by Various
"'It's all right,' Texas'd say; 'I ain't intimatin' that this Miss Bark goes cherishin' designs. But it's my onbreakable roole, since them divoice experiences, to never enter the presence of onmarried ladies onless attended by witnesses.'
"Owin' to which, some of us allers trails in along with Texas when he visits the Votes For Women S'loon. Even when thus protected he onflaggin'ly confines his observations to 'Licker, Miss, please!' an' stops thar as dumb as graven images. Once the licker's before him he heaves it into himse'f same as if it's drugs, an' instantly pulls his freight a heap speedy, breathin' hard. An' all as scared as a jack-rabbit that's heard the howl of a wolf.
"Does Miss Bark go proselytin' 'round concernin' them Rights of Women? Which she shore does! You may say she omits no opportoonity. It's before Wolfville gets that effete it mixes drinks, an' any one who knows water from whiskey can 'tend bar. Wharfore, Miss Bark stands watch an' watch with her old Mexican, Pancho. The times she herse'f is min'sterin' to our needs she's preachin' Woman Suffrage incessant. Also, not bein' plumb locoed, we bows in concord tharunto. Enright an' Peets both concurs that it's the thing to do, an' we does it.
"'Whatever difference does it make?' says Enright; 'the price of steers remains the same, three-of-a-kind continyoos to beat two pa'r, thar's still fifty-two kyards in a faro deck, an' every other law of nacher survives onteched. My notion is to agree with this Miss Bark, verbal, an' trust to Wolfville's onbeatable luck to pull us through.'
"This counsel sounds good to us, an' we follows it. When Miss Bark sets forth her woman's rights fulm'nations along with her nosepaint, we murmurs a hearty assent, an' drinks down both impartial. Boggs, who's 'motional an' easy worked on, even gets to whar he gives it out he's actchooally a convert.
"Miss Bark has been on the map for mebby it's a week, then thar occurs a eeposide which, while it makes no profound impression, deceased bein' a Mexican, shows she ain't packin' her pap Rattlesnake's old Colt's .45 in a sperit of facetiousness. It's about third drink time one evenin' when thar's the dull roar of a gun from over in the Votes For Women S'loon. When we arrives we finds a dead greaser carelessly quiled up near the door, an' Miss Bark snappin' the empty shell out of her six-shooter.
"'He was roode,' is the only explanation she vouchsafes; an' Enright, after lookin' at Peets a spell, who's lookin' at the ceilin', says it's s'fficient.
"'Only,' says Enright, when we're all back safe in the Red Light, 'I sincerely trusts she won't get her hindsights notched up to whar she takes to bumpin' off Americanos. I shore don't know whatever in sech case we could do, vig'lance committees, in the very essence of their construction, possessin' no joorisdiction over ladies.'
"'That's right, Sam,' says Peets, plenty grave; 'if it ever gets to whar this Miss Bark turns her artillery loose on the camp permis'cus the only hope left would be to adjourn Wolfville sine die.'
"Miss Bark, however, never does grow homicidal toward any of us, an' the only effect of her puttin' that Mexican over is that it inclines folks gen'ral to step high an' softly on what occasions they're found plantigradin' about in her s'ciety.
"One week, two weeks, three weeks goes by, an' since a dead Mexican more or less ain't calc'lated to leave no onefface'ble scars the incident is all but forgot, when a second uprisin' takes place in the Votes For Women S'loon. This time it's that sickly curlew-voiced Oscar who's the shriekin' center of eevents. Most of us is jest filin' out of the O. K. Restauraw, pickin' our teeth after our matootinal reepast, when we beholds this yere Oscar boilin' fo'th from the Votes For Women S'loon, all spraddled out. As he goes t'arin' down the street Miss Bark seelects a graceful p'sition in the door, an' ca'mly pumps three loads at him out of her winchester. When I says she pumps them bullets at Oscar it's to be took conserv'tive; for none of 'em hits him, but only tosses up the dust about his flyin' feet. At the last shot Oscar cripples down in a shiverin' heap; an' with that Texas an' Boggs, not knowin' the extent of his injuries, rolls him onto a blanket an' packs him to his room over at the O. K. House, so's Peets can prospect his frame all scientific locatin' the lead.
"Thar bein' no lead, as reelated, Peets reeports final to that effect.
"'Only,' says Peets, 'he's scared up to sech extents that if our Joan of Arc had dusted his gaiters with so much as two more bullets he'd have been beyond medical skill.'
"Followin' the foosilade Miss Bark sends for Enright.
"'It's this way,' she goes on, when Enright arrives. 'That shorthorn Oscar comes lurchin' in, an' asks for nosepaint. As he stands thar, puttin' it onder his belt--me meanwhile swabbin' off the bar--he mentions that his paw's rich, an' his step-maw's jest died, leavin' him an' his paw alone. Then he calls attention to the presence in camp of that strayed sky-pilot, who preaches an' passes the hat the other evenin' over in the wareroom of the Noo York store. It's now, havin' got the bar tittivated to my taste, I has time to look this Oscar person's way, an' I finds him gloatin' over me in form an' manner not to be mistook. "Whatever be you leerin' at?" I deemands, bein' I'm in no mood for insults. Tharupon, he cuts loose a mouthful of platitoodes concernin' wedlock, an' about me bein' the soul of his soul. Havin' stood it a while, an' findin' my forbearance makes him worse, I grabs my winchester whar it's reposin' ready for eemergincies on the dripboard, an' you knows the rest.'
"'With your free consent, Miss,' says Enright, 'I'd like to put one query. Was you aimin' to down, or to simply skeer this Oscar?'
"'I was only skeerin' him up some,' replies Miss Bark coyly. 'W'y, if I was reely out for his skelp, I'd have shore got it a heap. You can pin a patch the size of a dollar on that disparin' lover's coat, an' I'll cut it nine times in ten, offhand, at a hundred yards.'
"'Tests is not reequired,' Enright interposes, plenty hasty; 'it's part of the organic law of this yere camp that a lady's word, even about her age, is to be took onchallenged.'
"'Which I'm flattered,' says Miss Bark. 'Now, is thar anything else?'
"'Only this,' returns Enright. 'As long as he gives you cause, an' you can shoot like you says, why ever don't you down him?'
"'Which I confesses,' says Miss Bark, a blush mantlin' her brow, 'that sech is my orig'nal intentions when I reaches for my weepon. But jest as I sees that Oscar through the sights it comes upon me that thar's nothin' in bein' preecip'tate, an' mebby I'd better give myse'f the needed time to think his offer over.'
"Enright shakes his wisdom-freighted head; when he relates his talk to Peets, the Doc shakes his head sim'lar in sapient yoonison.
"'Which I'll bet a hatful of yellow chips,' says Boggs, who's stood listenin', 'ag'inst a handful of whites, that this yere Miss Bark makes herse'f an' that Oscar shorthorn man an' wife.'
"'Now I wouldn't wonder none,' observes Peets, replyin' to the look in Enright's eye. 'That shootin' needn't count. A troo affection is freequent boisterous, that a-way.'
"'An' in case,' says Enright, 'the kyards do fall in favor of matrimony, it'll most likely be the end of that Votes For Women S'loon. I begins to see how this yere ongrateful outfit may yet get deep in debt to that egreegious Oscar.'
"None of us ever says so, but it's the common belief that Texas connives at this yere threatened Oscar's escape. In any case, the next mornin' Oscar goes catfoot out of the O. K. House before folks is up, an' takes to hidin' out. The fact is he's layin' for Monte an' the stage, about ten mile no'th of camp. Leastwise, he's thar a heap when Monte comes along, an' deemands that he be took up an' carried to Tucson.
"It ain't first drink time before this Oscar's missed, an' by second drink time the news has drifted over to Miss Bark. It's Peets who informs her, an' he tells us, when reelatin' the incident, that the way that deeserted lady knits her brow is a caution to philos'phers.
"'So,' she says at last, 'that onmitigated seedoocer thinks to leave me in this heartless way. He'll find before he's through that it's no light matter to charm into fervent life a love like mine.'
"'It's the theery, Miss,' says Peets, 'of the best minds in camp that this
Oscar's hit the Tucson trail afoot, with a plan of headin' off the stage.'
"Ten minutes an' Miss Bark is in the saddle, a lead pony gallopin' by her side, in hot pursoote of the dir'lect.
"'That lead pony looks om'nous, Doc,' observes Enright, as the two stands watchin' Miss Bark's departure.
"'It's prov'dential,' remarks Peets, as he heads the procession to the Red Light, 'that that sky-pilot's aboard the stage. Which he ought to work in plumb handy.'
"Six hours later Miss Bark comes surgin' in with her Oscar foogitive, his heels tied onder the belly of the lead hoss. Any one can see by his benumbed expression that he's a married man. The two heads straight for the Votes For Women S'loon, an' after boltin' her new he'pmeet into the back room, Miss Bark takes a peek in the glass, pats down her ha'r, an' goes behind the bar as yoosual.
"'Yes,' she replies, an' all a heap modest an' artless, as Peets an' Enright--actin' on behalf of the camp--gyardedly inquires if they're to offer congratulations, 'I reckon you may. An' the best part is that my dear Oscar's so plumb ready an' willin'. Which I never knows a bridegroom, gents, who gets married with so little struggle.'
"'How soon, Missis Freelinghuysen,' says Peets, 'do you-all reckon on lettin' this Oscar husband out?'
"'Oh,' she returns, 'as soon as ever it's safe. Jest now he's some onstrung; but in a day or two I figger he'll begin to get reeconciled to his bliss. An' at that, my main idee in lockin' him up is one of reeform rather than restraint. Oscar's been over-drinkin' himse'f of late; an' I aims to get the whiskey out of him, so as I can form some reas'nable estimate of how much of a husband that a-way I've done roped up.'
"'Is thar any objections,' asks Enright, 'to our visitin' this modern pris'ner of Chillon? We binds ourselves to say nothin' that'll fret him, or set him to beatin' his life out ag'inst the bars.'
"'W'y, shore,' she replies, 'you-all is quite welcome. I only hopes you'll teach him to look at things in their proper light.'
"'It ain't so much,' says this Oscar husband, when Enright an' Peets calls upon him in his captivity, 'that I've been hurried, onregyardful of my feelin's, into the married state. But, gents, my parent is doo, accordin' to his last letter, to come curvin' in yere any minute; an' whatever do you-all reckon now he's goin' to say?'
"Enright an' Peets is so moved they promises the imprisoned Oscar their support, an' this leaves him, if not hopeful, at least some cheered.
"Monte gives his version of them nuptials when he returns from Tucson.
"'Which it's this a-way, pards,' says Monte. 'I'm twenty miles no'th of yere, when somethin' flashes by with a lead hoss, like arrows. Thinks I, "That's a hoss thief gettin' away with some stock"; an', allowin' Jack Moore'll be hard on his neefarious hocks, I'm lookin' back to see can I raise Jack's dust. The next I knows, an' all as sudden as a pan of milk from a top shelf, I hears a silv'ry voice remarkin': "Set your brake!" an' turnin' my head I finds a winchester p'intin' as squar' between my eyes as you-all could lay your finger. Gents, thar's something mighty cogent about a winchester that a-way, an' I shore shoves on the brake with sech abandon I snaps the shank short off.'
"'Wharever is this Oscar party?' asks Enright.
"'He's with me on the box; an' when this yere intrepid Miss Bark takes to dom'neerin' at us with that rifle he collapses. "It's you, Oscar," observes this Miss Bark, shiftin' the muzzle to him. "Upon second thought I concloods to accept your offer of marriage."
"'Which at that crisis,' remarks Peets, 'this Oscar of course breaks into loud an' joyful cries.'
"'Not exactly. In fact, his tones if anything is some low-sperited. "I takes it," he says, when he's able to command his feelin's, "that you declines them proffers with your winchester at the time when made." But the lady dismisses this as a quibble, an' merely sayin' that she won't be paltered with no farther, orders Oscar an' the Bible sharp who's ridin' inside to assemble by the edge of the trail. The Bible sharp attempts to lay the foundations of fresh objections by askin' Oscar does he do this of his own free will; but the muzzle of the winchester--which the bride all along reetains in her hands--begins movin' 'round in his direction, observin' which man'festation he pronounces 'em husband an' wife. "What heaven has j'ined together," says he, "let no man put asunder." After which he blesses 'em, an' reeports the last cinch fastened. "Pay him, Oscar," whispers the bride. Wharupon Oscar, his fingers tremblin', squars the Bible sharp with the price of a brace of steers, an' the deed is done. Now he's hers for better or worse, she ropes his heels together onder the belly of her lead hoss, an' the happy pa'r goes romancin' back for Wolfville, while I kicks loose what's left of the brake an' p'ints out ag'in for Tucson.'
"On the third day, by givin' his parole an' promising to fondly reeport to his spouse once every hour, Oscar is permitted to go reecreatin' about the camp.
"'Only,' says the lady, by way of warnin' to Black Jack, 'thar's to be no drinks.'
"These yere strained conditions preevails for mebby it's five days, when, as the stage swings in to the post office one evenin', a stout florid old gent gets out. He comes puffin' up to Peets a heap soopercilious.
"'Do you-all know a addle-pated an' semi-eediotic young party,' says he, 'who's named Oscar Freelinghuysen?'
"'Why, yes,' returns Peets, 'I do. Onless my mem'ry's pulled its picket pin an' gone plumb astray he's the eboolient sharp who conclooded a somewhat toomultuous courtship last week by gettin' married. He's in the shank of his honeymoon as we stands chattin' yere.'
"The florid gent glares at Peets, his feachures the color of liver, his eyes stickin' out like the eyes of a snail.
"'Married!' he gasps, an' falls in a apoplectic fit.
"It takes a week an' all the drugs Peets has got before that apoplectic's able to sit up an' call for nosepaint. An' whatever do you think? His daughter-in-law, but onbeknownsts to him as sech, nurses him from soda to hock. Oscar Joonior? By advice of Enright that prodigal's took to cover over in Red Dog ontil we've made shore about the fatted calf.
"The former Miss Bark puts up that nursin' game with Peets, an' day an' night she hangs over her apoplectic father-in-law like a painter over a picture. She's certainly as cunnin' as a pet fox! She dresses as quiet as a quail an' makes her voice as softly sober as a suckin' dove's. In the end she's got that patient hypnotized.
"After Peets declar's him out of danger, an' all propped up in his blankets he's subscribed to mighty likely it's the fifth drink, the apoplectic begins to shed tears a heap profoose, an' relate to his nurse--the former Miss Bark--how his two wives has died, leavin' him a lonely man. She, the former Miss Bark, is his only friend--he says--an' he winds up his lamentations by recommendin' that she become his third.
"'You're the only hooman heart who ever onderstands me,' he wails, gropin' for her hand, 'an' now my ongrateful boy has contracted a messalliance I shore wants you for my wife.'
"She hangs her head like a flower at night, an' lets on she's a heap confoosed.
"'Speak,' he pleads; 'tell me that you'll be mine.'
"'Which I'd shore admire to, but I can't,' she murmurs; 'I'm wedded to your son.'
"The old apoplectic asks for more licker in a dazed way, an' sends for Peets. The Doc an' him goes into execyootive session for most an hour; meanwhile the camp's on edge.
"At the close the Doc eemerges plumb radiant.
"'Everything's on velvet,' he says; 'thar's never a more joodicious convalescent. He freely admits, considerin' the sort of daughter-in-law he's acquired, that Oscar has more sense than folks suspects.'
"Now that the skies is cl'ared, the bridegroom is fetched back from Red Dog, an' thar's a grand reeconciliation.
"'We'll all go back East together,' sobs father-in-law Freelinghuysen, holdin' both their hands.
"Two days later they starts, Missis Freelinghuysen Joonier lookin' after father-in-law Freelinghuysen same as if he's a charlotte roosse.
"The Votes For Women S'loon?
"It's kept a secret, at Peet's su'gestion, him bein' apoplectic
that a-way. The stock is bought by public subscription of the camp, an' when the Freelinghuysen household is out of sight an' hearin' we invites Red Dog over in a body an' onbelts in a mod'rate orgy. The sign, 'Votes For Women S'loon,' is now preeserved in the custody of the Wolfville Historical Society, which body is called into active bein' upon motion of Peets, while Red Dog an' us is drinkin' up the stock."
Contents
DEAD SHOT BAKER
By Alfred Henry Lewis
"Which you never knows Dead Shot Baker?"
This, from the old cattleman, with a questioning glance my way.
"No? Well, you shore misses knowin' a man! Still, it ain't none so strange neither; even Wolfville's acquaintance with Dead Shot's only what you-all might call casyooal, him not personally lastin' more'n three months.
"This yere Dead Shot has a wife. Thar's women you don't want to see ontil you're tired, an' women you don't want to see ontil you're rested, an' women you don't want to see no how--don't want to see at all. This wife of Dead Shot's belongs with the latter bunch.
"Last evenin' I'm readin' whar one of them philosophic sports asserts that women, that a-way, is shore the sublimation of the oncertain. That's how he lays it down; an' he never hedges the bluff for so much as a single chip. He insists that you can't put a bet on women; that you can bet on hosses or kyards or 'lections, but not on women--women bein' too plumb oncertain. As I reads along, I can't he'p feelin' that somehow this philosophic party must have knowed Dead Shot's wife.
"The first time we-all ever sees Dead Shot, he comes trackin' into the Red Light one evenin' jest after the stage rolls up. Bein' it's encroachin' on second drink time, he sidles up to the bar; an' then, his manner some diffident an' apol'getic, he says:
"'Gents, do you-all feel like a little licker, that a-way?'
"It bein' imp'lite to reefuse, we assembles within strikin' distance of the bottles Black Jack is slammin' the len'th of the counter, an' begins spillin' out our forty drops. At this he turns even more apol'getic.