CHAPTER XII
THE DUDE WRANGLER
With his tongue in his cheek, literally, and perspiring like ablacksmith, Teeters sat at the table in the kitchen of the Scissor Ranchhouse, and by the flickering light of a candle in a lard can wroteletters to the heads of the Vanderbilt and Astor families, to thePresident and those of his Cabinet whose names he could remember.
Briefly, but in a style that was intimate and slightly humorous, Teetersconveyed the information that he was starting a dude ranch, and if theywere thinking of taking an outing the coming summer they would betreated right at the "Scissor" or have their money refunded. Heguaranteed a first class A1 cook, with a signed contract to wash hishands before breakfast, a good saddle horse for each guest, and plentyof bedding.
He did not aim to handle over ten head of dudes to start with, so, ifthey wanted to play safe, they had better answer upon receipt of hisletter, he warned them, signing himself after deliberation:
Yure frend C. TEETERS
"I'll bet me I'll buy me some lamp chimbleys and heave out thispalouser. A feller can't half see what he's doin'," he grumbled as heeyed a large blot on the envelope addressed to the President. "The wholeplace," sourly, "looks like a widdy woman's outfit."
Teeters hammered down the flaps with a vigor that made the unwasheddishes on the table rattle, and grinned as he pictured the astonishmentof Major Stephen Douglas Prouty, who was still postmaster, when he readthe names of the personages with whom he, Teeters, was incorrespondence--after which he looked at the clock and saw that it wasonly seven.
So he thrust his hands in the pockets of his overalls, and, with hischair tilted against the wall at a comfortable angle, speculated as tohis chances of success in the dude business.
The more Teeters had thought of Mormon Joe's assertion that, outside ofstock, the chief asset of the country was its climate and its scenery,the more he had come to believe that Joe's advice to turn the Scissoroutfit into a place for eastern tourists was valuable. It had been doneelsewhere successfully, and there was no dearth of accommodations on theplace, since there was nothing much to the ranch but the buildings, asToomey had fenced and broken up only enough land to patent thehomestead.
Although Teeters was now the ostensible owner, in reality the placebelonged to Hughie Disston's father, who had been the heaviest loser inthe cattle company. Hughie had written Teeters that if they recoveredfrom the reverse, and others that had come to them, they hoped tore-stock the range that was left to them and he wished to spend at leasta portion of the year there. In the meantime, it was for Teeters to dowhat he could with it.
"Dudes" had seemed to be the answer to his problem.
While making up his mind, he had not acted hastily. He had consulted thespirits, with Mrs. Emmeline Taylor and her ouija board as intermediary."Starlight" had thought highly of the undertaking, and Mrs. Taylor,knowing that Miss Maggie's hope chest was full to overflowing,encouraged it. There had been a time when bankers, railroad and othermagnates had been in her dreams for her daughter, and a mere rancherlike Teeters was unthinkable, but with the passing of the years she hadmodified her ambitions somewhat. So she had said benignly, patting hisshoulder:
"The angels will look after you, as they have after me. Don't be afraid,Clarence."
It had occurred to Clarence that the not inconsiderable herd ofHerefords Mr. Taylor had left behind him at "Happy Wigwam" might havehad as much to do with Mrs. Taylor's feeling of security as theguardianship of the angels, but he answered merely, though somewhatcryptically:
"Even if I lose my money it won't cost me nothin'--I worked for it."
Teeters glanced at the clock, yawned as he saw that the hands pointed tohalf past seven, and unhooked his heels from the rung of the chairpreparatory to retiring.
A horse snorted, and the sound of hoofs on the frozen dooryard broughtTeeters to attention. What honest person could be out jamming aroundthis time of night, he wondered.
In preparation for callers he reached for his cartridge belt and holsterthat hung on a nail and laid them on the table.
The door opened and a stranger entered, blinking. The fringe of icicleshanging from his moustache looked like the contrivance to curtail theactivities of cows given to breaking and entering.
"I seen you through the winder," he said apologetically.
"I heard your horse whinner," Teeters replied, politely, rising.
"This banany belt's gittin' colder every winter." The stranger broke offan icicle and laid it on the stove to hear it sizzle.
"I was jest fixin' to turn in," Teeters hinted. "Last night I didn'tsleep good. I tossed and thrashed around until half-past eight 'fore Iclosed my eyes."
"I won't keep you up, then. I come over on business. Bowers's my name.I'm a-workin' for Miss Prentice. I'm a sheepherder myself byperfession."
Teeters received the announcement with equanimity, so he continued:
"Along about two o'clock this afternoon I got an idea that nigh knockedme over. I bedded my sheep early and took a chance on leavin' them,seein' as it was on her account I wanted to talk to you. You're a friendof her'n, ain't you?"
"To the end of the road," Teeters replied soberly.
Bowers nodded.
"So somebody told me. Are you goin' to town anyways soon?"
"To-morrow."
"Good! Will you take a message to Lingle?"
Teeters assented.
"Tell him for me that the night of the murder there was a onerybreed-lookin' feller that smelt like a piece of Injun-tanned buckskin asettin' in Doc Fussel's drug store. He acted oneasy, as I come to thinkit over, and he went out jest before the killin'. I never thought of itat the time, but he might have been the feller that done it."
"I'll tell Lingle, but I don't think there's anything in it."
"Why?"
Teeters' eyes narrowed.
"Because I know where the gun come from!"
Bowers looked his astonishment.
"I'd swear to that gun stock on a stack of Bibles," Teeters continued."It was swelled from layin' in water, and a blacksmith riveted it. Theblacksmith died last summer or by now we'd a had his affidavit."
"Ain't that sick'nin'!" Bowers referred to the exasperating demise ofthe blacksmith.
"Anyway, Lingle's workin' like a horse on the case, and I think he'llclear it up directly. How's she standin' it?"
"Like a soldier."
"She's got sand."
"She's made of it," laconically, "and I aims to stay by her."
Teeters hesitated; then, for the first time in his life he gave his handto a sheepherder, and, at parting, as further evidence that the casteline was down between them, said heartily:
"Come over next Sunday and eat with me; I got six or eightcackle-berries I been savin' fur somethin' special."
"Thanks. Aigs is my favor-ite fruit," Bowers replied appreciatively.
The next day Teeters went into the post office at Prouty with moreletters than he had written in all his life together. The Major was atthe window perspiring under the verbal attack of a highly incensed lady.
A deeply interested listener, Teeters gathered that the postmaster'sfaulty orthography was to blame for the contumely heaped upon him. Invain the Major protested his innocence of any malicious intent when,after hearing a rumor to the effect that the lady had died during anabsence from Prouty, he wrote "diseased" upon a letter addressed to her,and returned it to the sender.
"I'm goin' to sue you for libel!" was her parting shot at him.
"Like as not she'll do it," said the Major, despondently, and added withbitterness, "I wisht I'd died before I got this post office! Teeters,"he continued, impressively, "lemme tell you somethin': anybody can git apost office by writin' a postal card to Washington, but men have gonedown to their graves tryin' to git rid of 'em. The only sure way is toheave 'em into the street and jump out o' the country between sundownand daylight.
"I've met fellers hidin' in the mountains that I used to think wasfugitive mur
derers--they had all the earmarks--but now I know better;they was runnin' away from third-and fourth-class post offices. If everyou're tempted, remember what I've told you. Anything I can do for you,Teeters?"
Teeters threw out his mail carelessly.
"Just weigh up them letters, will you?"
The name of the head of the Astor family caught the postmaster's eyesand he looked his astonishment.
"I'm expectin' him out next summer," Teeters said casually.
"You don't say?" with a mixture of respect and skepticism. "Visitin'?"
"Not exactly visitin'--he'll pay for stayin'. I'm tellin' you privatethat I'm goin' to wrangle dudes next season. I made him a goodproposition and I think it'll ketch him."
"It would be a good ad. for the country," said the Major, thoughtfully."But wouldn't you be afraid he'd get lonesome out there with nobodypassin'?"
"I've thought over this consider'ble," Teeters lowered his voice, "and Ifigger that the secret of handlin' dudes is to keep 'em busy. I've beenaround 'em a whole lot, off an' on, over on the Yellastone, and I'venoticed that the best way to get anythin' done is to tell 'em not totouch it and then go off and leave 'em. Of course an out-an'-out dude isa turrible nuisance, and dang'rous, but you got to charge enough tocover the damage he does tryin' to be wild and woolly."
He went on confidentially: "Between you and me, I've worked out a scaleof prices for allowin' 'em to help me--so much for diggin' post holesand stretchin' wire, so much for shinglin' a roof or grubbin' sagebrush.Only the very wealthy can afford to drive a wagon and spread fertilizer,or clean out the corral and cowshed, and it'll take a bank account topitch alfalfa in hayin'. If they thought I wanted 'em to help, or needed'em, they'd laugh at me."
"Dudes is peculiar," the Major admitted. "I never had much truck with'em, but I knowed a feller in the Jackson Hole County that made quite astake out of dudin'. They took him to Warm Springs afterward--he'dweakened his mind answerin' questions--but he left his family wellpervided for. Teeters," earnestly, "why don't you put your money insomethin' substantial--stock in the Ditch Company, or Prouty realestate?"
Teeters shook his head.
"Without aimin' to toot my horn none, I got a notion I can wrangle dudesto a fare-ye-well. I'll give it a try-out, anyway. By the way, Major,have you seen Lingle? How's the case comin'?"
The Major's face changed instantly and he said with quite obvioussarcasm:
"He's busier than a man killin' rattlesnakes, and he's makin' himselfunpopular, I can tell you, tryin' to stir up somethin'."
Teeters looked at him wonderingly but said nothing; instead, he went outin search of the deputy.
Lingle was sitting dejectedly on the edge of the sidewalk when Teetersfound him, and the deputy returned his spicy greeting dispiritedly.
"You look bilious as a cat," said Teeters, eying him. "Why don't youtake somethin'?"
"You bet I'm bilious--the world looks plumb ja'ndiced!" the deputyanswered, with feeling.
"What's the matter?" Teeters sobered in sudden anxiety. "Ain't thecase--"
A frown grew between the deputy's eyebrows.
"The case is gettin' nowhere. Things don't look right, and I can'texactly put my finger on it."
"What do you mean, Lingle?" quickly.
"I mean that people are actin' curious--them sports inside--" he jerkedhis thumb at the Boosters' Club behind him, "and the authorities."
"How do you mean--curious?"
"Don't show any interest--throw a wet blanket over everything as if theywanted to discourage me--I'm not sure that they're not tryin' to blockme."
"But why would they?" Teeters looked incredulous.
Lingle shrugged a shoulder.
"I don't know yet, but I've got my own opinion."
"But you won't lay down," Teeters pleaded, "even if they pull againstyou?"
"Not to notice!" the deputy replied grimly.
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