Desert Dust Part 7

The majority of the buildings were mere canvas-faced up for a few feet, perhaps, with sheet iron or flimsy boards; interspersed there were a few wooden structures, rough and unpainted; and whereas several of the housings were large, none was more than two stories--and when now and again I thought that I had glimpsed a substantial stone front a closer inspection told me that the stones were imitation, forming a veneer of the sheet iron or of stenciled pine. Indeed, not a few of the upper stories, viewed from an unfavorable angle, proved to be only thin parapets upstanding for a pretense of well-being. Behind them, nothing at all!

In the confusion of that which I took to be the main street because of the stores and piles of goods and the medley of signs, what with the hubbub from the many barkers for saloons and gambling games, the constant dodging among the pedestrians, vehicles and horses and dogs, in a thoroughfare that was innocent of sidewalk, I really had scant opportunity to gaze; certainly no opportunity as yet to get my bearings. My squat guide shuttled aside; a group of loafers gave us pa.s.sage, with sundry stares at me and quips for him; and I was ushered into a widely-open tent-building whose canvas sign depending above a narrow veranda declared: "The Queen Hotel. Beds $3. Meals $1 each."

Now as whitely powdered as any of the natives I stumbled across a single large room bordered at one side by a bar and a number of small tables (all well patronized), and was brought up at the counter, under the alert eyes of a clerk coatless, silk-shirted, diamond-scarfed, pomaded and slick-haired, waiting with register turned and pen extended.

My gnome heavily dropped my bag.

"Gent for you," he presented.

"I wish a room and bath," I said, as I signed.

"Bath is occupied. I'll put you down, Mr.----" and he glanced at the signature. "Four dollars and four bits, please. Show the gentleman to Number Six, Shorty. That drummer's gone, isn't he?"

"You bet."

"The bath is occupied?" I expostulated. "How so? I wish a private bath."

"Private? Yes, sir. All you've got to do is to close the door while you're in. n.o.body'll disturb you. But there are parties ahead of you. First come, first served."

I persisted.

"Your runner--this gentleman, if I am not mistaken (and I indicated the gnome, who grinned from dusty face), distinctly said 'A bath for every room.'"

Bystanders had pushed nearer, to examine the register and then me. They laughed--nudged one another. Evidently I had a trace of green in my eye.

"Quite right, sir," the clerk a.s.sented. "So there is. A bath for every room and the best bath in town. Entirely private; fresh towel supplied.

Only one dollar and four bits. That, with lodging, makes four dollars and a half. If you please, sir."

"In advance?" I remonstrated--the bath charge alone being monstrous.

"I see you're from the East. Yes, sir; we have to charge transients in advance. That is the rule, sir. You stay in Benton City for some time?"

"I am undetermined."

"Of course, sir. Your own affair. Yes, sir. But we shall hope to make Benton pleasant for you. The greatest city in the West. Anything you want for pleasure or business you'll find right here."

"The greatest city in the West--pleasure or business!" A bitter wave of homesickness welled into my throat as, conscious of the enveloping dust, the utter shams, the tawdriness, the alien unsympathetic onlookers, the suave but incisive manner of the clerk, the sense of having been "done"

and through my own fault, I peeled a greenback from the folded packet in my purse and handed it over. Rather foolishly I intended that this display of funds should rebuke the finicky clerk; but he accepted without comment and sought for the change from the twenty.

"And how is old New York, suh?"

A hearty, florid, heavy-faced man, with singularly protruding fishy eyes and a tobacco-stained yellowish goatee underneath a loosely dropping lower lip, had stepped forward, his pudgy hand hospitably outstretched to me: a man in wide-brimmed dusty black hat, frayed and dusty but, in spots, shiny, black broadcloth frock coat spattered down the lapels, exceedingly soiled collar and shirt front and greasy flowing tie, and trousers tucked into cowhide boots.

I grasped the hand wonderingly. It enclosed mine with a soft pulpy squeeze; and lingered.

"As usual, when I last saw it, sir," I responded. "But I am from Albany."

"Of course. Albany, the capital, a city to be proud of, suh. I welcome you, suh, to our new West, as a fellow-citizen."

"You are from Albany?" I exclaimed.

"Bohn and raised right near there; been there many a time. Yes, suh. From the grand old Empire State, like yourself, suh, and without apologies.

Whenever I meet with a New York State man I cotton to him."

"Have I your name, sir?" I inquired. "You know of my family, perhaps."

"Colonel Jacob B. Sunderson, suh, at your service. Your family name is familiar to me, suh. I hark back to it and to the grand old State with pleasure. Doubtless I have seen you befoh, sur. Doubtless in the City--at Johnny Chamberlain's? Yes?" His fishy eyes beamed upon me, and his breath smelled strongly of liquor. "Or the Astor? I shall remember. Meanwhile, suh, permit me to do the honors. First, will you have a drink? This way, suh. I am partial to a brand particularly to be recommended for clearing this d.a.m.nable dust from one's throat."

"Thank you, sir, but I prefer to tidy my person, first," I suggested.

"Number Six for the gentleman," announced the clerk, returning to me my change from the bill. I stuffed it into my pocket--the Colonel's singular eyes followed it with uncomfortable interest. The gnome picked up my bag, but was interrupted by my new friend.

"The privilege of showing the gentleman to his quarters and putting him at home shall be mine."

"All right, Colonel," the clerk carelessly consented. "Number Six."

"And my trunk. I have a trunk at the depot," I informed.

"The boy will tend to it."

I gave the gnome my check.

"And my bath?" I pursued.

"You will be notified, sir. There are only five ahead of you, and one gentleman now in. Your turn will come in about two hours."

"This way, suh. Kindly follow me," bade the Colonel. As he strode before, slightly listed by the weight of the bag in his left hand, I remarked a peculiar bulge elevating the portly contour of his right coat-skirt.

We ascended a flight of rude stairs which quivered to our tread, proceeded down a canvas-lined corridor set at regular intervals on either hand with numbered deal doors, some open to reveal disorderly interiors; and with "Here you are, suh," I was importantly bowed into Number Six.

We were not to be alone. There were three double beds: one well rumpled as if just vacated; one (the middle) tenanted by a frowsy headed, whiskered man asleep in shirt-sleeves and revolver and boots; the third, at the other end, recently made up by having its blanket covering hastily thrown against a distinctly dirty pillow.

"Your bed yonduh, suh, I reckon," prompted the Colonel (whose accents did not smack of New York at all), depositing my bag with a grunt of relief.

"Now, suh, as you say, you desire to freshen the outer man after your journey. With your permission I will await your pleasure, suh; and your toilet being completed we will freshen the inner man also with a gla.s.s or two of rare good likker."

I gazed about, sickened. Item, three beds; item, one kitchen chair; item, one unpainted board washstand, supporting a tin basin, a cake of soap, a tin ewer, with a dingy towel hanging from a nail under a cracked mirror and over a tin slop-bucket; item, three spittoons, one beside each bed; item, a row of nails in a wooden strip, plainly for wardrobe purposes; item, one window, with broken pane.

The board floor was bare and creaky, the part.i.tion walls were of once-white, stained muslin through which sifted unrebuked a mixture of sounds not thoroughly agreeable.

The Colonel had seated himself upon a bed; the bulge underneath his skirts jutted more p.r.o.nouncedly, and had the outlines of a revolver b.u.t.t.

"But surely I can get a room to myself," I stammered. "The clerk mistakes me. This won't do at all."

"You are having the best in the house, suh," a.s.serted the Colonel, with expansive wave of his thick hand. He spat accurately into the convenient spittoon. "It is a front room, suh. Number Six is known as very choice, and I congratulate you, suh. I myself will see to it that you shall have your bed to yourself, if you entertain objections to doubling up. We are, suh, a trifle crowded in Benton City, just at present, owing to the unprecedented influx of new citizens. You must remember, suh, that we are less than one month old, and we are accommodating from three to five thousand people."

"Is this the best hotel?" I demanded.

"It is so reckoned, suh. There are other hostelries, and I do not desire, suh, to draw invidious comparisons, their proprietors being friends of mine. But I will go so far as to say that the Queen caters only to the elite, suh, and its patronage is gilt edge."