. Hassayampa
The judge has got a piece of the busted don’t mind. He sways on his heels and grins at platform in his hands and on his head, cocked
me.
over on one side, is a gallon tin bucket. A curl
“How’s every little th-thing, Ike?” he
of lemon peel sticks out from under the edge
asks hoarse-like.
and I opines that the judge must ’a’ mixed
Bung!
with the retail end of the lemonade business.
The old judge ain’t got much grip in
“We—we will open with a pup-
his hands, and I sees the gun hop plumb over
prayer,” whispers Old Testament.
his head when it exploded.
The old judge rocks on his heels and
“Woof! ” grasps Hassayampa, swaying
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12
backward, and he sets down so hard that he
“Feel of me!” snaps Mighty Jones.
bounced. He sets there making funny faces at
“Ain’t you had enough yet? Maybe you’d like
me and hanging on to his equator.
to bust up another historical group.”
The judge twists his neck and peers at
“Go home and put on some pants,”
his gun. Then he gets up and weaves away
advises Dirty. “You look like——! Come on,
past a tent, talking to himself like a shepherd. I Ike. Let that delirium tremens Injun set there
looks over at the suffering Hassayampa and
and make patent medicine if he wants to.”
says:
“Every little thing is all right, DON’T ask me all that happened that day. I’m Hassayampa. How’s it with you?”
just telling you what happened in my
He shakes his head and hugs himself
immediate vicinity. Some day I hope to be an
some more.
innocent bystander and be able to tell you
“Think you’re going to die?” I asks.
everything, but as it is you’ve got to guess that He takes a deep breath.
the others didn’t come out unscathed.
“Hoo-o-o-off! Hit me-uh-in the-uh-
Me and Dirty found the remains of
hoof! Belt-buckle. What do you know about
General Custer sitting near the location of the that? Hoo-o-o-off! ”
defunct speaker’s stand. He looks up at us as
“Not much,” says I. “He can’t shoot no
we go past, but there ain’t no recognition in
straighter than you can.”
his eyes.
“Lead us not into temptation,” states
“How goeth the battle, Cus?” I asks.
Old Testament, sitting up sort of jerky.
He stares straight ahead and raises his
“Amen,” says I and then I got up,
voice in tuneless song—
shook the hoops and staves from around my
“I am nobodee-e-e-e-e’s darling,
neck and limped away.
nobodee-e-e-e ca-hares for me-e-e-e.”
I’m a peaceful person and I don’t want
“Knocked sensible,” declares Dirty,
to do anything to sully the atmosphere of this
and we weaved along.
glorious celebration.
“Ike, you’re an awful looking thing,”
Then I runs in to Dirty Shirt—or rather
states Dirty looking me over. “You better
I stumbles over his boots which are protruding
shuck that buckskin Mother Hubbard before
out from under a tent. I hauls him out, and
; somebody accuses me of being a squaw-man.
along with the haul comes Rain-in-the-Face.
I hate scandal.”
They’re locked in each other’s embrace, and
“By grab, I’ve been looking all over
from the looks of them I reckon it was a case
for you, Ike,” exclaims a voice, and Pete
of united we fell. I pries ’em apart and Dirty
Gonyer takes me by the arm. “Magpie wants
sets up. He looks at me and then at Rain-in-
to see you right away.”
the-Face, who is sniffing at me with his
“What does he want?” I ask. “I’m all
swollen nose.
through being butchered to make a Dancing
“Pokyhontas, you smell sour,” says Prairie holiday, if anybody asks you. I’ll go Rain-in-the-Faco and then he scowls at Dirty
home if he wants me to, but that’s all.”
Shirt.
We follered Pete down to the bank of
“You here yet?” he asks.
the river where mostly everybody is collected.
“In spirit,” agrees Dirty Shirt. Across the river, which is about fifty yards
“Physically I’m dead from my boots to my
wide at this point, is hung a wide piece of
dandruff. How do you feel, you cross between
canvas. A scaffolding has been built out from
a polecat and a totem-pole?”
around a tree, and the canvas stretched on that.