Faro Nell and Her Friends Part 9

"The florid gent glares at Peets, his feachures the color of liver, his eyes stickin' out like the eyes of a snail.

"'Married!' he gasps, an' falls in a apoplectic fit.

"It takes a week an' all the drugs Peets has got before that apoplectic's able to sit up an' call for nosepaint. An' whatever do you think? His daughter-in-law, but onbeknownsts to him as sech, nurses him from soda to hock. Oscar Joonior? By advice of Enright that prodigal's took to cover over in Red Dog ontil we've made sh.o.r.e about the fatted calf.

"The former Miss Bark puts up that nursin' game with Peets, an' day an' night she hangs over her apoplectic father-in-law like a painter over a picture. She's certainly as cunnin' as a pet fox! She dresses as quiet as a quail an' makes her voice as softly sober as a suckin'

dove's. In the end she's got that patient hypnotized.

"After Peets declar's him out of danger, an' all propped up in his blankets he's subscribed to mighty likely it's the fifth drink, the apoplectic begins to shed tears a heap profoose, an' relate to his nurse--the former Miss Bark--how his two wives has died, leavin' him a lonely man. She, the former Miss Bark, is his only friend--he says--an' he winds up his lamentations by recommendin' that she become his third.

"'You're the only hooman heart who ever onderstands me,' he wails, gropin' for her hand, 'an' now my ongrateful boy has contracted a messalliance I sh.o.r.e wants you for my wife.'

"She hangs her head like a flower at night, an' lets on she's a heap confoosed.

"'Speak,' he pleads; 'tell me that you'll be mine.'

"'Which I'd sh.o.r.e admire to, but I can't,' she murmurs; 'I'm wedded to your son.'

"The old apoplectic asks for more licker in a dazed way, an' sends for Peets. The Doc an' him goes into execyootive session for most an hour; meanwhile the camp's on edge.

"At the close the Doc eemerges plumb radiant.

"'Everything's on velvet,' he says; 'thar's never a more joodicious convalescent. He freely admits, considerin' the sort of daughter-in-law he's acquired, that Oscar has more sense than folks suspects.'

"Now that the skies is cl'ared, the bridegroom is fetched back from Red Dog, an' thar's a grand reeconciliation.

"'We'll all go back East together,' sobs father-in-law Freelinghuysen, holdin' both their hands.

"Two days later they starts, Missis Freelinghuysen Joonier lookin'

after father-in-law Freelinghuysen same as if he's a charlotte roosse.

"The Votes For Women S'loon?

"It's kept a secret, at Peet's su'gestion, him bein' apoplectic that a-way. The stock is bought by public subscription of the camp, an'

when the Freelinghuysen household is out of sight an' hearin' we invites Red Dog over in a body an' onbelts in a mod'rate orgy. The sign, 'Votes For Women S'loon,' is now preeserved in the custody of the Wolfville Historical Society, which body is called into active bein' upon motion of Peets, while Red Dog an' us is drinkin' up the stock."

IV

OLD MONTE, OFFICIAL DRUNKARD

"Sh.o.r.e; Monte's the offishul drunkard of Arizona." The old cattleman was answering my question. "Or, seein' that mebby Wolfville's joorisdiction won't be held none to reach beyond, let's say the offishul drunkard of Cochise County. That's Monte's civic designation; offishul drunkard, an' meant to fix his social place.

"Does he resent it?

"Which he proudly w'ars that t.i.tle like it's a kingly crown! It's as good as even money that to ondertake to sep'rate him from it, or deny the same, is the one single thing he bristles up at an' give you a battle over.

"Which this yere last should mean a heap, since Monte's plumb pacific by nacher, an' abhors war to the mean confines of bein' timid. To be sh.o.r.e, he'll steam at the nose, an' paw the sod, an' act like he's out to spread rooin far an' wide--that he's doo to leave everything in front of him on both sides of the road. But in them perfervid man'festations he don't reely intend nothin' either high or heenious, or more'n jest to give his se'f-respect an outing that a-way. Let the opp'sition call him down, an' the crafty old cimmaron'll go to the diskyard instanter.

"Which at that, Monte ain't without his interestin' side. When onder the inflooence of nosepaint, which last is constant, he has three distinct moods. About the fo'th drink, let a stranger show up, an'--all aff'ble an' garyoolous--Monte's right thar to do the honors.

When the stranger, gettin' weary, kicks Monte off him, the same bein'

sh.o.r.e to happen final since no one formed in the image of his Maker can put up with them verbal imbecil'ties of his beyond a given len'th of time, he'll arch his back an'--apparently--wax that f'rocious a wronged grizzly to him is as meek as milk. An' yet, as I tells you, it's simply a blazer; an' the moment the exasperated stranger begins betrayin' symptoms of goin' to a showdown, Monte lapses into his third mood of haughty silence, an' struts off like it's beneath him to bandy words.

"That's the savin' clause in Monte's const.i.tootion; he may get drunk, but he never gets injoodicious. Thar's a sport from some'ers over 'round Shakespear in the dance hall one evenin', whose patience has been plenty treespa.s.sed on by Monte. By way of bringin' matters to a deecisive head, this yere Shakespear party tells Monte he's a liar. Do you reckon Monte hooks up with him? Not a chance! He simply casts on that maligner from Shakespear a look of disparagement, an' with nose held high, as markin' his contempt, moves away with the remark.

"'That's something I refooses to discuss with you.'

"Which thar's no more real p'isin in Monte than in a hired girl.

"We has the chance once to try some experiments on Monte, an' it's the mistake of our lives we don't. Peets, whose regrets is scientific, feels speshully acoote. Thar's a partic'lar bar'l of nosepaint gets trundled into camp, which is nothin' short of bein' the condensed essence of hostility. Black Jack, after years as barkeep, says himse'f he never sees nothin' like it. On the hocks of two drinks, folks gets that ornery Enright has it freighted back to Tucson in alarm, fearin'

for the peace of the camp. At the time, none of us thinks of it; but later it's a subject of gen'ral regret that some of it ain't saved to try on Monte. Mebby that speshul brand of licker turns out to be the missin' ingreedient, an' keys him up to deeds of heroism.

"Jest to show you some of the milder workin's of that licker. Boggs files away four inches of it onder his belt, an' next, when he's walkin' by the corral an' meets a Mexican, he reaches out in a casyooal an' abstracted way, collars that Greaser an' hefts him over a six-foot 'dobe fence, same as if he's a bag of bran; an' all apropos of nothin'. Boggs says himse'f he don't know why none. He's thinkin'

of something else at the time, he declar's, an' the eepisode don't leave no partic'lar traces on his mem'ry. The trooth is, it's that veehement an' onmuzzled nosepaint, incitin' him to voylence.

"Is the Mexican hurt?

"Which, if I remembers rightly, Peets does mention about a busted collarbone. But it don't create no interest--him bein' a Mexican. You see, thar's a feelin', amountin' fa'rly to a onwritten law, that Mexicans ain't got no rightful call to be seen in public no how; an'

when one does go pirootin' round permiscus, in voylation of this yere tenet, nacherally he takes his chances. You-all can gamble, though, that Boggs sh.o.r.e never would have reached for him, only he's actchooated by that whiskey.

"As modest an' retirin' a sperit as Cherokee, to whom any form of boastful bluff is plumb reepellant, subscribes to a mod'rate snifter of that licker; an' in less time than it takes to rope a pony, he's out in front of the Red Light, onbucklin' in a display of pistol shootin'. Thar's a brace of towerists in camp, an' Cherokee let's on he'll show 'em. Which he sh.o.r.e shows 'em! He tosses two tomatter cans on high, an' with a gun in each hand keeps 'em dancin' an' jumpin'

about in the atmosphere ontil thar's six bullets through each. It's a heap satisfyin' as a performance, as far as them pop-eyed towerists is concerned, an' both leaves town that evenin' by speshul buckboard.

"Onaffected by that licker, Cherokee wouldn't have no more gone an'

made sech a spectacle of himse'f, though urged tharunto by the yoonanimous voice of the outfit. When he so far recovers as to 'ppreeciate what Faro Nell has to say of them exploits--an', while tender, she's plenty explicit--he comes mighty clost to blushin'

himse'f to death.

"It's after we notes what it does to Cherokee, an' hears of them exhibitions of broote force by Boggs, that we gets timid about this yere whisky, an' Enright orders the bar'l sent back. An' right he is!

S'ppose them Red Dogs was to have come prancin' over for a social call, an' s'ppose in entertainin' 'em we all inadvertent has recourse to that partic'lar licker, whatever do you-all reckon 'd have been the finish? Son, thar'd have been one of them things they calls a catyclism, an' nothin' short.

"It's sh.o.r.e a fightin' form of licker. Tutt reeserves out a tin cup of it, an' sets it down by a prairie dog's hole. Accordin' to Tutt, the dog comes out, laps it once, an' starts back same as if he's been shot with a '45. Thar he squats, battin' his eyes, wrinklin' up his nose, an' cogitatin'. After thinkin' the thing over, the dog approaches, mighty gingerly, an' takes three or four more laps. Then he r'ars back, an' considers for quite a spell. It looks final like he gets his mind made up, an' with that he capers over, an' he'ps himse'f to what for a prairie dog is sh.o.r.e a big drink.

"Two minutes later, ha'r bristlin', whiskers standin' out like wire, eyes full of determination, that dog crosses over to another dog who's livin' neighbor to him, an' says--accordin' to Tutt:

"'Wharever can I locate that coyote who's been domineerin' round yere for mebby it's a month, hara.s.sin' folks into their holes? Whar's that coyote at?'

"Peets allers allows Tutt exaggerates, but havin' sampled that licker some myse'f, I'm a long ride from bein' so sh.o.r.e.

"That lack of war instinct in Monte ain't no speecific drawback. Him drivin' stage that a-way, he ain't expected none to fight. The hold-ups onderstands it, the company onderstands it, everybody onderstands it. It's the law of the trail. That's why, when the stage is stopped, the driver's never downed. Which if thar's money aboard, an' the express outfit wants it defended, they slams on some sport to ride shotgun that trip. It's for this shotgun speshulist to give the route agents an argyooment. Which they're licensed to go bombardin'

each other ontil the goin' down of the sun. As for the driver, however, the etikette simply calls for him to set his brake, an' all peaceful hold his hands above his head. It's inside his rights, too, accordin' to the rooles, for him to cuss out the hold-ups, an' call 'em all the hard names of which he's cap'ble; an' stage drivers, who loves their art, spends their time between drinks practisin' new cuss words, an' inventin' onheard of epithets, so as to be ready when dooty an' o'casion calls. Havin' downed or driven off the shotgun sport, an'

seen the bottom of the express box, the hold-ups tells the stage driver to pull his freight. Wharupon he picks up the reins, kicks free the brake, lets fly a loorid an' final broadside of vitooperation--he havin' carefully reeserved the same, by way of peroration--an' goes his windin' way.

"Wolfville's been on the map for most a year, when Monte first shows up. In the beginnin', an' ontil we-all gets adjusted to him, he's something of a bore. Leastwise, he ain't what you'd go so far as to call a boon companion. When it dawns on us that he's plottin' to make himse'f a permanency, it certainly does look for a spell that, what with his consumption of nosepaint an' what with his turrific genius for snorin', he's goin' to be a trifle more'n we can stand.

"Does Monte snore?