Pecos Bill

by James Cloyd Bowman

  “But how did you get back to earth again?” asked Moon Hennessey, sparring for a chance to win his bet with Gun Smith.

  “When the cayuse finally saw he couldn’t buck me off or scare me quite to death, nor crush me between whirling rocks, there was only one thing left for him to do. He started to rain out from under me.”

  “I knew you had busted it!” Gun Smith exploded, feeling that he had already collected his bet.

  “Roughly speaking, I must have been up five or six hundred thousand feet in the air, and there were miles and miles of the jagged canyon walls holding up their hands, ready to bury me for all time to come. I was what you call in the middle of a bad fix. I looked in this direction and then in that, until I saw a sandy plateau that I couldn’t see the end of. This was my chance. I made a jump into the very center of it. And when I landed several hours later, there was a splash of sand on all sides like a wave at sea after an earthquake.”

  “And so you consider that you actually busted the old bronco, without a doubt?” Gun Smith exclaimed. “You see, Moon Hennessey and me has a small bet up over your success with the old twister.”

  “Well, you’ll have to settle that little point between yourselves. Of course, when it rained out from under itself and me, there wasn’t any bronco of a cyclone left to bust,” answered Pecos Bill dreamily.

  “But you say you were forced to jump!” urged Moon Hennessey. “And in bustin’ a bronco, one of the first and last rules of the game is to stay with the critter till he gives in.”

  “But—” argued Gun Smith.

  In the end Gun Smith and Moon Hennessey had to call off their bet and consider it a draw. The longer they argued, the less they agreed, and soon the entire outfit was about equally divided over the issue. Everybody, however, considered Pecos Bill the champion rider of the Western Hemisphere, if not of the entire solar system. Even Moon was enthusiastic, especially since he didn’t have to pay his six months’ wages to Gun Smith.

  It was a day or two later that Pecos Bill invited Gun Smith and Moon Hennessey and Chuck and Mushmouth and two or three others to go with him to Pinnacle Mountain.

  “I’ve just come from visiting the place,” he had announced.

  “What’s the old smarty got up his sleeve now?” Moon Hennessey asked joyously.

  “I bet it’s got something to do with Slue-foot Sue,” Gun Smith answered with a broad smile.

  “You see,” explained Pecos, “my lord’s had his troubles. Every other week there’s some sort of stampede on the part of the fool steers. Down they go, horns over tails, into the valley. You’d think that steers’d learn something in time, but no. They’re just about as idiotic as the human race. It’s the same thing over and over, month after month.”

  “But all this is my lord’s business, not ours,” urged Gun Smith.

  “I grant you that, and besides, my lord is not blaming us for anything, at least not much. You see, I’ve been at Pinnacle Mountain quite frequently ever since he took the place over. On my way here and there, I’ve made it a point to stop and see how things are going. And every time I’ve managed to round up a new herd of steers to restock the ranch. It’d become monotonous to my lord if there should come a time when there weren’t any more steers to play cartwheel down into the valley, nor any more corral fence to be mended. Really, the prairie dogs have been wonderful to me on several different occasions. As long as I keep his herd replenished, you see, he hasn’t got anything in particular against any of us.”

  “And how about them short-legged calves? Do they try to pull off a stampede too?” Gun Smith laughed.

  “The one hope of the Perpetual Motion Ranch is in members of the younger generation. They always keep their short-legged side next the mountain, and it makes no difference how often they stampede, they always run in a perfect circle. There’s only one fault with these critters: they can’t be driven off to market. My lord tried to sell some of them once, and it was comical to hear him tell about it. When he drove the poor critters on the level plain they had to run in a circle as fast as they could run in order to keep from falling over on their side.

  “As soon as they stopped they went down. A few of them managed to rest a minute by leaning against a tree till they could get their breath, but most of ’em had to be butchered on the spot. My lord looks forward with joy to the day when he can afford to build a packing house and a canning factory at the foot of the mountain. He thinks then he’ll have a bonanza at his very doorstep, for sure.”

  “And has Slue-foot Sue learned to ride a bronco yet as good as a catfish?” asked Gun Smith with a sharp look at Pecos Bill’s face.

  Pecos took a few seconds to pull himself together before he attempted to answer.

  “Sue’s a wonderful bronco buster,” he said wistfully. “She takes to a cayuse as naturally as a porcupine quill takes to a bronco’s heels. You see, on one of my trips I roped a calico pony and gentled it. Later I took it along up to Pinnacle Mountain and taught her to ride it.”

  “And has her mother said she could wear cowpuncher pants?” Gun Smith laughed.

  “Well, yes and no,” Pecos explained. “You see, Gun Smith, the mother and Sue are something like you and Moon. They’ve got strong minds of their own. Sue was determined to wear chaps like a cowman, and her mother was equally determined that she should wear a skirt. Finally they compromised, which is better than you and Moon have done. And so Sue wears both—one over the top of the other, you understand.”

  “All dressed up, eh, Pecos?” laughed Gun Smith.

  “Yes, but this is only half of it. The mother says Sue’s now got to wear one of those big spring-steel bustles the English think’re so smart. Which would be all right in its way if the bustle didn’t make it ten times harder for Sue to keep in the saddle when her bronco is galloping. Every time the horse strikes the ground, the spring in the bustle just naturally throws her up into the air. And she looks like one of those six-weeks-old blackbirds that ain’t yet quite got all the tail feathers.”

  She wore chaps, skirt, and bustle.

  “You told her that, Pecos?” inquired Gun Smith.

  “Tell her!” Pecos Bill exclaimed. “Of course I did. Why, we both laughed about it till we almost cried. Finally she said, ‘If you had a wife, Pecos, would you force her to wear both skirt and chaps? And would you force her to wear spring-steel bustles when she goes riding?’ And I replied, ‘If I ever have a wife, she can wear any old thing she wants.’”

  “Then what did she say?” Gun Smith asked, hiding his rising excitement.

  “Why, if you must know, what she said was, ‘How I do wish I were your wife.’ ‘You mean that?’ I asked, drawing in a deep breath, I can tell you. ‘But isn’t there anything you would refuse me?’ she queried growing very serious. ‘Absolutely nothing in the world,’ I told her and I meant it at the moment. But then I thought I’d better make myself a little clearer, so I explained, ‘That is, I’d let you do everything except ride Widow Maker. Once he threw the best rider I knew onto the top of Pike’s Peak, and, of course, I don’t want anything like that to happen to the one woman I love.’

  “‘Of course not,’ Sue replied much disappointed. And she sure was pouting when she told me. ‘Then you don’t think I can ride as well as you. Just wait till I can get this old skirt and this spring-steel bustle off, and I’ll show you I can ride, even Widow Maker!’

  “I asked her, ‘Do you really wish you were my wife?’ And she replied, ‘I don’t know anybody whose wife I’d wish to be half so much.’ ‘Well then, Sue,’ I said, ‘Keep right on wishing, and it won’t be long.’”

  “But you don’t mean to tell me that you really mean to marry this girl!” Gun Smith demanded coolly.

  “Of course I mean to marry Sue. That’s just the reason I’m inviting you and Chuck and Moon and the others along to the wedding, so that you can be my bridesmen or groomsmaids or whatever it is you call them. We’ve sent back east for a minister, and he’s due to arrive at Pinnacle Moun
tain this morning.”

  There was, of course, great excitement at the I. X. L. Ranch when it was noised about that Pecos Bill was to wed the vivacious Sue. One minute the cowmen laughed in an uproar; the next minute they were like a nest of hornets. For come to think of it, it was funny—and no joke—at the same time. Pecos Bill married? They couldn’t believe it.

  When the day arrived, Pecos Bill started with his men in the direction of Pinnacle Mountain. He rode a little ahead, very solemn and quiet, as though lost in dreams. After two or three hours he found he couldn’t possibly poke along with the others. He wanted to be with his Sue. “I think I’ll ride on ahead,” he called suddenly. And before anybody could answer, he had given free rein to Widow Maker, and all that the others could see then was a yellowish cloud of dust.

  As Gun Smith and the others followed as fast as their broncos could carry them, they put their feelings into words.

  “What’ll we do with a woman at I. X. L. Ranch?”

  “There ain’t no room for a skirt ’round our outfit!”

  “No mistake about that, Pecos Bill is sure loco this time.”

  “With a woman around, Pecos Bill won’t be worth as much as a lop-eared maverick.”

  “Well, judgin’ from past experience, we should give him credit for havin’ at least a grain of horse sense.”

  When Gun Smith and Moon and the others arrived at Pinnacle Mountain, they asked the mother if she had seen anything of Pecos Bill.

  “Colonel Bill, if you please!” she answered proudly with raised eyebrows. “The colonel and my daughter are out horseback riding, thank you. Won’t you come right along in, and make yourselves comfortable until they return? I’m sorry, but my lord and His Eminence, the Right Reverend Doctor Hull, are walking. They’re taking a little constitutional before the ceremony begins, don’t you know. You’ll have to excuse me for the minute—I’m so sorry—but, you see, I am obliged to superintend the dinner.”

  “So she’s already made a colonel of our Pecos!” Gun Smith snorted under his breath.

  “She couldn’t think of havin’ her daughter marry anybody less than a colonel, don’t you know!” Chuck added in disgust.

  “I wonder she hasn’t made him a Sir Knight of the Garter, or at very least a general!” Mushmouth continued.

  “She’s made a strong gesture in that direction. The other royal titles’ll follow soon enough,” Chuck replied, with an amused smile. “Lucky she didn’t get hold of any of the rest of us, or hard tellin’ what kind of monkeys we’d become!”

  After a short while the men could hear voices outside. Slue-foot Sue was saying in a nervous, petulant way, “But after we’re married you’ve just got to let me ride Widow Maker! You simply must, I say! You must! You must!”

  “But, Sue dear,” Colonel Pecos Bill replied with quiet firmness, “you wouldn’t thank me if I let you break your neck on the spot, would you?”

  “Oh! It’s the same old story I’ve been hearing all my life, wherever I turn! It’s can’t! Can’t! Can’t, all the while! But I want you to know that I will ride Widow Maker! I say I will! I will!! I will!!! I’ll show you that I can ride your old bronco as well as you or any other cowman! I’m no longer a baby, remember that!”

  “But, Sue dear,” Colonel Bill answered with quiet patience, “don’t worry any more about it. There now, that’s the way I like you to smile. We’ll see about it after the wedding.”

  “Right you are,” laughed the girlish voice. “We shall see! We shall see!” she ended, believing she had won her victory.

  When Pecos and Sue entered, the men got to their feet stiffly with hats in hand. “Well, when did you arrive?” Pecos began. “Sue, here are my friends…This is Gun Smith, this, my brother Chuck, and this, Moon Hennessey.”

  Sue gave each of the men a warm greeting. “It is just perfectly lovely of you to come so far to witness this important event. The colonel and I surely do appreciate it. By the way, who is going to be the best man?”

  “I rather believe,” exclaimed Gun Smith, “that I’d prefer, if it makes no difference to you, to act in the capacity of a groomsmaid or a bridesman, as you might say.”

  “How wonderful of you!” Sue laughed heartily. “You have put it quaintly, indeed.”

  All the others joined in the joyous spirit of the occasion, and soon everybody was entirely at ease and happy.

  When Slue-foot Sue and Colonel Bill appeared later for the wedding ceremony, the bride was dressed in a dazzling white satin gown. The wide skirt draped itself in flowing, lacy lines over the wide-spreading hoops; the train extended half across the room; and the steel-spring bustle looked very smart indeed! But dearest of all was the sweet face of the bride herself.

  The Right Reverend Doctor Hull was quite charmed with the bride. “My lord,” he whispered, “I’ve not seen Sue’s equal in years—not in many years!”

  Colonel Bill himself had given no little attention to his clothes. He had, in fact, ridden at least two thousand miles to collect the very best of everything that was to be had. His high-heeled boots, with fancy hand stitching, were polished till they shone like a pair of mirrors. His spurs were of solid gold. He was carrying an imported hat he had ridden seven hundred miles to purchase. Its band was of the best Mexican beadwork. He had a pair of breeches he had purchased in California. They were a sort of lavender with inch-square checks. His shirt was of white silk, and his vest of red satin that was intended by its creator to set every woman’s eyes aflame. His coat was covered with delicate Mexican beadwork too.

  It was little wonder he was so proud of himself that he carried his head cocked decidedly over his left shoulder. He was so entirely happy that the corners of his mouth almost touched the tops of his ears. In fact, there wasn’t a thing to criticize in Pecos Bill’s clothes. He was gotten together exactly right for the occasion.

  Just before the couple stood in place for the ceremony the Right Reverend gentleman whispered to my lord, “It seems the least bit weird, even though it is deucedly picturesque, to see the bridegroom dressed so entirely out of accord with His Majesty’s London costumer’s latest togs.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind, since the colonel is every inch a man, don’t you know,” my lord smiled in reply. “I rather approve of his costume.”

  All the boys were feeling very happy and hardly able to wait for things to start. Mushmouth had brought along his lip piano to play the wedding march. Bullfrog Doyle was fidgeting about, all set to accompany him by dancing a different tune with each foot. Everyone was bursting with fun. That is, all except Sue’s mother, who turned so cold that her stare froze on her face like an Egyptian mummy.

  And Slue-foot Sue had an even greater shock in store for her mother. For just before the ceremony was about to begin, she gave a whoop and rushed from the room. A moment later she returned, arrayed in sombrero, woolen shirt, chaps, high-heeled boots, jingling spurs, and flaming red breeches. “Ee-yow!” she called. “A cowboy bride for the greatest cowboy in the world,” and swung her hat about her head.

  Everyone was completely fascinated by the daring of the beautiful woman. It was evident, judging by the brief moment that she took to make the change, that she must have worn the cowboy clothes under her wedding gown.

  In her excitement one thing was wrong, however. She had forgotten that she was still wearing her steel-spring bustle. She had it on now, and although everyone knew at once that a bustle wasn’t the thing to wear with chaps and spurs, nobody dared make a suggestion that would spoil the girlish bride’s feeling of freedom and happiness.

  When her mother saw Sue, she fairly choked with annoyance. She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. And Sue, seeing her mother speechless, leapt out of the room with another explosive “Ee-yow!” This action proved quite too much for the mother’s highly excited nerves, and she threw up her hands and fainted in a heap on the floor. Colonel Bill flew to help the good woman like the chivalrous gentleman that he was.

  This was just the chance
Sue was looking for. Quick as a flash she ran pell-mell to where Widow Maker was tied and released him. The faithful horse saw her coming and let out a terrific whinny of distress. Colonel Bill instantly understood what Widow Maker meant and almost dropped the mother on the floor in his haste to rescue his bride.

  But, alas! Pecos was a fraction of a second too late. He and the others reached the door just in time to see Slue-foot Sue flying upward through the air out of a cloud of dust.

  The poor girl, in fact, had been bucked so high that she had to duck her head to let the moon go by. Pecos stood wringing his hands and looking wildly in the direction of his vanishing bride. After an hour and a half of intense anguish on his part, Sue fell back to earth with the speed of a meteor. She struck exactly in the middle of the spring-steel bustle and rebounded like a rocket, and again the sky completely swallowed her up.

  Colonel Bill had often found himself in the middle of many a bad fix, but this was the first time in his life he had ever had to admit that he was absolutely helpless and beaten from the start.

  When the mother finally revived and discovered she was entirely deserted, she trotted out on the steps to see what could be happening that was of so much more interest than herself. When she saw Sue again fall like a thunderstone and rebound like a cannonball, she tried to speak, but instead she again fainted dead away. His Eminence happened to discover her a little while later and beckoned to the astonished Gun Smith and Moon Hennessey to carry her into the house.

  Chuck and Mushmouth and the others were so excited by the sudden disaster they couldn’t think of a thing to do except to stand open mouthed and watch for the next return trip of Sue. Back she came, only to go up again. After three or four hours of this suspense, Gun Smith had a bright idea. He found his way over to where the colonel was pacing back and forth with clenched fists, watching in the general direction whence the bride had last flown, and said, “Pecos, why in the name of creation don’t you lasso her next time she comes flyin’ down?”