“Well?” I demanded, because from the way pap combed his beard with his fingers and eyed me, I knowed he was aiming to call on me to do something for him.
“Well,” said pap, taking a long swig out of the jug, “I want you to meet the stage tomorrer mornin’ at War Paint, and invite Uncle Esau to come up here and visit us. Don’t take no for a answer. Uncle Esau is as cranky as hell, and a pecooliar old duck, but I think he’ll like you. Specially if you keep yore mouth shet and don’t expose yore ignorance.”
“Well,” I said, “for onst the job you’ve sot for me falls in with my own plans. I was just fixin’ to light out for War Paint. But how’m I goin’ to know Uncle Esau? I ain’t never seen him.”
“He ain’t a big man,” said pap. “Last time I seen him he had a right smart growth of red whiskers. You bring him home regardless. Don’t pay no attention to his belly-achin’. He’s awful suspicious because he’s got lots of enemies. He burnt plenty of powder in his younger days, all the way from Texas to Californy. He war mixed up in more feuds and range-wars than any man I ever knowed. He’s supposed to have considerable money hid away somewheres, but that ain’t got nothin’ to do with us. I wouldn’t take his blasted money as a gift. All I want to do is talk to him, and git his forgiveness for fillin’ his hide with buckshot in a moment of youthful passion.
“If he don’t forgive me,” says pap, taking another pull at his jug, “I’ll bend my .45 over his stubborn old skull. Git goin’.”
So I hit out acrost the mountains, and the next morning found me eating breakfast at the aidge of War Paint, with a old hunter and trapper by the name of old Bill Polk which was camped there temporary.
War Paint was a new town which had sprung up out of nothing on account of a gold rush right recent, and old Bill was very bitter.
“A hell of a come-off this is!” he snorted. “Clutterin’ up the scenery and scarin’ the animals off with their fool houses and claims. Last year I shot deer right whar that saloon yonder stands now,” he said, glaring at me like it was my fault.
I said nothing but chawed my venison which we was cooking over his fire, and he said: “No good’ll come of it, you mark my word. These mountains won’t be fit to live in. These camps draws scum like a dead hoss draws buzzards. The outlaws is already ridin’ in from Arizona and Utah and Californy, besides the native ones. Grizzly Hawkins and his thieves is hidin’ up in the hills, and no tellin’ how many more’ll come in. I’m glad they cotched Badger Chisom and his gang after they robbed that bank at Gunstock. That’s one gang which won’t bedevil us, becaze they’re in jail. If somebody’d jest kill Grizzly Hawkins, now—”
“Who’s that gal?” I ejaculated suddenly, forgetting to eat in my excitement.
“Who? Whar?” says old Bill, looking around. “Oh, that gal jest goin’ by the Golden Queen restaurant? Aw, that’s Dolly Rixby, the belle of the town.”
“She’s awful purty,” I says.
“You never seen a purtier,” says he.
“I have, too,” I says absent-mindedly. “Glory McGraw—” Then I kind of woke up to what I was saying and flang my breakfast into the fire in disgust. “Sure, she’s the purtiest gal I ever seen!” I snorted. “Ain’t a gal in the Humbolts can hold a candle to her. What you say her name was? Dolly Rixby? A right purty name, too.”
“You needn’t start castin’ sheep’s eyes at her,” he opined. “They’s a dozen young bucks sparkin’ her already. I think Blink Wiltshaw’s the favorite to put his brand onto her, though. She wouldn’t look at a hillbilly like you.”
“I might remove the competition,” I suggested.
“You better not try no Bear Creek rough-stuff in War Paint,” says he. “The town’s jest reekin’ with law and order. Why, I actually hear they ups and puts you in jail if you shoots a man within the city limits.”
I was scandalized. Later I found out that was jest a slander started by the citizens of Chawed Ear which was jealous of War Paint, but at the time I was so upsot by this information I was almost afeared to go into town for fear I’d get arrested.
“Where’s Miss Rixby goin’ with that bucket?” I ast him.
“She’s takin’ a bucket of beer to her old man which is workin’ a claim up the creek,” says old Bill.
“Well, lissen,” I says. “You git over there behind that thicket, and when she comes by, make a noise like a Injun.”
“What kind of damfoolishness is this?” he demanded. “You want me to stampede the whole camp?”
“Don’t make a loud noise,” I said. “Jest make it loud enough for her to hear.”
“Air you crazy?” he ast.
“No, dern it!” I said fiercely, because she was coming along stepping purty fast. “Git in there and do like I say. I’ll rush up from the other side and pertend to rescue her from the Injuns and that’ll make her like me. Gwan!”
“I mistrusts yo’re a blasted fool,” he grumbled. “But I’ll do it.” He snuck into the thicket which she’d have to pass on the other side, and I circled around so she wouldn’t see me till I was ready to rush out and I save her from being sculped. Well, I warn’t hardly in position when I heard a kind of mild war-whoop, and it sounded jest like a Blackfoot, only not so loud. But imejitly there come the crack of a pistol and another yell which warn’t subdued like the first. It was lusty and energetic. I run towards the thicket, but before I could get into the open trail, old Bill come piling out of the back side of the clump with his hands to the seat of his britches.
“You planned this a-purpose, you snake in the grass!” he yelped. “Git outa my way!”
“Why, Bill,” I says. “What happened?”
“I bet you knowed she had a derringer in her stockin’,” he snarled as he run past me. “It’s all yore fault! When I whooped, she pulled it and shot into the bresh! Don’t speak to me! I’m lucky to be alive. I’ll git even with you for this if it takes a hundred years!”
He headed on into the deep bresh, and I run around the thicket and seen Dolly Rixby peering into it with her gun smoking in her hand. She looked up as I come onto the trail, and I taken off my hat and said, perlite: “Howdy, miss; can I be of no assistance to you?”
“I jest shot a Injun,” she said. “I heard him holler. You might go in there and git the sculp, if you don’t mind. I’d like to have it for a soovenir.”
“I’ll be glad to, miss,” I says heartily. “I’ll likewise cure and tan it for you myself.”
“Oh, thank you!” she says, dimpling when she smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet a real gent like you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” I assured her, and went into the bresh and stomped around a little, and then come out and says: “I’m awful sorry, miss, but the critter ain’t nowheres to be found. You must of jest winged him. If you want me to I’ll take his trail and foller it till I catch up with him, though.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t think of puttin’ you to no sech trouble,” she says much to my relief, because I was jest thinking that if she did demand a sculp, the only thing I could do would be to catch old Bill and sculp him, and I’d hate awful bad to have to do that.
But she looked me over with admiration in her eyes, and said: “I’m Dolly Rixby. Who’re you?”
“I knowed you the minute I seen you,” I says. “The fame of yore beauty has reched clean into the Humbolts. I’m Breckinridge Elkins.”
Her eyes kind of sparkled, and she said: “I’ve heard of you, too! You broke Cap’n Kidd, and it was you that cleaned up Wampum!”
“Yes’m,” I says, and jest then I seen the stagecoach fogging it down the road from the east, and I says: “Say, I got to meet that there stage, but I’d like to call on you at yore convenience.”
“Well,” she says, “I’ll be back at the cabin in about a hour. What’s the matter with then? I live about ten rods north of The Red Rooster gamblin’ hall.”
“I’ll be there,” I promised, and she gimme a dimply smile and went on down the trail with her old man’s bucket of be
er, and I hustled back to where I left Cap’n Kidd. My head was in a whirl, and my heart was pounding. And here, thinks I, is where I show Glory McGraw what kind of stuff a Elkins is made of. Jest wait till I ride back to Bear Creek with Dolly Rixby as my bride!
I rode into War Paint just as the stage pulled up at the stand, which was also the post office and a saloon. They was three passengers, and they warn’t none of ’em tenderfeet. Two was big hard-looking fellers, and t’other’n was a wiry oldish kind of a bird with red whiskers, so I knowed right off it was Uncle Esau Grimes. They was going into the saloon as I dismounted, the big men first, and the older feller follering ‘em. Thinks I, I’ll start him on his way to Bear Creek, and then I’ll come back and start sparking Dolly Rixby.
I touched him on the shoulder, and he whirled most amazing quick with a gun in his hand, and he looked at me very suspicious, and said: “What you want?”
“I’m Breckinridge Elkins,” I said. “I want you to come with me. I recognized you as soon as I seen you—”
I then got a awful surprise, but not as sudden as it would have been if pap hadn’t warned me that Uncle Esau was pecooliar. He hollered: “Bill! Jim! Help!” And swung his six-shooter agen my head with all his might.
The other two fellers whirled and their hands streaked for their guns, so I knocked Uncle Esau flat to keep him from getting hit by a stray slug, and shot one of ’em through the shoulder before he could unlimber his artillery. T’other’n grazed my neck with a bullet, so I perforated him in the arm and the hind laig and he fell down acrost the other’n. I was careful not to shoot ’em in no vital parts, because I seen they was friends of Uncle Esau; but when guns is being drawn it ain’t no time to argy or explain.
Men was hollering and running out of saloons, and I stooped and started to lift Uncle Esau, who was kind of groggy because he’d hit his head agen a hitching post. He was crawling around on his all-fours cussing something terrible, and trying to find his gun which he’d dropped. When I laid hold onto him he commenced biting and kicking and hollering, and I said: “Don’t ack like that, Uncle Esau. Here comes a lot of fellers, and the sheriff may be here any minute and ‘rest me for shootin’ them idjits. We got to git goin’. Pap’s waitin’ for you, up on Bear Creek.”
But he jest fit that much harder and hollered that much louder, so I scooped him up bodily and jumped onto Cap’n Kidd and throwed Uncle Esau face down acrost the saddle-bow, and headed for the hills. A lot of men yelled at me to stop, and some of ’em started shooting at me, but I give no heed.
I give Cap’n Kidd the rein and we went tearing down the road and around the first bend, and I didn’t even take time to change Uncle Esau’s position, because I didn’t want to get arrested. A fat chance I had of keeping my date with Dolly Rixby. I wonder if anybody ever had sech cussed relatives as me.
Jest before we reched the p’int where the Bear Creek trail runs into the road, I seen a man on the road ahead of me, and he must have heard the shooting and Uncle Esau yelling because he whirled his hoss and blocked the road. He was a wiry old cuss with grey whiskers.
“Where you goin’ with that man?” he yelled as I approached at a thundering gait.
“None of yore business,” I retorted. “Git outa my way.”
“Help! Help!” hollered Uncle Esau. “I’m bein’ kidnapped and murdered!”
“Drop that man, you derned outlaw!” roared the stranger, suiting his actions to his words.
Him and me drawed simultaneous, but my shot was a split-second quicker’n his’n. His slug fanned my ear, but his hat flew off and he pitched out of his saddle like he’d been hit with a hammer. I seen a streak of red along his temple as I thundered past him.
“Let that larn you not to interfere in family affairs!” I roared, and turned up the trail that switched off the road and up into the mountains.
“Don’t never yell like that,” I said irritably to Uncle Esau. “You like to got me shot. That feller thought I was a criminal.”
I didn’t catch what he said, but I looked back and down over the slopes and shoulders, and seen men boiling out of town full tilt, and the sun glinted on six-shooters and rifles, so I urged on Cap’n Kidd and we covered the next few miles at a fast clip.
Uncle Esau kept trying to talk, but he was bouncing up and down so all I could understand was his cuss words, which was free and fervent. At last he gasped: “For God’s sake lemme git off this cussed saddle-horn; it’s rubbin’ a hole in my belly.”
So I pulled up and seen no sign of my pursuers, so I said: “All right, you can ride in the saddle and I’ll set on behind. I was goin’ to hire you a hoss at the livery stable, but we had to leave so quick they warn’t no time.”
“Where you takin’ me?” he demanded.
“To Bear Creek,” I said. “Where you think?”
“I don’t wanta go to Bear Creek,” he said fiercely. “I ain’tgoin’ to Bear Creek.”
“You are, too,” I said. “Pap said not to take no for a answer. I’m goin’ to slide over behind the saddle, and you can set in it.”
So I pulled my feet outa the stirrups and moved over the cantle, and he slid into the seat — and the first thing I knowed he had a knife out of his boot and was trying to kyarve my gizzard.
Now I likes to humor my relatives, but they is a limit to everything. I taken the knife away from him, but in the struggle, me being handicapped by not wanting to hurt him, I lost hold of the reins and Cap’n Kidd bolted and run for several miles through the pines and bresh. What with me trying to grab the reins and keep Uncle Esau from killing me at the same time, and neither one of us in the stirrups, finally we both fell off, and if I hadn’t managed to catch hold of the bridle as I went off, we’d had a long walk ahead of us.
I got Cap’n Kidd stopped, after being drug for about seventy-five yards, and then I went back to where Uncle Esau was laying on the ground trying to get his wind back, because I had kind of fell on him.
“Is that any way to ack, tryin’ to stick a knife in a man which is doin’ his best to make you comfortable?” I said reproachfully. All he done was gasp, so I said: “Well, pap told me you was a cranky old duck, so I reckon the only thing to do is to jest not notice yore pecooliarities.”
I looked around to get my bearings, because Cap’n Kidd had got away off the trail. We was west of it, in very wild country, but I seen a cabin off through the trees, and I said: “We’ll go over there and see can I buy or hire a hoss for you to ride. That’ll be more convenient for both of us.”
I h’isted him back into the saddle, and he said kind of dizzily: “This here’s a free country. I don’t have to go to Bear Creek if’n I don’t want to.”
“Well,” I said severely, “you oughta want to, after all the trouble I’ve went to, comin’ and invitin’ you, and passin’ up a date with the purtiest gal in War Paint on account of you. Set still now. I’m settin’ on behind but I’m holdin’ the reins.”
“I’ll have yore life for this,” he promised blood-thirstily, but I ignored it, because pap had said Uncle Esau was pecooliar.
Purty soon we hove up to the cabm I’d glimpsed through the trees. Nobody was in sight, but I seen a hoss tied to a tree in front of the cabin. I rode up to the door and knocked, but nobody answered. But I seen smoke coming out of the chimney, so I decided I’d go in.
I dismounted and lifted Uncle Esau off, because I seen from the gleam in his eye that he was intending to run off on Cap’n Kidd if I give him half a chance. I got a firm grip onto his collar, because I was determined that he was going to visit us up on Bear Creek if I had to tote him on my shoulder all the way, and I went into the cabin with him.
They warn’t nobody in there, though a big pot of beans was simmering over some coals in the fireplace, and I seen some rifles in racks on the wall and a belt with two pistols hanging on a peg.
Then I heard somebody walking behind the cabin, and the back door opened and there stood a big, black-whiskered man with a bucket of water in his hand a
nd a astonished glare on his face. He didn’t have no guns on.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, but Uncle Esau give a kind of gurgle, and said: “Grizzly Hawkins!”
The big man jumped and glared at Uncle Esau, and then his black whiskers bristled in a ferocious grin, and he said: “Oh, it’s you, is it? Who’d of thunk I’d ever meet you here?”
“Grizzly Hawkins, hey?” I said, realizing that I’d stumbled onto the hideout of the wust outlaw in them mountains. “So you-all know each other?”
“I’ll say we do!” rumbled Hawkins, looking at Uncle Esau like a wolf looks at a fat yearling.
“I’d heard you was from Arizona,” I said, being naturally tactful. “Looks to me like they’s enough cow-thieves in these hills already without outsiders buttin’ in. But yore morals ain’t none of my business. I want to buy or hire or borrer a hoss for this here gent to ride.”
“Oh, no, you ain’t!” said Grizzly. “You think I’m goin’ to let a fortune slip through my fingers like that? Tell you what I’ll do, though: I’ll split with you. My gang had business over towards Chawed Ear this momin’, but they’re due back soon. Me and you will work him over before they gits back, and we’ll nab all the loot ourselves.”
“What you mean?” I ast. “My uncle and me is on our way to Bear Creek—”
“Aw, don’t ack innercent with me!” he snorted disgustedly. “Uncle! Hell! You think I’m a plumb fool? Cain’t I see he’s yore prisoner, the way you got him by the neck? Think I don’t know what yo’re up to? Be reasonable. Two can work this job better’n one. I know lots of ways to make a man talk. I betcha if we kinda massage his hinder parts with a red-hot brandin’ iron he’ll tell us quick enough where the money is hid.”
Delphi Works of Robert E. Howard (Illustrated) (Series Four) Page 54