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diff --git a/78614-0.txt b/78614-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dce4b30 --- /dev/null +++ b/78614-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1052 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78614 *** + + COWS IS COWS + + By W. C. Tuttle + + Author of “Precedents in Piperock,” “Honest to Doughgod,” etc. + + +“They who live by the sword shall perish by the sword,” says he. + +“Well,” says Magpie Simpkins, sheriff of Yellow Rock County, picking his +six-shooter off the table and shoving it into his holster, “if that’s +the case the mortality uh this here county is going to be uh danged long +ways below par. Swords ain’t stylish uh tall, and ain’t been for some +little time. They’re too danged local for good fighting. I prefers old +man Colt’s products.” + +“Just uh figure uh speech, brother,” explains the hairy one. “It means +that as uh man lives so shall he die. Sabe?” + +“Then you’ll sure pass out audible, old trailer,” says Magpie. “Ever +since you invades my premises you ain’t done nothing but talk, talk, +talk. Don’t you have nothing to do but orate uplift opinions?” + +“It is my mission, brother. I carry the light to dark places, and I have +been called to this end of the earth to scatter seeds.” + +He sure looked like uh sower. He’s danged near as tall as Magpie +Simpkins, and if anything he’s uh little narrower. He wears uh long +black coat, and tucks his pantlegs into the tops of his number twelve +boots, which are uh heap run over at the heels, making him arch at the +knees. His face is uh cross between Sandy Claws, uh bock-beer sign and +uh bale uh fox-tail grass. He punctuates his uplift remarks by spitting +through uh hole in the front of his mouth where uh tooth used to stand. +He’s wearing uh straw hat, the same uh which was made man-sized, and it +balances on top of his ears like uh teeter-board. + +“Called, eh?” says Magpie. “Well, you sure didn’t get called for much. +What seems to be your trade, anyway?” + +“I’m uh Bringer of Light, brother. Meek and lowly I come----” + +“Bringer uh Light, eh?” interrupts Magpie. “Never mind the meek part. +Me and Ike are both meek and lowly. If yuh got uh good supply uh seeds +yuh might scatter some where some of our rustling friends would pick +’em up.” + +“Rustling?” pronounces the Bringer uh Light. “Wouldst explain?” + +“Wouldst. Uh rustler is uh man who can’t tell another man’s stock from +his own. It’s uh sort uh brand blindness. Sabe? We’re burdened with +’em to the extent that three days, hand running, I’ve been accused uh +negligence and favoritism. Just because I’ve been duly elected sheriff +uh this commonwealth they opines that all I got to do is to bleed and +die for my constituents and the glory of the cause. Scenery Sims, Hank +Padden, Zeb Abernathy and Johnny Myers is the constituents what +endeavors to shape my ends. Yuh might pack uh little light to them +four dark places, old-timer.” + +“Do they amble in darkness?” he asks, hitting uh knot-hole three times +straight. + +“Blacker than the ace uh spades. What’s your name, anyway?” + +The hairy one hunches up his shoulders, like uh buzzard with uh full +crop, takes another shot at that knot-hole and rubs his long hands +together. + +“I am Obadiah Ezekiel Moses Brown.” + +“Pshaw!” says Magpie. “Why didn’t your folks make uh perfect score while +they had uh chance?” + +“Meaning which, brother?” + +“They left out Proverbs and Genesis. No wonder you’re uh Gospel pedler, +Obie. I thought at first that you’re uh shepherd, but no shepherd ever +had names like----” + +“He has came,” announces uh voice at the open door, and there stands +Scenery Sims. + +If I had my choice between the friendship of Scenery Sims and that of an +old buck sheep, I’d never speak to Scenery again. Scenery orates that +he’s uh self-made man, that’s about the only thing he can’t blame nobody +else for. + +He stands about knee-high to uh tall Injun, wears woolly chaps which +comes just below his knees, and has uh voice that would make the E +string of uh fiddle blush for shame. He owns the Circle-S brand, +which consists of about uh hundred animiles. They looks uh heap like +Scenery--sort uh measly looking. + +“What has came?” asks Magpie. + +“Spade Wilson, the detective,” squeaks Scenery. “Jist got in from +Helena. Me and Zeb knowed him the minute he rode in. When I says to +him, ‘Hello, Spade,’ he just grins and says, ‘Don’t advertise it.’” + +“Have you seen the Light, brother?” asks Obie, peering at Scenery with +one eye, while he aims at the knot-hole with the other--and rings the +bell again. + +“My gosh!” whistles Scenery, seeing Obie for the first time. “Is that +under arrest, Magpie, or can it still be within the law? My gosh +A’mighty!” + +“This here is Mister Brown,” says Magpie. “Mister Sims, meet Mister +Brown.” + +“I gives yuh good cheer, brother,” orates Obie, reaching out uh long +hand and pumping Scenery’s hand some industrious. + +“I’ll take it,” admits Scenery. “How’s all your folks, Mister Brown?” + +“Obadiah Ezekiel Moses,” corrects Obie, biting off uh fresh chew. “They +are all in the Great Beyond from which no man ever returneth back.” + +“All three of ’em?” says Scenery. “That’s too danged bad, old-timer. I +know just how bad yuh feel. I lost twelve more cows myself last night.” + +“Don’t weep, Scenery,” advises Magpie, when Scenery finishes off his +discourse in uh wailing tone. “This here cow detective ’ll get ’em all +back for you.” + +“Still sore, eh?” pipes Scenery. “Doggone it, Magpie, yuh can’t blame +us, can yuh? Me and Johnny and Zeb and Hank can’t afford to raise cows +and have ’em swiped all the time. As uh sheriff yuh ain’t so danged +awful bad, except to look at, but as uh catcher of rustlers you don’t +show uh trace. + +“We figures that the only thing to do is to put up uh howl to the +Cattlemen’s Association, and get ’em to send us uh hyiu detective. They +tells us that they’re sending Spade Wilson over to us, but we got to +stand the expenses. He’s private. He sure looks like he could land ’em. +He’s down at Masterson’s playing seven-up with Zeb and Hank. I reckon +you’ll see him pretty soon.” + +“Are the ones you mentioned still in darkness?” asks Obie, folding his +hands, and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. + +“No,” says Scenery. “Leastwise they was getting lit up when I left. +Come on down and meet ’em, and have uh scoop or two. They’d admire to +see yuh, old-timer.” + +“The joy of meeting would be mutual,” agrees Obie, uncoiling himself +from the chair, and taking one parting shot at that knot-hole. “But +I never imbibe or look upon the wine when it is red. Lead forth, +brother.” + +“Well, it’s your eyes and your stummick,” states Scenery, looking up at +Obie, like uh squirrel looking up uh tree. “But if I had uh neck as long +as you got, I’d shut my eyes to the color and let her sluice.” + + * * * * * + +They goes out together, and me and Magpie watches them amble up the +street. + +“Ain’t it funny what mistakes is committed in the name uh humanity,” +orates Magpie. “Now, there goes uh misfit on uh forlorn cause, Ike, +and he’s just as happy over it as uh half-breed kid with uh coyote +pup. Bringer uh Light! That face uh his would snuff uh candle at +sixty yards. I reckon this is the delegation coming down to see us.” + +I takes uh look and sees Hank Padden, Zeb Abernathy, Johnny Myers, +Scenery Sims and uh fifth person ambling down our way, and behind +them, with his coat-tails flopping in the breeze comes the Bringer uh +Light. + +“Sheriff Simpkins, I’m pleased to make yuh used to Spade Wilson,” says +Zeb Abernathy, bobbing his head toward the stranger. “Mister Wilson is +the detective from Helena.” + +“Pleased to know yuh,” says Wilson. “I’ve heard of you.” + +“This here person is Ike Harper,” informs Scenery, pointing me out, like +I was uh horrible example. “Ike is sort of uh e-mergency deputy sheriff. +When he ain’t doing that, he’s resting.” + +“We has hopes that you can assist Mister Wilson uh little, Magpie,” +orates Hank Padden. “Uh course we don’t wish yuh to do anything to +interfere with your usual occupation, but any help yuh can give the +detective to stop the reign uh terror will be appreciated.” + +“Hank,” replies Magpie, “your insinuations cuts me deep-like. Uh +course, being uh peace officer in good standing with smart men, it’s +my duty to give assistance to the weak and needy, but I can’t figure +how you-all can insult my abilities by asking me to help somebody +else. I’m sheriff--me!” + +“It ain’t reasonable to suppose that Kirk Kelso or any of his gang is +operating in this county. Just because the party what took them cows out +of the Triangle corral left uh card with compliments uh Kirk Kelso on +it, don’t argue that he done it. Somebody just done that cause Kirk +Kelso’s reputation for foolishness just about covers that kind uh stunt. +He never was over in this part of the state, and ain’t been heard of for +uh long time. Somebody’s trading on his rep.” + +“Them cows is gone, ain’t they?” wails Johnny Myers. “Yuh can’t dispute +that, can yuh? All you do is argue. When it comes to sheriffing you’re +about as much use as uh bulldog in uh sheep camp.” + +All the time this Spade Wilson person leans against the wall, and grins. +He’s uh long-legged, red-headed hombre, with uh face that resembles uh +contour map of the Bad Lands. He’s got uh lazy look about his face, and +his eyes reminds me of the eyes of uh bronc what’s trying to bluff yuh +into thinking he ain’t got uh buck left in his carcase. + +“I agrees with them sentiments exactly, Johnny,” squeaks Scenery. +“Bulldog in uh sheep camp! Haw! Haw! Haw! That sure fits like uh glove.” + +“Agreeing with sarcasm is the privilege uh fools,” states uh voice at +the door, and Obie strolls in. “I distribute the Light to fools and +wise men alike.” + +“Who’s your friend, Magpie?” laughs Hank Padden. “He opines that he’s uh +light. What sheep range did he drift from?” + +“My flocks is on the seven hills, and I search for the lost, strayed +and stolen. I am here to shed the--” but Spade Wilson slams the door +in his face and cuts off his discourse. + +“I hates uh fool,” states Scenery Sims. + +“All fools do,” orates Obie, from the open window. “Uh wise man uses his +time for better things,” and then we sees him amble back to town. + +“Well,” says Zeb, “now that the Light has left us we may as well finish +this business. Magpie, we’ve talked it over uh heap and we’re come to +the conclusion that we better give Mister Wilson uh free hand. He +opines that it’s better for him to work alone, and we promises to stand +for anything he does. He orates that maybe we’ll be shocked and pained +at what he does, but we’ve agreed to suffer in silence. Ain’t that the +how of it?” + +“It sure is,” agrees Hank, and Scenery and Zeb and Johnny nods. + +“And,” states Hank, “no matter what happens we don’t want no +interference from the sheriff’s office. Sabe? If yuh can’t help him +none, Magpie, we wishes yuh to shut your eyes to what he does. The +three of us is paying the bills.” + +“Why waste all that conversation, Hank?” grins Magpie. “I ain’t going +to say uh danged thing. Will Mister Wilson use our little jail or will +me and Ike build him uh bull-pen?” + +“I reckon the jail will hold ’em,” says Hank. “Mister Wilson says that +he thinks it’s uh gang uh four, and that the jail will hold that many.” + +“I’d be uh heap pleased to get them twenty Herefords back,” states +Johnny Myers. “Them was all blooded stock, and they stands the Triangle +uh lot uh money.” + +“Also, I’m loser to the extent of about forty head,” wails Scenery. “The +same night they lifts that bunch from Zeb, they drifts uh bunch uh mine +along, too. Let’s go up to Buck’s and get uh little elixir. So much talk +makes me dry.” + +The four of them ambles back uptown and leaves me and Magpie and Spade +in the office. + +“Got any idea of where to look for these here rustlers?” asks Spade. + +“You’re the doctor,” says Magpie, cocking his feet against the table, +and rolling uh smoke. “I ain’t got uh danged thing to say about it. All +I know is this: I’m the sheriff uh Yaller Rock County, and I feels able +to cope with any rustler what ever vented uh brand, but any time that +bunch uh misfire cow-owners opines to hire outside help, I just lays +doggo. If the time drags too heavy on my hands I may get out and rustle +uh few myself. Sabe?” + +“Not wishing to upset your good resolutions,” says Spade, with uh grin, +“but I’d sure like to understand uh little about these four people what +hires me. Are they the principal cow-owners uh this range?” + +“Uh-huh,” agrees Magpie. “That old dough-faced maverick, with the meeker +than Moses expression on his face, is Hank Padden. Hank owns the Seven-A +outfit and uh grouch. He ranges his cows on the Roarin’ Crick breaks, +and his grouch any place. + +“Johnny Myers is the foreman of the Triangle by marriage. He married +the female what inherited it from her husband. Zeb Abernathy owns the +Cross-L herd. He looks so danged much like uh parson that it interferes +with his cussing. + +“The little tin-whistle runt, with the canary voice, is Scenery +Sims. He sold his sheep over in the Big Hole country, and went in +for cows. Not having much idea above uh sheep, somebody unloads the +worst-looking bunch uh cow critters on him yuh ever seen. Scabby lot +uh mongrel stuff, but Scenery opines that they’re the greatest stock +on earth. Now, yuh know all about ’em, Mister Wilson, so shake out +your rope and go to it.” + +“Got an extra star?” asks Spade, rolling uh cigaret one handed, without +spilling uh grain of tobacco. Uh man ain’t got much to do when he takes +the time to learn a trick like that. Magpie fumbles in his desk and +tosses Spade uh star. + +“Thanks,” says Spade. “As uh general rule I don’t carry uh star, but, +being as this job is an exception, I may need one plumb bad.” + +“You’re welcome,” says I. “Being as that is the only star in the county, +except the one what shines on Magpie’s manly bosom, it probably lets me +out of uh lot uh grief.” + +“It takes nerve to put the deadwood on uh rustler,” orates Spade, and I +agrees. + +“I ain’t lost no rustlers. Why should I use up my visible supply uh +nerve? I never owned but one cow, and no rustler ever got her. I called +her Sylvia. She was just emerging from calf-hood into cow, when she +mistook uh grizzly for something to play with.” + +“I thank you for the information and the star,” says Spade. “I’ll go +up now and have uh little talk with my employers. Do you aim to help +me any in this hunt?” + +“Not any,” replies Magpie. “My jail is always open to your prisoners, +but further than that I’m neutral. Ike’s neutral too, ain’t yuh, Ike?” + +“You know whereof you speak, Magpie,” says I. + +“That feller ain’t going to be able to do nothing,” I argues with +Magpie, after Spade leaves. + +“You’re wrong, Ike,” says he. “That feller is going to do something +that I didn’t think was possible. He’s going to pry some real money +out of Scenery Sims.” + + * * * * * + +We sets down to enjoy uh smoke, when in comes Obie, and sets down in his +favorite chair. + +“How’s your Light working?” asks Magpie, and Obie grins. + +“Fine, brother. There is dark places in Piperock which need illuminating +uh heap but my mission is not confined to the city. I must work among +the meek and lowly, and in order to fulfil my mission I must engage uh +mode of locomotion. Dost know of one who would loan me uh horse?” + +“Dost not,” replies Magpie. “Me and Ike has got uh burro named +Lodestone, which yuh might borrow. He ain’t much for looks, being +originally of uh yaller hue, but he’ll get yuh there in time for +meals.” + +“The vehicle of the Lord,” says Obie, pleased-like. “I’ll take +Lodestone.” + +Obie was pleased with Lodestone. Lodestone looks Obie over, and goes +right back to sleep. I reckon he saw uh critter of his own ambitions, +and figgered that uh trip with him would be uh vacation. + +When Obie rode that burro out of town it sure was uh thing to look at. +Obie is so long that he has to set on Lodestone’s rump, and his long +legs stick out in front like uh pair uh buggy shafts. + +“All he needs is another mule and uh singletree, and he’s uh tandem,” +howls Magpie. He waves au revoir to Obie and the other jackass, and +then relapses into the shade again. + +Scenery Sims comes down to whittle uh while, but he ain’t received with +no open arms. Me and Magpie holds sort of uh local conversation, to the +utter exclusion of Scenery. + +“Ike,” says Magpie, “ain’t it funny what critters the Lord produces at +times? Now take humans, for instance. I know one person who ain’t got +brains enough to know when he ain’t wanted. He used to be uh shepherd, +but he got so danged orn’ary that the sheep wouldn’t associate with +him no more, so he sold out and comes over here into God’s country and +tries to raise cattle. + +“Now, he didn’t show uh lick uh sense, Ike. He’s been with the woollies +so long that he don’t know cows, so somebody sells him uh bunch uh +alleged cattle which looks like uh bunch of overgrown goats. Later on +some poor deluded rustler, with astigmatism, comes along and burdens +himself with what he mistakes in the dark for cows. Now this here runty +sheep person opines to pay real money to uh specialist to recover said +overgrown goats. I’d say he’s showing poor taste.” + +“Them was cows,” pronounces Scenery, in uh chiding way. + +“Maybe,” agrees Magpie. “Way back in the miocene period, Scenery, them +things might have been cows, but they never progressed.” + +“I want ’em back, just the same. Anything yuh pays real money for is +worth wanting back, Magpie. And what is more, I’m going to get ’em +back, too, and the person what took ’em is going to suffer in durance +vile. Sabe?” + +“I love the little trees,” says Magpie. “I love the little children and +the little squirrels and the little babbling brooks, but, by cripes, I +can’t seem to strike uh single spark uh love in my bosom fer uh runty +ex-shepherd. God A’mighty made uh mistake when he made ’em in the image +uh men and furnished ’em with vocal cords.” + +“I don’t like you, Magpie,” states Scenery. “By gosh, I don’t! I ain’t +never liked you!” + +“Scenery,” says Magpie, “them few words changes my opinion uh you uh +heap. Honest to grandma, I never thought you had soul enough in your +carcass even to hate anybody.” + +Scenery goes uptown, and as far as we can hear him he’s talking to +himself. + +“I figger that this is going to be uh vacation for us, Ike,” states +Magpie. “We’ll just lay around and let ’em detect, eh?” + +“You spoke from my soul that time,” I agrees. + +Zeb Abernathy comes down to our office the next day, and sets down on +the step. + +“Your yaller burro stayed at my place last night,” says he. + +“Alone?” I asks. + +“He brought the Light,” laughs Zeb. “He’s going over to illuminate the +Triangle this evening. Seen anything of Spade Wilson lately?” + +“He ain’t been here today,” I replies. Zeb sets uh while, and then +pilgrims uptown. + +The next day me and Magpie is setting in the office, playing seven-up, +when we hears somebody yell outside. + +“Here’s your first prisoner,” states Spade Wilson. Me and Magpie stares +at the party with him, and then grins wide. + +“We don’t arrest ’em for getting drunk in this county,” states Magpie. + +“He ain’t drunk,” replies Spade. “He’s uh rustler.” + +“Rustler ----!” snorts Magpie. “He owns the Seven-A outfit.” + +“Uh-huh,” agrees Spade. “He’d own the Triangle, too, in uh short time +if I let him alone. I find him setting on the top of his corral at the +Poison Springs, admiring them Triangle Herefords.” + +“Magpie!” yelps Hank. “Tell this danged lying fool that----” + +“You tell him, Hank,” advises Magpie. “Didn’t I hear yuh say that you +agreed to suffer in silence?” + +“You can’t deny that them cows were there, can yuh?” grins Spade, and +Hank shakes his head, sad-like. + +“No, I reckon--aw ----! I never put them there!” + +“Maybe the jury will believe it,” replies Spade, and then we introduces +Hank to the Hotel de Simpkins. He don’t make no further protest. He just +flops down on uh bunk and cusses low and earnest-like. We waits until we +feels that he’s about cussed out, and me and Magpie goes over to the +door. + +“Hoist with his own petard, Ike,” orates Magpie. + +“Yes,” says I, “but it ain’t no more than I expected.” + +I never noticed that Hank had one boot off. Magpie wipes the blood off +my temple and fixes the cut up with court plaster, and we resumes our +little game. + +“I’ve always had uh sneaking suspicion uh Hank,” states Magpie, loud +enough for Hank to hear, and Hank snorts like uh scared bronc, but don’t +comment none. I makes him throw his boots over in the corner and hold up +his hands when I brings in his supper. + +Uh delegation from the Seven-A comes down to try and get us to turn Hank +loose, but we locks up, and they don’t stay long. + +The next morning, Hank is too danged mad to talk but he will eat. We +feeds him and then starts our game, again. + +I reckon it’s about noon, when we hears a noise at the front door and +there we finds Spade and Johnny Myers. + +“Hello, Johnny,” says I. “How’s tricks?” + +“Go to ----!” snaps Johnny. “Tell this blasted misfire sleuth where to +head in at, Magpie.” + +“You ain’t gagged none are yuh?” asks Magpie. “Maybe yuh don’t care to +talk to uh man you’re paying uh salary to.” + +“Gol blast his ignorant pelt!” howls Johnny. “He arrested me for +branding uh calf!” + +“Better turn him loose,” I advises. “Branding calves is uh common +occupation in this country.” + +“This one was uh Circle-S,” replies Spade, with uh grin. + +“The Circle-S had been partly vented, and the Triangle run on with uh +running-iron. Pretty raw stuff! The calf is in that corral near the +Medicine Crick ford, where we can get it for evidence.” + +“Johnny,” says Magpie, sad-like, “if there was uh drop of forgiveness +in my soul for uh rustler, you’re the one I’d sprinkle. I’ve always +liked you, Johnny, and I’ve always had uh lot uh respect for your +ability as uh cowman, but right now I can’t dig deep enough in my soul +to find sympathy for you. I can’t grieve over any cowman who will take +uh chance on rustling one uh them scabby little critters what Scenery +designates as cows.” + +“My Gawd! What’s he been doing?” snorts Hank, as we leads Johnny into +the cell. + +“Petty larceny,” says I. “He stole uh calf from Scenery Sims.” + +Johnny and Hank looks at each other for uh spell, and then Hank turns, +appealing-like to us, and says: + +“Ain’t yuh got no other cell in this jail, Magpie?” + +“Sorry, Hank,” says Magpie. “I know the pollution is awful, but there +ain’t uh danged thing I can do. Maybe I can fumigate the cell uh little +later on.” + + * * * * * + +Spade goes back to town, me and Magpie resumes our game, and Hank and +Johnny argues in low tones. The next time our game is interrupted, it’s +Obie, the Bringer uh Light. + +“How yuh shining?” asks Magpie. + +Obie sprawls on the table and takes uh greeting shot at that knot-hole. + +“Nicely, brother,” says he. “The path is dark, but I bring the glow +what guides all men. I hear that the minions of the law have been busy +of late.” + +“Uh-huh,” agrees Magpie. “That is, if yuh designate uh detective as uh +minion of the law.” + +“Have they been walking in darkness?” asks Obie. “I’m here to snatch +brands.” + +“You better leave brands alone, old-timer,” I advises. “That’s what +they’re in durance vile for.” + +“May I have converse with them?” he asks, and Magpie waves his hand +toward the cell door. Obie wanders over and leans against the door and +we proceeds to deal uh new hand. + +“I come bringing great cheer,” we hears Obie state, and the next thing I +know something bounces off my head and slams against the wall. I sees +seven million trumps in my hand for uh minute, and she shrinks to jist +six cards. Obie is leaning against the wall, with his long hands hanging +loose at his sides, and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling. + +“We will now sing hymn number--uh--huh--hum,” announces Obie, and slides +to the floor in uh heap. + +“Ike,” says Magpie, “yuh sure done uh brilliant trick when yuh loaned +Hank that walrus-tusk cribbage-board. Whoever throwed it sure made uh +perfect billiard shot. Yuh can thank Obie for stopping most of it.” + +“Magpie, you keep that blasted thing out uh here!” yells Hank. + +“Who in ---- wants cheer, anyway?” + +Obie crawls to uh standing position and rubs his head. Then he looks +around, foolish-like, and takes uh fresh chew. He takes uh shot at +that knot-hole and misses it by three feet. + +“How’s the Light working, Obie?” asks Magpie. + +Obie runs his hand tenderly over the lump over his eye. + +“I feel like--uh--uh----” + +“Trimmed lamp?” suggests Magpie. Obie thinks for uh minute and then nods +slow-like. He goes outside, gets on Lodestone, and the two of ’em points +away from Piperock. + +“I never did like uh preacher,” states Hank, in sort of an explanatory +tone. + +“Me neither,” agrees Magpie. “But I don’t try to kill ’em just cause I +don’t like ’em, Hank. Maybe somebody needs ’em.” + +We enjoys ourselves in our simple way until the next morning, when we +hears Spade Wilson yell outside. We goes outside and observes Spade’s +prisoner. It’s Zeb Abernathy. Zeb looks uh whole lot put out about +something. + +“Well, well!” says Magpie, pleased-like. “Come right in, Zebbie. I’m +getting so used to dry nursing prominent citizens that I welcomes yuh +with all my heart.” + +“This--uh--cross between uh--huh--my Gawd!” splutters Zeb. “He arrests +me for branding one uh my own calves!” + +Zeb shakes his fist at Spade, but the detective just grins and rolls uh +cigaret. + +“What’s his brand?” asks Spade. + +“Cross-L,” I answers. + +“He don’t own no Seven-A stuff does he?” + +“That wasn’t no Seven-A!” howls Zeb. “Gosh A’mighty, can’t yuh spell?” + +“The calf is tied to uh tree, and I’ll send somebody out to get it for +evidence. She’s uh Seven-A, all right.” + +Zeb shakes his head, sad-like, and then turns to Magpie. + +“Put me in,” says he. “Put on two extra padlocks and hire uh guard or +two, Magpie. Jail is the only place where uh man is safe from uh liar +like him.” + +“You said he was uh competent man,” chides Magpie. “He sure comes highly +recommended.” + +“Highly ----!” howls Zeb. “Don’t talk to me, Magpie!” + +“Gee cripes!” yelps Hank, as we eases Zeb into the cell. + +“What you doing here, Zeb?” + +“Branding Seven-A calves,” says I. + +The three of them looks each other over for uh spell, and then Hank +steps over and stares Zeb square in the eyes. + +“You been stealing my calves?” snaps Hank, and Zeb swells up like an +indignant old woodchuck. + +“You danged old timber rat!” howls Zeb, jumping up and down like uh +Injun full uh turpentine. “Do you mean to insinuate that I’d----” + +“I’m asking,” states Hank. + +“You be danged! Do you think for uh minute that I’d lower myself to such +uh state as to rustle one uh your lousy animiles, Hank Padden? Dang your +hide, I wouldn’t let uh Cross-L cow drink out of the same spring with uh +Seven-A. What are you and Johnny Myers doing here, eh?” + +“What are they in for, Ike?” he asks me, when they don’t seem inclined +to reply. + +“Johnny was arrested for branding one uh Scenery Sims’s little calves, +and Mister Wilson discovered Hank setting on the top rail of his corral, +gloating over them Triangle Herefords.” + +“Oh, ho! So that was it, eh?” cuts in Johnny Myers. “I asks Hank what +he was put in for and he told me it was none uh my danged business. No +wonder! My Herefords, eh?” + +“Johnny, that’s uh danged----” + +“Don’t say it, Hank,” advises Johnny. “You been coveting them +white-faced cows for uh long time, but by cripes, I didn’t think you’d +steal ’em.” + +Hank sets down on his bunk and stares at his toes. I reckon he’s too +danged mad even to stand up. Zeb seems to forget his grouch, and he +leans against the wall and whoops: + +“Haw! Haw! Haw! Johnny Myers, I opined that you knowed something about +cows but--haw, haw, haw! Rustling them Circle-S calves eh? My Gawd! +Taking uh chance on going to Deer Lodge for uh critter like that.” + +I figures that about one more word will start uh mix-up so I says: + +“I’m going up to rustle some dinner for you fellers, and I don’t want no +trouble to start while I’m gone. Sabe? We only got one cell in this jail +and if you fellers can’t live in peace and brotherly love, I’ll have to +picket some of yuh out in the corral. Also, if you smash them two cots +you’ll have to sleep on the floor. Contemplate on your own sins and let +personalities alone.” + +Piperock is quite some excited. There’s representatives from all of +the cow outfits, and it sounds like all was trying to talk to once. +Swede Johnson, foreman of the Seven-A outfit, is standing on uh card +table, waving his long arms and talking uh streak, and over on the +pool table is Andy Johnson, of the Triangle, holding uh special +indignation meeting. + +“You can’t never make uh jury believe that Hank Padden would steal!” +yelps Swede. “I wouldn’t put it uh bit past Johnny Myers, but----” + +“Johnny is as straight as uh string!” howls Andy. “He’s got uh +first-class alibi too. Nobody could convict uh man if he did steal uh +Circle-S calf. Johnny’s too good uh judge uh cows to even think uh +stealing uh runty little----” + +“Cows is cows!” squeaks Scenery. “Doggone yuh, Andy----” + + * * * * * + +“Peace be with yuh, brothers,” orates uh voice at the door, and there +stands the Bringer uh Light. He rubs the top of his wobbly straw hat +against the top of the door, and masticates some industrious. “Peace +again be with yuh.” + +“I’ll take ’em both,” accepts Buck Masterson. “That will make two +pieces. Have uh little drink, old trailer?” + +“Lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine,” states Obie. “I thank +thee, brother.” + +“My Gawd!” squeaks Scenery. “I wonder if that human lodge-pole thought +somebody was going to kiss him!” + +Scenery catches sight of me, and immediate and soon comes over and +whispers so loud in my ear that yuh could hear him for uh mile: + +“Don’t take uh chance uh letting Johnny Myers loose, Ike. He’s uh sheep +in wolf’s clothes.” + +“You’re going too danged far in your remarks!” yells Pete Gonyer, +grabbing Scenery by the back of the neck and the seat of the pants. + +“This is uh free--” begins Scenery, but Pete heaves him plumb into the +corner, and his carcass shakes the whole place. + +“Well!” says Spade Wilson, from the doorway. “This seems to be uh lively +gathering.” + +Nobody offers him uh greeting, so he swaggers up to the bar and buys +himself uh drink. + +“Peace be with yuh, brother,” orates Obie, holding up his hand in the +Piegan peace sign. “Peace be with yuh.” + +Spade stares at Obie for uh minute and then fills his glass. + +“I thought I left you at the Seven-A ranch,” says Spade. “How in ---- +did you get here so quick on uh burro?” + +“I know not,” answers Obie, taking uh fresh chew. “I carry the Light to +all men, and speed is of little account. Today I am here, tomorrow I am +there. No matter. There is many dark places.” + +Just then Scenery crawls out from under the chair and leans against the +wall. + +“---- country, and I got uh right to orate my sentiments!” he croaks, +starting right in where he left off when he hit the wall. “I reckon I +got uh right to howl ain’t I? I don’t suppose that Pete Gonyer would +howl if somebody stole his cows. Oh, no! He’d yell so danged loud that +the soldiers at Fort Missoula would get right on uh train to come over +and put down an Injun uprising. I’m one upright and honest man, and I +wants----” + +“I wants too, Mister Sims,” states Spade, grinning. He reaches over and +snaps handcuffs on Scenery’s wrists, and backs him out of the crowd. + +“What’s he done?” yells somebody in the crowd. + +“Well,” drawls Spade, “if some uh you fellers will go out to Scenery’s +barn yuh will find uh fresh Cross-L cow hide in his barn.” + +“That’s uh danged, dinged lie!” wails Scenery. “I never had uh Cross-L +hide in my barn in my whole life!” + +Two-Cinch Hogan is asleep on the porch when we comes out, and he wakes +up enough to hear Scenery’s oration. + +“That’s right, Scenery,” he states, with the tears running down his +crooked nose. “Neither have I. Ain’t got nothing in my barn. Ain’t got +no barn. Poor’s uh church rat--me! Let me go to jail, too, eh? All good +men in jail now. Nothin’ but riff-raff outshide any more.” + +Two-Cinch lays down in the sun and goes to sleep again, and we escorts +Scenery to durance vile. + +Magpie looks foolish-like at Scenery, and then points to the cell door. +Our other three prisoners are looking out, and they are sure one fine +looking bunch. + +Hank has two beautiful black eyes and is shy all his shirt except the +neck-band and one cuff. Johnny’s got hills and valleys all over his +countenance, and is nursing uh sore jaw. Zeb grins at us and spits out +through the place his front teeth used to inhabit. + +“Why?” asks Hank, pointing at Scenery. + +“I found uh fresh Cross-L cow hide in his barn,” replies Spade. + +Zeb feels of the place where his teeth used to be and grins sweetly. + +“Come in, Scenery,” says he, pleasant like. “Walk right in.” + +“You don’t aim to put me in there do yuh?” wails Scenery. + +“You deposes that I stole uh Cross-L cow from Zeb, and now you aims to +make me mingle with him. This ain’t law--it’s manslaughter!” + +Anyway, Scenery went in. + +“Cross-L, eh?” lisps Zeb. “Killed uh Cross-L cow for lunch!” + +“Keep your big paws off me, Zeb Abernathy!” squeals Scenery. “I’m uh bad +hombre when I’m riled. Johnny Myers stole my----” + +“Ho-ho-hold on, old-timer!” stutters Johnny. “Don’t accuse me uh +rustling! You never owned uh cow, in the first place and anyway----” + +“Cows is cows,” states Scenery, with uh heap of conviction. + +“Better cool down,” advises Magpie. “You fellers ought to have more +faith in detective work than to go right on rustling after he gets on +the job. I could have done as well as he has if I wanted to get myself +disliked. I been watching all of you but I just kept my mouth shut and +let yuh go on.” + +The three of them looks at Magpie and then at each other. + +“Magpie Simpkins,” pronounces Hank Padden, “when I get loose I’m going +to remove you from office at the end of uh .45.” + +“When you get loose, Hank,” states Magpie, “I’ll probably be Governor of +the State.” + +The next day we holds the hearing. + +Old Judge Steele sets at uh card table in the old Mint hall, where +we holds our court, and looks at the prisoners over the tops of his +glasses. On uh soap box beside him is uh fresh cow hide, bearing the +Cross-L brand and that same hide ain’t no sweet incense. + +On one side of the judge is Pete Gonyer and Andy Johnson holding uh +spotted Seven-A calf, and on the other side is old Sam Holt and Ricky +Henderson, trying to suppress the antics of uh runt of an animile, +bearing the Circle-S. + +Spade Wilson is the happiest one in the room. That hombre sure is proud +of his handiwork. + +The judge pounds on his desk and yells for order. + +“Hank Padden, tell me your story,” he commands. + +“Well,” says Hank, standing up and hitching up his belt, “I been looking +for uh chance to talk, Judge. There is times in uh man’s life when he +gets so danged shocked and sore that his vocal cords simply freezes up. +Mine’s thawed out now, and I wishes to orate in uh few words just what I +thinks----” + +“What you thinks ain’t evidence,” interrupts the judge. “We’ll listen to +your story but not your thoughts.” + +“I never stole them Herefords!” howls Hank. “They was in my corral, but +I’ll be uh liar----” + +“Very likely, Hank!” snaps the judge. “Set down.” + +“Judge,” says Johnny Myers, “I’d like to state----” + +“Take the stand, Johnny. All I wants from you is the truth, and I don’t +want yuh to orate about the loss uh them white-faced cows. Sabe? Tell +the court how it comes that you’re caught branding uh Circle-S calf.” + +“That’s uh danged lie!” explodes Johnny. + +“Ain’t that uh Circle-S calf?” asks the judge, pointing at Scenery +Sims’s animile. + +“It don’t need uh brand to show who it belongs to,” replies Johnny. +“Looks like uh goat.” + +“Cows is cows,” squeaks Scenery. + +“Set down, Johnny,” says the judge. “And I’d admire to have Scenery Sims +keep his mouth shut. I’ll ask Zeb Abernathy to take the stand.” + +Zeb stands up and takes uh fresh chew. + +“All I’ve got to say, Judge, is this: Seven-A cattle never did appeal +to me. I ain’t never stole nothing in my life, and any time I do turn +rustler I’m going to steal real honest to grandma cows--me--Zeb +Abernathy.” + +“Don’t you say one word against my stock, dang yuh!” yelps Hank. + +“Say!” The judge rears up on his hind feet, and hammers on the table +with both fists. “What do you cow thieves think this is--uh cattle +show? We’ll not pass on the merits of cows. Set down, Zeb!” + +“Scenery Sims, stand up. Don’t git so danged squeaky! Speak up like uh +man, and anything yuh say can be used against yuh. Sabe?” + +“All I got to say is that I been paying real money to the dangest liar +on earth!” wails Scenery. “I never had no Cross-L hide in my barn--in +my whole life, Judge.” + +“You’re about as honest as the rest, Scenery, so yuh may as well save +your breath. I’ll call on Ricky Henderson and Andy Johnson to stand up.” + +“You’ll have to hire somebody to hold these calves,” puffs Ricky. “If we +lets loose there’s going to be uh stampede.” + +Somebody relieves them and they stands up. + +“Did you fellers find this here Cross-L hide in Scenery’s barn?” asks +the judge, indicating the hairy bunch of odors beside him. + +“Uh-huh,” nods Ricky. “We finds it where----” + +“Haw-w-w-w-e-e-e--aw-w-w-w!” + +In the door stands Lodestone, with his long ears pointing straight to +the front as he sings his song, and on his back is two persons, tied +back to back, with their legs tied under Lodestone’s belly. + +“Hee-e-e-e haw-w-w-w-w!” sings Lodestone again, and then he starts right +up through the crowd. + +“Clear the court!” yells the judge. “Or-r-r-r-r-der!” + + * * * * * + +The judge aims to pound right hard on his table, but he misses his +target and hits old Sam Holt right on the head. Old Sam is setting +on his haunches, holding onto that calf, and when the judge slams he +lets go of the rope and takes uh wallop at the judge. + +Clear the court is right! Did yuh ever see two locoed calves in uh +crowded room, when they aims to get out, and everybody yelling and +shoving--and uh double-burdened jackass trying to force its way +inside? Talk about uh bull in uh china shop! + +If I’d uh kept clear and watched it from afar I could have seen uh lot +more, but somehow I always has to mix into something what don’t concern +me in the least. + +I comes out of the mess with uh chair around my neck, just in time to +get my head between Hank Padden’s legs and go to the floor again. Along +comes uh blatting calf, gets his hind legs through that chair, too, and +me and Hank and the calf goes plumb out into the street. + +Something steps on my ear, and when I gets back what little sense Ike +Harper usually packs with him, I find Judge Steele setting on my lap +with his eyes closed. + +“Yuh might show uh little dignity for your position, Judge,” says I. +“Setting on uh man’s lap out in the street in the daytime! What’ll +folks say?” + +The judge opens his eyes for uh minute, looks me over in uh sober sort +of uh way, and shakes his head. + +“Ike,” says he, slow-like, sliding off my lap. “Your jackass kicked +me as I came out.” And then he shows his ancestry by hauling off and +kicking me right in the stummick. + +Then he gets up and wobbles off down the street. I gets emotional for uh +while, and struggles uh heap with my feelings. Finally I gets up and +pilgrims into the hall again. At first I thinks she’s deserted, but when +I looks real close I sees two pair uh boots. + +One pair is protruding from under the judge’s table, which is caved in +on one side, and the other pair is draped over uh chair. The last pair +belongs to Magpie. He’s snoring like uh shepherd, so I goes over and +hauls Scenery Sims out from under the table. + +Pretty soon Magpie sets up and looks around. He sizes up the destruction +for uh while and then looks at me and Scenery. + +“Ike,” says he, “I’ll bet this is the only building standing in the +city.” + +“Uh-huh,” I agrees. “And this one is only standing on the outside. I +reckon we might as well take Scenery and put him in jail. He’s all we +got left now, Magpie.” + +Magpie gets his bearings, by bracing his feet between two chairs, and +we picks up Scenery Sims. Magpie takes him by the shoulders and I get +him by the feet, and away we goes wobbling down the street. Scenery +don’t wake up until we’re almost to the jail, when he sort uh shudders +and opens his eyes. He looks at me and then whispers: + +“Cows is cows.” + +“Don’t--don’t make so much noise,” croaks Magpie, turning his head, +painful like. “Everybody’s sleeping.” + +When we gets in sight of the jail we sees three people on the steps. +It’s Hank and Johnny and Zeb and they sure looks like the breaking up +of uh hard winter. They looks up at us as we pilgrims up, and then +slumps down on the steps again. + +“Why didn’t yuh go inside out of the sun?” I asks, but they just shakes +their heads. + +“He wouldn’t let us,” explains Hank, in a faraway voice jerking his +thumb toward the door. + +We lays Scenery down on the steps and opens the office door. Coming out +of the bright light makes it hard for us to see anything inside, but +when we gets accustomed to the light, we observes Obie, the Bringer uh +Light. + +He’s tilted back in his favorite chair, with his long legs drawed most +to his chin, and when we see him he grins and hits that knot-hole dead +center. + +“Why didn’t yuh let our prisoners in?” asks Magpie. + +Obie grins and takes another shot at the hole before he says: + +“Ain’t got no room. Jail’s full.” + +We steps over and looks into the cell. Three men are sprawling over +the bunks, but only one is uh familiar one. This one is hunched up on +uh bunk and don’t seem much concerned about his surroundings. + +“Sorry to bust up court thataway,” apologizes Obie. “I brought them two +down here, but when I came inside to arrange for my load, that yaller +burro wandered right uptown. I just got up there in time to see him kick +Kirk Kelso in the jaw. He was trying to cut them two loose. I had to +load all three on Lodestone. He’s some burro, that yaller feller. Them +two was the ones who were planting evidence to cinch Padden, Abernathy, +Sims and Myers. I sure been busy lately.” + +“Kirk Kelso!” wonders Magpie, out loud. We takes another look inside the +cell, and then Magpie turns to Obie. + +“If you’re so danged free with your Light, old-timer, yuh might shed uh +little light around here. Who in ---- are you?” + +Obie took another shot at his target and grinned. + +“Me? I’m Spade Wilson.” + +“I-I-I was afraid of that,” states uh voice at the cell door, and we +observes the former detective hanging onto the bars. “No-nobody asked me +if I was Spade Wilson. They--they told me I was and I-I didn’t have the +heart to deny it. I stayed too long, that’s all. Yuh can’t mix pleasure +with b-b-business.” + +He stares at us for uh minute, and then slips out of sight. + +“True as Gospel,” agrees Spade Wilson, “If I knew where I could find +some real cowmen I might buy uh drink.” + +“Cows is cows,” squeaks Scenery Sims. + + +[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the Mid-November, 1917 issue +of Adventure magazine.] + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78614 *** |