CHAPTER ELEVEN
A BOOM THAT BUSTED
SAY! wouldn't you 'a' figgered, after I'd brung Mace back t' theole Bar Y, and made her paw so happy that the hull ranch couldn't holehim, and he had t' go streak up t' town and telephone Kansas City fera grand pyano and a talkin'-machine--now _wouldn't_ you 'a' figgeredthat he'd 'a' treated me A1 when I come to ast him fer the little gal?
Wal,--listen t' this!
'Fore ever I spoke to him, I says to myself, "It ain't no use, whenyou want to start up a mule, to git behind and push 'r git in front andpull. No, ma'am. The only way is to hunt a pan of feed 'r a pick-axe.
"Now, Sewell's shore one of them long-eared critters--hardmouthed, andgoin' ahaid like blazes whenever you wanted him to come short; then,again, balkin' till it's a case of grandfather's clock, and you gitto thinkin' that 'fore he'll move on he'll plumb drop in his tracks.So no drivin'. Coaxin' is good enough fer you' friend Cupid."
The first time I got a good chanst, I took in my belt, spit on my hands,shassayed up to the ole man, and sailed in--dead centre.
"Boss," I begun, "some fellers marry 'cause they git plumb sickand tired of fastenin' they suspenders with a nail, and some fellersmarry----"
"Wal? wal? wal?" breaks in Sewell, offish all of a suddent, and themlittle eyes of hisn lookin' like two burnt holes in a blanket. "Whatyou drivin' at? Git it out. Time's skurse."
"Puttin' it flat-footed, then," I says, "I come to speak to you aboutmy marryin' Macie."
He throwed up his haid--same as a long-horn'll do when she'sscairt--and wrinkled his forrid. Next, he begun to jingle his cash(_ba-a-ad_ sign). "So _that's_ what?" (He'd guessed as mucha'ready, I reckon.) "Wal,--I'm a-listenin'."
Then I got a _turrible_ rush of words to the mouth, and put the case upto him right strong. Said they was no question how I felt about Mace, andthat this shore was a life-sentence fer me, 'cause I wasn't the kindof a man to want to ever slip my matreemonal hobbles. And I tacked onthat the little gal reckoned _she_ knowed her own mind.
"No gal ever _lived_ that knowed her own mind," puts in Sewell, snappyas the dickens, and actin' powerful oneasy.
"But Mace ain't the usual brand," I says. "She's got a good haid--a_fine_ haid. She's like _you,_ Sewell."
"You can keep you' compliments to home," says the boss. Then, after alittle bit, "S'pose you been plannin' a'ready where you'd settle."(This sorta inquirin'.)
"Ya-a-as," I says, "we've talked some of that little house in BriggsCity which Doc Trowbridge lets--the one over to the left of the tracks."
That second, I seen a look come over his face that made me plumbgoose-flesh. It was the sorta look that a' ole bear gives you whenyou've got him hurt and into a corner--some appealin', y' savvy, anda hull lot mad.
"Gosh!" I says to myself, "I put my foot in it when I brung upBilly's name. Sewell recollects the time I stuck in my lip."
"You plan t' live in Briggs," he says. He squz his lips t'gether,and turned his face towards the ranch-house. Mace was inside, goin'back'ards and for'ards 'twixt the dinin'-room and the kitchen.She looked awful cute and pretty from where we was, and was callin'sassy things to the Chinaman. Sewell watched her and watched her, and I_re_called later on (when I wasn't so all-fired anxious and _ex_cited),that the ole man's face was some white, and he was kinda all lent over.
"Ya-a-as," I continues (some trembley, though), "that place ofBilly's 'd suit."
Two seconds, and Sewell come round on me like as if he'd chaw me intobits. "What you goin' to rent on?" he ast. "What you goin' to liveon?"
"Wal," I answers, sorta took back, "I got about three hunderd dollarsleft of the money Up-State give me. Wal, that's my nest-aig. And I canmake my little forty a month--_and_ grub--_any_ ole day in the week."
Sewell drawed his breath in, deep. (Look out when a man takes up airthat-a-way: Somethin's shore a-comin'!) "Forty a month!" he says."Forty a month! That just about keeps you in ca'tridges! Forty amonth!--and you without a square foot of land, 'r a single, solitaryhorned critter, 'r more'n a' Injun's soogin' 'twixt you and thefloor! Do y' think you can take that little baby gal of mine into ablank shack that ain't got a stick of anythin' in it, and turn herloose of a Monday, like a Chink, to do the wash?"
"Now, ease up, boss," I says. "I reckon I think _al_most as much ofMace as you do. And I'm figgerin' to make her life just as happy as I_can._"
Wal, then he walked up and down, up and down (this all happened out bythe calf-corral), and blowed and blowed and blowed. Said that him andhis daughters had allus made the Bar Y ranch-house seem like home to theSewell punchers, and they was men in the outfit just low-down mean enoughto take advantage of it. Said he'd raised his gal like a lady--and nowshe was goin' to be treated like a squaw.
If it'd 'a' been any other ole man but Mace's, I'd 'a' made himswaller ev'ry one of them words 'fore ever he got 'em out. As itstood, a-course, I couldn't. So I just helt my lip till he was over hisholler. (By now, y' savvy, I'd went through enough--from sayin' thewrong thing back when Paw Sewell 'r his daughter was a-talkin'--t'learn me that the best _I_ could do was just t' keep my blamed mouthshut.)
Pretty soon, I says, "You spoke of land, Mister Sewell," I says,politer'n pie, and as cool as if I had the hull of Oklahomaw up mysleeve. (Been a beefsteak, y' savvy, fer him to git the idear he hadme anxious any.) "Wal, how much land do you figger out that you'next son-in-law oughta have?"
He looked oneasy again, got red some, and begun workin' his nose upand down like a rabbit. "Aw, thunder!" he says, "what you astin'_that_ fer? A man--_any_ man--when he marries, oughta have a placebig enough so's his chickens can kick up the dirt 'round his housewithout its fallin' into somebody else's yard. Out here, where thehull blamed country's land--just land fer miles--a man oughta have apiece, say--wal, as big as--as that Andrews chunk of mine." (When Billymarried Rose, Sewell bought over the Andrews' ranch, y' savvy. Wantedit 'cause it laid 'twixt hisn and town, and had a fine water-holefer the stock. But a good share of the hunderd acres in it wasn'tmuch to brag on--just crick-bottom.)
"The Andrews place?" I says, smooth and easy. "Wal, Sewell, I'll keepthat in mind. And, now, you spoke of cows----"
"Fifty 'r so," puts in the ole man, quick, like as if he was 'shamedof hisself. (His ranges is plumb _alive_ with cattle.) "A start,Cupid,--just a start."
Wal, a-course, whatever he said went with _me_. If he'd 'a' _ad_visedwalkin' on my hands as far as Albuquerque, you'd 'a' saw mea-startin', spurs in the air!
"So long," I says then, and walked off. When I turned round, a littlebit later, Sewell was standin' there yet, haid down, shoulders hunchedover, arms a-hangin' loose at his sides, and all his fingers twitchin'.As I clumb on to that pinto bronc of mine and steered her outen thegate, I couldn't help but think that, all of a suddent, seems like,the boss looked a mighty lot _older_.
"Maud," I says, as I loped fer town, "Maud, I'm shore feazed! I beenbelievin', since I got back from Noo York, that it was settled I wasto marry Mace. And here, if I don't watch out, that Injun-giver'lltake her back. I was a blamed idjit to give him any love-talk. The onlything he cares fer is money--money!" Wal, some men 're like that--andtighter'n a wood-tick. When they go to pay out a dollar, they hole onto it so hard they plumb pull it outen shape, yas, ma'am. Why, I canrecollect seein' dollars that looked like the handle of a jack-knife.
But if I was brash in front of Sewell, I caved in all right when I gotto Briggs City. Say! did you ever have the blues--so bad you didn't wantto eat, and you didn't want to talk, and you didn't want to drink,but just wanted to lay, nose in the pilla, and think and think and think?Wal, fer three days, that was me!
And I was still sullin' when Sheriff Bergin come stompin' in with acopy of the Goldstone _Tarantula_. "Here's bum luck!" he growls."A-course _Briggs_ couldn't hump herself none; but that jay town downthe line has to go have a boom."
"A boom?" I says, settin' up.
"Reg'lar rip-snorter of a Kansas boom. Some Chicago fellers with a lotof cash has turned up and
is a-buyin' in all the sand. Wouldn't it makey' _sick?_"
I reached fer that paper with both fists. Yas, there it was--a pieceabout so long. "_Goldstone offers the chanst of a lifetime,_" it read."_Now is when a little money'll make a pile. Land is cheap t'-day,but later on it'll bring a big price._"
I got on to my feet. They was about a quarter of a' inch of stubbleon my face, and I was as shaky as a quakin' asp. But I had my spunk upagain. "Ain't I got a little money," I says, "--that nest-aig? Wal,I'll just drop down to Goldstone, and, if that boom is bony fido, andgrowin', _I'll git in on it._"
Next mornin', I went over to the deepot, borraed some paper from theagent, and writ Mace a note. "_Little gal,_" I says in the letter,"_don't you go back on me. I'm prepared to work my fingers down tothe first knuckle fer you, and it's only right you' paw should wantyou took care of good._"
Then Number 201 come in and I hopped abroad. "It's land 'r no lady,"I says to myself, puttin' my little post-card photo of Macie into mypocket as the train pulled out; "--land 'r no lady."
But when I hit Goldstone, I plumb got the heart-disease. The same olelong street was facin' the track; the same scatterin' houses wasstandin' to the north and south; and the same bunch of dobe shackswas over towards the east, where the greasers lived. The town wasn'tchanged none!
Another minute, and I felt more chipper. West of town, two 'r threefellers was walkin' 'round, stakin' out the mesquite. And nigh thestation, 'twixt them and me, was a brand-new, hip-roofed shanty with along black-and-white sign acrosst it. The sign said "Real Estate."Wal, _that_ looked like _business!_
I bulged in. They was a' awful dudey feller inside, settin' at a tableand makin' chicken-tracks on a big sheet of blue paper. "Howdy," Isays, "you must be one of them Chicago gents?"
He jumped up and shook hands. "Yas, I am," he says; "but only aland-agent, y' savvy. They's three others in town that's got_capital_. The one that lives over yonder at the hotel is a millionaire.Then they's a doctor (left a _fine_ practice to come), and a preacher.But the preacher ain't just one of you' _ord'nary_ pulpit pounders."
I stooped over to git a look at that sheet of blue paper. It had linesall criss-cross on it, same as a checker-board, and little, square, whitespots showin' now and again.
"_Ex_cuse me fer astin'," I says, "but what's this?"
"This is the new map of Goldstone," he says, "and drawed two milesquare. Here"--pointin' to a white spot--"'ll be the Normal College,and here"--pointin' to another--"the Merchants' _Ex_change. Then,a-course, the Pavilion fer Indus'tral _Ex_hibitions----"
"Pardner," I broke in, "if Goldstone was in the middle 'r east partof Oklahomaw, where crops is allus fine, this boom wouldn't surprise mea _little_ bit. But out _this_ way, where they's only a show fer cattle,I cain't just understand it. Now, they must be some _reason._"
The real estate agent, he smiled awful sly like, and wunk. "Mebbe,"he says.
Later on, I seen the gent that was stoppin' at the hotel. He wastonier'n the other. Wore one of them knee coats that's got a wedgeouten it, right in front, and two buttons fastened in the small of theback. He was walkin' up and down the porch and smokin' a seegar. Rich?Wal, I guess! Had the finest room in the house, and et three six-bitmeals a day! About fifty, he was, and kinda porky; not a tub, y'savvy, but plenty fat.
That same day, a new _Tarantula_ come out. In it was a piece haided"_More Capital Fer Goldstone._" It went on like this: "_Our Cityhas lately acquired four new citizens whose confidence and belief inher future 'd put some of the old hangers-on and whiners to the blushif they faces wasn't made of brass, and didn't know how to blush.Wake up,_" goes on the _Tarantula, "wake up, Goldstone, and shakeyou'self. And gents, here's a hearty welcome! Give us you' paw!_"
Goldstone was woke up, all right, all right. She was as lively and_ex_cited as a chicken with its haid cut off. That real-estate feller'd bought up two big tracts just north of town, gittin' 'em cheapa-course; _awful_ cheap, in fact, 'cause no one 'd smelt a boom whenhe first showed up. (Wal, _first_ come, first _served_.) Porky 'dbought, too, and owned some lots 'twixt them tracts and the post-office.To the east, right where the nicest houses is, the parson was plannin'to import his fambly. More'n that, them four gun-shy gents stood readyto buy all the time. And Goldstone fellers that would 'a' swappedthey lots fer a yalla dawg, and then shot the dawg, was holdin' outfer fifty plunks.
Wal, I had that three hunderd. But I helt back. What I wanted to knowwas _the why behind the boom._
I just kinda happened past that real-estate corn-crib. The land-agentwas to home, and I ast him to come over and have one with me. He saidO. K., that suited _him_. So we greased our hollers a few times. And,when he was feelin' so good that he could make out to talk, I drawedfrom him that Goldstone was likely to stand 'way up yonder at the haidof her class account of "natu'al developments."
"Natu'al developments," I says. "Wal, pardner, when it comes to thembig, dictionary words, I shore am a slouch. And you got me all twistedup in my picket-rope."
But I had to spend another dollar 'fore he'd talk some more. Then hebegun, _turrible_ confidential: "I been sayin' nothin' and sawin'wood, Lloyd. I ain't let _no_ man git information outen _me_. But I likeyou, Lloyd, and, say! I'm a-goin' to tell you. Natu'al developmentsis _coal_ and _oil_ and _gas._"
Same as the Tusla country! Wal, I was plumb crazy. "Blamed if it ain't_likely,_" I says to myself. "Wal, that settles things fer _me._"
I got shet of that real-estate feller quick as I could (didn't wanthim to remember that he'd talked in his sleep), and hunted up thepost-master. The postmaster was one of the china-eyed, corn-silk Swedes,and he owned quite a bit of Goldstone. I tole him I wanted to buy acouple of lots 'cause I was goin' to be married, and figgered tobuild. (That wasn't no lie, neither.) Said I didn't want to live in thepart of town where the greasers was fer the reason that I'd rathersettle down in a Sioux Camp in August _any_ day than amongst a crowd ofblamed _cholos_.
The postmaster wasn't anxious to sell. Said he didn't have more'n ablock left, and he wanted a big price fer that. "'Cause this boom is_solid,_"--he kinda half whispered it. "How do I know? Wal, I pumpedone of them suspender-cityzens this mornin'."
That showed me I'd got to hump myself. If that real-estate fellerblabbed any more, I wouldn't be able to buy. The station-agent ownedsome lots. I hiked fer the deepot.
When I looked into the ticket-office through the little winda, I seenthat agent--one hand on the tick-machine, other holdin' his haid--withhis mouth wide open, like a hungry wall-eye.
"Lloyd," he says, pantin' hard, "I ain't got no right to tell, but Ican't hole it in. Them Chicago fellers, Lloyd, are a Standard Oil bunch.Look a-here!" And he pushed out a telegram.
I wouldn't 'a' believed it if I hadn't saw it writ down in black andwhite. But there it was, haided Chicago, addressed to Porky, and as plainas day: "_Buy up all that's possible. Price no object. Rockafeller._"
Say! I come nigh lettin' out a yell. Then, knowin' they was no use toast the agent to sell, I split fer the liv'ry-stable. And when I gotback into town late that night, I'd been down to a ranch below Goldstoneand handed over my nest-aig fer a quarter-section just south of town.
Next mornin', they was a nice pile of stakes throwed out on to thatsand patch of mine, all them stakes white on the one end and sharp onthe other. And they was a big sign onloaded, too. Yas, ma'am. It said,"The Lloyd Addition."
And that _same_ noon, Number 201 brung me a letter from little Macie!
I didn't cut up my quarter into lots straight off. Made up my mind it'dbe best to see that real-estate feller first, ast his _ad_vice, and seeif he'd handle the property. So I made fer his office in a _turrible_sweat.
Heerd awful loud talkin' as I come nigh, and seen they was a big crowd'round the door. And here was Porky and the parson, just _havin'_it--up and down!
"The idear!" the parson was sayin', "--the idear of you' thinkin'you can go stick a pavilion where licker'll be sold right next to theCathedral!" (He was madder 'n all git o
ut!)
Porky shrug his shoulders. "My dear _sir,_" he says, "I got to usemy own _land_ in my own _way._"
"Aw!" answers the parson, solemn, "--aw! my friend, give you' hearta housecleanin'. Think not so muchly about worldly _po_ssessions, but_see_cure a lot in the New Jerusalem!"
Then Porky flew up. Said the parson 'd insulted him. "And," he almostyelled, "this is how it stands. Either you got to buy the block wherethe pavilion's goin' to be, 'r I'll buy the Cathedral property."
"I ain't got you' means at my command," says the parson.
"Never mind. I'll take the church lots. Name you' figger."
"Three thousand."
Porky pulled out his check-book and begun to scribble with one of themsquirt-gun pens. "The matter is settled," he says.
Say! the feller who'd sole that property to the parson fer a hunderd--wehad to prop him up!
Just afterwards, I had my chin with the real-estate dude, and I tell youit made me pretty blue. "Sorry, Lloyd," he says; "you know _I_ nevertole you to buy _south_ of town. And I don't keer to bother with you'Addition. 'Cause Goldstone is goin' to grow to the north and east."
Porky was there, and he said the very same thing. And a few minutes lateron, when the doc come in, I couldn't git him to even _con_sider lookin'over my buy. But fer a lot on the north side, belongin' to the parson,he put down the good, hard _coin_.
North and east was the hull talk now, and them Goldstone fellers who'dsole out cheap in that end of town felt some pale. But the Chicagogents was as pert as prairie-dawgs, and doin' a thunderin' lot ofbuyin'. Now, the doc owned sev'ral lots east of Porky's tract. "Newdrug-store here," he says, "and a fine town hall over it. I'll putten thousand into the buildin'." And the parson bought next to the sitefer the Normal College. "The city," he says, "'ll want a spot ferits High School."
All the time this was goin' on, I was livin' on nothin', you mightsay, and not even spendin' a cent fer a shave. My haid had a crop ofhay on it that would 'a' filled a pilla; I had a Santy Claus beard,and if I couldn't afford to grub at the hotel, I wasn't mean enoughto use they soap. So, far as looks goes, I was some changed.
Then--the _Tarantula_ showed up with the hull story about coal and oiland gas! Say! the cat was outen the bag. And Goldstone come nigh havin'a fit and fallin' in. Here it'd been over a gold-mine, and didn't knowit! And here it'd gone and sole itself out to a passel of strange ducks!
"_Feller citizens,_" says the paper, "_this beautiful city of yourn isdestined to rival South McAlester and Colgate._"
That was on a Thursday, if I recollect right. Wal, say! fer the next twodays, more things happened in that there town than'd ever happened inthe hull _county_ afore. Ev'rybody that could rake, scrape, beg 'rborra was a-doin' it--so's they could buy. Friday, the postmastergot a big block from the real-estate gent; same day, kinda as a favour,the doc sold the ticket-agent two 'r three lots. I felt blamed sore'cause _I_ didn't have no money to git in on some good deals. But Ihung on to the "Lloyd Addition"--I wouldn't let _that_ git outenmy hands. Aw, I ain't a-goin' to lie--I had the boom-fever bad as_any_body. Fact is, I had it _worse_. And who wouldn't--when gettin'that little gal depended on it?
Saturday, Goldstone went plumb crazy. They was buyin' and sellin'back'ards and for'ards, this way and that way, in circles andcater-corners. From sun-up on, that real-estate shanty had half a dozenfellers in it all the time; more was over to the hotel, dickerin'with Porky; and a lot of others trailed up the parson and the doc.Nobody et 'cause they was too blamed _ex_cited. Nobody drunk 'causethey wouldn't spare the cash. The sun went down, and they kept ona-buyin'. And at midnight, the town went to bed--_rich!_
The day afterwards was Sunday. And I hope I may die if I ever fergit thatSunday!
When the sun come up, as a story-book'd put it, Goldstone lay as calmand peaceful as a babe, 'cept where some poor devil of a cow-punch wasgittin' along towards his bunk when he oughta been comin' outen it. Butall else was O. K. Weather fine, ev'rybody well, thank y', and landso high it's a wonder the temper'ture wasn't gittin' low.
But ain't it funny how quick things can change?
First off, some of us boys went over to that real-estate hogan--and foundthe door open and the place stripped. Yas, ma'am; duds gone, picturesgone. Only the bench and the table left.
"What struck _him?_" ast the postmaster, who was comin' by.
"I guess," says a feller, careless, "--I guess he's moved into abetter office, mebbe."
"I reckon," agrees the postmaster. Then, his voice gittin' holler,like, "But ain't that the map of Goldstone, with a rip in it?"
It was--tore clean in two!
We wasn't anxious any. Just the same, we drifted over to the hotel.When we got to the door, we met the clerk comin' out. "Where's you'millionaire friend this mornin'?" we ast him.
"Started fer Chicago last night."
"What--what's that?"
"Gone to raise more capital, I guess," says the clerk. "'Cause hedidn't settle--is comin' back right off."
Without nobody sayin' nothin' more, we all made up the street to thedoctor's, the crowd growin' as we went along. Even after bein' knockedplumb flat with a sledge-hammer, we didn't know _yet_ what'd bit us.But they was another whopper a-comin'--the _doc_ wasn't to be found.
"I think," says the postmaster, swallerin' hard, "that if we ast theparson----"
Up pipes a kid. "The parson wasn't to Sunday school this mornin'."
Fer a spell, we all just looked at each other. Then, the _pro_cessionformed and moved east--towards the parson's.
A square table was inside. On it was a lot of bottles and glasses and apack of cards--nothin' more.
Ole sin-killer, too!
I spoke up: "They's gone, boys,--but what about they _land?_"
"Wal," answers one feller, "I don't think the doc _had_ none. 'CauseI bought the Merchants' _Ex_change site offen him yesterday."
"And I bought the Normal School block offen the parson," says NumberTwo.
"And what I got from the real-estate feller last night," adds the hotelclerk, "must 'a' come nigh to cleanin' _him_ out."
Another spell of quiet. Then----
"I wonder," _re_marks the station-agent, "if that Rockafeller telegramwas _genuwine._"
The postmaster throwed up his hands. "We're it!" he says. "We soleour sand fer a song, and we bought it back at a steep figger."
"With all that money," adds the hotel clerk, "they must 'a' had towalk bow-laigged."
"My friends," says the station-agent, "the drinks is on us!"
* * * * *
And me? Wal, I wandered 'round fer a while--like I was plumb loco. WhenI landed up at last, I seen somethin' white in front of me. It was asign, and it said, "The Lloyd Addition."
I sit down on my little pile of stakes, and pulled out the last letterI'd got from Macie.
"Dear Alec," it begun, "I'm so glad you got you' land----"
I didn't read no further. I looked off acrosst the mesquite in the_di_rection of Briggs City. "The land ain't no good," I says. "Andall my money's gone." And I laid my haid down on my arms.
Just then, outen a bunch of grass not far off, I heerd the spunky littlesong of a lark!
I riz up.
"Anyhow," I says, "I'm goin' home. Mebbe I look like a bum; but I'mgoin' back where I got some friends! I'm goin' back where they callme Cupid!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
AND A BOOM AT BRIGGS
I GOT back all right. It takes two dollars and six-bits to git fromGoldstone to Briggs City on the Local. But if you happen to have a littleflat bottle in you' back pocket, you ride in the freight caboose fernothin'. I _had_ a flat bottle. I swapped "The Lloyd Addition" fer it.
When I hit ole Briggs City, she looked all right t' _me,_ I can telly'. And so did the boys. And by noon I was plumb wored out, I'd gassedso much.
Wal, I went over and sit down on the edge of Silverstein's porch torest my face and hands. Pretty soon, I heerd a hoss a-comin
' up thestreet--_clickety, clickety, clickety, click._ It stopped at thepost-office, right next me. I looked up--and here was Macie!
Say! I felt turrible, 'cause I hadn't slicked up any yet. But shedidn't seem to notice. She knowed they was somethin' gone wrong though,'fore ever I said a word. She just helt out one soft little hand."Never you mind, Alec," she says; "never you mind."
My little gal!
"It means punchin' cows fer four years at forty per, Macie," I saysto her.
"I'll wait fer you, Alec," she answers.
She'd gone, and I was turnin' back towards Silverstein's, when--I'ma son-of-a-gun if I didn't see, a-comin' acrosst from the deepot, oneof them land-sharks! It was Porky, with that wedge-coat of hisn, and aseegar as big as a corn-cob!
Say! I duv under the porch so quick that I clean scairt the life outensix razorbacks and seventeen hens that was diggin' 'round under it. Andwhen I come out where the back door is, I skun fer Hairoil Johnson'sshack to borra a dif-f'rent suit of clothes offen the parson. Next, Ihad my Santy Claus mowed at the barber-shop.
But, when I looked in the glass, I wasn't satisfied, 'cause I wasn'tchanged enough. "What'll I _do?_" I ast the barber.
"Wash," he says.
Wal, I'll be dog-goned!--the _dis_guise was complete!
Just then, in come Hank Shackleton. "Hank," I says, "what do y'think?--that fat Chicago millionaire I was a-tellin' you of is _here!_"
"You don't say so!" he answers, beginnin' to grin. "That shore _is_luck!"
"How so?" ast the barber.
"Why," I says, "just think what we can _do_ to him!"
Hank just lent back and haw-hawed like he'd bust his buttons off. "Aw,_don't_ make me laugh," he says; "my lip's cracked!"
They ain't no use talkin'--we fixed up a proposition that was a _daisy_.
"And it'll work like yeast," says Shackleton. "A-course, whatever_I_ make outen it, Cupid, you git a draw-down on--yas, you do."
"Nobody from Goldstone'll speak up and spoil the fun, neither," Isays. "Not by a jugful! That passel of yaps down there is jealous ofBriggs, and 'd just _like_ to see her done. What's more, they got aheap of little, mean pride, and 'd never own up _they_ been sold."
It was shore funny, but from that _very_ minute, and all by _itself_kinda, Briggs City begun to boom! Billy Trowbridge put a barb-wire fence'round a couple of vacant lots next his house. Bergin dug a big holebehind that ole vacant shack of hisn, and buried about a ton of tin cans.Hairoil turned some shoats into a rock patch he owned and cleaned outthe rattlesnakes. And all over town, sand got five times as high asit'd ever been afore.
So when my dudey friend, the real-estate feller, struck our flourishin'city, and hired a' empty shanty fer his office, he didn't find no oneanxious to sell him a slice of land. "Say! property's up here," he_re_marked, whilst he put down the stiff price that Bill Rawson 'd astfer a lot. He seemed sorta bothered in his mind. (But he had to haveland--to start his game on.)
"And _climbin',_" says Bill, pocketin' the spondulix. (Later on, Billsays to _me,_ "I ain't a-goin' to do another lick of hard work thisyear!")
Same day, here was Sam Barnes, walkin' up and down on that acre of hisnand holdin' to a forked stick. Wouldn't tell Porky _why,_ though hehinted that whenever a forked stick dipped _three_ times, _it meantsomethin' more 'n water._
"But I ain't got the cash to do no investigatin'," says Sam, sad-like.
Porky got turrible inter_est_ed. "Say," he says t' Shackleton, "whatyou think of that land of Barnes's?"
"Wal," answers Hank, "I'll tell y': Oncet I seen another stripthat looked _just_ like hisn on top. And it was rich in gold. It was soblamed rich in the colour that when the feller who owned it (he was aslazy as a government mule)--when that feller wanted more t'bacca, 'rsome spuds, 'r a piece of pig, why, he'd just go out into the yard androll. Then he'd hike to town, and when he'd get into the bank, he'dshake hisself--good--pick up what fell to the floor, git it weighed,and the payin'-teller would hand him out what was comin' t' him."
Porky peeled his eyes. (It was plain he didn't swaller it all.) But,after talkin' with that real-estate feller, he hunted up Sam and boughtev'ry square inch he had. "'Cause it's dollars to doughnuts," hesays, "that Briggs City'll grow this way."
"Wal, I don't know," says Sam. "Bergin is powerful strong inpollytics, and he figgers to git the Court House _er_ected on theother side of town--where his wife's got some land."
The new parson and the doc showed up that same afternoon. And I reckonthey liked that Court House idear, 'cause they took the north half ofthe Starvation Gap property straight off.
"The City Park," they says, "should allus be next the publicbuildin's."
"The City Park," says Buckshot Milliken, "will likely be furthernorth, right agin the University. I _know_--fer the reason that they wasa meetin' of the University _di_rectors last night. Then, the Farmers'and Merchants' Bank is goin' to be located facin' the Park, and sois the Grand Op'ra House."
Porky gave Buckshot a' awful sharp look. But Buckshot's a' Injun whenit comes to actin' innocenter'n a kitten. So then the millionaire gentlooked _tickled_ ('cause, just think!--if we was _ex_cited a'readyabout a boom, what a pile of trouble it'd save him and his pardners!)Wal, he waddled off and hunted 'em up. And that night they pur_chased_'most all of them north lots--payin' good.
It was the next mornin' that they got holt of ole man Sewell and boughtthe Andrews place. Sewell wasn't _on_--he hadn't been into town since Icome from Goldstone. But the real-estate gent was used to puttin' up agood figger by now, and the boss made a fair haul.
Right off, the Andrews chunk was laid out in fifty-foot lots. It wasjust rows and _rows_ of white stakes, and when the West-bound was stoppedat the deepot fer grub, I seen Bill Rawson pointin' them stakes outto two poor ole white-haired women. "Ladies," he says, "that's thebattlefield where Crook fit the Kiowas. Ev'ry stake's a stiff."
As the train pulled out, she was tipped all to one side kinda, andrunnin' on her off wheels, 'cause the pass'ngers was herded alongthe west side of the cars, lookin' at that big graveyard.
When Hank's next _Eye-Opener_ come out, one hull side of it was coveredwith a map of Briggs City--drawed three mile square, so's to takein what Mrs. Bergin had left. Under the map it said, "_The left-handcross marks the position of the West Oklahomaw Observatory, which isto be built on top of Rogers's Butte, and the cross in the AndrewsAddition marks the spot where the great Sanatarium'll stand._" (Say!it was gittin' to be a cold day in Briggs when somebody didn't starta grand, new institootion!) "_Why,_" goes on Shackleton, in thatpiece of hisn, "_breathin' that fine crick-bottom air, and on a plaindiet--say, of bread and clabbered milk, a sick person oughta git curedup easy, and a healthy person oughta live more'n a hunderd years._"(Wal, as far as _I'_m concerned, if I had to eat clabbered milk ahunderd years, I'd ruther _die!_)
Next thing, two 'r three of the boys got into a reg'lar jawin'-matchover some property. Chub Flannagan wanted to start a new paper calledthe _Rip-Saw_. Shackleton, a-course, didn't want he should. Right infront of that real-estate feller's, Chub drawed a gun on Hank. AndMonkey Mike had to interfere 'twixt them.
"I got a right to do what I please on my own land," yells Chub.
"Wal, I'll buy you' blamed lots," says Shackleton, "but I don'tstand fer compytition. Here, agent, what's Chub's block worth?"
The dude reckoned it was worth five hunderd. And Shackleton dug down likea man!
The rest of us done a turrible lot of buyin' and sellin' right afterthat--one to the other. The sheriff sold to Sam Barnes (fer a chaw oft'bacca); Bill Rawson, he sold to me (on tick); Hairoil Johnson toDutchy, and so forth. 'R, it'd be like this: "Bet you a lot I canjump the furth'est." "Bet you cain't." Then real estate 'd changehands, and the _Tarantula_ 'd talk about "a lively market."
A-course, the dude and Porky, and the doc and the new parson wasdoin' some buyin', too. 'Fore long, they owned all Bergin had, andShackleton's, and Chub's, and Rawson's, and Johnson's, and mine. Andthey picked out a p
lace fer the Deef, Dumb, and Blind Asylum; and namedole man Sewell fer President of the Briggs City Pott'ry works.
"_I'll buy you blamed lots, but I don't stand fercompytition_"]
Pretty soon, havin' all the land they wanted, they begun, steady byjerks, to sell each other, notice of them sales appearin' in the_Eye-Opener_ at two-bits apiece. Next, they got to sellin' faster.Then, it was dawg eat dawg. Lickin' things into a' _ex_citin' pass,them lots of theirn flew back'ards and for'ards till the air wasplumb full of sand. When the sun went down that never-to-be-fergotevenin' (as the speaker allus says at a _po_litical pow-wow), oleBriggs City was the colour of mesquite. But the pockets of the puncherswas so chuck full that, as the hours drug by, our growin' city gotredder 'n a section-house, 'cause the boys was busy paintin' it. (Butcount _me_ out--I had my draw-down, and I was a-hangin' _on_ to it.)Whilst over at the real-estate shack, them gun-shy gents was havin'a quiet, little business talk, gittin' ready fer they onloadin'campaign next day.
About ten o'clock, I stopped by they shebang and knocked. When the doorwas opened, here they all sit, makin' out more deeds 'n you couldshake a stick at. I didn't go in. I figgered I'd be gittin' marriedsoon; and no feller wants his face spotted up like a Sioux chief's onhis weddin' day.
"Gents," I says, "the boys sent me over to thank you all ferpur_chasin'_ property hereabouts in such a blamed gen'rous way. Andit's shore too bad that _they_ feel they cain't invest. But they planto wait a year, and buy in what you got fer taxes."
Fer as long as you could count ten, not a' one of 'em said a word. Thenthe doc stood up. "Who in thunder are _you?_" he ast, voice like a frog.
"Why," I answers, "don't you recollect _me?_ I'm Cupid here; but,down at Goldstone, I was the owner of the Lloyd Addition."
They jumped like they'd been stuck with a pin. "The Lloyd Addition!"they kinda hisses.
"Yas," I goes on. "So I reckon you realise that it wouldn't be nouse fer Mister Real-Estate Agent, here, to git three-sheets-in-the-wind,and then let out his grand natu'al development secret; 'r fer ourmillionaire friend to go send hisself a telegram from Rockafeller.Gent's you' little Briggs City boom is busted."
Say! next minute the hull quartette of 'em was a-swearin' to oncet,so's it sounded like a tune--nigger chords and all.
Next, Porky begun a solo. Said if they hadn't all been plumb crazy,they'd 'a' knowed they was a screw loose in Briggs. And now here theywas stripped cleaner'n a whistle by a set of ornery cow-punchers----
I cut him short. "We know how to cure a dawg of suckin' aigs," I says."We give him all he wants of 'em--red hot. Wal, you gents had the boomdisease, and you had it bad. But I reckon now you've got just about allthe land you can hole."
They nodded they haids. It was a show-down, and no mistake, and theywas plumb offen they high hoss. Blamed if I didn't come nigh feelin'sorry fer 'em! But I goes on, "I'm feard you-all're _just_ a littlebit ongrateful to me--_con_sider-in' that I come here t'-night to helpy'."
"Help?" they says. (Quartette again.)
"Why, yas. Don't you think, about this time, that Chicago 'd lookpretty good to you?"
"Chicago!" says Porky, low and wistful, like he didn't never expectto see the place again.
"And hittin' the ties, fer two dudes like the agent, here, and theparson----"
"Parson be hanged!" says the last named gent, ugly as the dickens.
"I hope not," I goes on, "but you never can tell what the boys'lldo."
The doc was standin' up. As I said that, he come down kerplunk onto abench, like as if a spring 'd give way in his laigs.
"Lloyd," he says, "we--we--we're willin' to go, but we ain't gotno money."
"You're what I'd call land-poor," I says.
"You need four tickets--wal, now, you own that Andrews chunk, don'ty'?"
"Lloyd," says the real-estate feller, "you've got the dead wood onus, ole man." He picked up one of them deeds from the table. "Git usthe tickets," he says, "and here's the Andrews property."
"A up-freight goes by in twenty minutes," I says. And started fer thestation.
"Lloyd!" calls Porky after me, "think you could spare us a' extratwenty fer grub?--_you_ don't want us to starve, Lloyd. And--and mebbeyou could use the rest of these deeds."
I come back.
"Twenty?" I says; "I'll make it fifty fer luck."
They was tears in that fake parson's eyes. "Lloyd," he says, "if Ireally _was_ a preacher, I'd pick you fer a saved man."
Later on, when I walked into Dutchy's thirst-parlour, the boys was onhand, waitin' patient. As they ketched sight of me, they hollered some.
"My friends," I says, "this is where I stand treat. But it ain'tlicker this tune, _no,_ ma'am; I'm presentin' hunderd-foot lots."So out I drawed my little bunch of deeds and handed one to each feller.Bergin got the Observatory site and the City Park; Rawson, the Universitygrounds; Hairoil, the Farmers' and Merchants' Bank block; Chub, theCourt House; Sam Barnes, the spot fer the Grand Op'ra House, and BillyTrowbridge, the land fer the Deef, Dumb and Blind Asylum. Then I slid.
Ten minutes, and my pinto bronc was a-kitin' fer the Bar Y ranch-house.Turnin' in at the gate, I seen a light in the sittin'-room winda. Idropped the reins over Maud's haid and hoofed it up onto the porch.And inside, there was Macie, a-settin' in her rocker in front of thefire. On the other side was the President of the Briggs City Pott'ryWorks.
"Boss," I says, as I shook hands with him, "Boss, I've come fer you'little gal." Say! it took him quick, like a stitch in the side. "Fermy gal?" he kinda stammers.
"Why--why, Alec,----" she whispers to me.
"Sewell," I goes on, "when I ast you fer her, a while back, you said,'Git a piece of land as big as the Andrews chunk.' Wal," (I handedout my deed) "would you mind lookin' at this?"
"It's yourn!" The ole man put his hands to his haid.
"Also," I says, rattlin' the little stack of twenties in my right-handbritches pocket, "I'm fixed t' git some cows; fifty 'r so--a start,boss, just a start."
"How'd you do it! Why, I'm plumb knocked silly!"
"But you' ain't the man to go back on you' word, Sewell. I can takegood keer of Mace now--and I want to be friends with the man that'sgoin' to be my paw."
He begun to look at me, awful steady and sober, and he looked and helooked--like as if he hadn't just savvied. Next, he sorta talked tohisself. "My little Macie," he kept sayin'; "my little Macie."
She put her arms 'round him then, and he clean broke down. "Aw, I_cain't_ lose my little gal," he says. "I don't keer anythin' aboutland 'r cattle. But Macie--she's all I got left. _Don't_ take heraway from me!"
So _that_ was it! (And I'd said that all Sewell keered fer was money.)"Boss," I says, "you mean you'd like us to live here--with you?"
He come over to me, tremblin' like he had the ague. "Would y',Cupid?" he ast. "I'd never interfere with you two none. _Would_ y'?"
"Aw, daddy!" says Mace, holdin' to him tight.
"Why, bless you' heart, Sewell," I answers, "what do I want to liveany _other_ place fer? _Mace_ is what I want--just Mace. And, say! youtake back you' little ole crick-bottom."
"Got more land'n I want _now._"
"Boss,"--I helt out my hand--"here's where you git a new son-in-law,and a foreman fer keeps on cow-punch pay. Shake!"
He give one hand to Mace, and he give me the other. "Not by a long shot,Cupid!" he says. "Here's where I git a half-_pardner._"
* * * * *
So here I am--settled down at the ole Bar Y. And it'd take a twenty-muleteam t' pull me offen it. Of a evenin', like this, the boss, he sitson the east porch, smokin'; the boys 're strung along the side ofthe bunk-house t' rest and gass and laugh; and, out yonder, is thecottonwoods, same as ever, and the ditch, and the mesquite, leveler'n afloor; and--up over it all--the moon, white and smilin'.
Then, outen the door nigh where the sun-flowers 're growin', mebbeshe'll come--a slim, little figger in white. And, if it's plenty warm,and not too late, why, she'll be
totin' the smartest, cutest----
Listen! y' hear that?
"Sweet is the vale where the Mohawk gently glides On its fair, windin' way to the sea----"
That's my little wife,--that's Macie, now--a-singin' to the kid!
THE END
Alec Lloyd, Cowpuncher Page 11