The Dude Wrangler

by Lockhart, Caroline

  The steer stopped to fight him. Its feet ploughed up the dirt as it braced them to resist him. Then they struggled. The steer was a big one, raw-boned, leggy, a typical old-time long-horn of the Texas ranges, and now in fear and rage it put forth all the strength of which it was capable.

  With his teeth grinding, Wallie fought it in desperation, trying to give the twist that drops the animal. Its breath in his face, the froth from its mouth blinded him, but still he clung while it threw him this and that way. He himself never knew where his strength came from. Suddenly the steer fell heavily and the two lay panting together.

  Helene drew the back of her hand across her eyes and brushed away the tears that blurred her vision, while a lump rose in her throat too big to swallow. "Gentle Annie" of The Colonial veranda, erstwhile authority on Battenburg and sweaters, had accomplished the most reckless of the dare-devil feats of the cow-country-he had "bull-dogged" a steer from horseback!

  * * *

  Before the birds had taken their heads from under their wings Miss Mercy Lane was up and crashing through the brambles on a hunt for "Red" McGonnigle.

  It was a morning to thrill the soul of a taxi-cab driver, but it had no interest for Miss Mercy. The dew on the petals of the wild-rose, the opaline tints of a sweet-scented dawn meant nothing to that lady as, without a collar, her shirt-waist wrongly buttoned, her hair twisted into a hard "Psyche" knot, she searched for her enemy.

  In her earnest desire to get in touch with Mr. McGonnigle as soon as possible, she clumped about, peering into the faces of the helpers, who had thrown their tarps down upon whatever spot looked a likely place for sleeping.

  Pinkey she found without difficulty; also Mr. Hicks, who, awakened by the feeling that someone was looking at him, sat up and in a scandalized tone told her to go right away, from him. "Red" McGonnigle, however, whether by accident or premeditation, had repaired with his blankets to a bed-ground where the Almighty could not have found him with a spy-glass. In consequence, Wallie was awakened suddenly by the booming voice of Miss Mercy demanding to know Red's whereabouts.

  Her lids were puffed as if she had not closed them, and through the slits her eyes gleamed at him. She looked so altogether formidable as she stood over him that his first impulse was to duck his head under the covers.

  Since it was manifestly impossible for Wallie to get to his feet as politeness demanded, and it seemed ridiculous to sit up in bed and converse with a lady he knew so slightly, it appeared that the best thing to do in the circumstances was to remain as he was, prostrate and helpless, and this he did-to take such a dressing down as made him tingle.

  Aiming her finger at him, Miss Mercy declared that deliberately, wilfully, maliciously, "Red" McGonnigle had set her tent on ahump . More than that, he had cut down an alder, leaving some three or four sharp prongs over which he had spread her blankets. She would have been as comfortable on the teeth of a hay-rake, and had not even dozed in consequence. With her own ears she had heard "Red" McGonnigle threaten to "fix" her, and he had done it. If he was not discharged she would return to Prouty at the first opportunity. This was final.

  Wallie argued vainly that it was an accident, that "Red" was altogether too chivalrous to take such a low-down revenge upon a lady, and explained that in any event it would be impossible to dispense with his services at this juncture. He declared that he regretted the matter deeply and promised to prevent a recurrence.

  But Miss Mercy was adamant, and intimated that Wallie was in sympathy with his hireling if not in actual "cahoots" with him.

  Wallie realized that it would be impossible to resent the implication with proper dignity while lying on the flat of his back looking up at his accuser, so he said nothing, whereupon Miss Mercy flung at him as she departed:

  "I intend to ask a ride back to Prouty from the first passerby, and I shallknock you and your ranch at every opportunity!"

  She returned to her teepee to complete her toilette while Wallie took his boots from under his pillow and drew them on glumly, feeling that much of the joy had been taken from what promised to be a perfect morning.

  Mr. Hicks, too, started breakfast in a mood that was clearly melancholy, for as he rattled the pots and pans Wallie heard him reciting:

  "And when my time comes, let me go-not like the galley slave at night scourged to his dungeon-but like one sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust--" He stopped suddenly, and then in a voice that chilled Wallie's blood he shouted:

  "Jumping Je-hoshaphat! Git out o' that grub-box!"

  He had caught Mrs. Budlong in the act of spreading jam on a cracker.

  "How dare you speak so to me?" she demanded, indignantly.

  For answer, Mr. Hicks replied autocratically:

  "You ought to know by this time that I don't allow dudes snooping around when I'm cooking."

  "You are insulting-I shall report you."

  Mr. Hicks laughed mockingly:

  "You do that and see what it gets you."

  The cook quite evidently knew his power, for when Mrs. Budlong carried out her threat Wallie could only reply that he dared not antagonize Hicks, since to replace him would cause delay, inconvenience, and additional expense to everybody.

  Mrs. Budlong rested all her chins upon her cameo breastpin and received the explanation coldly.

  "Verra well," she said, incisively, "verra, verra well! I shall buy jam and crackers at the first station, Mr. Macpherson, and carry them with me."

  Wallie had no heart to say more than:

  "Indeed, Mrs. Budlong, I am so sorry--"

  But she was already on the way to report the controversy to her husband.

  When they had bathed their faces and hands in the river the evening before someone had referred to it poetically as "Nature's wash-basin." Wallie, seeing Mrs. Appel with her soap and towel on the way to "Nature's wash-basin," was inspired by some evil spirit to inquire how she had rested.

  "Rested!" she hissed at him. "Who could rest, to say nothing of sleeping, within six blocks of Mr. Penrose? A man who snores as he does should not be permitted to have his tent among human beings. If it is ever placed near mine again, Wallie, I shall insist upon having it removed if it is midnight. Knowing the trouble he has had everywhere, I am surprised at your not being more considerate."

  "To-night I will attend to it. I regret very much--" Wallie mumbled.

  Mrs. J. Harry Stott beckoned him aside as breakfast was being placed on the table.

  Mrs. Stott had a carefully cultivated mispronunciation of great elegance when she wished to be impressive, and as soon as she began Wallie realized that something portentous was about to be imparted to him. Even the way she raised her eyebrows made him warm all over with a sense of guilt of something of which he was ignorant.

  "You will excuse me if I speak frankly?"

  Wallie gulped, wondering fearfully what she knew and how much.

  She went on in a voice which seemed to have hoarfrost on it:

  "But the fact is, I am not in the habit of eating with thehelp ."

  Wallie felt relief surge over him. His face cleared and he laughed light-heartedly.

  "I know that, of course, Mrs. Stott, but out here it is different. Camping is particularly democratic. It has never occurred to 'Red' or Hicks that they are not welcome at the table, and I fear that they would be greatly offended if I should suggest--"

  Mrs. Stott drew herself up haughtily.

  "That is no concern of mine, Wallie. It is a matter of principle with me to keep servants in their places. I am not a snob, but--"

  "Sh-ss-sh!" Wallie looked over his shoulder in Hicks' direction.

  In clarion tones she continued:

  "I cannot consent to letting down the barriers even in these unconventional surroundings. You can adjust the matter to suit yourself, but I ab-so-lute-ly refuse to sit cheek by jowl with the cook and McGonnigle!"

  Wallie grew solemn, as well he might, for along with the tact of a diplomat to a Balkan state it required the courage of
a lion to convey the information to one of Hicks' violent disposition that he was not fit to sit at table with the wife of the rising young attorney.

  It weighed on his mind through breakfast, and he was not made more comfortable by the fact that "Red," stimulated to effervescence by so large an audience, tossed off hisbon-mots in a steady stream, unconscious that his wit was not a treat to all who heard him and that his presence was regarded as anything but highly desirable, while Mr. Hicks brought his tin-plate and, by chance purely, elbowed himself a place beside Mrs. Stott with the greatest assurance.

  Wallie decided to postpone the delicate talk of dropping a hint to Mr. Hicks until later in the day, as he had plenty to engage his attention with Miss Mercy's departure confronting him.

  "Red" denied the crime with which he was charged with a face of preternatural innocence, declaring that he was shocked that any one should attribute to him such a heinous offence as purposely leaving four sharp alder prongs under a lady's blankets. Nobody-bar none-had a greater respect for the sex than "Red" McGonnigle!

  But Miss Mercy was not to be pacified by apologies however abject, or explanations however convincing. Implacable, and maintaining a haughty silence, she packed her suitcase and put an outing flannel nightgown-with a nap so long that it looked like a fur garment-in a fishnet bag. Having made stiff adieux to the party, she went and sat down on a rock by the roadside to await some passerby who would take her to Prouty.

  She quite enjoyed herself for a time, thinking what a strong character she was, and how independent. A weaker woman would have allowed herself to be persuaded to overlook the incident, but she was of different metal. For nearly an hour this thought gave her great satisfaction, but, gradually, the monotony began to pall and she had a growing feeling of resentment that nobody missed her. It seemed deceitful, after making such an ado over her decision to leave them, to resign themselves so quickly to her absence. Mattie Gaskett might come and renew her entreaties for her to return, or, at least, keep her company!

  The occasional bursts of laughter that reached her were like personal affronts and, finally, she included everybody in her indignation at "Red" McGonnigle. But, as the time dragged, her mood changed perceptibly. Though she would not admit it in her secret heart, she wished that someone would come and coax her to reconsider. From this stage, while the tents were being dismantled and packed into the bed-wagon accompanied by much merriment, she came to a point where she tried to think of some excuse that would enable her to return without seeming to make any concession.

  As it happened, the only person who gave Miss Mercy any thought as she waited forlornly by the roadside was Aunt Lizzie Philbrick. Although she and Miss Mercy had not been speaking since the episode of the butterfly, her tender conscience was troubled that she had not said good-bye to her. The more she thought about it the more strongly it urged her to be forgiving and magnanimous to the extent of wishing Miss Mercy a pleasant journey. With this purpose in view Aunt Lizzie left the others and started for the roadside. If she had not been otherwise engaged at the moment, Miss Mercy might have seen Aunt Lizzie's white sailor hat bobbing above the intervening bushes, but she was intent on learning the cause of a rustling she had heard in the leaves behind her. It was a snake, undoubtedly, and it flashed through Miss Mercy's mind that here was her opportunity not only to return to camp but to go back a heroine.

  She set her fishnet bag on the stump she vacated and provided herself with a cudgel before starting to investigate. Advancing cautiously, she saw a bunch of tall grass wave in a suspicious manner. She smote the clump with her cudgel, and a large, warty toad jumped out into the open. It was stunned, and stood blinking as if trying to locate the danger.

  "Nasty thing!" exclaimed Miss Mercy, viciously, and raised her club to finish it.

  The blow landed, and Miss Mercy and the toad saw stars simultaneously, for Aunt Lizzie brought down a four-foot stick and crushed in the crown of Miss Mercy's alpine hat.

  "You dread-ful woman!" Aunt Lizzie shrieked at her, and it was her purpose to strike again but the stick was rotten, and since only some six inches remained in her hand, she had to content herself with crying:

  "You horrible creature! You unnatural woman! 'Shady' Lane-you belong in an asylum!"

  Since Miss Mercy had been told this before, she resented it doubly, and no one can say what else might have happened if Wallie, hearing the disturbance, had not hurried forward to discover what was occurring.

  "She was killing a hop-toad!" Aunt Lizzie screamed, hysterically. Then her legs collapsed, while Miss Mercy boomed that if she did, it was none of Aunt Lizzie's business-it was not her hop-toad.

  The astounding news passed from mouth to mouth that Aunt Lizzie and Miss Mercy had been fighting in the brush with clubs, like Amazons, and everyone rushed forward to view the combatants and to learn the details, but the chugging of a motor sent Miss Mercy into the middle of the road to flag it before they could hear her side of the story.

  It proved to be no less a person than Rufus Reed, who was transporting provisions on a truck between Prouty and a road-camp in the Park. Rufus welcomed company and intimated that his only wonder was that they were not all leaving.

  So Miss Mercy clambered up beside Rufus and without looking back started on her return journey to Zanesville, Ohio, to soothe the brow of the suffering and minister to the wants of the dying in her professional capacity.

  Pinkey sombrely looked after the cloud of dust in which Rufus and the Angel of Mercy vanished.

  "That's one chicken we counted before it was hatched," he observed, regretfully, to Wallie.

  The scenery was sublime that morning and the party were in ecstasies, but mere mountains, waterfalls, and gorges could not divert Wallie's mind from the disquieting fact that he must somehow convey the information to Mr. Hicks that his presence at table with the guests was undesirable.

  As he rode, he framed tactful sentences in which to break the news to that formidable person, and he had finally a complete and carefully prepared speech which he meant to deliver in a friendly but firm manner. The result he could only guess at. Hicks might quit, or he might resent the affront to his dignity with any convenient weapon, or after a savage outburst of sarcasm he might make the best of the situation. The only thing that Wallie could not imagine was a calm acquiescence. It would be easier to replace Mr. Hicks, however, than to acquire a new party of dudes at this late season, so Wallie nerved himself to the ordeal.

  The passengers who preferred to ride in the surrey had now increased to a number which made it necessary for them to sit in each other's laps, and it devolved upon Wallie to drive their horses. Herding loose horses is sometimes a task to strain the temper, and these were that kind of horses, so that by the time the party reached the noon-day camp Wallie was in a more fitting mood to confront Mr. Hicks than when they had started.

  The cook was busy over the camp-fire when Wallie determined to speak and have it over.

  "Don't let him tree you or run you into the river." Pinkey, who knew Wallie's purpose, warned him jocosely. "I'm glad it ain't me has the job of tellin' that hyena that he ain't as welcome as the President."

  Wallie could not share Pinkey's amusement. On the contrary, it annoyed him. That was the worst of his partner nowadays, he was so happy that nothing troubled him. Perhaps envy was at the bottom of this irritation; at any rate, Wallie frowned and told himself that he never would have believed that love could make such a simpleton of anybody.

  As Wallie drew nearer, through the smoke and steam rising from various cooking utensils he noted that Mr. Hicks' expression was particularly melancholy and his colour indicated that a large amount of bile had accumulated in his system. There was something tragic in the very way he stirred the frying potatoes, and as Wallie hesitated Hicks set his fists on his hips and recited in a voice vibrating with feeling:

  "Into this Universe, and why not knowing,

  Nor whence, like water will-nilly flowing,

  And out of it,
as Wind along the Waste,

  I know not whither willy-nilly blowing."

  It did not seem a propitious moment to "put Mr. Hicks in his place," as Mrs. Stott had phrased it, but Wallie had no desire to nerve himself twice for the same ordeal; therefore, with something of the desperate courage which comes to high-strung persons about to have a tooth extracted, Wallie advanced and inquired cordially:

  "Well, Mr. Hicks, how are things coming?"

  "I am not complaining," replied Mr. Hicks, in a tone which intimated that once he started enumerating his grievances he would not know where to finish.

  "Pleasant people, aren't they?" Wallie suggested.

  "So is a menagerie-after it's eaten."

  "They do have appetites," Wallie admitted. "I suppose it's living in the open."

  "I've cooked for section hands on the Burlington, and they were canary-birds beside these Poland Chinas. We had ought to brought troughs instead of tinware."

  "You mustn't speak so of our guests," Wallie reprimanded.

  Hicks went on wrathfully:

  "That fat sister in the cameo breastpin-she swiped a can of potted chicken on me yesterday-she's a regular 'camp-robber'."

  Wallie interposed hastily:

  "We mustn't have any trouble. I want to get through this trip peaceably. In fact, Mr. Hicks, it's along this line that I wished to have a word with you."

  Mr. Hicks looked at him quickly and suspiciously.

  "Has any of 'em been kickin' on me?"

  Wallie hesitated, casting a furtive eye about as he did so for the most convenient exit.

  "Not kicking, I wouldn't saykicking , Mr. Hicks, but it has been suggested-I have been thinking that it might bepleasanter for you and Red to have your own table."

  Mr. Hicks stopped turning over the potatoes and looked at him for what seemed to Wallie a full minute.

  "In other words," he said, finally, in a voice that was oily and coaxing, as if he wanted the truth from him, "the dudes don't want the cook and the horse-wrangler to eat with them?"