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Wolfville

A >> Alfred Henry Lewis >> Wolfville




"His tone shows he's ennuied; he has so many of these yere blazers
to run; that's why he's careless, mebby. When the party throws up
his hands, he is careful an knocks the marshal's gun one side with
his left hand, bein' he's too close as I says, at the same time
pullin' his own wherewith he then sends that marshal to the happy
huntin' grounds in one motion. Before ever that Gunnison offishul
gets it outen his head that that sport's holdin' up his hands, he's
receivin' notice on high to hustle 'round an' find his harp an'
stand in on the eternal chorus for all he's worth.

"'Which the public,' says Jack Moore, the time he relates about this
yere Gunnison marshal bein over-played that time, 'takes an' hangs
the killer in a minute. An' he's shorely a bad man.

"'Does you-all want to pray?" says one of the gents who's stringin'
of him.

"'No, Ed," he says that a-way, "prayin's a blind trail to my eyes
an' I can't run it a inch."

"'"What for a racket," says this yere Ed, "would it be to pick out a
sport to pray for you a whole lot; sorter play your hand?"

"'"That's all right," says this culprit. "Nominate your sharp an'
tell him to wade in an' roll his game. I reckons it's a good hedge,
an' a little prayin' mebby does me good."

"'Tharupon the committee puts for'ard a gent who's a good talker;
but not takin' an interest much, he makes a mighty weak orison, that
a-way. Thar's nohody likes it, from the culprit, who's standin' thar
with the lariat 'round his neck, to the last gent who's come up.
This party blunders along, mebby it's a minute, when the culprit,
who's plumb disgusted, breaks in.

"'"That's a hell of a pra'r," he says, "an' I don't want no more of
it in mine. Gimme a drink of whiskey, gents, an' swing me off."

"'The committee, whose sympathies is all with this yere party who's
to hang, calls down the gent a heap who's prayin', gives the other
his forty drops, an' cinches him up some free of the ground; which
the same bein' ample for strang'lation.

"'But,' concloods Jack, 'while they hangs him all right an' proper,
that don't put off the funeral of the marshal none, who gets
careless an' goes too close.' An' you bet Jack's right.

"But goin' back: As I remarks, Jack stands round loose an'
indifferent with his eye on the pony of Pinon Bill's, which it looks
now like this yere Bill is aware of Jack's little game. He comes out
shore-'nough, but he's organized. He's got his gun in his hand; an'
also he's packin' the Deef Woman's yearlin' in front of his breast
an' face.

"Jack gives him the word, but Pinon Bill only laughs. Then Jack
makes a bluff with his gun like he's goin' to shoot Pinon Bill, the
infant, an' all involved tharin. This yere last move rattles Pinon
Bill, an' he ups an' slams loose at Jack. But the baby's in his way
as much mebby as it is in Jack's, an' he only grazes Jack's frame a
whole lot, which amounts to some blood an' no deep harm.

"'Down his pony, Jack!' shouts Dave Tutt, jumpin' outen the Red
Light like he aims to get in on the deal.

"But this yere Pinon Bill shifts the cut on 'em.

"'If one of you-alls so much as cracks a cap,' he says, 'I blows the
head offen this yere blessed child.'

"An' tharupon he shoves his gun up agin that baby's left y'ear that
a-way, so it shore curdles your blood. He does it as readily as if
it's grown-up folks. It shore sends a chill through me; an' Dan
Boggs is that 'fected he turns plumb sick. Boggs ain't eatin' a
thing, leastwise nothin' but whiskey, for two days after he sees
Pinon Bill do it.

"'That's on the level,' says this Pinon Bill ag'in.--The first
vestich of a gun-play I witnesses, or if any gent starts to follow
me ontil I'm a mile away, I'll send this yearlin' scoutin' after
Burke. An' you-alls hears me say it.'

"Thar it is; a squar' case of stand-off. Thar ain't a gent who's
game to make a move. Seein' we ain't got a kyard left to play, this
yere Pinon Bill grins wide an' satisfactory, an' swings into the
saddle.

"All this time--which, after all, it ain't so long--the baby ain't
sayin' nothin', and takes the deal in plumb silence. But jest as
Pinon Bill lands in the saddle it onfurls a yell like a wronged
panther. That's what brings the Deef Woman stampedin' to the scene.
She don't hear a morsel of all this riot Jack an' Tutt an' Pinon
Bill kicks up; never even gets a hint of Pinon Bill's six-shooter.
But with the earliest squeak of that infant that a-way, you bet! she
comes a-runnin'.

"The second she sees where her baby's at, up in the saddle along
with Pinon Bill, she makes a spring for the whole outfit. We-alls
stands lookin' on. Thar ain't one of us dares crook a finger, for
this Pinon Bill is cool an' ca'm plumb through. He's still got the
drop on the kid, while he's holdin' baby an' bridle both with the
other arm an' hand. His sharp eyes is on the Deef Woman, too.

"She springs, but she never makes it. Pinon Bill jumps his pony
sideways out of her reach, an' at that the Deef Woman c'lapses on
her face an' shoulder in a dead swoon.

"'Adios!' says Pinon Bill, to the rest of us, backin' an' sidlin'
his pony up the street so he don't lose sight of the play. 'Ten
minutes from now you-alls finds this yere infant a mile from camp as
safe an' solid as a sod house.'

"'Bill,' says Enright, all at once, 'I makes you a prop'sition.
Restore the baby to me, an' thar ain't a gent in camp who follows
you a foot. I gives you the word of Wolfville.'

"'Does that go?' demands Pinon Bill, turnin to Jack, who's shakin'
the blood offen his fingers where it runs down his arm.

"'It goes,' says Jack; 'goes wherever Enright sets it. I makes good
his bluffs at all times on foot or in the stirrups.'

"'An' I takes your promise,' says Pinon Bill with a laugh, 'an'
yere's the baby. Which now I'm goin', I don't mind confidin' in you-
alls,' goes on this Pinon Bill, 'that I never intends to hurt that
infant nohow.'

"Enright gets the child, an' in no time later that Pinon Bill is
fled from sight. You can believe it; it takes a load offen the
public mind about that infant when the kyards comes that a-way.

"Which the story's soon told now. It's three days later, an', seein'
it's refreshed in our thoughts, Enright an' the rest of us is
resoomed op'rations touchin' this Deef Woman, about gettin' her
outen camp, an' she's beginnin' to recover her obduracy about not
sayin' or hearin' nothin', when in comes a package by Old Monte an'
the stage. It's for Enright from that hoss. thief, Pinon Bill.
Thar's a letter an'
Soo for the baby.

"'Tell that Decf Woman,' says this yere Pinon Bill, 'that I has an
even thousand dollars in my war-bags, when I stacks in her offspring
ag'inst the camp to win; an' I deems it only squar' to divide the
pot with the baby. The kid an' me's partners in the play that a-way,
an' the enclosed is the kid's share. Saw this yere dinero off on her
somehow; an' make her pull her freight. Wolfville's no good place to
raise that baby.'

"'Which this Pinon Bill ain't so bad neither,' says Dan Boggs, when
he hears it. 'Gents, I proposes the health of this outlaw. Barkeep,
see what they takes in behalf of Pinon Bill.'

"The letter an' the money's dead straight, an' the Deef Woman can't
dodge or go 'round. All of which Missis Rucker takes a day off an'
beats it into her by makin' signs. It's like two Injuns talkin'. It
all winds up by the Deef Woman p'intin' out on her way some'ers
East, an' thar ain't one of us ever sees the Major, the Deef Woman,
the kid, nor yet this Pinon Bill, no more. Which this last, however,
is not regarded as food for deep regrets,"




CHAPTER XXIV.

CRAWFISH JIM.


"Don't I never tell you the story of the death of Crawfish Jim?"

The Old Cattleman bent upon me an eye of benevolent inquiry. I
assured him that the details of the taking off of Crawfish Jim were
as a sealed book to me. But I would blithely listen.

"What was the fate of Crawfish Jim?"I asked. The name seemed a
promise in itself.

"Nothin' much for a fate, Crawfish's ain't," rejoined the Old
Cattleman. "Nothin' whatever compared to some fates I keeps tabs
onto. It was this a-way: Crawfish Jim was a sheep-man, an' has a
camp out in the foothills of the Tres Hermanas, mebby it's thirty
miles back from Wolfville. This yere Crawfish Jim was a pecooliar
person; plumb locoed, like all sheep-men. They has to be crazy or
they wouldn't pester 'round in no sech disrepootable pursoots as
sheep.

You-all has seen these yere gents as makes pets of snakes. Mebby
it's once in a thousand times you cuts the trail of sech a party.
Snakes is kittens to him, an' he's likely to be packin' specimens
'round in his clothes any time.

"That's the way with this Crawfish Jim. I minds talkin' to him at
his camp one day when I'm huntin' a bunch of cattle. The first I
notes, snake sticks his head outen Crawfish's shirt, an' looks at me
malev'lent and distrustful. Another protroods its nose out up by
Crawfish's collar.

"'Which you shore seems ha'nted of snakes?' I says, steppin' back
an' p'intin' at the reptiles.

"'Them's my dumb companions,' says Crawfish Jim. 'They shares my
solitood.'

"'You-all do seem some pop'lar with 'em,' I observes, for I saveys
at once he's plumb off his mental reservation; an' when a party's
locoed that a-way it makes him hostile if you derides his little
game or bucks his notions.

"I takes grub with Crawfish that same day; good chuck, too; mainly
sheep-meat, salt-hoss, an' bakin'-powder biscuit. I watches him some
narrow about them snakes he's infested with; I loathin' of 'em, an'
not wantin' 'em to transfer no love to me, nor take to enlivenin' my
secloosion none.

"Well, son, this yere Crwafish Jim is as a den of serpents. I
reckons now he has a plumb dozen mowed away in his raiment. Thar's
no harm in 'em; bein' all bull-snakes, which is innocuous an'
without p'ison, fangs, or convictions.

"When Crawfish goes to cook, he dumps these folks oaten his clothes,
an' lets 'em hustle an'play'round while grub's gettin'.

"'These yere little animals,' he says, 'likes their reecreations
same as humans, so I allers gives 'em a play-spell while I'm busy
round camp.'

'"Don't they ever stampede off none?' I asks.

"'Shorely not,' says Crawfish. 'Bull-snakes is the most domestical
snake thar is. If I'd leave one of these yere tender creatures ere
over night he'd die of homesickness.'

"When Crawfish gets ready to bile the coffee, he tumbles the biggest
bullsnake I'd seen yet outen the coffee-pot onto the grass. Then he
fills the kettle with water, dumps in the coffee, an' sets her on
the coals to stew.

"'This yere partic'lar snake,' says Crawfish, 'which I calls him
Julius Caesar, is too big to tote 'round in my shirt, an' so he
lives in the coffee-pot while I'm away, an' keeps camp for me.'

"'Don't you yearn for no rattlesnakes to fondle?' I inquires, jest
to see what kyard he'd play.

"'No,' he says, 'rattlesnakes is all right--good, sociable, moral
snakes enough; but in a sperit of humor they may bite you or some
play like that, an' thar you'd be. No; bull-snakes is as 'fectionate
as rattles, an' don't run to p'ison. You don't have no
inadvertencies with 'em.'

"'Can't you bust the fangs outen rattlesnakes?' I asks.

"'They grows right in ag'in,' says Crawfish, same as your finger-
nails. I ain't got no time to go scoutin' a rattlesnake's mouth
every day, lookin' up teeth, so I don't worry with 'em, but plays
bull-snakes straight. This bein' dentist for rattlesnakes has resks,
which the same would be foolish to assoom.'

"While grub's cookin' an' Crawfish an' me's pow-wowin', a little old
dog Crawfish has--one of them no-account nce-dogs--comes up an'
makes a small uprisin' off to one side with Julius Caesar. The dog
yelps an' snaps, an' Julius Caesar blows an' strikes at him, same as
a rattle. snake. However, they ain't doin' no harm, an' Crawfish
don't pay no heed.

"'They's runnin' blazers on each other,' says Crawfish, 'an' don't
mean nothin'. Bimeby Caribou Pete--which the same is the dog--will
go lie down an' sleep; an' Julius Caesar will quile up ag'in him to
be warm. Caribou, bein' a dog that a-way, is a warm-blood animal,
while pore Julius has got cold blood like a fish. So he goes over
an' camps on Caribou, an' all the same puts his feet on him for to
be comfortable.'

"Of course, I'm a heap interested in this yere snake knowledge, an'
tells Crawfish so. But it sorter coppers my appetite, an' Crawfish
saves on sheep-meat an' sow-belly by his discourse powerful.
Thinkin' an' a-lookin' at them blessed snakes, speshul at Julius
Cmsar, I shore ain't hungry much. But as you says: how about
Crawfish Jim gettin' killed?

"One day Crawfish allows all alone by himse'f he'll hop into
Wolfville an' buy some stuff for his camp,--flour, whiskey,
tobacker, air-tights, an' sech.

"What's air-tights? Which you Eastern shorthorns is shore ignorant.
Air-tights is can peaches, can tomatters, an' sim'lar bluffs.

"As I was sayin', along comes pore old Crawfish over to Wolfville;
rides in on a burro. That's right, son; comes loafin' along on a
burro like a Mexican. These yere sheep-men is that abandoned an'
vulgar they ain't got pride to ride a hoss.

"Along comes Crawfish on a burro, an' it's his first visit to
Wolfville. Yeretofore the old Cimmaron goes over to Red Dog for his
plunder, the same bein' a busted low-down camp on the Lordsburg
trail, which once holds it's a rival to Wolfville. It ain't,
however; the same not bein' of the same importance, commercial, as a
prairie-dog town.

"This time, however, Crawfish pints up for Wolfville. An' to make
himse'f loved, I reckons, whatever does he do but bring along Julius
Caesar.

"I don't reckon now he ever plays Julius Caesar none on Red Dog.
Mighty likely this yere was the bull-snake's first engagement. I
clings to this notion that Red Dog never sees Julius Caesar; for if
she had, them drunkards which inhabits said camp wouldn't have quit
yellin' yet. Which Julius Caesar, with that Red Dog whiskey they was
soaked in, would have shore given 'em some mighty heenous visions.
Fact is, Crawfish told Jack Moore later he never takes Julius Caesar
nowhere before.

"But all the same Crawfish prances into camp on this yere occasion
with Julius bushwacked 'way 'round back in his shirt, an' sech
vacant spaces about his person as ain't otherwise occupied a-
nourishin' of minor bull-snakes plenty profuse.

"Of course them snakes is all holdin' back, bein', after all, timid
cattle; an' so none of us s'spects Crawfish is packin' any sech
s'prises. None of the boys about town knows of Crawfish havin' this
bull-snake habit but me, nohow. So the old man stampedes'round an'
buys what he's after, an' all goes well. Nobody ain't even dreamin'
of reptiles.

"At last Crawfish, havin' turned his little game for flour, air-
tights, an' jig-juice, as I says, gets into the Red Light, an'
braces up ag'in the bar an' calls for nose-paint all 'round. This
yere is proper an' p'lite, an' everybody within hearin' of the yell
lines up.

"It's at this crisis Crawfish Jim starts in to make himse'f a
general fav'ritc. Everybody's slopped out his perfoomcry, an' Dan
Boggs is jest sayin': 'Yere's lookin' at you, Crawfish,' when that
crazy-boss shepherd sorter swarms 'round inside his shirt with his
hand, an' lugs out Julius Cesar be the scruff of his neck, a-
squirmin' an' a-blowin', an' madder'n a drunken squaw. Once he gets
Julius out, he spreads him 'round profuse on the Red Light bar an'
sorter herds him with his hand to keep him from chargin' off among
the bottles.

"'Gents,' says this locoed Crawfish, 'I ain't no boaster, but I
offers a hundred to fifty, an' stands to make it up to a thousand
dollars in wool or sheep, Julius Caesar is the fattest an' finest
serpent in Arizona; also the best behaved.'

"Thar ain't no one takin' Crawfish's bet. The moment he slams Julius
on the bar, more'n ten of our leadin' citizens falls to the floor in
fits, an' emerges outen one par'xysm only to slump into another.
Which we shorely has a general round-up of all sorts of spells.

"'Whatever's the matter of you-all people?' says Crawfish, lookin'
mighty aghast. 'Thar's no more harm in Julius Caesar than if he's a
fullblown rose.'

"Jack Moore, bein' marshal, of course stands his hand. It's his
offishul dooty to play a pat hand on bull-snakes an' danger in all
an' any forms. An' Jack does it.

"While Crawfish is busy recountin' the attainments of Julius Caesar,
a-holdin' of his pet with one hand, Jack Moore takes a snap shot at
him along the bar with his six-shooter, an' away goes Julius
Caesar's head like a puff of smoke. Then Moore rounds up Crawfish,
an', perceivin' of the other bull-snakes, he searches 'em out one by
one an' massacres 'em.

"'Call over Doc Peets,' says Jack Moore final, 'an' bring Boggs an'
Tutt an' the rest of these yere invalids to.'

"Doc Peets an' Enright both trails in on the lope from the New York
Store. They hears Moore's gun-play an' is cur'ous, nacheral 'nough,
to know who calls it. Well, they turns in an' brings the other
inhabitants outen their fits; pendin' which Moore kills off the last
remainin' bull-snake in Crawfish's herd.

"Son, I've seen people mad, an' I've seen 'em gay, an' I've seen 'em
bit by grief. But I'm yere to remark I never runs up on a gent who
goes plumb mad with sadness ontil I sees Crawfish that day Jack
Moore immolates his bull-snake pets. He stands thar, white, an'
ain't sayin' a word. Looks for a minute like he can't move. Crawfish
don't pack no gun, or I allers allowed we'd had notice of him some,
while them bullsnakes is cashin' in.

"But at last he sorter comes to, an' walks out without sayin'
nothin'. They ain't none of us regardin' of him much at the time;
bein' busy drinkin' an' recoverin' from the shock.

"Now, what do you s'pose this old Navajo does? Lopes straight over
to the New York Store--is ca'm as a June day about it, too--an' gets
a six-shooter.

"The next information we gets of Crawfish, 'bang!' goes his new gun,
an' the bullet cuts along over Jack Moore's head too high for
results. New gun that a-way, an' Crawfish not up on his practice; of
course he overshoots.

"Well, the pore old murderer never does get a second crack. I
reckons eight people he has interested shoots all at once, an'
Crawfish Jim quits this earthly deal unanimous. He stops every
bullet; eight of 'em, like I says.

"'Thar ain't a man of us who don't feel regrets; but what's the use?
Thar we be, up ag'inst the deal, with Crawfish clean locoed. It's
the only wagon-track out.

"'I shore hopes he's on the hot trail of them bull-snakes of his'n,'
says Dan Boggs, as we lays Crawfish out on a monte-table. 'Seems
like he thought monstrous well of 'em, an' it would mighty likely
please him to run up on 'em where he's gone.'

"Whatever did we do? Why, we digs a grave out back of the dance-hall
an' plants Crawfish an' his pets tharin.

"'I reckons we better bury them reptiles, too,' says Doc Peets, as
we gets Crawfish stretched out all comfortable in the bottom. 'If
he's lookin' down on these yere ceremonies it'll make him feel
easier.'

"Doc Peets is mighty sentimental an' romantic that a-way, an' allers
thinks of the touchin' things to do, which I more'n once notices
likewise, that a gent bein' dead that a-way allers brings out the
soft side of Peets's nacher. You bet! he's plumb sympathetic.

"We counts in the snakes. Thar's 'leven of 'em besides Julius
Caesar; which we lays him on Crawfish's breast. You can find the
grave to-day.

"Shore! we sticks up a headboard. It says on it, the same bein'
furnished by Doc Peets--an' I wants to say Doc Peets is the best
eddicated gent in Arizona-as follows

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF
CRAWFISH JIM, JULIUS CAESAR
AND
ELEVEN OTHER BULL SNAKES,
THEY MEANT WELL,
BUT THEY MISUNDERSTOOD EXISTENCE
AND DIED.

THIS BOARD WAS REARED BY AN
ADMIRING CIRELE OF FRIENDS
WHO WAS WITH DECEASED
TO THE LAST.

"An' don't you-all know, son, this yere onfortunate weedin' out of
pore Crawfish that a-way, sorter settles down on the camp an' preys
on us for mighty likely it's a week. It shorely is a source of
gloom. Moreover, it done gives Dan Boggs the fan-tods. As I relates
prior, Boggs is emotional a whole lot, an' once let him get what
you-all calls a shock--same, for instance, as them bull-snakes--its
shore due to set Boggs's intellects to millin'. An' that's what
happens now. We-alls don't get Boggs; bedded down none for ten days,
his visions is that acoote.

"'Which of course,' says Boggs, while we-all s settin' up
administerin' things to him, 'which of course I'm plumb aware these
yere is mere illoosions; but all the same, as cl'ar as ever I notes
an ace, no matter where I looks at, I discerns that Julius Caesar
serpent a-regardin' me reproachful outen the atmospher. An' gents,
sech spectacles lets me out a heap every time. You-alls can gamble,
I ain't slumberin' none with no snake-spook that a-way a-gyardin' of
my dreams.'

"That's all thar is to the death of Crawfish Jim. Thar ain't no harm
in him, nor yet, I reckons, in Julius Caesar an' the rest of
Crawfish's fam'ly. But the way they gets tangled up with Wolfville,
an' takes to runnin' counter to public sentiment an' them eight six-
shooters, Crawfish an' his live-stock has to go."

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