CHAPTER TWELVE
The weekly stage from Willcox to Aravaipa Canon, which stopped at theranch on Mondays, brought a letter to Limber from Allan Traynor,instructing the foreman to meet himself and his wife upon their arrivalfrom California on Thursday. There was also a note from Doctor Powell,who was still in Tucson, saying that he would return to the ranch onWednesday.
The men had just eaten lunch and were grouped about the stables whenLimber imparted the news to them, adding, "The Boss says to slick up thebig room on the front porch, and we've got to hustle to get it done intime. They'll be here in three days."
"Say, Limber," interrupted Bronco, who was usually the ruling spirit,"Don't you think we'd oughter get a weddin' present for 'em?"
"I sure do!" endorsed Limber, "But, what kin we get? If we'd had anysense among us we'd of sent off long ago for somethin' proper. Mrs.Green would of knowed, but it's too late now."
"Let's chip in and get some big Navajo blankets like Mrs. Green's,"suggested Holy. "Looked a heap prettier'n carpets on her floor."
"Gee! Holy, you do get an idee onct in a while," jeered Bronco, whosechief delight in life was to tease Holy, and, like tourists who throwstones into the crater of a volcano, stand by in admiration of theeruption that followed.
"Now, see here," admonished Limber, "don't you and Holy get to millin'.Thar ain't no time for it."
Holy glared at Bronco, who grinned back at him and murmured, "Fustblood."
Limber reverted to the letter. "It says that Mrs. Traynor will have thelittle room off'n the big room for her'n, and we'd better whitewash it."
He broke off and looked at the others, as he said, "Have we got awhitewash brush that is fitten to use?"
"Whitewash your grandmother!" retorted Bronco contemptuously. "We'doughter paper it. I seen some dandy paper with pink roses stampeding allover it at the Headquarter Store. Whitewash is all O.K. for cowpunchersand bronco busters, but girls likes paper and--and--them sorter things,"he concluded hastily.
"We don't know how to do it," objected Limber, "and thar ain't nopaperhanger in Willcox."
"Shucks! Tain't no trick noway," responded Bronco airily. "I'll showyou. All you got ter do is get the paper an' do what I tell you."
Impressed by his convincing air the quartette engaged in making a listof the things Bronco considered necessary, the principal items being thepaper with pink roses and three of 'the biggest, highest priced andreddest Navajo blankets in town.'
After watching Bronco start on his mission, Limber and the otherssaddled their ponies for the daily routine work on the range, as theyknew that Bronco could not get home before late that night.
It was nearly midnight when Bronco rode into the stables, but the entirebunch of men met him with a volley of questions as he dismounted fromhis pony. Bursting with importance, he unrolled the Navajo blanketswhich had been tied to the back of his saddle; while the paper,carefully packed in gunny-sacks, was swung across the front horn.
The men grasped the purchases and carried them to the bunkhouse wherethey opened the sacks eagerly. The blankets had been fully endorsed andadmired; but when Bronco, imitating the storekeeper, unrolled a sampleof the paper and held it up with a flourish, no words were left toexpress their delight.
"Now, we'll get up early tomorrow so's to tackle the job and get itover," said Limber, after they had disposed of the packages in the roomthey contemplated papering. Filled with joyful anticipations theytumbled into their bunks.
Bronco was the first to waken, and he roused the others before daylight,despite their protests.
Roarer sat up and blinked stupidly at the lamp which Bronco waslighting.
"I ain't had no sleep that was any good," he quavered in his thin voice."I was chasin' pink roses all night--they had horns and tails and fourlegs, jest like cows, and I was tryin' to rope 'em. I'm plumb playedout."
His tale of woe was unheard by the others as they hurriedly adjustedclothes and tumbled out of the bunkhouse to the ranch kitchen forbreakfast. Fong, the cook, was in no amiable mood because he had toserve breakfast an hour earlier than usual; but when he learned thatthey expected to take possession of his kitchen and sundry utensils, hiswrath was expressed in a wordy battle in 'pidgin English. He onlysuccumbed to superior numbers when he retreated to the back porch. Hismutterings could be heard distinctly by those in the kitchen, and Broncococked his head on one side and listened attentively to the angry cook.
"Say, Holy, I don't savvy what that year Chink is sayin', but it soundsa heap worse'n anything I ever heerd you say. He's got you beat to afrazzle. Why don't you learn Chinee? Then when your stock of cuss wordsgets stale you can start on a new lot."
Holy's retort was cut short by Limber, who paused in rolling a cigaretteand observed, "You're captain of this round-up, Bronco. How do you starther?"
They all gathered about Bronco as he explained the processunhesitatingly. He did not divulge that he had asked information at thestore, regarding the preparation of paper, making paste and othernecessary details of paperhanging. It had seemed so simple that he wassure he could remember everything.
"Well, fust you cut the edges off'n the paper, then you make a biscuitdough and thin her out and stick the paper up, and thar you are! Easy asrollin' off'n a log!"
"That's all right so long as the log ain't pinted into a mudhole wharthar's a buckskin cow," murmured Holy, with a side glance at Bronco. Theinnuendo was loftily ignored, and Holy tried other tactics.
"Whar' did you learn to paper, anyhow?" he demanded suspiciously. "Younever let on you knowed how until last night."
"Think I'm Hasayampering?" Bronco answered indignantly. "I seed thempaper a room down to Eureka Springs three years ago. I helped them doit." He reserved the elucidation that he had helped carry in agalvanized tub, nothing more. "Mebbe you don't believe me, but if any ofyou fellers thinks he knows more'n I do about it, I'm willin' to layback in harness and let him take the lead, and yours truly won't do nokickin' over the traces, neither."
As no one was disposed to dispute his authority, he continued in amollified voice:
"Roarer, you go get all the flour you kin find and bring it here."
Roarer looked dubiously toward the back porch and scratched his head,then he tiptoed to the door, peeped through it, and discovering Fong haddeserted the place, started on his search, while Bronco issued hiscommands to the others.
"Limber, you kin chase that new whitewash brush I left in the bunkhouse,and Holy can trim the edges off'n the paper. Then you kin all help mixthe paste when I get ready."
"Does anybody know whar the shears is?" queried Holy, knowing fromexperience that a needle in a haystack could be located twenty timesbefore the one pair of shears on the ranch was generally found by thesearcher. "Bronc, you had them scissors three weeks ago cuttin' Limber'shair. I seed you. Whar are they?"
Bronco looked nonplussed, then asserted, "Roarer took 'em away from usbefore the job was done, and then he disremembered whar he'd put 'em.Limber had to go to town with one side his hair cut and Dunning finishedup the job."
Limber appeared with the whitewash brush, and at his heels came Roarerdragging two sacks of flour.
"This is all I kin find," said Roarer. "Reckon it will be enough?"
Bronco was non-committal, "I'll use it up and see how fur it'll go."
"Say, Roarer, you got to find the scissors. You was the last one thathad 'em. Where are they?" called Holy accusingly.
Roarer stared blankly, then whirled out the door. Holy sat swearinguntil Roarer re-appeared and exhibited the lost shears, explaining, "Ijust happened to think that I couldn't find the wire-nippers that daywhen you was cuttin' Limber's hair, and that was why I got 'em from you.I left 'em in the blacksmith shop, but I disremembered it till you spokeabout 'em. They may cut paper, but they ain't no good for cuttin' wire."
He handed the badly damaged shears to Holy who seated himself on thefloor. Selecting a roll of paper from the pile before him, Holy openedand contemplated it in perplexi
ty, finally appealing to Bronco:
"Say, Bronc, there's two white edges. Shall I trim 'em both?"
Bronco stood gazing down at the paper. "Durned if I know," he confessed."But thar ain't no use shirkin' the job since we tackled it. Pitch in,Holy. Let 'er go, and cut 'em both off," he directed recklessly beforehe was attracted by the struggles of Roarer and Limber, who dragged in agalvanized tub.
Behind them came Fong, protesting wildly, "No clatchee more flouler. Nomakee biscuits tomollow."
"Well, give us crackers," commanded Bronco. "This year room has got tobe papered today. Go chase yourself, Fong."
The Chinaman disappeared jabbering and shaking his head, but no one paidattention to Fong's worries. Each was immersed in his own troubles.
Holy struggled heroically with spirals of paper, and volcanic outburstsof his pet expressions floated from his part of the room as heendeavoured to extricate himself from the enveloping coils. Broncohovered over the tub, directing Limber and Roarer, who dumped a sack anda half of flour into it.
"You gotter put salt in, next," said Bronco, and the two cowpunchersdarted to a cupboard where each captured a small bag of salt.
"What next?" they demanded, becoming imbued with enthusiasm as the saltmingled with the tub of flour.
"And--er--and--" floundered Bronco hopelessly. "There's something else.What the devil is it?" he implored the others.
"Water," prompted Holy from his corner, his head and arms protrudingfrom the paper making him resemble a huge turtle. "I knowed you'd forgetthat."
Bronco's ire found vent in a few words borrowed from Holy's vocabulary,and Limber, mounted on a box, turned from inspecting the cupboard tosay: "If we're goin' to paper this room, you two quit scrapin' and getdown to business. If you ain't, jest say so, and I'll set Manuel towhitewashin' it."
His threat had the desired effect. Bronco appealed to Limber, "Larrytold me to mix it like biscuit dough and thin it out with water. Therewas somethin' else but I've plumb forgot it, Limber."
"Well, try lard, then," suggested Limber, poking his head back in thecupboard and scanning the contents hoping to find the missing article,even though it were necessary to add everything on the shelves. "Howabout some niggerfoot molasses?"
"Lard's all right," replied Bronco, "but niggerfoot don't go inbiscuits."
"Well, it goes on top of 'em pretty slick, and it's good and sticky, soit oughter be a good thing to put in," persisted Limber, holding out thecan. "Mebbe Larry forgot to tell you to use it."
"Jest a leetle bit," conceded Bronco, wishing heartily that Limber wouldinsist upon whitewashing the room; but not brave enough to suggest ithimself. It had taken him two years to live down the episode of thebuckskin cow, and he knew that Holy and Roarer would make life a burdenif he confessed his inability to finish the work he had so recklesslyundertaken.
He watched the black molasses trickle into the contents of the tub untilthe last drop had fallen. Limber ascended the box again.
"Thar's another can of niggerfoot. Don't be stingy with it Bronc,"admonished Limber.
Bronco had not the courage to negative any suggestion, but he gropedmentally, "It was a short word," he told Limber with a faint gleam ofhope.
"Dam!" exploded Holy. "Jest look at this dod-ratted, twistin' paper,will you? Talk about your Hopi snake-dancers, they ain't in it with me!Where am I at?" he demanded from a labyrinth of paper coils.
Bronco was glad of the chance to assume knowledge that he did notpossess, much as a small boy bolsters up his ebbing courage in a darklane by whistling loudly.
"I told you to cut the edges straight," he announced oracularly, "andthese year look like a cross-eyed maverick had been usin' a circular sawto cut wall-paper for a merry-go-round. Why that paper would give aminister a jag to look at it!"
"If one of you fellers would hog-tie that end whilst I get adiamond-hitch on this'n, I mought have some show," defended Holy feebly.
Roarer went to the rescue and gripped one end of a roll while Holyconscientiously proceeded to mutilate the edges and succeeded in makingthe scallops a trifle smaller. Limber and Bronco resumed theirconsultation.
"I bet it was yeast," jubilated Limber. "We all forgot about that, andit's a short word, sure enough."
"I guess you're right," Bronco agreed with desperate haste, and withoutdelay he dumped a large can of baking powder into the tub. "Now, all wegot to do is thin her out and then she's ready to start work."
Limber helped him carry the tub into the front room, escorted by Roarerand Holy, who trailed yards of paper which had escaped from theirencircling arms.
"We need a board and two saw-horses to stand on," said Broncocheerfully, believing the worst of the trouble was over. "Holy, you andRoarer paste the paper with the whitewash brush, whilst Limber helps mestic'er up. We got to have system if we want to get anything doneright."
The first strip was duly prepared, and they viewed it with feelings akinto the emotions of Columbus and his crew when they sighted land. Broncoclimbed on the plank that rested on the saw-horses. As he reached downfor the wet strip which Limber held up to him, the board tippedsuddenly. Bronco slid, clawing wildly at space until he enveloped Limberin a pasty embrace. The impact caused them both to fall across Holy andRoarer who were engaged in spreading paste on another strip. The latterproved no obstacle in the mad career of Limber and Bronco, which endedignominiously in a sea of paste from the overturned tub.
When the confusion had subsided sufficiently, the men surveyed the wreckwith voiceless disgust, until Holy spoke sarcastically.
"I suppose you'll say this belongs in the deal, Bronc. What's next?You sure seem to be the movin' spirit. But, one thing I'm stackin' mychips on, is that I'll know better the next time I start to paper a roomand won't do it."
"You can quit if you want to. I ain't no quitter. Thar's half a sack offlour left," Bronco challenged over his shoulder as he started for thedoor to the back porch where he had deposited the surplus flour. Thehalf-sack of flour had disappeared.
"I bet that Chink got it," asserted Bronco wrathfully, but there was nosign of Fong in answer to their calls. Then Limber pointed to a coupleof burros that were demolishing the last shreds of a flour sack.
"That settles it," grunted Bronco, blissfully ignorant that while theyhad been occupied, Fong had slipped slyly through the screen door of theporch, clutched the half sack of flour, retreated successfully and afterdumping the contents of the sack into another sack, which had beenwashed, the Chinaman with a leer of triumph, tossed the original sack tothe burros. Then, complacently he began mixing the dough for the nextday's baking; but at intervals he peered at the fast vanishing floursack, and saw that his ruse was successful when the cowboys discoveredthe two burros.
"Gosh, all we got to show is a nice mess that's got to be cleaned up,and a bill down to the Headquarters for paper with pink roses. Ain't ita shame? Just when we was getting along so fine, too." Bronco's toneswere lugubrious, and they all looked regretfully at the coils of paperthat cumbered the room. Like mourners at a funeral they gathered aroundthe coils. The pink roses grew more alluring. Bronco lifted one stripand held it against the wall.
"Whitewash makes me sick," he affirmed.
"Suppose I go over to Eureka and ask Mrs. Burns to lend us enough flourto finish up the job?" Limber made the suggestion and the idea wasaccepted enthusiastically.
While he was gone the others scraped up the paste and collected thescattered rolls of paper, then went to the bunkhouse and waited Limber'sreturn, unaware that almost half a sack of flour reposed in a corner ofFong's tin trunk, while a batch of bread was rising beautifully in thedishpan hidden beneath Fong's bed. Had any of the boys suspicioned thetrue facts there would have been a badly-frightened Chinaman in Arizona.
When Limber returned he was accompanied by Mrs. Burns in her buggy,while Peanut, Limber's pony, trotted at the back of the rig, hitched tothe axle.
"You boys have certainly run into a bunch of trouble," she laughed asshe nimbly climbed f
rom the rig. "I told Limber that I might be able tohelp you, for I've done all my own papering, you know."
Limber extricated a sack that held flour, and joined the procession tothe room they were now sure would be decorated with pink roses.
Mrs. Burns looked at the remnant of paste in the tub before she asked,"What on earth did you use?"
"Everything we could find," confessed Bronco humbly. "We did leave outeggs, sugar and pepper."
"All you need is flour, hot water and a little thin glue water," shelaughed.
"Glue!" they echoed.
"I told you Larry said it was a short word," triumphed Bronco. "Whydidn't some of you muttonheads think of glue?"
"You said he told you to make a thin biscuit dough, an thar ain't noglue in that," retorted Holy, but further argument was avoided as Mrs.Burns began issuing business-like orders.
By the time the sun was setting the papered room was pronounced athorough success, and Mrs. Burns made her way to the stables followed byfour cowboys whose hair and clothes spattered with dry paste, testifiedto an honest day's labour.
Mrs. Burns surveyed them as she picked up the reins, ready to starthome, while Limber mounted Peanut to accompany her. It was eight milesto Eureka Springs.
"I've heard of lost prospectors eating their boots," she said, "but ifyou boys ate your clothes, you would need anti-fat. Tell the Boss I willbe over soon to call on the bride. Adios!" and with a flourish of thewhip she drove away, followed by the gratitude of the paste-daubed,tired group.
It required numerous trips to the kitchen for buckets of hot waterbefore the boys removed the greater part of the concoction that clungtenaciously to faces, hands and hair; then began a more vigorous attackon their boots and clothes.
"It's durned lucky that Bronc disremembered about the glue,"congratulated Roarer. "We'd a never got that off."
Bronco slumped into a rickety chair, tipping it against the wall to easeits weakest leg, "It takes a woman to round up a stampede like our'n andget the bunch headed right when it gets to millin'. I'm derned glad theBoss is married, for this outfit needs female purtection."
"I never worked so hard in my life," sighed Holy, flopping on his bunk.
Bronco grinned across the room. "Ain't you forgot the time you wrote aletter to Bill Johnson's sister? You sure worked that time--Set aroundthe bunkhouse till daylight tearin' up paper."
"Well, she asked all of us to write her," snapped Holy, "but none of youfellers had the nerve to do it, and when you bet I couldn't, I calledyour bluff and won out, didn't I?"
"You sure did," agreed the others, recalling the historic missive whichhad been read aloud and duly admired before it was mailed.
_Dere Miss Johnson_
as I hav northin mutch to do I wil rite you a few lines we are al wel hear but my pony has a soar back and we hope you are the same
as i have northin mutch to say i wil now clos
yours truly
HOLY.
None of the Diamond H knew that Holy's letter, neatly framed, hung inMiss Johnson's room at a fashionable girls' school, where it was thecentre of attraction; and a valued souvenir of her summer visit to herbrother's ranch, which included the episode of a dance at Willcox.
The silence of the prairie brooded over the Diamond H ranch. Inside thebunkhouse four cowpunchers slept serenely unconscious of the odour offreshly baking bread that drifted from the ranch kitchen.
The Long Dim Trail Page 12
