Happy Hawkins Part 40

Jabez savvied this to the queen's taste, an' he got gentle an' lovin'

to Barbie, an' did all he could to square himself; so that poor old d.i.c.k wasn't much more'n a memory, which is one o' the complications absence is apt to cause after it gets tired o' makin' the heart grow fonder.

But hang it, I didn't like this Englishman more than the law required.

The' didn't seem to be much harm to him; but he had washy eyes, an' he was too blame oily an' gentle. I never heard him swear all through it, an' it ain't natural for a real man to stand on his back for eight weeks without havin' a little molten lava slop over into his conversation. It was all I could do to keep from stickin' a pin into him.

"Barbie," I sez one day, as innocent as an Injun, "I over-heard our honored guest tell you that a girl by the name of Alice LeMoyne put a crack in his heart over the water."

"Yes," sez she, with a sigh.

"It don't seem to be a popular name," sez I. "I've met lots o' women who wasn't called Alice LeMoyne."

"It is probably French," sez she.

"It does sound like a circus, that's a fact," sez I. "Well, you break it to him gently that Alice LeMoyne is dead. Don't ask me any questions, but do be careful not to shock him, he seems purty high strung."

You might as well use sarcasm on a steer as on a woman; Barbie went up to Hawthorn with her eyes full o' pity, while I waited below an' made up pictures o' the crockadile tears he'd pump up for her. All of a sudden she gave a shriek. I hit the stairs, goin' forty miles an hour, an' there was Barbie with her hands clasped, lookin' down at the Englishman.

Well, he was enough to make a snake shriek. He was layin' there with his head jerked back, his eyes wide open an' pointin' inwards, an'

lookin' altogether like the ancient corpse of a strangled cat. His hands was doubled up tight, an' the' was a little froth on his lips.

I'd never seen nothing like that before, so I threw some water in his face. That's about all the rule I know for any one who is missin' cogs, an' I poured enough water on him to please a duck. He didn't respond for some several minutes, an' when he did come out of it he looked loose all over. I helped Barbie get some dry stuff under him, an' then I went down, wonderin' what kind o' dynamite for him they'd been in that name I'd sent up.

I tried to convince Barbie that his wires were all mixed up an' he wasn't healthy; but she argued that it showed a loyal nature to be so affected by mention of his old sweet-heart, an' tried to pump me for where I had picked up the name. It looked too much like a chance shot to me; as this guy had only been among us a few years, an' I gathered from Bill Hammersly that the Alice LeMoyne I was springin' had journeyed on, some several years earlier.

But the Englishman continued to repose on his bed o' down, Barbie read to him, cooked little tid-bits for him, an' he opened up his nature an'

gave a new shine to his eyes; while Jabez--well, Jabez was buoyant as a balloon, an' sent here an' there for nick-hacks an' jim-cracks an' such like luxuries. He got to callin' Hawthorn "Clarence" an' "my boy," an'

kindry epithets, till even a casual stranger would 'a' knowed the' was a roarin' in the ol' man's head like a chime o' weddin' bells.

Hawthorn was able to crutch around a bit by the first o' May; it was an early season, an' the' was a great harvest o' calves at the round-up. I was in work up to my eyes, an' sort o' lost track of the doin's except when Barbie would have the buckboard hooked up an' come out to the brandin' ground. The weather was glorious, an' you couldn't have blamed an Injun idol for fallin' in love, so I lost heart an' was two-thirds mad nine-tenths o' the time.

Jabez had had a hard siege of it an' it showed. His face was lined, his hair was white at the temples, an' the' was a wistful look in his eyes which was mighty touchy. Barbie was more chummy with him too, an' they was edgin' back to ol' times; but I was darn glad to see Hawthorn finally admit that he was sufficiently recovered to drive over an' see what had become of his own lay-out.

The very first meal that we et alone, however, showed that the old sore wasn't plumb healed over yet. Jabez couldn't wait any longer, so he called for a show-down as soon as our food began to catch up with our appet.i.te. "Has Clarence popped the question yet, honey?" sez he.

"About twice a day on the average," sez Barbie, chillin' up a trifle; "but I don't think he stands much chance. I like him an' he is kind an'

good; but I don't reckon I could ever marry him."

The ol' man didn't flare up, same as he would have once. He just sat still, lookin' at his plate, an' that was the hardest blow he had ever struck her. She asked me twice that afternoon if I thought he was failin'.

Next day at dinner Jabez finished his rations, an' then leaned back an'

looked lovin'ly at Barbie for a minute. "Little girl," he sez, "I know 'at you don't like to hurt me intentional; but you have give me a mighty sight of heartaches in my time. I have allus aimed to do what seemed best for you, an' it has generally been a hard job. I haven't complained much; but I'm gettin' old, child, I'm gettin' old. It's not for myself, Barbie, it's all for you, for you an' for--for the mother you never knew; but who made me promise to watch over an' protect ya. I can't speak of her, Barbie; but when I meet her out yonder I want to be able to tell her that as far as I was able I've done my part.

"This d.i.c.k has been gone a year, an' never a word to ya to let you know even whether he's alive or not. This ain't love, honey; he was only after my money. Now Clarence is honest an' open; why can't you take up with him, so 'at if I'd be called sudden I could go in peace. It would mean a lot to me to see you in good hands, honey. I'm afraid 'at d.i.c.k'll wait until I'm gone, an' then come snoopin' around, like a coyote sneakin' into camp when the hunters are away. Don't answer me now, child; just think it over careful. I've generally let you have your own way, but I do wish you'd give in to me this time."

Was Jabez failin'--was he? Well, not so you could notice it! Course he wasn't quite so physically able as once; but I never saw him put up a toppier mental exhibition than he did right then. Barbie didn't have a word to say that afternoon until about five o'clock. Then she suddenly looked up from some reports we was goin' over, an' sez, "Happy, if you had gone away from me like d.i.c.k did, what would be the only thing what would have kept you from comin' back to me?"

"By G.o.d, nothin' but death!" sez I, without stoppin' to think.

The color rushed to her cheeks as if I had slapped her; an' then it oozed away, leavin' her white as chalk, while I bit my lip an' pinched myself somethin' hearty. I had wanted to compliment her I suppose, if I'd had any motive at all; but what I had done, when you come to look it square in the teeth, was to ask her to cut an ace out of a deck with nothin' left higher than a six spot. I ain't what you would call inventionative; but I could 'a' done a blame sight better'n that if I'd taken the time to think, instead o' simply blurtin' out the truth like some fool amateur.

"Well," sez she, finally, "d.i.c.k was twice the man you are, so he must be--dead."

We didn't say anything for some time. Vanity ain't like a mill-store about my neck; but at the same time, whenever any one plugs me in the face with an aged cabbage, I allus like to make a some little acknowledgment. Of course I knew that she was handin' me one for my fool break; but she did it in cold blood, an' if it hadn't been for her bein' so stewed up in trouble, I'd have made her furnish some specifications to back up that remark. Twice is a good many, but I let it go.

She sat lost in study for a while, an' then said, mostly to herself, "I reckon I might as well take him"--my heart popped up in my mouth till I liked to have gagged, but she went on--"he's honest an' kind, an' he's been true a long time to his first love. I hope he'll stay true to her after we're married; I know I'll stay true to mine"--then I knew she meant that fool Englishman. "Anyway, father has been good to me," she continued, "an' I don't set enough store by my own life to risk spoilin' his."

"I suppose that mis-shapen stray from the other side is twice the man I am, too," sez I. She put her hand on mine an' sez in a tired voice, "Ah, Happy, you've been my staff so far through the valley, don't you slip out from under me too"; so I swallered hard a couple o' times an'

let it go.

She sat still a long while, lookin' out the window an' up to the of gray mountains; and as I watched her with her lips tremblin, an' her eyes misty, with courage winnin' a battle over pain, I saw the woman lines of her face steal forth an' bury the last traces o' girlhood.

After a time she sez softly, "Poor ol' d.i.c.k, I wonder how it happened"; but never one tear got by her eyelids--never one single tear.

From that on it was plain sailin'. Barbie didn't put up any more fight to either of 'em. She told 'em open an' fair that she would never in the world have consented if she had thought that d.i.c.k was still alive; but if they was willin' to take what part of her heart was left why they was welcome to it. Jabez was pleased at any kind of a compromise 'at would give him his own way, an' Clarence, poor dear, wasn't a proud lot. The flesh-pots of Egypt was about all the arguments needed to win his vote, confound him. I used to give him some sneerin' glances what would 'a' put fight into the heart of a ring-dove; but he was resigned an' submissive; so 'at I had to swaller my tongue when I saw him comin', for fear I might tell him my opinion of him an' then stamp his life out for not bein' insulted.

The first of November was selected for the weddin' day; an' Jabez told 'em 'at his present would be a trip to Europe an' a half interest in the ranch. Clarence sort o' perked up his face when Jabez told him about it; an' I thought he was goin' to suggest that they cut out the trip to Europe an' take the whole o' the ranch. I had the makin's of a good many cyclones in my system those days.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A MODERN KNIGHT-ERRANT

I was lonesome once. I don't mean simply willin' to sit in a game, or to join a friendly little booze compet.i.tion, or feelin' a sort of inward desire to mingle about with some o' the old boys an' see who could remember the biggest tales--I mean LONESOME,--the real rib-strainin' article when a man sits in a limpy little heap with his tongue hangin' out, a-wishin' that a flea-bit coyote would saunter along, slap him on the back, an' call him friens.

I was out in No-man's land with just a small bunch o' mangy cows, an'

the gra.s.s so scarce I purt' nigh had to get 'em shod--they had to travel so far in makin' a meal. It was hot an' it was dusty an' it was dry--the whole earth seemed to reek. My victuals got moldy an' soft an'

sticky, my appet.i.te laid down an' refused to go another peg; 'I was just simply dyin' o' thirst, an' every single drop o' water we came across had a breath like the dyin' gasp of a coal-oil stove, expirin'

for a couple o' fingers o' the stuff they float universities in.

Now I'd allus supposed that the' wasn't anything left to tell me about bein' lonesome; but when it was finally settled that Barbie was to waste herself on that imported imitation of a hand-made mechanical toy, I found out that heretofore I'd been only dealin' in childish delusions. The whole Diamond Dot seemed to rest right on top o' my soul: the air didn't smell sweet, I got so I'd lie awake at night, food grew so fearless it could look me right in the face without flinchin'; but one night I saw Merry England with his arm around Barbie's waist, an' that settled it. By the time I had regained my self-control, I was twenty miles from the ranch, an' I knew that if I went back it would be to make arrangements for the last sad obsequaries of Clarence the Comforter.

I had about three hundred bucks in my belt, so I wended my way to Danders an' sneaked aboard the East-bound without attractin' the notice of ol' Mrs. Fate or any o' the rest o' the Danders bunch. I got out at Laramie, an' they all knew d.i.c.k an' was proud of him an' eager to learn what had become of him. One thing else I found out, an' that was that he had been keepin' a woman all right, an' that she was livin' there yet; but never went out without a heavy veil, an' the' wasn't any way short o' physical force to get to speak to her.

I figured out that d.i.c.k wouldn't care to go back to Texas, so the chances were that he was either in San Francisco or England. I didn't know anything about England, so I went to Frisco. I prowled around for a couple o' days exactly like a story-detective; an' by jinks, I turned up a clew. That feller, Piker, was the clew, an' when I spied him in a low gamblin' room I made some little stir until I got him alone so I could talk to him. I hadn't hurt him none; but I had been tol'able firm, an' he was minded to speak the truth. He told me that d.i.c.k was in the Texas Penitentiary for life--that he had surrendered himself up, an' that this was what had give him life instead of the rope.

I knew the gang what had put him there, an' I knew that his chances for gettin' out were about as good as if he was in his grave. I was stumped an' I knew it; so I sez to Piker: "Piker, you may think that I'm allus as gentle as I've been with you; but if this ain't the truth you've told me I'll get your life if I have to track you bare-footed through h.e.l.l."

He swore by everything he could remember that it was the solemn truth, an' then I turned him loose an' I turned myself loose too. The boys down at Frisco was certainly glad to see me, an' we sure had a royal good time as long as my money lasted; but when it began to dry up they seemed to lose interest in me an' had a heap o' private business to attend to.

One mornin' I noticed that I was dead broke; so I drilled down to the dock an' sat on a post. Pretty soon along comes a little fat man, an'

he looks me over from nose to toe. I don't know why it is, but as a rule a city man takes as open-hearted an' disembarra.s.sed an interest in me as though I was a prize punkin' or the father of a new breed o' beef cattle. After he had made up his opinion he smiles into my eyes an'

sez, "I like your face."

"You soothe me," sez I. "I was just thinkin' o' havin' it remodelled; but now I'll leave it just as it is."

Well, he laughs an' slaps me on the back an' sez, "I like your style.

Want to take a ride?"