CHAPTER VII
Josephine Opens the Sluices
Entering the living-room, Bud found Echo surrounded by several girlsfrom Florence and the neighboring ranches, who were driving her almostdistracted with their admiring attentions, for she was greatlydisturbed about her lover's inexplicable absence. Had she been freefrom the duties of hospitality, she would have leaped on her horse andgone in search of him.
Echo's wedding-attire would seem as incongruous as Jack's to the eyesof an Easterner, yet it was entirely suited to the circumstances, forthe couple intended, as soon as they were married, to ride to a littlehunting-cabin of Jack's in the Tortilla Mountains, where they wouldspend their honeymoon.
She was dressed in an olive-green riding-habit, which she had broughtfrom the East. The skirt was divided, and reached just below the knee;her blouse, of lighter material, and brown in color, was loose,allowing free play for her arms and shoulders. High riding-boots werelaced to the knee. A sombrero and riding-gloves lay on the table readyto complete her costume.
Bud coldly acknowledged Echo's affectionate and happy greeting, andcurtly informed her that Jack had arrived.
She rushed out of doors with a cry of joy.
Running across the courtyard toward her lover, who awaited her withoutstretched arms, she began:
"Well, this is a nice time, you outrageous--" when Polly stopped herwith a mock-serious look. "Wait a minute--wait a minute" (the girldrawled as if reining in a too eager horse) "don't commence callinglove-names before you get the hitch--time enough after. He has beenactin' up something scandalous with me."
Jack threw up his hands in protest, hastily denying any probable chargethat the tease might make. "Why, I haven't been saying a word!" hecried.
Polly laughed as she ran to the door.
"No, you haven't," she answered mockingly, as one agrees with a childwhose feelings have been hurt. "He's only been tellin' me he loved--"Pausing an instant, she pointed at Echo, ending her sentence with ashouted "you."
With her hand on Jack's shoulder, Echo said: "Polly, you are a flirt.You've too many strings to your bow."
"You mean I've too many beaux to my string!" laughingly answered thegirl.
"You'll have Slim Hoover and Bud Lane shooting each other up all onyour account," chided Echo.
"Nothing of the kind," pouted Polly. "Can't a girl have friends? But Iknow what you two are waiting for?"
"What?" asked Jack.
"You want me to vamose. I'm hep. I'll vam."
And Polly ran into the kitchen to tell the men that the bridegroom hadarrived, but couldn't be seen until the bride was through with animportant interview with him. So she hustled them all into theliving-room, where the girls were.
This room was a long and low apartment, roughly plastered. The heavyceiling-beams, hewn with axes, were uncovered, giving an old Englisheffect, although this was not striven for, but made under the stress ofnecessity. The broad windows were trellised with vines, through whichfiltered the sunshine. A cooling evening breeze stirred the leaveslazily. The chairs were broad and comfortable--the workmanship of themonks of the neighboring mission. In the corners stood squat, earthenwater-jars of Mexican molding. On the adobe walls were hung trophiesof the hunt; war-bonnets and the crudely made adornments of the Apaches.
Navajo blankets covered the window-seats, and were used as screens forsets of shelves built into the spaces between the windows.
Polly carried in on a tray a large bowl of punch surrounded by glassesand gourds. This was received with riotous demonstrations. She placedit in the center of a table made of planks laid on trestles, andassisted by the other girls, served the men liberally from the bowl.
The guests showed the effects of outdoor life and training. Theirgestures were full and free. The tones of their voices werehigh-pitched, but they spoke more slowly than their Eastern cousins, asif feeling the necessity, even when confined, of making every wordcarry. No one lolled in his seat, but sat upright, as if still havingthe feel of the saddle under him.
Toward women in all social gatherings, the cowboys act with exaggeratedchivalry, but, as Sage-brush would describe it, they "herd by theirlonesome." There is none of the commingling of sexes seen in the East.At a dance the girls sit at one end of the room, the men groupthemselves about the doorway until the music strikes up. Then eachwill seize his partner after the boldest has made the first move. Whenthe dance-measure ends the cowboy will rarely escort partner to herseat, but will leave her to find her way back to her chum, while hemoves sheepishly back to the doorway, to be received by his fellowswith slaps on the back and loud jests. At table cowboys carry onlittle conversation with the girls. They talk amongst themselves, butat the women. The presence of the girls leads them to play many prankson one another. The ice is long in breaking, for their habitualreserve is not easily worn off. Later in the evening this shyness isless marked.
As Jack and Echo entered the doorway, Parenthesis had arisen from hisseat at the head of table and was beginning: "Fellow citizens--"
Confused cries of "Sit down," "Let him talk!" greeted him.
Sage-brush held up his hand for silence: "Go ahead, Parenthesis," hecried encouragingly.
Parenthesis climbed on a chair and put a foot on the table. This wastoo much for the orderly soul of Mrs. Allen. "Take your dirty feet offmy tablecloth!" she commanded, making a threatening move toward theoffender.
Allen restrained her, and Fresno caused Parenthesis to subside byyelling: "Get down offen that table, you idiot. There's the bride an'groom comin' in behind you. We CAN see 'em through yer legs, but wedon't like that kin' of a frame."
Jack had slipped his arm about Echo's waist. She was holding his hand,smiling at the exuberance of their guests. Buck McKee, who had beendrinking freely, staggered to his feet and hiccoughed: "Here, now,this, yere don't go--this spoonin' business--there ain't goin' to be nomush and milk served out before the weddin'--"
"Will you shut up?" admonished Slim Hoover.
"No, siree," cried the belligerent McKee. "There ain't no man here canshut me up. I'm Buck McKee, I am, and when I starts in on aweddin'-festivities--I deal--"
"This is one game you are not in on," answered Jack quietly, feelingthat he would have to take the lead in the settlement of theunfortunate interruption of the fun.
"That's all right, Jack," McKee began, holding out his hand--"letbygones--"
Jack was in no mood to parley with the offender. McKee had not beeninvited to the wedding. The young bridegroom knew that if the firstoffense were overlooked it would only encourage him, and he would maketrouble all evening. Moreover, he disliked Buck because of his evilhabits and ugly record.
"You came to this weddin' without an invite," claimed Jack.
"I'm here," he growled.
"You're not wanted."
"What?" shouted McKee, paling with anger.
Turning to his friends, speaking calmly and paying no attention to thearoused desperado, Jack said: "Boys, you all know my objection to thisman. Dick Lane caught him spring before last slitting the tongue ofone of Uncle Jim's calves."
"It's a lie!" shouted McKee, pulling his revolver and attempting tolevel it at his accuser. Hoover was too quick for him. Catching him bythe wrist, he deftly forced him to drop the muzzle toward the floor.
With frightened cries the girls huddled in a corner. The other cowboysupset chairs, springing to their feet, drawing revolvers half-way fromholsters as they did so.
Hoover had pressed his thumb into the back of McKee's hand, forcing himto open his fingers and drop his gun on the table. Picking it up,Hoover snapped the weapon open, emptied the cylinders of the cartridges.
Jack made no move to defend himself. He was aware his friends couldprotect him.
"That'll do," he said to the raging, disarmed puncher. "You can go,Buck. When I want you in any festivities, I'll send a special inviteto you."
"I'm sure much obliged," sneered McKee, making his way t
oward the door.
"Here's your gun," cried Slim, tossing the weapon toward him.
McKee caught the weapon, muttering "Thanks."
"It needs cleaning," sneered the Sheriff.
Turning at the doorway, McKee said; "I ain't much stuck on weddin's,anyway." Looking at Jack, he continued threateningly: "Next time wemeet it'll be at a little swaree of my own."
"Get," was Jack's laconic and ominous command.
With assumed carelessness, McKee answered: "I'm a-gettin'. Well,gents, I hopes you all'll enjoy this yere pink tea. Say, Bud, put apiece of weddin'-cake in your pocket for me. I wants to dream on it."
"Who brought him here?" asked Jack, facing his guests.
"I did," answered Bud defiantly.
"You might have known better," was Jack's only comment.
"I'm not a-sayin' who's to come and go. This ain't none of my weddin'."
Polly stopped further comment by laying her hand over his mouth andslipping into the seat beside him.
"Well, let it go at that," said Jack, closing the incident.
He rejoined Echo as he spoke. The guests reseated themselves. Mrs.Allen laid her hand on Jack's shoulder and said: "Just the same, itain't right and proper for you to be together before the ceremonywithout a chaperonie."
"Nothin' that's right nice is ever right proper," laughed Slim.
"Well, it ain't the way folks does back East," replied Mrs. Allentartly, glaring at the Sheriff.
"Blast the East," growled Allen. "We does things in our own way outhere."
With a mischievous smile, Slim glanced at his comrades, and thensolemnly observed: "Still, I hear they does make the twocontractin'-parties sit off alone by themselves--"
"What for?" asked Jack.
"Why, to give them the last bit of quiet enjoyment they're goin' tohave for the rest of their lives," chuckled Slim.
The cowboys laughed hilariously at the sally, but Mrs. Allen, throwingher arms about Echo's neck, burst into tears, crying: "My little girl."
"What's the use of opening up the sluices now, Josephine?"
"Let her alone, Jim," drawled Slim; "her feelin's is harrowed some, an'irrigation is what they needs most."
The outburst of tears was incomprehensible to the bridegroom. Alreadyirritated by the McKee incident, he took affront at the display ofsentiment.
"I don't want any crying at MY wedding."
"It's half my wedding," pouted Echo tearfully.
"Ain't I losin' my daughter," sobbed Mrs. Allen.
"Ain't you getting my mother's son?" snapped Jack.
The men howled with glee at the rude badinage which only called forth afresh burst of weeping on the part of Mrs. Allen, in which the girlsbegan show symptoms of joining.
Polly sought to soothe the trouble by pushing Jack playfully to oneside, and saying: "Oh, stop it all. Look here, Echo Allen, you knowyour hair ain't fixed yet."
"An' the minister due here at any minute," added Mrs. Allen.
"Come along, we will take charge of you now," ordered Polly. The girlsgathered in a group about the bride, bustling and chattering, tellingher all men were brutes at time and, looking at the fat Sheriff, whoblushed to the roots of his hair at the charge, that "Slim Hoover wasthe worst of the lot." Mrs. Allen pushed them away, and again fellweeping on Echo's shoulder. "Hold on now, They ain't a soul goin' to donothin' for her except her mother," she whimpered.
"There she goes again," said Jack in disgust.
"He's goin' to take my child away from me," wailed the mother.
Tears were streaming down Echo's cheek. "Don't cry, mother," she wept.
"No, no, don't cry," echoed the girls.
"It's all for the best," began Polly.
"It's all for the best, it's all for the best," chorused the group.
"Well, I'll be--" gasped Jack.
"Jack Payson you just ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Polly,stamping her foot. "You nasty, mean old thing," she threw in for goodmeasure.
Mrs. Allen led Echo from the room. The girls followed, crying "Younasty, mean old thing" to the unfortunate bridegroom.
The cowboys enjoyed the scene immensely. It was a bit of human comedy,totally unexpected. First they imitated the weeping women, and thenlaughed uproariously at Jack.
"Did you ever see such darned carryings on," said the bridegroom, indisgust. "What have I done?"
"Shucks! All mothers is like that," remarked Allen sympathetically."They fuss if their girls marry and they fuss if they don't. Why, myma carried on something scandalous when Josephine roped me."
All of the men chuckled except Jack.
"I'm appointed a committees," continued the old rancher, "to sit upwith you till the fatal moment."
"I'm game," responded Jack grimly. "I know what's coming, but I won'tsqueal."
"You'll git all that's a-comin' to you," grinned Allen.
Slim had maneuvered until he reached the door blocking Jack's way. Asthe bridegroom started to leave the room he took his hand, and with anassumption of deep dejection and sorrow bade him "Good-bye."
"Oh, dry up!" laughed Jack, pushing the Sheriff aside. Halting, herequested: "One thing I want to understand right now, if you're goin'to fling any old boots after me remove the spurs."
"This yere's a sure enough event, an' I'm goin' to tap the barrel--an'throw away the bung. Wow!" shouted Sage-brush.
The Round-Up: A Romance of Arizona; Novelized from Edmund Day's Melodrama Page 7