by Bret Harte
demand at the Emporium for articles not in stock, and theconsequent diverting of custom to Fiddletown. Buckeye found itself faceto face with a hitherto undreamt of and preposterous proposition. Itseemed that the advent of the strange woman, without having yet producedany appreciable effect upon the men, had already insidiously inveigledthe adult female population into ostentatious extravagance.
At the end of a week the little adobe house was not only renderedhabitable, but was even made picturesque by clean white curtains atits barred windows, and some bright, half-Moorish coloring of beams andrafters. Nearly the whole ground floor was given up to the saloon ofthe tienda, which consisted of a small counter at one side, containingbottles and glasses, and another, flanking it, with glass cases,containing cigars, pipes, and tobacco, while the centre of the room wasgiven up to four or five small restaurant tables. The staff of Jovitawas no longer limited to Sanchicha, but had been augmented by a littleold man of indefinite antiquity who resembled an Aztec idol, and anequally old Mexican, who looked not unlike a brown-tinted and veinedtobacco leaf himself, and might have stood for a sign. But the geniusof the place, its omnipresent and all-pervading goddess, was Jovita!Smiling, joyous, indefatigable in suavity and attention; all-embracingin her courtesies; frank of speech and eye; quick at repartee anddeftly handling the slang of the day and the locality with a childlikeappreciation and an infantine accent that seemed to redeem it fromvulgarity or unfeminine boldness! Few could resist the volatileinfection of her presence. A smile was the only tribute she exacted,and good-humor the rule laid down for her guests. If it occasionallyrequired some mental agility to respond to her banter, a Californiangathering was, however, seldom lacking in humor. Yet she was always theprincipal performer to an admiring audience. Perhaps there was securityin this multitude of admirers; perhaps there was a saving grace in thishumorous trifling. The passions are apt to be serious and solitary, andJovita evaded them with a jest,--which, if not always delicate or witty,was effective in securing the laughter of the majority and the jealousyof none.
At the end of the week another peculiarity was noticed. There was aperceptible increase of the Mexican population, who had always hithertoavoided Buckeye. On Sunday an Irish priest from El Pasto said mass in apatched-up corner of the old Mission ruin opposite Rollinson's Ford. Afew lounging "Excelsior" boys were equally astonished to see Jovita'sred rose crest and black mantilla glide by, and followed her unvaryingsmile and jesting salutation up to the shadow of the crumbling portal.At vespers nearly all Buckeye, hitherto virtuously skeptical andgood-humoredly secure in Works without Faith, made a point of attending;it was alleged by some to see if Jovita's glossy Indian-inky eyes wouldsuffer aberration in her devotions. But the rose-crested head was neverlifted from the well-worn prayer-book or the brown hands which helda certain poor little cheap rosary like a child's string of batteredcopper coins. Buckeye lounged by the wall through the service withrespectful tolerance and uneasy shifting legs, and came away. But theapparently simple event did not end there. It was unconsciously chargedwith a tremendous import to the settlement. For it was discovered thenext day by Mrs. "Bob" Carpenter and Nan Shuttleworth that the MethodistChurch at Fiddletown was too far away, and Buckeye ought to have apreacher of its own. Seats were fitted up in the loft of Carpenter'sstore-house, where the Reverend Henry McCorkle held divine service,and instituted a Bible class. At the end of two weeks it appearedthat Jovita's invasion--which was to bring dissipation and ruin toBuckeye--had indirectly brought two churches! A chilling doubt like acold mist settled along the river. As the two rival processions passedon the third Sunday, Jo Bateman, who had been in the habit of recliningon that day in his shirtsleeves under a tree, with a novel in his hand,looked gloomily after them. Then knocking the ashes from his pipe, herose, shook hands with his partners, said apologetically that he hadlately got into the habit of RESPECTING THE SABBATH, and was too oldto change again, and so shook the red dust of Buckeye from his feet anddeparted.
As yet there had not been the slightest evidence of disorderly conducton the part of the fair proprietress of the tienda, nor her customers,nor any drunkenness or riotous disturbance that could be at allattributed to her presence. There was, it is true, considerablehilarity, smoking, and some gambling there until a late hour, butthis could not be said to interfere with the rest and comfort of otherpeople. A clue to the mystery of so extraordinary a propriety was givenby Jovita herself. One day she walked into Parks' Emporium and demandedan interview with the proprietor.
"You have made the rules for thees Booki?"
"Yes--that is--I and my friends have."
"And when one shall not have mind the rule--when one have say, 'No! damnthe rule,' what shall you make to him? Shall you aprison him?"
Mr. Parks hastened to say with a superior, yet engaging smile that itnever had been necessary, as the rules were obligatory upon the honorand consent of all--and were never broken. "Except," he added, stillmore engagingly, "she would remember, in her case--with their consent."
"And your caballeros break not the rules?"
"No."
"Then they shall not break the rules of me--at MY TIENDA! Look! I havemade the rule that I shall not have a caballero drunk at my house; Ihave made the rule that I shall not sell him the aguardiente when hehave too mooch. I have made the rule that when he gamble too mooch, whenhe put up too mooch money, I say 'No!' I will not that he shall! I makeone more rule: that he shall not quarrel nor fight in my house. When hequarrel and fight, I say 'Go! Vamos! Get out!'"
"And very good rules they are too, Miss Mendez."
Jovita fixed her shining black eyes on the smiling Parks. "And when hesay, 'No, nevarre, damn the rules!' When he come drunk, remain drunk,play high and fight, YOU will not poonish him? YOU will not take himout?"
"Well, you see, the fact is, I have not the power."
"Are you not the Alcalde?"
"No. There is a Justice of the Peace at Fiddletown, but even he coulddo nothing to enforce your rules. But if anything should happen, you canmake a complaint to him."
"Bueno. You have not the power; I have. I make not the complaint toFiddletown. I make the complaint to Jose Perez, to Manuel, to Antonio,to Sanchicha--she is a strong one! I say 'Chook him out.' They chook himout! they remove him! He does not r-r-remain. Enough. Bueno. Gracias,senor, good-a-by!"
She was gone. For the next four days Parks was in a state of someanxiety--but it appeared unnecessarily so. Whether the interview hadbecome known along the river did not transpire, but there seemed to beno reason for Miss Mendez to enforce her rules. It was said that once,when Thompson of Angels was a little too noisy, he had been quietlyconducted by his friends from the tienda without the intervention ofJose. The frequenters of the saloon became its police.
Yet the event--long protracted--came at last! It was a dry, feverish,breezeless afternoon, when the short, echoless explosion of a revolverpuffed out on the river, followed by another, delivered so rapidly thatthey seemed rolled into one. There was no mistaking that significantrepetition. ONE shot might have been an accident; TWO meant intention.The men dropped their picks and shovels and ran--ran as they neverbefore ran in Buckeye--ran mechanically, blindly groping at their beltsand pockets for the weapons that hung there no longer; ran aimlessly,as to purpose, but following instinctively with hurried breath andquivering nostrils the cruel scent of powder and blood. Ranuntil, reaching the tienda, the foremost stumbled over the body ofShuttleworth; came upon the half-sitting, half-leaning figure ofSaunders against its adobe wall! The doors were barred and closed, andeven as the crowd charged furiously forward, a window was sharply shutabove, in their very face.
"Stand back, gentlemen! Lift him up. What's the row? What is it,Saunders? Who did it? Speak, man!"
But Saunders, who was still supporting himself against the wall, onlylooked at them with a singular and half-apologetic smile, and thenleaned forward as if to catch the eye of Shuttleworth, who wasrecovering consciousness in the uplifted arms of his companions. Butneither spoke.
"It's some d----d Greaser inside!" said Thompson, with sudden ferocity."Some of her cursed crew! Break down the doors, boys!"
"Stop!"
It was the voice of Shuttleworth, speaking with an effort. He washard hit, somewhere in the groin; pain and blood were coming withconsciousness and movement, and his face was ghastly. Yet there wasthe same singular smile of embarrassment which Saunders had worn, and atouch of invincible disgust in his voice as he stammered quickly, "Don'tbe d----d fools! It's no one in THERE. It's only me and HIM! He'll tellyou that. Won't you, Saunders?"
"Yes," said Saunders, leaning anxiously forward, with a brighteningface. "D--n it all--can't you see? It's only--only us."
"You and me, that's all," repeated Shuttleworth, with a feverish laugh."Only our d----d foolishness! Think of it, boys! He gave me the lie, andI drew!"
"Both of us full, you know--reg'lar beasts," said Saunders, sinking backagainst the wall. "Kick me, somebody, and finish me off."
"I don't see any weapons here," said Brace gravely, examining theground.
"They're inside," said Shuttleworth with tremulous haste. "We began itin there--just like hogs, you know! Didn't we, Saunders?" bitterly.
"You bet," said Saunders faintly. "Reg'lar swine."
Parks looked graver still, and as he passed a handkerchief around thewounded man's thigh, said: "But I don't see where you got your pistols,and how you got out here."
"Clinched, you know; sorter rolled over out here--and--and--oh, d--nit--don't talk!"
"He means," said Shuttleworth still feebly, "that we--we--grabbedANOTHER MAN'S six-shooter and--and--he that is--and they--he--he andme grabbed each other, and--don't you see--?" but here, becoming moreinvolved and much weaker, he discreetly fainted away.
And that was all Buckeye ever knew of the affair! For they refusedto speak of it again, and Dr. Duchesne gravely forbade any furtherinterrogation. Both men's revolvers were found undischarged in theirholsters, hanging in their respective cabins. The balls which wereafterwards extracted from the two men singularly disappeared; Dr.Duchesne asserting with a grim smile that they had swallowed them.*
* It was a frontier superstition that the ball extracted from a gunshot wound, if swallowed by the wounded man, prevented inflammation or any supervening complications.
Nothing could be ascertained of the facts at the tienda, which atthat hour of the day appeared to have been empty of customers, and wasoccupied only by Miss Mendez and her retainers. All surmises as to thereal cause of the quarrel and the reason for the reticence of the twobelligerents were suddenly and unexpectedly stopped by their departurefrom Buckeye as soon as their condition permitted, on the allegedopinion of Dr. Duchesne that the air of the river was dangerous to theirconvalescence. The momentary indignation against the tienda which thetwo combatants had checked, eventually subsided altogether. After all,the fight had taken place OUTSIDE; it was not even proven thatthe provocation had been given AT the tienda! Its popularity wasundiminished.
PART III.
It was the end of the rainy season, and a wet night. Brace and Parkswere looking from the window over the swollen river, with faces quite astroubled as the stream below. Nor was the prospect any longer the same.In the past two years Buckeye had grown into a city. They could nowcount a half dozen church spires from the window of the three-storiedbrick building which had taken the place of the old wooden Emporium, butthey could also count the brilliantly lit windows of an equal number ofsaloons and gambling-houses which glittered through the rain, or, touse the words of a local critic, "Shone seven nights in the week to theGospel shops' ONE!" A difficulty had arisen which the two men had neverdreamed of, and a struggle had taken place between the two rival powers,which was developing a degree of virulence and intolerance on both sidesthat boded no good to Buckeye. The disease which its infancy had escapedhad attacked its adult growth with greater violence. The new Americansaloons which competed with Jovita Mendez' Spanish venture hadsubstituted a brutal masculine sincerity for her veiled femininemethods. There was higher play, deeper drinking, darker passion. Yet theopposition, after the fashion of most reformers, were casting back tothe origin of the trouble in Jovita, and were confounding principlesand growth. "If it had not been for her the rule would never have beenbroken." "If there was to be a cleaning out of the gambling houses, shemust go first!"
The sounds of a harp and a violin played in the nearest saloon struggledup to them with the opening and shutting of its swinging baize innerdoors. There was boisterous chanting from certain belated revelers inthe next street which had no such remission. The brawling of the streambelow seemed to be echoed in the uneasy streets; the quiet of the olddays had departed with the sedate, encompassing woods that no longerfringed the river bank; the restful calm of Nature had receded beforethe dusty outskirts of the town.
"It's mighty unfortunate, too," said Brace moodily, "that Shuttleworthand Saunders, who haven't been in the place since their row, have comeover from Fiddletown to-day, and are banging around town. They haven'tsaid anything that I know of, but their PRESENCE is quite enough torevive the old feeling against her shop. The Committee," he addedbitterly, "will be sure to say that not only the first gambling, but thefirst shooting in Buckeye took place there. If they get up that storyagain--no matter how quiet SHE has become since--no matter what YOU maysay as mayor--it will go hard with her. What's that now?"
They listened breathlessly. Above the brawling of the river, thetwanging of the harp-player, and the receding shouts of the revelers,they could hear the hollow wooden sidewalks resounding with the dull,monotonous trampling of closely following feet. Parks rose with a whiteface.
"Brace!"
"Yes!"
"Will you stand by me--and HER?"
"Stand by YOU AND HER? Eh? What? Good God! Parks!--you don't mean to sayyou--it's gone as far as THAT?"
"Will you or won't you?"
The sound of the trampling had changed to a shuffling on the pavementbelow, and then footsteps began to ascend the stairs.
Brace held out his hand quickly and grasped that of Parks as the dooropened to half a dozen men. They were evidently the ringleaders ofthe crowd below. There was no hesitation or doubt in their manner;the unswerving directness which always characterized those illegaldemonstrations lent it something of dignity. Nevertheless, Carpenter,the spokesman, flushed slightly before Parks' white, determined face.
"Come, Parks, you know what we're after," he said bluntly. "We didn'tcome here to parley. We knew YOUR sentiments and what YOU think is yourduty. We know what we consider OURS--and so do you. But we're here togive you a chance, either as mayor, or, if you prefer it, as the oldestcitizen here, to take a hand in our business to-night. We're not ashamedof what we're going to do, and we're willing to abide by it; so there'sno reason why we shouldn't speak aboveboard of it to you. We even inviteyou to take part in our last 'call' tonight at the Hall."
"Go!" whispered Brace quickly, "YOU'LL GAIN TIME!"
Parks' face changed, and he turned to Carpenter. "Enough," he saidgravely. "I reserve what I have to say of these proceedings till Ijoin you there." He stopped, whispered a few words to Brace, and thendisappeared as the men descended the stairs, and, joining the crowdon the pavement, proceeded silently towards the Town Hall. There wasnothing in the appearance of that decorous procession to indicate itsunlawful character or the recklessness with which it was charged.
There were thirty or forty men already seated in the Hall. The meetingwas brief and to the point. The gambling saloons were to be "cleanedout" that night, the tables and appliances thrown into the street andburnt, the doors closed, and the gamblers were to be conducted to theoutskirts of the town and forbidden to enter it again on pain of death.
"Does this yer refer to Jovita Mendez' saloon?" asked a voice.
To their surprise the voice was not Parks' but Shuttleworth's. It wasalso a matter to be noted that he stood a little forward of the crowd,and that there was a corresponding movement of a doze
n or more men fromFiddletown who apparently were part of the meeting.
The chairman (No. 10) said there was to be no exception, and certainlynot for the originator of disorder in Buckeye! He was surprised that thequestion should be asked by No. 72, who was an old resident of Buckeye,and who, with No. 73, had suffered from the character of that woman'ssaloon.
"That's jest it," said Shuttleworth, "and ez I reckon that SAUNDERS ANDME did all the disorder there was, and had to turn ourselves out o'town on account of it, I don't see jest where SHE could come into thisaffair. Only," he turned and looked around him, "in one way! And thatway, gentlemen, would be for her to come here and boot one half o' thiskempany out o' town, and shoot the other half! You hear me!--that's so!"He stopped, tugged a moment at his cravat and loosened his shirt-collaras if it impeded his utterance, and went on. "I've got to say suthin'to you gentlemen about me and Saunders and this woman; I've got tosay suthin' that's hard for a white man to say, and him a married man,too--I've got to say that me and Saunders never had no QU'OLL, never hadNO FIGHT at her shop: I've got to say that me and Saunders got shot byJovita Mendez for INSULTIN' HER--for tryin' to treat her as if she wasthe common dirt of the turnpike--and