The Sunset Trail

by Alfred Henry Lewis

  CHAPTER XI

  HOW TRUE LOVE RAN IN DODGE

  In the old golden days, gunshot wounds were never over-soberly regardedby Dodge. Mr. Kelly, being creased by Rattlesnake Sanders anddiscovering that the bullet had done no more than just bore its sullenway through the muscular portion of his shoulder, came to look upon theincident as trivial, and nothing beyond a technical violation of hisrights. He gave his word to that effect; and when Rattlesnake--inseclusion on Bear Creek--was made aware of that word, he returned to theranges along the White Woman, and re-began a cowboy existence where hisflight had broken it off. Mr. Kelly's forbearance was approved by thepublic, the more readily since Dodge in the catholicity of its justicebelieved in punishing folk, not for what they did but for what theywere, and Rattlesnake was an estimable youth.

  This tolerant breadth was wholly of the olden day, and has not come downto modern men. Dodge now lies writhing beneath the wheel of Easternconvention. Starched shirts have crept in, derby hats have done theirworst, and that frank fraternalism, so brightly a virtue of theheretofore, has disappeared. To-day the sound of a six-shooter in thetimid streets of Dodge would produce a shock, and whatever gentleman wasbehind that alarming artillery meet the fate which would encounter himunder similar explosive conditions in Philadelphia.

  California is the proprietor of a past, and in moments of sentimentcroons of:

  The days of old, The days of gold, The days of Forty-nine.

  Dodge also owns a day-that-was. Its memory appeals often and fondly toan hour when no one asked a stranger's name, but politely reducedcuriosity to a cautious "What may I call you?" The stranger might havebeen "Bill Jones" in the faraway, forgotten East. He could now become"Jack Robinson"; and if his case presented any personal argumentfavourable to such change, the liberality of Dodge not alone permittedbut invited that amendment. The stranger's life for Dodge commenced withhis advent in its friendly midst and went no further back. His past,with all that to him appertained, had fallen from him as fall thefetters from the bond slave when once he sets foot upon the sacred soilof England. Dodge refused to be involved in any question of what thatstranger had done, or who he was. It received him, trusted him, watchedhim, and when popular judgment concerning him had ripened, it eitherapplauded or lynched him as circumstances seemed most to invite.

  It is good to shut one's eyes and ruminate upon a past. The old days areever golden, and for those of Dodge this should be their portrait. Whatmight the heart of the stranger desire that they do not offer him? If hebe a-weary, there is the Wright House whereat he may repose himself.Does he crave relaxation, there is Mr. Peacock's Dance Hall, calledsometimes the Bird Cage, where to the lively observations of the fiddlehe shall loosen the boards of the floor until refreshed. At all hours ofthe night the master of ceremonies is to be heard above the subduedmuttering of exuberant feet:

  "Ally man left--all sasshay! Balance to yer podners--all hands 'round!Grand right an' left--dozy do! Chaat 'n' swing--right arm to yer podner!All prom'nade to the bar!"

  If mere trade be the stranger's purpose, where is that emporium superiorto Mr. Wright's? Should the appetite of speculation seize him, is therenot the Alamo, the Alhambra and the Long Branch? From those latterclapboard palaces of chance, where Fortune holds unflagging court, comesthe inviting soft flutter of chips, punctuated by such terseannouncements from roulette wheel and faro table as "All's set an' th'ball's rollin'!" or "Ace lose, trey win!" Now and again a hush descendswhile through the blue tobacco smoke two sisters of charity--looking withtheir white faces and black hoods like pale pictures set in jet--make thesilent round of the games, seeking aid for their hospital in Santa Fe.Each courtier of Fortune cashes a handful of chips, and passes theproceeds to them over his shoulder; knowing that should sickness layskeleton hand upon him he will be welcome at their merciful gates.

  If the stranger be not only strange but tender--having just made hisappearance, possibly, on some belated "buckboard" from the South, wherehe has been touring the Panhandle or ransacking the ranges with thoughtsof buying a ranch--the all-night whirl of Dodge excites his wonder. Insuch round-eyed case, he sets forth at four o'clock in the morning hisamazement to Mr. Short.

  "Aren't you open rather late?" mildly observes the tender stranger.

  "It is rather late," responds Mr. Short, with an eye of tolerantcynicism, "it is rather late for night before last, but it's jest th'shank of th' evenin' for to-night."

  The tender stranger makes no response, for his faculties have becomeengaged upon an ebullient cowboy who, with unsteady step, swings inthrough the Long Branch's open door, spurs a-jingle, wide hat set at anarrogant slant.

  "I'm Palo Duro Pete," the invader remarks. "Which blood's my colour,gents, an' I kin whip my weight in wolves!"

  The strain on the tender stranger's nerves is redeemed by Mr. Short, wholanguidly fells Palo Duro Pete with his six-shooter. The strain gainsadditional relief when Palo Duro picks himself up with a gratified air,and says:

  "Gents, this is shorely the sociablest crowd I've crossed up with asyet. Let's libate!"

  In a daze of admiration the tender stranger "libates" with Palo Duro,while Mr. Short makes a careless third. Mr. Short suggests cigars at theexpense of the Long Branch, and Palo Duro, after lighting one, goesjingling out into the night to continue his happy exploits at the Alamoor the Alhambra.

  Those old days are golden days! True, a centipede now and then makes apromenade of one's slumbering countenance; or a stinging lizard employshis sting upon one with all of the burning first effects that attendbeing shot with a Colt's-45; or some sleepy rattlesnake insinuateshimself into one's unbidden blankets, having a plan to bunk in with oneand a settled resolve to give battle if refused an honest half of thebed. But these adventures overtake one only in hottest summer weather,and this seasonal fact so narrows interest that Dodge seldom wears themon its mind.

  In those old golden days Dodge is a democracy. Caste does not occur; nohill, no hollow of human inequality ruffles the bland surface of thebody politic. There is but one aristocracy and that is the aristocracyof courage, but one title of nobility and that the name of "a squareman."

  And Dodge can exercise forbearance. Your cowboy, uplifted of Old Jordan,may ride his pony through the streets and spur it to the pace ofmeteors. But he must not ride it upon the sidewalks, for that would meaninsult to the dignity and defiance of the power of Dodge. He may freelyempty his midnight pistol, so that he empty it at the moon. But he mustnot enfilade the causeways or turn its muzzle upon any house ofentertainment, however much the latter has offended. In brief, he maywax either vigorous or vociferous to what pitch best suits his fancy,saving this that his vigours and vociferations must not be transacted atthe public's expense. Dodge, too, takes cognisance of an impulse andconstrues a motive. When Palo Duro Pete, from his seat in the DodgeOpera House, arises in a torrent of tears, pulls his six-shooter andslams away at Miss Witherspoon, while that cantatrice is singing "Home,Sweet Home," Dodge wholly understands the sobbing, shooting Palo Duro.Had he ridden away on another's pony, or sought to shift the title to amule by heating a running iron and changing its brand, Dodge would nothave attributed the act to any excess of emotion. It would haverecognised a crime, and dealt coldly with Palo Duro as with a criminaltaken in the felon fact. On the Opera House occasion, however, it isplain that Palo Duro has opened upon Miss Witherspoon in on ecstasy ofadmiration. The shot is in its way a compliment, and meant for theexaltation of that celebrated soprano. The weeping Palo Duro is moved,not of murderous impulse, but a spirit of adoration that can onlyexplain itself with a gun. Dodge knows this. Dodge feels it, admits it;and since Palo Duro works no harm with his testimonial, Dodge believesit has fully corrected him when it drags him from the theatre, and"buffaloes" him into a more week-a-day and less gala frame of mind.

  While Dodge is capable of toleration, it can also draw the line. WhenMr. Webster accepts a customer's wooden leg as security for drinks, andsets the pledge behind the Alamo bar, it does mu
ch to endanger hisstanding. Mr. Webster averts a scandal only by returning the wooden leg;and at that Cimarron Bill has already given his opinion.

  "Any gent," observes Cimarron Bill, "who'll let a party hock personalfragments of himse'f that a-way for licker, is onfit to drink with anigger or eat with a dog," and Dodge in the silence with which itreceives this announcement, is held by many as echoing the sentimentexpressed.

  Those old days be golden days, and the good citizenry of Dodge are attheir generous best. And this is the rule of conduct: Should you gobroke, everybody comes to your rescue; should you marry, everybodyrejoices at the wedding; should a child be born unto you to call you"father," everybody drinks with you; should you fall ill, everybody sitsup with you; should you die, everybody comes to the funeral--that is,everybody who is out of jail.

  Rattlesnake Sanders, forgiven by Mr. Kelly and restored to his rightfulart of cows as theretofore practiced by him along the White Woman, hadfrequent flour, bacon, and saleratus reason to visit Dodge. Being inDodge, he dined, supped and breakfasted at the Wright House, and it wasat that place of regale he met Miss Barndollar. The young lady was awaitress, and her intimates called her "Calamity Carry" for the crockerythat she broke. Her comings in and going out were marked of many acrash, as a consignment of dishes went grandly to the floor. But helpwas sparse and hard to get, and the Wright House management overlookedthese mishaps, hoping that Miss Barndollar, when she had enlarged herexperience, would be capable of better things.

  On the day that Rattlesnake Sanders first beheld Miss Barndollar, hecame into the dining-room of the Wright House seeking recuperation fromthe fatigues of a 60-mile ride. When he had drawn his chair to thetable, and disposed of his feet so that the spurs which graced his heelsdid not mutually interfere, Miss Barndollar came and stood at hisshoulder.

  "Roast beef, b'iled buffalo tongue, plover potpie, fried antelope steak,an' baked salt hoss an' beans," observed Miss Barndollar in a dreamysing-song. The Wright House did not print its menu, and the bill of farewas rehearsed by the waitresses to the wayfarer within its walls.

  At the sound of Miss Barndollar's voice, Rattlesnake Sanders looked up.He made no other response, but seemed to drift away in visions born of acontemplation of the graces of Miss Barndollar.

  This last was the more odd since Miss Barndollar, in looks, was astrayfrom any picture of loveliness. Perhaps Cimarron Bill when later hediscussed with Mr. Short the loves of Miss Barndollar and RattlesnakeSanders, fairly set forth the state of affairs.

  "Which of course," remarked Cimarron Bill, gallantly cautious, "thar wasnever the lady born I'd call ugly; but speakin' of this Calamity Carry,I'm driven to remark that she has a disadvantageous face."

  With Rattlesnake Sanders it was the old, old story of love at firstsight. His ideals were not those of the critical Cimarron Bill, and hebeheld with different eyes. In those high cheekbones, irregular nose,wide mouth, and freckled face he discovered charms. Miss Barndollar tothe besotted Rattlesnake was a lamp of beauty. The smitten one forgothis hunger, forgot the list of edibles that Miss Barndollar had toldoff, and sat tongue-tied.

  Life is replete of such dulcet mysteries--the mystery of MissBarndollar's ugliness and Rattlesnake Sander's instant love. It was suchto inspire the late farmer philosopher and almanac maker when hemusingly related the paradox:

  "They do say Love is blind, but I'm dinged if some fellers can't seemore in their gals than I can."

  Miss Barndollar, waiting to be instructed as to the appetite ofRattlesnake Sanders, grew impatient with his rapt staring. She repeatedher announcement:

  "Roast beef, b'iled buffalo tongue, plover potpie, fried antelope steak,an' baked salt hoss an' beans!"

  Sixty seconds later, the fatuous Rattlesnake still silently staring,Miss Barndollar broke a bread-plate on his head and went her way.

  It was like clenching the driven nail--that bread-plate episode. The joltto his faculties crystallised the love in Rattlesnake which before hadbeen in solution, and he became Miss Barndollar's slave.

  And yet it is no more than justice to the lady to explain that herbread-plate descent upon the spellbound Rattlesnake was the fruit of amisunderstanding. Being unaware of what soft sentiments she hadinspired, Miss Barndollar conceived his glances to have been bestowedupon her in mockery. This was shown when she passed the cashier as sheswept from the room.

  "What was the trouble, Calamity?" asked the cashier, who had witnessedMiss Barndollar's reproof, without knowing its cause. "What did thatjayhawker do?"

  "Which he stared at me," replied the outraged Miss Barndollar. "I'llteach sech horned toads that if my face is freckled, I'm a lady all thesame."

  When and where and how the headlong Rattlesnake found time and place towoo Miss Barndollar went unexplained to Dodge. Its earliest news waswhen the whisper leaped from lip to lip that Miss Barndollar andRattlesnake were to wed.

  "Is that so, Rattlesnake?" asked Mr. Short, referring to the event aspromised by gossip. "Is it straight? You'll excuse me, Rattlesnake, if Iadds that I hopes an' trusts it is. Dodge wouldn't stand no triflin'with the ontried heart of Calamity, an' if you-all is simply flirtin'with the affections of that pore girl I wouldn't fill your moccasins fora small clay farm."

  "Flirtin'," retorted the scandalised Rattlesnake. "Luke, you insults me!Calamity an' me is goin' to hook up followin' the spring round-up."

  After making this declaration, Rattlesnake, in a kind of ecstatichysteria at the glowing future before him, withdrew to a corner of theLong Branch and lapsed into a dance which had its rise with theCheyennes, and was known among its copper coloured authors as the LoveDance of the Catamounts.

  While Rattlesnake Sanders was thus relieving his soul, Cimarron Bill,who was present, regarded his mad doings with a dubious brow.

  "That Rattlesnake person's locoed!" said Cimarron, turning sadly to Mr.Short. "I can't read signal smokes an' don't know the meanin' of signsif that maverick don't wind up in a crazy house, cuttin' paper dolls.""He ain't locoed," explained Mr. Short, with a confidence born ofexperiences that went beyond those of Cimarron Bill. "That Rattlesnakeboy's in love. They allers ghost-dance an' go pirootin' 'round eedioticthat a-way."

  Cimarron Bill was not convinced, and took later opportunity to say asmuch to Mr. Masterson. He urged that the nuptials threatened by MissBarndollar and Rattlesnake Sanders be suppressed. Cimarron insisted thatas Sheriff of Ford it was Mr. Masterson's business to interfere.

  "Which the way I regyards these proceedin's," explained Cimarron,"they're a menace to the peace of Dodge. Them two people'll fightworse'n McBride an' Bridget did. You ought to stop 'em, Bat."

  "How'd you stop 'em?" returned Mr. Masterson. "You can stop folksshooting one another, but you can no more stop 'em marryin' one anotherthan you can stop a cyclone."

  "Just the same," said Cimarron, stubbornly, "it's your dooty to try."

  This conversation took place in the door of Mr. Kelly's Alhambra. WhileMr. Masterson and the gloomy Cimarron were talking, Miss Barndollar andRattlesnake Sanders came down the street. As the pair arrived oppositeMr. Masterson and Cimarron, the infatuated Rattlesnake jocosely placedhis arm about Miss Barndollar's waist. Whereupon that virgin coylybestowed upon Rattlesnake a resounding blow.

  "I'll teach ye!" cried Miss Barndollar, meanwhile giving Rattlesnake anarch look, "I'll teach ye whose waist you're tamperin' with! I'llnacherally swat ye ev'ry time y' do it."

  "Ain't she got sperit!" exclaimed Rattlesnake, winking a blissful eye atMr. Masterson. "Thar's nothin' Texas about her! She's due to grade ascornfed, my Calamity is, or I'm a shorthorn!"

  The happy pair continued onward to Mr. Wright's store and set aboutpricing pots and kettles and what other bric-a-brac may become the basisof a primitive housekeeping.

  "Thar!" said Cimarron Bill, decisively. "You can now tell how thateediot Rattlesnake ain't cap'ble of se'f-protection. It's not only ag'inyour oaths of office, but it's inhooman not to interfere. Before themtwo has been married a week, that Calamity gir
l'll t'ar into poreRattlesnake with her ten nails an' make saddlestrings of him."

  "That's your view, Cimarron," retorted Mr. Masterson. "Now to my mindRattlesnake and Calamity'll get along as peaceful as two pups in abasket. Besides, speaking of public interest, do you know how manyinhabitants Dodge has lost during the official year?"

  "No," said Cimarron Bill, "I don't. But whatever has that got to do withCalamity ropin' up this yere innocent Rattlesnake?"

  "There were seven to get bumped off," continued Mr. Masterson,disregarding the question, "exclusive of McBride's Bridget. Seven; and Idon't count Mexicans and non-resident cowboys who came in with the herdsand expired in the natural course of festivals which they, themselves,inaugurated. Seven! That's knocking a hole in Dodge's census."

  "But why," protested the honest Cimarron, "should you-all punishRattlesnake for that? He don't down any of them seven. He's pulled hisgun jest once this year, an' then he only busts the crust on Kell, an'no harm done."

  "No harm!" interjected Mr. Masterson, severely.

  "Whatever was the harm?" retorted the obstinate Cimarron. "Kell's insidethar runnin' his joint, ain't he? Besides the fault was Kell's.Rattlesnake rings in a cold hand on Kell, as a gent every now an' thenwill, an' Kell taunts him about it. If Kell's goin' to comment on a coldhand he'd ought to do it with his six-shooter. To go tantalisin'Rattlesnake about it with his mouth that a-way, makes what I calls acase of crim'nal carelessness, an' leaves Kell responsible. But whetherit does or not, why rooin Rattlesnake's life with this Calamity ladybecause of them other seven? Thar's neither jestice nor reason in it."

  "Cimarron," replied Mr. Masterson, disgustedly, "you're forever ropingat the wrong steer. There's no ruin in the business. This is the idea:We lose seven. Now when Rattlesnake and Calamity are married, they maydo something to repair our loss. If they were to jump in and have sevenchildren, that would make it an even break, wouldn't it?"

  "Still," contended Cimarron Bill, "I don't see why the losses of Dodgeshould be saddled onto Rattlesnake. It ain't right to heap burdens onhim that, properly regyarded, belongs to the commoonity."

  "Well," observed Mr. Masterson, turning on his heel for a stroll downthe street, "I won't dispute all day with you. Rattlesnake's of fullage, free, and half white, and if he wants to wed Calamity it's hisAmerican privilege."

  "Which you could say the same," returned Cimarron Bill, "if Rattlesnakewas aimin' at sooicide."

  It is to be supposed that Miss Barndollar and Rattlesnake Sanders wouldhave drifted quietly and uneventfully to the altar had it not been forthe intervention of an accident. Rattlesnake was aiding Mr. Trask incutting out a particular mule from the bunch in his corrals. His pony,slipping with its unshod hoofs, fell and in falling broke Rattlesnake'sleft leg--both bones--below the knee.

  There was no resident surgeon in Dodge. There had been; but an Easternpast having found him out, he vanished between sun and sun. In theemergency presented by Rattlesnake's fractured leg a surgeon wassummoned from Cimarron.

  The Cimarron practitioner was a young, sappy, callow, pinefeather formof scientist, excessively in the springtime of his career, and no one toexcite confidence. Rattlesnake Sanders debated him with distrustful eye,but, since nothing better presented, was fain to surrender to him hisbroken leg. The sappy one set the leg and withdrew, programming a callfor the next day.

  Everything, according to Cimarron Bill who came upon the scene an hourafter the sappy one departed, was wrong about that leg-setting. Thebandage was an error, the splints were a crime. Their plain effect wasto torture the stricken Rattlesnake. The views of Rattlesnake fell inwith those of Cimarron Bill. Between groans and maledictions, heapedupon the sappy one, he wholly agreed with him.

  The pair were alone at the moment, and acting in concert they removedthe offending bandages and splints. Giving the patient a bottle ofarnica wherewith to temporarily console his aches, Cimarron, with a fineconceit of his powers that commonly would have challenged admiration,walked over to the carpenter shop in Mr. Trask's corral, and fashionednew splints after original designs of his own. Then, with the help ofRattlesnake, he re-set the leg and restored the bandages as seemed tohim best and mete. Following these deeds the worthy Cimarron and hispatient took a drink, looked upon their work, and pronounced it good.

  Those feats in medicine and surgery were performed in an upper chamberof the Wright House which on the spur of the moment had been set asideas a hospital in the interests of Rattlesnake Sanders. The first tolearn of them, beyond the two therein engaged, was Miss Barndollar. Shehad been with her beloved Rattlesnake while the lawful sappy one wasbusy about his repairs. Coming again into the room following theexploits of Cimarron Bill, her glance of love was sharp to mark thechange.

  "Whatever's up?" asked the wondering Miss Barndollar.

  "Nothin's up," replied Rattlesnake. "Only me an' Cimarron, not approvin'of them malpractices of that jacklaig doctor, has had a new deal. An'that reminds me," he continued, turning to Cimarron, who was surveyingthe bandaged result with a satisfied air; "give me my pistol. I'll keepit in bed with me a whole lot, an' when that igneramus comes chargin' into-morry mornin' I'll stand him off."

  "But you mustn't shoot," warned Cimarron, as he brought the weapon."When he shows up, tell him to pull his freight. An' if he hesitates,sort o' take to menacin' at him with the gun. But don't shoot none;Bat's gettin' that partic'ler he wouldn't stand it."

  The composed manners of both Rattlesnake and Cimarron worked upon thecredulity of Miss Barndollar. In the face of so much confidence it wasdifficult to doubt. Still, she cross-questioned Cimarron when she foundhim alone on the Wright House porch.

  "Be you shore," she asked, "that Rattlesnake's laig'll come right? Whichif it's out o' plumb when he's cured, I'll shorely make you hard tofind!"

  "Rattlesnake's laig," returned Cimarron, reassuringly, "will eemergefrom them splints as straight as Luke Short's deal box, an' saidimplement of faro-bank has allers been reckoned the straightest thing intown. You need give yoursel'f no oneasiness, Calamity."

  "Which I'll take your word," responded Miss Barndollar. "But if thatlaig ain't all that heart could wish, I'll keep you plenty oneasy forthe balance of your days!"

  Mr. Masterson, when given word of the matter, was somewhat troubled byCimarron's unlooked for debut in the field of surgery. Like MissBarndollar, Mr. Masterson asked questions.

  "Did you ever set anybody's leg before?" he inquired.

  "Did I ever set any sport's laigs before!" retorted Cimarron Bill, witha yawn of careless indifference. "I've set twenty cows' laigs, an'what's the difference? Thar's nothin' to the play. It's as easy asfittin' together the two ends of a broken stick, with your eyes shet. Ofcourse them doctor sharps raise the long yell about it bein' difficult,aimin' tharby to bluff you out o' your bankroll."

  Upon his arrival next day, the sappy one was much confounded to find hispatient propped up in bed, smoking a bad cigar. His confusion wasincreased when the patient drew a Colt's-45 from beneath the blankets,surveying him the while with a loathely scowl. The sappy one thoughtthat Rattlesnake Sanders had added insanity to a broken leg. This theorywas strengthened when the forbidding Rattlesnake waved him from the roomwith his weapon. The sappy one went; he said that he loved his art, butnot well enough to attempt its practice within point-blank range of ahostile six-shooter. When the sappy one found himself again in thestreet, Jack, who, although the _Weekly Planet_ had been dead formonths, was still beset of all the instincts of a newsmaker, laid bareto him the interference of Cimarron Bill in the affairs of thatfractured leg. The sappy one waxed exceedingly bitter, and spoke freelyof Cimarron Bill.

  "He called you an empiric," said Jack, relating the strictures of thesappy one to Cimarron an hour later.

  "A what?"

  "An empiric."

  "Spell it," and Cimarron drew a deep, resentful breath.

  "E-m-p-i-r-i-c."

  "Whatever does it mean?"

  "It means a four-flush," said Jack, who was
liberal in definitions.

  "I won't shoot him," observed Cimarron, after a profound pause; "no Iwon't spring no gun on him, for that might prove disturbin' to thepublic peace. Which I'll merely burn him at the stake."

  The sappy one was miles away from Dodge when these flame and fagotthreats were formulated; and as he took pains to remain away thereafter,he gave Cimarron Bill scant chance to execute them. At long range,however, he continued to make his malignant influence felt. He sent forMiss Barndollar and told her that Rattlesnake's one remaining hope wasto have that mismanaged leg re-broken and re-set. Failing thesemeasures, the sappy one gave it as his professional opinion that the legwould look like an interrogation point. As an upcome, Miss Barndollarcame back weeping to Dodge.

  "But the laig's O. K.," remonstrated Rattlesnake Sanders, when MissBarndollar unfurled to him the sappy one's predictions. "It's comin'round as solid as a sod house."

  "But you'll do it to please me, Rattlesnake," coaxed Miss Barndollar."I'm a proud girl, an' I don't want to wed no gent with a laig like acorkscrew."

  Rattlesnake was shaken by the tender persistency of Miss Barndollar.However, he said that he must see Cimarron Bill.

  "What do you think yourse'f, Cimarron?" asked Rattlesnake earnestly,when the worthy Cimarron had been rounded up by Jack for the conference.

  "That limb," observed Cimarron, judgmatically, and cocking a wise eyelike a crow looking into a jug, "that limb, as framed up, is a credit tous both. It's simply aces before the draw! Don't tech it."

  "But Calamity allows she'll throw me down about that weddin'."

  Miss Barndollar was not in the room, and Cimarron took on a look of grimcunning.

  "Ev'ry cloud has a silver linin'," remarked Cimarron, enigmatically."Rattlesnake, this yere will turn out the luckiest laig you ever had."

  Following these foggy announcements, Cimarron said that it would be apoint of honour with him to prevent any intromission with the leg ofRattlesnake Sanders.

  "This offensive sawbones," he explained, "publically allooded to me as aempirick. In so doin' he compels me to go through the way I'm headed. Ishall consider any attempt to break that laig again as an attack upon mycharacter, an' conduct myse'f accordin' with a gun."

  "That sounds on the level," observed Rattlesnake to Miss Barndollar, whohad come into the room in time to hear the ultimatum of Cimarron. "Forus to go tamperin' with this yere member that a-way, would be equiv'lentto castin' aspersions on Cimarron."

  "You never loved me!" murmured Miss Barndollar, beginning to cry.

  "Calamity!" exclaimed Rattlesnake, reproachfully. "You're my soul!"

  "An' yet," she sobbed, rocking herself in her chair, "you refooses myleast request! Is it love to ast me to go through life as the wife of aparty with a game laig?"

  "But Calamity!"

  "I knows gents who'd break their hearts for me, let alone their laigs!"

  Rattlesnake looked appealingly at Cimarron, who was bearing himself withstudied dignity.

  "Which you'll nacherally thank me a heap for this some day!" saidCimarron, replying to the look.

  "Calamity," cooed Rattlesnake, "let me have a word alone with Cimarron."

  "You-all can have what words you please," snorted Miss Barndollar,beginning to dry her indignant eyes, "you can have what words you pleasewith this person. But I wants to saw it off on you right yere,Rattlesnake Sanders, that no lady would be jestified in entrustin' herfooture to a gent who'd go argufyin' an' h'ar-splittin' about a triflin'matter like this. You'll either get that laig fixed, or our engagement'sat an end. Yes, sir," concluded Miss Barndollar in a sudden gust oftemper, "it's no longer a laig. Which it's now ceased to be a laig andbecome a principle," and Miss Barndollar flounced from the room.

  "The first day I can ride," groaned Rattlesnake, "I'll shore descendupon that sawbones all spraddled out, an' obtain a spec'men of hish'ar!"

  Calming himself, Rattlesnake discoursed sagely and at length withCimarron, saying that he was in favour of yielding to the demands ofMiss Barndollar. The leg could easily be rebroken. Both he and Cimarronwould of course understand that it did not require such treatment. Theywould agree that it was simply a concession to Miss Barndollar, and notto be held as reflecting on Cimarron.

  "Because, d'ye see," said Rattlesnake, "take it every way from the jack,I wouldn't miss marryin' Calamity if it meant breakin' a dozen laigs. Ithink we'd better let her have her way, Cimarron. You don't know girlslike I do; but the fact is, you allers want to humour 'em in littlethings so's to have your own way in big ones. You call her in, Cimarron,an' tell her she's plumb right about this fool laig."

  In the teeth of this specious argument, Cimarron still persisted withhis objections. He said that the attitude of Miss Barndollar was born ofvanity. He pointed out that the much debated leg was as straight as agun barrel. He re-told the insult put upon himself in the epithet ofempiric. Constantly, he hinted that untold good lay behind his presentobstinacy, and that Rattlesnake would admit his gratitude therefore indays to come. He closed by suggesting that they send for Mr. Masterson.

  With a talent for compromise, and prone to middle paths, Mr. Mastersonbelieved that, inasmuch as a fortnight had already elapsed, MissBarndollar ought not to object to the leg continuing as it then was.Rattlesnake Sanders would give his promise to have the leg instantlyrefractured in event of any final queerness.

  Upon this proposal being carried to Miss Barndollar by Jack, who wasdelegated to the trust by Rattlesnake and Mr. Masterson, she called thatyouth a "cub prairie dog" and demanded his authority for meddling withtwo throbbing hearts. Jack, deeply chagrined, pled the commission ofRattlesnake and Mr. Masterson. Miss Barndollar wept, and Jack, beingmercurial and a child of active sympathies, wept with her. In the endMiss Barndollar dried her eyes, kissed Jack and bid him return to thecallous Rattlesnake and say that she had cast him out of her heartforever.

  "Tell him," said Miss Barndollar, "that he has shown himse'f keerless ofmy feelin's an' I'm mighty lucky to be saved in time."

  Cimarron Bill wore a brow of cloudy victory when Jack made his report,while Rattlesnake Sanders swore in a discouraged way. As for Mr.Masterson, he counseled Rattlesnake to be of cheer, and gave it as hisbelief that Miss Barndollar would come back to his arms in time. Mr.Masterson was on the brink of basing this conclusion on the fact thatMiss Barndollar would not be able to find another who would have her,but caught himself on the verge. He said instead that she was onlytesting Rattlesnake's love.

  "Just let everything go as it lays," concluded Mr. Masterson,consolingly, "and when you are out and around again, it's two for onethat you and Calamity'll be like turtledoves."

  Rattlesnake said he hoped so, while Cimarron shook his head.

  "That's the luckiest laig you ever broke, Rattlesnake," was themysterious remark of Cimarron as the conference adjourned.

  Rattlesnake Sanders, being recovered, invited the judgment of Mr.Masterson concerning his legs.

  "What I wants," explained Rattlesnake, "is an opinion at onceonprejewdyced an' offishul, an' nacherally I asts Bat."

  Mr. Masterson, after a most critical survey of Rattlesnake from, as hehimself expressed it, "foretop of fetlock," gave his honour for it thatnothing showed amiss.

  "Your leg," said Mr. Masterson, "is as straight as it ever was."

  "Straighter," chimed in the confident Cimarron, who stood at his elbow."Rattlesnake's laigs, on account of bein' frequent storm-soaked aboutthe herds an' then dried preematoorly by camp fires, was a heap warped.Now they're as par'llel as two fiddle strings. I ain't the gent to sayit, seein' I set that fracture myse'f, but it's my view Rattlesnake'slaigs quits winner on the deal."

  These assurances gave mighty satisfaction to Rattlesnake Sanders. Somuch set up by them was he, that he sought a meeting with MissBarndollar, meditating in her shell-like ear a loving word. The lady wasin the Wright House kitchen, and observing her lover's approach madehaste to slam and bolt the door in his adoring face. Sinking under thisrebuff, Rattlesnake
withdrew to the Alhambra, and became grievouslydrunk.

  The next day, Rattlesnake Sanders again attempted converse with hisobdurate sweetheart as she was coming from Mr. Wright's store. Sherepelled him with double scorn.

  "Not bein' desirous," observed Miss Barndollar on this witheringoccasion, "of the attentions of no sech tarripin as you, I forbids youspeakin' to me now or yereafter."

  It is to be supposed that a deal of Miss Barndollar's hardness was thegrowth of pique. Now that the unreasonable character of her surgicaldemands had been demonstrated, her resentment was multiplied. Also,because of this second effort at an interview, she complained to Mr.Masterson.

  "Be you Sheriff of Ford I'd like for to ast?" she demanded.

  "Why?" asked Mr. Masterson, humble but defensive. Mr. Masterson owned ahare's heart where a woman was concerned, and his instinct was for thefugitive and the non-committal. Wherefore he put the query, beingheedful to throw into his tone a propitiating quaver of apology: "Why?What's fetched loose?"

  "Nothin'," returned Miss Barndollar, in her most icy manner, "only Idee-mands protection from that profligate." Here she pointed a chillingfinger at the forlorn Rattlesnake who, with head bowed and in anattitude of deepest dejection, stood leaning in the Long Branch door.

  "Who, Rattlesnake?" returned Mr. Masterson, with a gentle purpose ofreconciliation. "Why, he dotes on you! He loves you like a prairiefire."

  "Which the love," said Miss Barndollar, with a sudden vehemence thatsent shafts of terror to the soul of Mr. Masterson, "of sech miscreantsis the worst outrage they can commit. I'm a weak female, an' I dee-mandsprotection. Likewise, you'd better give it to me, Bat Masterson, or I'lllay up trouble for your gray ha'rs."

  "Taking her up one side and down the other, Rattlesnake," observed Mr.Masterson, in the confab which in deference to the threats of MissBarndollar he deemed it wise to hold with that young man, "my notion isthat you'd better hit the trail for the White Woman, an' give Calamity achance to cool. She's a whole lot heated just now, but most likely in amonth, or may be in two, it'll be safe to say 'Howdy!' to her, and bidher the time of day."

  "Then you'd give her up?" asked the mournful Rattlesnake.

  "Only for a spell," replied Mr. Masterson, cheerfully. "But you seeyourself there's nothing to be gained by hankering 'round her at thistime. The way she feels you couldn't get near enough to her to hand hera ripe peach. Later, it'll be different, and I shall hope to shake amoccasin at your wedding."

  Rattlesnake mused a moment, and then broke forth with unexpected spirit.

  "Which I'll take your steer, Bat. Also, it's the last I'll have to dowith that Calamity. I shore should not regret surrenderin' a lady sonarrow as to hold that the only evidence a gent can give of hisaffection is to go about cripplin' himse'f promiscus."

  "Now don't come to any rash decisions," urged the prudent Mr. Masterson."Dodge wants those nuptials to come off, and if you'll give Calamitytime to round on herself, they will. She's only a bit peevish with youfor getting well, but that'll fade away. You go back to your cattle,Rattlesnake, and leave me to ride herd on Calamity. The moment shebegins to melt I'll send you word."

  It has been the puzzle of every age that woman, with her infinitesuperiority over man in all that is morally, mentally and physicallybeautiful, should be seldom or never satisfied. Within three days afterRattlesnake Sanders rode away, Miss Barndollar met Mr. Masterson in thethoroughfares of Dodge and, with tears guttering her freckled cheeks,openly charged upon him the crime of their cruel separation.

  "Rattlesnake's the only gent I ever loved!" she sobbed, "an' yere youonfeelin'ly cuts in an' stampedes him out o' my very arms."

  Mr. Masterson was somewhat discouraged, and extricated himself from theinterview with what polite speed he might. None the less, about theroots of his soul he felt a self-gratulatory flutter. His remedy hadworked; his advice was justified. He had recommended for the haughtycoldness of Miss Barndollar a course of what Christian Scientists woulddescribe as "absent treatment" and here was the lady yielding to it likea willow to the wind. Mr. Masterson had cause for exultation, and unbentmoderately to that sentiment. Withal he was practical, and lost no timein moving to reunite the lovers. In this, however, Mr. Masterson wasguilty of an error. He dispatched Cimarron to bring in Rattlesnake, whenhe should have sent the sympathetic Jack.

  "Go over," said Mr. Masterson to Cimarron, "and break the news toRattlesnake. Tell him he wins, and that there's nothing now to do butconsider Calamity's feelings."

  Cimarron Bill sullenly threw a saddle on a pony, and pointed away intothe desolate north. His heart was not for this journey; it was to him asthough he were summoning Rattlesnake not for his marriage but for hisexecution.

  "Bat's takin' a heap on himse'f!" he muttered. "As for me; I washes myhands of the whole play."

  Mr. Masterson said afterward that Cimarron Bill, in that matter of thelove-coil between Miss Barndollar and Rattlesnake, betrayed a side ofhis character hitherto unknown. Mr. Masterson should have reflected.Never before had he been called upon to consider Cimarron while underwhat peculiar pressures were here exerted. Deep within the innerrecesses of Cimarron's nature, abode objections to matrimony as rootedas the hills.

  "An' in partic'lar," Cimarron had observed, when once he mooted thesubject with Mr. Short as part of a review they were then and theremaking of the conjugal experiences of Mr. McBride and Bridget, "an' inpartic'lar I contends that if the world must have sech things asmatrimony, then no gent should be pinned down to jest one wife. An' forthis reason," he continued, waving an impressive paw: "It ain't goodsense. Is it good farobank sense to put your whole bundle on one kyard?No. Then it ain't good weddin' sense for to resk your whole heart on onelady. She may fall to lose, an' then where be you at? It's my idee thatif a party must go ag'inst this weddin' game, he'll be safer if hespreads his bets."

  Holding fast to these beliefs, Cimarron Bill rode forth full of anunconscious willingness to play the marplot. He would deliver themessage of Mr. Masterson; but he would deliver it in such fashion that,when the worst occurred, as it hereafter--according to his thinking--mustmost certainly occur, he, Cimarron, could felicitate himself with thereflection that he had in no sort contributed towards bringing thatworst about. He would bear the message of Mr. Masterson; he would alsoproffer warnings all his own. Should the locoed Rattlesnake then persistin riding open-eyed to Dodge and to destruction--why, his blood be on hishead!

  It was in this frame that Cimarron Bill sat down to flap-jacks withRattlesnake Sanders that night at the latter's camp on the White Woman.And this was the conversation that passed between the pair:

  "I've been sent over to rope you up, Rattlesnake," quoth Cimarron."Calamity says you're to wash off your warpaint an' report at theagency."

  "Does she still adhere to them demands about bustin' my laig?" askedRattlesnake. "Not that it much matters," he added hastily, for thedoughty resolve to see no more of Miss Barndollar, expressed to Mr.Masterson, had long since oozed away, "not that it matters. Theround-ups are eight weeks away, an' I'd easy be able to ride by then."

  After this exchange the two munched wordless flapjacks, diversified bymouthfuls of salt pork. Rattlesnake Sanders broke the silence.

  "Then I takes it we starts back by sun-up."

  "Rattlesnake," observed Cimarron Bill, with a pompous solemnity that wasnot wanting in effect upon his auditor, "you've come to a bad, boggy,quicksand crossin'. My advice is not to jump your pony off the bank, butride in slow."

  "As how?" asked Rattlesnake Sanders, somewhat mystified.

  "You think I'm honest, don't you?" demanded Cimarron.

  "Shore, I think you're honest," returned Rattlesnake Sanders. Then,cautiously: "But still I allers sort o' allowed you had you're honestyonder control."

  "Well, this is the straight goods at any rate," said Cimarron. "Thar'stwo kinds of folks you must never surrender to: ladies an' Injuns.Surrender to either is the shore preloode to torture. For you, now, togo surgin' rapturously into Do
dge, like a drunkard to a barbecue, wouldbe the crownin' disaster of your c'reer."

  "Whatever then should be my little game?"

  "It's this a-way: I said you can't afford to surrender to Injuns an'ladies. But you can make treaties with 'em. That gives you a chance topreeserve yourse'f for yourse'f. What you ought to do is plant yourse'fas solid as a gob of mud, an' send back word that you're thinkin' itover."

  "But s'pose Calamity goes in the air, an' says it's all off?"

  "That's a resk no brave man should refoose to take. You want to rememberthat she slammed a door in your face; that she set Bat to run you out o'camp." These reminders clearly stiffened Rattlesnake Sanders. "For youto surrender, onconditional, would incite her to new crooelties thatwould lay over them former inhoomanities like a king-full lays over apa'r of treys. Once," went on Cimarron, who began to be intoxicated withhis own eloquence, "once a party back in St. Looey shows me a picture ofa man chained to a rock, an' a turkey buzzard t'arin' into him, beak an'claw. He said it was a sport named Prometheus bein' fed upon byvultures. In my pore opinion that party was barkin' at a knot. Thepicture wasn't meant for Prometheus an' the vultures. The painter whodaubs it had nothin' on his mind but jest to show, pictor'ally, exactlywhat marriage is like. It was nothin' more nor less than that giftedgenius' notion of a married man done in colours."

  This outburst so moulded the hopes and fears, especially the fears, ofRattlesnake that he gave himself completely to the guidance of CimarronBill.

  "I'm to stand a pat hand," said Rattlesnake tentatively, "an' you'll gocavortin' back an' tell Calamity I'll let her know."

  "An' yet," interposed Cimarron Bill, "I think on that p'int I'd betterbe the bearer of a note in writin'. Ladies is plenty imaginative, an' ifI takes to packin' in sech messages, verbal, Calamity may allow I'mlyin' an' lay for me."

  There was no material for letter-making about the camp. The ingeniousCimarron suggested an "Injun letter." Acting on his own happy proposalhe tore a small board from the top of a box that had held a dozen cansof corn, and set to work with charcoal. Cimarron Bill drew in one cornerwhat might have passed for the sketch of a woman, while the center wasadorned with an excited antelope in full flight, escaping over a ridge.

  "I'll mark the antelope, 'Bar D'," said Cimarron, "so's she'll know it'syou, Bar D bein' your brand."

  "But whatever is Calamity to onderstand by them totems?"

  "Nothin' only that you're goin' to be a heap hard to ketch," repliedCimarron. "It'll teach her your valyoo."

  The antelope looked vastly like a disfigured goat, and the resemblancedisturbed Rattlesnake.

  "That'll be all right," returned Cimarron, confidently; "I'll explainthat it's an antelope. All pictures has to be explained."

  When Cimarron Bill laid before Miss Barndollar the message embodied inthat "Injun letter," she was so swept away by woe that even the hardenedmessenger was shocked. More and worse: Miss Barndollar, with a lack oflogic for which her sex has celebration, laid these new troubles, as shehad the old, at the door of Mr. Masterson.

  "You druv him from me!" cried Miss Barndollar, as she reproached Mr.Masterson with her loss. "In your heartlessness you druv him from me!An' now, although Sheriff of this yere county, you fails to restore himto my heart." Throughout that day and the next Miss Barndollar made it apractice to burst into tears at sight of Mr. Masterson. "Which I wantsmy Rattlesnake," she wailed.

  Mr. Masterson was turning desperate. This mood found display in anexclamation that was wrung from him while refreshing his weary soul inthe Long Branch.

  "There's no use talking, Luke," observed Mr. Masterson, turning in hisdespair to Mr. Short, "Dodge can't stand this! Calamity must and shallbe married! If Rattlesnake won't have her, some other man must."

  In making this last remark Mr. Masterson let his glance fall by chanceon Cimarron Bill. That determined person was startled to the core.

  "You needn't look at me!" he roared. "Which I gives notice I'll never bemarried alive!"

  "No one's thinking of you, Cimarron." retorted Mr. Masterson, and thesuspicious one breathed more evenly.

  Mr. Masterson and Mr. Short consulted in low tones across the counter.At last Mr. Short straightened up as one who is clear, and said:

  "Calamity in effect offers herse'f to this Rattlesnake person, an' heequiv'cates. Thar's two things in this republic which no white man has alicense to decline; one's the presidency, an' t'other's a lady. ThisRattlesnake has no rights left."

  "But," said Mr. Masterson, hesitating over the point, "I don't quite seemy way clear--as Sheriff."

  "Speakin' technicle, you're c'rrect," observed Mr. Short. "An' it's tharwhere you makes the shift. Nail him for shootin' up Kell that time.You-all knows me, Bat," continued Mr. Short. "I'm a mighty conserv'tiveman, speshully about other folks' love affairs. An' yet I gives it as myjedgment that steps should be took."

  Mr. Masterson, bidding Cimarron Bill follow with a buckboard, startedfor the White Woman.

  It was in the afternoon of the next day, and Rattlesnake Sanders wasseated by his fire, wrapped in gloomy thought.

  "Hands up!" was his earliest notice of the threatening nearness of Mr.Masterson who, dismounting two hundred yards away and beyond a swell,had crept cat-foot upon the camp. "Hands up! You're wanted for creasingKelly!"

  Quick as thought, Rattlesnake was on his feet. In a moment his hand asthough by instinct slipped to the butt of his Colt's. Sharp as was hiswork, Mr. Masterson's was even brisker. With the first shadow ofresistance, he sent a bullet into Rattlesnake's leg--the other leg. Theshock sent the unlucky Rattlesnake spinning like a top. He fell at fulllength, and before he might pull himself together Mr. Masterson had himdisarmed.

  "What for a racket is this?" demanded Rattlesnake fiercely, when he hadcollected his wits and his breath. "What's the meanin' of this yerebluff?"

  "Speaking unofficially," returned Mr. Masterson, "it means that you'reabout to become a married man. If you think Dodge will sit idly by whileyou break the heart of that child Calamity, you're off."

  "Calamity!" exclaimed Rattlesnake, in a maze of astonishment. "Which Iwas jest tryin' to figger out a way to squar' myse'f with that angelwhen you plugged me! If you'd said 'Calamity!' instead of 'Kelly' itwouldn't have called for a gun play. I'd have followed you back to townon all fours, like a collie dog."

  "Why didn't you report, then, when I sent for you? What did you mean bysending in that infernal hieroglyphic?"

  "Me an' Cimarron was simply holdin' out for guarantees," groanedRattlesnake.

  "You and Cimarron!" cried Mr. Masterson indignantly.

  From over a knoll a clatter was heard, and Cimarron Bill came rattlinginto camp with the buckboard. This may or may not have had to do withMr. Masterson's failure to finish his last remark. Possibly that adage,which tells of how soon things mend when least is said, occurred to himas a reason for holding his peace.

  The perforated Rattlesnake was comfortably mowed away in a Wright Housebed, his beloved Calamity bending over him. When the first joy of theirmeeting had been given time to wear itself away, the lady was calledinto the hall by Mr. Masterson. Mr. Short was with him.

  "I don't want to be understood, Calamity," said Mr. Masterson, "astrying to crowd your hand, but the preacher will be here at 7 P. M., atwhich hour you and Rattlesnake are to become man and wife. That bulletis, I confess, an unusual feature in a honeymoon; but for all that thewedding must take place, per schedule, as I've got to get this thing offmy mind."

  "As for that bullet in Rattlesnake," added Mr. Short, "it's a distinctadvantage. It'll make him softer an' more sentimental. Which a gent getssentimental in direct proportion as you shoot him up. I've known twobullets, properly planted, to set a party to writin' poetry."

  "Do I onderstand, Bat," asked Mr. Kelly, as following the wedding theywere wending to the Alhambra with a plan to drink good fortune to thehappy pair; "do I onderstand that you used my name in gunnin' for thisbridegroom?"

  "That Calamity girl had me lo
coed," explained Mr. Mastersonapologetically. "I'd been harassed to a degree, Kell, that left meknockin' 'round in the situation like a blind dog in a meat shop, hardlyknowing right from wrong. All I wanted was to marry him to Calamity, andI seized on your name to land the trick."

  "Still," objected Mr. Kelly, mildly, "you ought not to have founded theplay on his wingin' me. While I won't say that his shootin' me was inthe best of taste that time, after all it wasn't more'n a breach ofmanners, an' not in any of its aspects, as I onderstand, a voylation ofthe law. It wasn't fair to me to make him marry that Calamity lady forthat."

  "Besides," urged Cimarron Bill, who had come up, "them nuptials isonconstitootional, bein' in deefiance of the clause which declar's thatno onusual or crooel punishments shall be meted out. Which I knows it'sthar, because Bob Wright showed it to me at the time I urged stoppin'old Bobby Gill's licker for a week to punish him for pesterin' 'roundamong us mourners the day of Bridget's fooneral."