The Westerners

by Stewart Edward White

  XV

  IN WHICH CHEYENNE HARRY LOSES HIS PISTOL

  The camp which was to be the scene of Lafond's operations and of thegirl's anticipated triumphs, lay between Ragged Top and Tom Custer. Itconsisted of a double row of log cabins situated in the V of the deepravine. The men generally ate in the long dining-room of the hotel,worked at prospecting in the hills, and spent their evenings in thecentrally situated Little Nugget saloon, the property of Michail Lafond.

  The night of the half-breed's arrival the usual crowd was carrying onthe usual discussions on the usual subjects.

  One fresh from the East entering the building would have been struckfirst with the strangeness of the room. It was long and low, and onthree sides dark. Against the fourth wall was stretched tightly awhite cotton sheet, imitating plaster, in front of which stood the bar.The bar was polished, narrow, with a foot rest in front and two towelshanging from metal clasps just under the projecting eaves of it. Ithad been brought in sections, by wagon, at considerable expense. Somethree feet behind the bar, stretched a shelf of the same height, towelcovered, on which stood four bottles in front of a little mirror. Theshelf was piled symmetrically with glasses of all shapes--tumblers,ponies, fine-stemmed wineglasses--arranged in pyramids and squares.They glittered in the glare of the lamps, and the indirect light fromthe white sheet. A dim pink reflection was given back by themirror--dim and pink because the glass was draped with pink mosquitobar. Overhead hung the sign which read, "To Trust is Bust."

  Beneath the reflector of the largest lamp lounged the barkeeper readinga paper. He had spread the paper on the bar, and, having crooked hiselbows out at wide angles around its margin, was bending his head ofstraw-colored hair close over the print. He was dressed in white as tothe upper part of his body. Occasionally he read aloud in a monotonefrom the paper. At other times his lips moved slowly, shaping theinvisible words as they took form in his sluggish brain.

  "The latest creations in ties," he read, "are described by our buyer asbeing natty effects in the narrow plaids."

  Outside this glare of light from the white-dressed man, and theglittering pyramids and squares and glasses, and the dim pinkreflections, and the white sheet imitating plaster, the rest of theroom seemed dark by contrast. Near the door and the small frontwindow, glowed a red-hot stove. Along the walls were ranged chairs.In the chairs sat many men smoking. Above the men a few cheap pictureswere tacked against the rough walls. One of them represented anabnormally slim and smooth race horse against a background of vividgreen. Another showed an equally green landscape, throwing into reliefa group of red-coated men on spider-legged horses, pursuing a huddle ofposing white hounds. One of the spider-legged horses had fallen, andthe rider, being projected horizontally forward, was suspended rigidlyin mid air, like Mohammed's coffin, and with as much apparent prospectof coming to earth. Still another presented the sight of anexceedingly naked woman descending from an exceedingly flat and marblecouch. One foot was on the floor, and the other knee rested still onthe flat and marble couch. It was labelled "Surprised."

  Three large lamps with reflectors illuminated this part of the room.Then came a strip of comparative dusk; then another hanging-lampdisclosed a smooth-topped table, on which was a faro lay-out.

  The men in the chairs smoked industriously and spoke seldom. The airwas thick with the smoke of strong tobacco, such as "Hand Made" and"Lucky Strike." Very near the stove sprawled old Mizzou,low-foreheaded, white-bearded, talking always of women and the meritsof grass-widows and school-ma'ams.

  "They is nothin' like 'em!" he asserted with ever-fresh emphasis oftone. "Back in Chillicothe, whar th' hogs an' gals is co'n-fed, theyis shore bustin'! When one of them critters comes 'round, I feels jestlike raisin' hell and puttin' a chunk under it!"

  "Th' _hell_ you do!" snorted Cheyenne Harry, scowling his handsomebrows, "th' _hell_ you do! Give us a rest with yore everlastingfemales." He pulled his hat over his eyes, and drew savagely on hispipe, his right hand over the bowl, his left clasped tight under hisarmpit.

  Billy Knapp was telling about his mine.

  "On that thar Buffalo lode," he said impressively, "I got a lead twentyfoot wide. _Twenty foot_, I say! And it holds out; it holds out alot. It's great. I says to them Chicago sharps, I says, 'You won'tfind sech a lead as thet thar nowhere else in the Hills,' and by gravyI believe that's right! I do for shore! An' I says to them, I says,'It only takes a little sinkin', an' a little five stamp mill, t' puther on a paying basis to wunst. Ain't no manner of _doubt_ of it! Itell you it's a chance! that's what it is!'"

  He breathed hard with the enthusiasm into which his words lifted him.He vociferated, telling over and over about his twenty foot lead. Heheld his great hand suspended in the air through whole sentences,bringing it down with a mighty slap as he came to his conclusions. Themen about him listened unmoved. They believed what he said, but theyhad got over being excited at it. Jack Graham, his hat on his knees,twisted his little moustache and smiled amusedly. As the scoutappealed to him from time to time, he nodded silent assent. Overbeyond the bar of dusk, two men were staking small sums at faro. Thekeen-eyed dealer was monotonously calling the cards. "All ready; alldown; hands up; jack win; queen lose!" he drawled.

  In the corner nearest the door, a youth of eighteen huddled on thefloor asleep. Here and there wandered an active wire-haired dog,bigger than a fox terrier and of different color, but with theterrier's bright eyes and alert movements. It was a strange beast,brown and black on the head, black on the body, badger gray on thelegs, with sharp white teeth, over which bristled gray whiskers of thestiffness of a hair brush. As it passed the various men, it eyed themclosely, ready to wag its stump of a tail in friendship, or to circlewarily in avoidance of a kick. It was a self-reliant dog, a dog usedto taking care of itself. Men called it Peter, without abbreviation.

  Peter was possessed of the spirit of restlessness. He smelledeverything, first with dainty sniffs, then with long, deep inhalations.Thus he came to know the inner nature of table legs and chairs, ofmen's boots and of dark corners. Between investigations he would standin front of the bar and stretch, sticking first one hind leg, then theother, at stiff angles behind him, and then, fore feet far in front,pressing the chest of his long body nearly to the floor.

  These things irritated Cheyenne Harry. He attempted to command Peterharshly, but Peter paid no attention.

  "Off his feed," observed Dave Williams to young Barker in an undertone.

  "Yeah," agreed the latter.

  About eight o'clock Blair and the stage drew in and drew out again,after warming at the red-hot stove a little cross man who cursed thewhole West--climate, scenery, and all--with a depth and heartiness thatleft these loyal Westerners gasping. Billy Knapp had attempted toreply, but had not held his own in the interchange.

  After the stranger had gone out, the pristine calm broke into a frothof recrimination. The room shouted. It blamed Billy. It cursed thestranger. It thought of a dozen things that might have been said ordone, as is the fashion of rooms. Billy vociferated against thetourist.

  "Little two by four prospec' hole!" he cried. "He may be all rightwhar he comes from, which don't rank high anyhow, but when he comes outyar makin' any sech fool breaks as that, he don't assay a cent a tonfo' sense!"

  "Oh, hell," growled Cheyenne Harry. "You-all make me tired!"

  "Shake yore grouch, Harry," they advised good-humoredly. CheyenneHarry was popular, fearless and a good shot. He had a little thereputation, in some quarters, of being a "bad man."

  Billy went on with his tirade. The men shook their heads. "You wasn'tace high, Billy," said they. Billy insisted, getting more and moreexcited. They looked down from the calm of superior wisdom. Theiranger vanished in Billy's. He was angry for the whole crowd.

  "Moroney ought to have been here," they observed regretfully. "He'sth' boy! He'd have trimmed th' little cuss good. Can't get ahead ofMoroney nohow."

  Billy denied
that Moroney could have done better than he, Billy, did.The men championed Moroney's cause with warmth. A new discussion aroseout of the old. With a prodigious clatter every man drew up his chairuntil a circle was formed. Archibald Mudge, alias Frosty, thebarkeeper, leaned his head on his fists across the bar, trying to hear.The two men at the faro game cashed in and quit. The faro dealer,imperturbable, indifferent, cat-like, shuffled his cards. Around theoutside of the word-hurling circle Peter wandered, sniffing at chairsand the boots of men.

  Then on a sudden Molly and the half-breed arrived, to the vastastonishment of Copper Creek, which had no women and expected none.

  The newcomers appeared in the doorway, apparently from nowhere, pausinga moment before entering the saloon. Molly leaned a hand on each jamb,and calmly surveyed the room. Lafond blinked his eyes at the light,imperturbably awaiting the girl's good pleasure. After a moment shestepped inside, and again looked the apartment over, slowly,searchingly. She saw in that long sweeping glance everything there wasto be seen--the men and their various attitudes, the bar, the glasses,the mirror draped with mosquito bar, the white cotton sheet, the lamps,the faro table, even the three sporting pictures on the wall.

  In that moment she made up her mind what to do. Her heart was beatingfast and her color was high. She experienced all the sensations of aman going into battle, but not a timid man, or one not sure. Rather,she felt a new access of force, a new confidence, a new imperious powerthat would bend conditions to suit itself. She knew in a flash justhow to tame these untamed men.

  Then she stepped swiftly forward and marched up to the bar, againstwhich she leaned the broad of her back, running her arms along the railon either side and resting one heel against the foot rest. She tossedher curls back, and again looked coolly at the silent men.

  An observer might have found it interesting to note how the differentinmates of the room took this unexpected appearance of the First Woman.Billy Knapp stared with round, gloating eyes, in which a hundredpossibilities awoke. Cheyenne Harry, aroused from his slouchingattitude, thrust his pipe into his pocket and furtively smoothed hismoustache. Graham looked the newcomer over with cool inquiringscrutiny. Frosty began to polish a glass, finding relief from hisembarrassment in accustomed and commonplace occupation. The farodealer shuffled his cards, imperturbable, indifferent, cat-like. Petersat upright on his haunches, sniffing daintily, first in the girl'sdirection, then in the man's, watching, bright-eyed and alert. Peterwas the only being in the place who noticed the girl's companion. Thelatter, in turn, inspected the room deliberately, with a craftycalculation.

  "Well," said Molly Lafond, with slow scorn, "how long are you going tosit there before you take care of a lady's horses?"

  Then they suddenly became aware of the half-breed and of thewhite-covered schooner, dimly visible through the door. They began toregain control of their wits. The arrested currents of life moved oncemore. Who was this girl? Why should she command? Above all, why didnot this little black hairy man take care of his own horses? Menhelped themselves in the West.

  They stirred uneasily, but no one responded. The girl's eyes flashed.

  "Move!" she commanded, stretching her arm with a sudden and regalgesture toward the door.

  The three men nearest jumped up and hurried out. The girl stood for aninstant, her arm still outstretched; then she dropped it to her sidewith a rippling laugh.

  "You boys need someone to make you stand 'round, that's all," she said."Next time I speak, you _rustle_!"

  She placed her hands behind her on the bar, and jumped lightly upward,perching on one corner and swinging her little feet to and fro. Shesat in the focus of one of the larger lamps, seeming to radiate with astrange hard brilliancy. Her eyes sparkled and her curly golden hairescaped from under her old peaked cap in a bewildering tangle oftwisted and glittering fire. She went on easily, withoutembarrassment, chattering in so assured a manner that the men weresilenced by the very shyness that should have been hers.

  "We got here a little late, boys," she said, conversationally, "onaccount of a hot box, but here we are--me and Mike. You don't know usthough, do you? Well, this is Mike Lafond." She looked toward thehalf-breed, and a sudden inspiration lit her eye. "Black Mike!" shecried, clapping her hands. "That's it; Black Mike." She paused inhappy contemplation of the appropriateness of this nickname. It seemedto fit; and it stuck forever after. "He owns this joint here, he says,and I reckon he says right," she went on after a pause. "He ain'tpretty, but I'll tend to that for the family." She perked her headsideways, proving the point beyond contest.

  Peter, who had been watching her, his own head in the same attentivepose, took this as a signal. He barked sharply. "Shut up, dog!"commanded Molly. She seized a pretzel from a tin pan at her side andthrew it at Peter. Peter considered the pretzel as a contribution, sosubsided.

  "Well, boys, I'm glad to be here. I'm going to stay. You might lookmore pleased." She cast her eye along the group of men, each in atense attitude of uneasiness. Graham's nonchalant and loungingself-poise struck her. "Aren't you glad?" she asked, pointing herfinger at him. His quizzical smile only deepened. Failing to confusehim, as she intended, Molly hastily abandoned him. "You ought to be,"she asserted, skilfully turning the remark in the direction of CheyenneHarry. "Come here and let's look at you. I want to know your name.You ain't bashful, are you?"

  Harry put on an appearance of ease and sauntered over to the bar. Hewould show the boys that he was used to society. He grinned at herpleasantly.

  "Can't no one look purty nex' to you!" he said boldly.

  "Well, well!" cried Molly, clapping him lightly on the shoulder."That's the first pleasant word I've had, and after I've told you I wascoming here to live, too!"

  Billy Knapp bounced up, eager to retrieve his reputation.

  "Th' camp bids you welcome, ma'am, an' is proud and pleased that such abeauteous member of her lovely sect is come amongst us!" he orated.

  The men moved their chairs slightly. One or two cleared their throats.The constraint was beginning to break.

  "Thank you," replied Molly prettily. "This is an occasion. Mike hereasks you all to have a drink. Don't you, Mike?"

  The half-breed nodded. He was watching the progress of affairs keenly.

  Frosty set out glasses, into which the men poured whiskey from smallblack bottles. Harry gave his own to the girl, and then procuredanother for himself. Mike sat by the stove. Peter approachedtentatively, but decided to remain at a wary distance. At the otherend of the room the faro dealer shuffled his cards, indifferent,imperturbable, cat-like; a strange man, without friends, implacable andjust. The men who had gone to stable the horses entered and receivedtheir glasses. The girl raised hers high in the air.

  "Now," she cried, "here's hoping we'll all be good friends!"

  The men drank their whiskey. They were slowly developing a certainenthusiasm over the new girl. Constraint was gone. They loungedeasily against the bar. Two stood out near the middle of the floor,where they could see better, their arms across each other's shoulders.Molly touched her lips to her glass, and handed it to Billy, who stoodon the other side of her. "Drink it for me," she whisperedconfidentially in his ear.

  "It'll make me drunk," he said in mock objection. She lookedincredulous. "You have touched it with yore lips," he explainedsentimentally, and drank to cover his confusion. He felt elated. Hehad made a pretty speech, too.

  The girl laughed and put her hand caressingly on his shoulder. Ateither knee was one of these great men; about were many others, alllooking at her with admiration, waiting for her words. This wastriumph! This was power! And then she looked up and found Graham'scalm gray eyes fixed on her in quizzical amusement. She turned awayimpatiently and began to talk.

  Never was such airy persiflage heard in a mining camp before. Theprospectors were dissolved in a continual grin, exploded in a perpetualguffaw. Now they understood the charm of woman's conversation, whichMoroney
had so often extolled. They spared a thought to wish thatMoroney were here to take part in this. "Moroney can do such eleganthorsing," they said. What a pair this would be! How she glanced fromone member to the other of the group with her witty speeches! Sherapped each man's knuckles hard, to the delight of all the rest, andyet the fillip left no pain, but only a pleasant glow. They laughedconsumedly.

  And then, after a little, she asked them if they could sing; andwithout waiting for a reply, she struck up a song of her own in a high,sweet voice. With a gripping of the heart and a catching of thebreath, they recognized the air. Not one man there had ever heard itswords in a woman's voice before. It was "Sandy Land," the universal,the endless, the beloved, the song that brings back to every Westernervisions of other times when he has sung it, and other places--the nightherd, the camp fire, the trail. With the chorus there came a roar asevery man present sang out the heart that was in him. The girl wassurrounded in an instant. This was the moment of which she haddreamed. She half closed her eyes, and laughed with the gurglingover-note of a triumphant child.

  Cheyenne Harry straightened from his lounging position at the girl'sleft, slipped his arm about her waist, and kissed her full upon thelips.

  The room suddenly became very still. Peter could be heard scratchinghis neck with stiffened hind leg behind the stove. Graham half startedfrom his seat, but sank back as he saw the girl's face. Mike neverstirred or missed a puff on his short pipe.

  The girl paled a little, and, putting her hands behind her, slidcarefully off the edge of the bar to the floor. Then she walked withquick firm steps to the offender and slapped him vigorously, first onone side of the head, then on the other. He raised his elbows todefend his ears, whereupon she reached swiftly forward under his armand slipped his pistol from its open holster; after which she retreatedslowly backward, holding both hands behind her. Cheyenne Harry turnedred and white, and looked about him helplessly.

  "You ain't big enough to have a gun!" she said, with scorn. "When youget man enough to tell me you're sorry, I'll give it back."

  She crossed the room toward the street, dangling the pistol on onefinger by the trigger guard.

  "I reckon I'll go now," she said simply. She passed through the doorto the canvas-covered schooner outside.

  A breathless but momentary silence was broken by Cheyenne Harry.

  "I know it, boys, I know it," he protested. "Don't say a word.Frosty, trot out the nose paint."

  Billy was fuming.

  "_Hell_ of a way to do!" he muttered. "Nice _hospitable_ way to welkima lady! _Lovely_ idee she gets of this camp!"

  Harry turned on him slowly. "What's it to yuh?" he asked malevolently."What's it to yuh, eh? I want to know! Who let _you_ in this, anyway?"

  He thrust his head forward at Billy.

  "For the love of Peter the Hermit, shut up, you fellows!" cried JackGraham. "Don't make ever-lasting fools of yourselves. That girl cantake care of herself without any of your help, Billy; and it served youdead right, Harry, and you know it."

  "That's right, Billy," said several.

  Harry growled sulkily in his glass. "Ain't I knowin' it?" he objected."Ain't I payin' fer this drink because I know it? But I ain't goin' t'have any ranikahoo ijit like Billy Knapp rubbin' it in."

  "Billy didn't mean to rub it in," said Jack Graham, "so shake hands andlet up."

  The threatened quarrel was averted, and the men drank on Harry. ThenMike set up the drinks to the furtherance of their friendly relations.They talked to Mike at length, inquiring his plans, approving his sensein choosing Copper Creek as a residence, congratulating him on hisdaughter, commending her style. Mike hoped they would make the LittleNugget their evening headquarters. They replied with enthusiasm thatthey would. Mike made himself agreeable in a quiet way, without sayingmuch. Everybody was "stuck" on him--everybody but Harry. Harry sulkedover Billy's insults. His sullen mood had returned. Finally, late inthe evening, he pushed his chair back abruptly and went up to the bar.

  "I'm goin'," he announced. "Give me that bottle."

  He poured himself a stiff drink, which he absorbed at a toss of thewrist, and turned away.

  "Mr. Mortimer," called Frosty, "did you pay for this?"

  "Chalk it down to me," called Harry, without looking back.

  Frosty caught the snake eye of his proprietor fixed upon him. Hetwisted his feet in terror beneath the bar. "It's agin the rules," hecalled at last, weakly, just as Harry reached the door.

  The latter turned in heavy surprise. Then he walked deliberately backto the bar, on which he leaned his elbows.

  "Look yere," he said truculently, "ain't I good fer that?"

  "Why, yes, I reckon so," cried poor Frosty in an agony. "But it's aginthe rules."

  "Rules, rules!" sneered Harry. "Since when air you runnin' this jointon rules? Ain't you chalked drinks up to me before? Ain't you?Answer me that. Ain't you?"

  "But it's different now," objected Mudge.

  "Different, is it? Well, you chalk that drink up to me as I tell yuh,or go plumb to th' devil for the pay. And don't you bother me no more,or I'll have to be harsh to yuh!" Harry loved to bully, and he wasworking off his irritation. The men in the room stood silent. Harryliked an audience. He went on: "I'll shoot up yore old rat joint yeretill you ain't got glass enough left to mend your wall eye, youwhite-headed little varmint."

  Lafond had come softly to the end of the bar. "Naw," he interruptedquietly, "you are not shooting up anything."

  Harry turned slowly to him and spread his legs apart. "And did youaddress me, sir?" he begged with mock politeness. "Would you be sop'lite as to repeat yore remarks?"

  "You are not shooting up anything," reiterated Mike, "and it is you whowill settle for this drink. Behold the sign which you have read!"

  Harry turned to the room wide eyed. "Did you hear the nerve of it?" heinquired. "Tellin' me what I'll do! You damn little greaser," hecried in sudden fury, "I'll show you whether I'm shootin' up anythin'!"

  He reached for his gun, remembered on the instant that his holster wasempty, and sprang for Lafond. The half-breed calmly lifted a whiskeyglass, near which he had taken the precaution to stand, and slopped itscontents full in the other's eyes. Harry, blinded, struck against thecorner of the bar. Mike slipped to one side and produced his revolver.

  Several sprang between the two men. The room was in an uproar. Peterbarked, clamant, frantic. Everybody tried to talk at once. In thebackground the faro dealer ceased shuffling his cards, and beganimperturbably, indifferently, to pack together his layout. He had madelittle that night. After a moment he went out, without a glance towardthe excited group.

  The men were forcing the blinded and raving Harry toward the door.Mike leaned over the bar, watching with bright eyes, his arms foldedacross his chest and the pistol barrel peeping over the crook of oneelbow.

  When they had all gone out, most of them shouting good-naturedfarewells, he turned savagely on the pale-faced Mudge. The nativecruelty of the man blazed forth. He scored the barkeeper with a tonguethat lashed like a whip, vituperating, crushing with the weight of hissarcasm, frightening with the vividness of his threats. Mudge shrankback into the corner of the space behind the bar, spreading his armsalong either side, watching the half-breed with wide-open fascinatedeyes, as one would watch a dangerous wild beast.

  After a little the storm passed. Lafond asked in surly tones where thebunk was. Frosty showed him his own, behind the saloon, in a littleshack of hewn timbers. Without a word Lafond turned in, dressed as hewas, and closed his eyes. For a time he ruminated slowly. He had seenhis man, and already he could put his finger on one weak point inBilly's personality--love of the spectacular, of bombast. A blow tohis vanity would hurt. The half-breed had also taken fair measure ofmost of the other men in the room. He knew how to ingratiate himself,and his bold move in the case of Cheyenne Harry had had that objectdirectly in view. He did not as yet see clearly just what fo
rm hisblow to Billy's vanity was to take, but that would come with time.Lafond's calling and his position in the new town gave him unlimitedopportunities for observation, and he was in no hurry. After waitingfifteen years, another twelvemonth would not matter.

  "Go slow," said Black Mike to himself.

  His doze was abruptly broken by Frosty's scared voice asking aquestion. The barkeeper's thick wits could not take in the situation.He was frightened almost out of his senses, and incapable ofconsecutive thought.

  "And where shall I sleep, sir?" he asked stupidly in a timid littlevoice.

  Mike turned over explosively. "You can sleep in hell for all of me!"he shouted angrily. "Get out!"

  Frosty returned to the main room of the saloon. There he spread ahorse blanket, redolent of the stables, on the floor behind the stove.After a time Peter lay down beside him. The barkeeper, frightened,stupid, vaguely nervous, in his slow nerveless way, gathered thestrange intelligent dog to him, and the two slept.

  The men took Harry to the creek, where he washed out his eyes. Theyhad many comments to make, to none of which Harry vouchsafed a reply.But his sulkiness was gone. Suddenly he paused for a moment in hisablutions, and laughed.

  "Damned if they ain't a pair!" he asserted. "And that gal----"

  "She shore beats grass-widders and school-ma'ams!" said Old Mizzou.