Part 6 (1/2)
I'M just square enough to own _up_ it was one on me. But far's that par_tic_ular mix-up goes, I can _afford_ to be honest, and let anybody snicker that wants to--seein' the way the hull thing turned out. 'Cause how about Doc Simpson? Didn't I git bulge Number Two on him? And how about the little gal? Didn't it give me my first chanst? _Course,_ it did! And now, sometimes, when I want to feel happier'n a frog in a puddle, just a-thinkin' it all over, I lean back, shut my two eyes, and say, ”Ladies and gents, this is where you git the Blackfoot Injun Root-ee, the Pain Balm, the Cough Balsam, the Magic Salve and the Worm Destroyer--the fi-i-ive remedies fer two dollars!”
That medicine show follered the dawg fight. It hit Briggs City towards sundown one day, in a prairie-schooner drawed by two big, white mules, and druv up to the eatin'-house. Out got a smooth-faced, middle-aged feller in a linen duster and half a' acre of hat--kinda part judge, part scout, y' savvy; out got two youngish fellers in fancy vests and grey dicers; next, a' Injun in a blanket, and a lady in a yalla-striped s.h.i.+rtwaist. Wal, sir, it was just like they'd struck that town to start things a-movin' fer me!
The show hired the hall over Silverstein's store. Then one of them fancy vests walked up and down Front Street, givin' out hand-bills. The other sent word to all the ranches clost by, and the Injun went 'round to them scattered houses over where the parson and Doc Trowbridge lives.
Them hand-bills read somethin' like this: The _Re_nowned Blackfoot Medicine Company Gives Its First Performance T'Night! Grand Open-Air Band Concert. Come One, Come All. Free! Free! Free! 3--The Marvellous Murrays--3. To-Ko, the Human Snake, The World Has Not His Equal. Miss Vera de Mille In Bewitchin' Song and Dance. Amuricaw's Greatest n.i.g.g.e.r Impersynater. The Fav'rite Banjoist of the Sunny South. Injun Shadda Pictures,--and a hull lot more I cain't just _re_call.
When I seen that such a big bunch was a-goin' to preform, I walked over and peeked into that schooner. I figgered, y' savvy, that they was some more people in it that hadn't come out yet. But they wasn't--only boxes and boxes of bottles.
Right after supper, that medicine outfit played in front of Silverstein's. The judge-lookin' feller beat the drum, the Injun blowed a big bra.s.s dinguss, the gal a clari'net, and the other two fellers some s.h.i.+ny instruments curlier'n a pig's tail. But it was bully, that's all _I_ got to say, and drawed like a mustard plaster.
'Cause whilst in Oklahomaw a _Injun_ show don't count fer much, bein'
that we got more'n our fill of reds, all the same, with music throwed in, Briggs City was there. And Silverstein's hall was just jampacked.
The front seats was took up by the town kids, a-course. Then come the women and gals,--a sprinklin' of men amongst 'em; behind _them,_ the cow-punchers. And in the back end of the place a dozen 'r so of n.i.g.g.e.rs and cholos. Whilst all was a-waitin' fer the show to begin, the punchers done a lot of laughin' and cat-callin' to each other, and made some consider'ble noise. I was along with the rest, only up in one of the side windas, settin' on the sill and swingin' my hoofs.
When the show opened, they was first a fine piece--a march, I reckon--by the band. All the time, more people was a-comin' in. 'Mongst 'em was Doc Trowbridge and Rose, and Up-State--he was that pore lunger that was here from the East, y' savvy. Next, right after them three, that Doc Simpson I was so all-fired stuck on. And, along with him, a gal.
Wal, who do you think it was! _I_ knowed to oncet. They wasn't no mistakin' that slim, little figger and that pert little haid. It was _Her!_
”Cupid,” whispered Hairoil Johnson (he was settin' byside me), ”it looks to me like you didn't much discourage that Noo York doc who owns what's left of a toot buggy. Failin' to git the oldest gal out at the Bar Y, why, now he's a-sailin' 'round with the youngest one.”
I didn't say nothin'. I was a-watchin' where _she_ was. I wanted t'
ketch sight of her face.
”I devilled ole man Sewell about kickin' him out and then takin' him back,” goes on Hairoil. ”And Sewell said he was a punk doctor, but awful good comp'ny. Huh! Comp'ny ain't what _that_ dude's after.
He's after a big ranch and a graded herd. It's a blamed pity you didn't git _him_ sent up t' Kansas City fer _re_pairs.”
The band was a-playin', but I didn't pay much attention to it. I kept a-watchin' that slim, little figger a-settin' next Simpson--a-watchin'
till I plumb fergot where I was, almost. ”Macie,--Macie Sewell.”
Just then, I'm another if she didn't look round! And square at _me!_ She wasn't smilin', just sober, and sorta inquirin'. Her eyes looked dark, and big. She had a square little chin, like the gals you see drawed in pictures, and some soft, white, lacey stuff was a-restin' agin her neck. They was two 'r three good-lookin' gals at the eatin'-house them days, and Carlota Arnaz was awful pretty, too. But none of 'em couldn't hole a candle t' _this_ one. Took in her cute little face whilst she looked straight back at me. Say! them eyes of hern come nigh pullin' me plumb outen that winda!
Then the Judge walked out onto the platform, and she faced for'ards again. ”Ladies and gents,” says the ole feller, talkin' like his mouth was full of mush, ”we have come to give you' enterprisin' little city a free show. A free show, ladies and gents,--it ain't a-goin'
to cost you a _nickel_ to come here and enjoy you'self ev'ry night.
More'n that, we plan to stay as long as you want us to. And we plan to give you the very best talent in this hull United States.”
All this time, the fancy-vest fellers was layin' a carpet and fixin' a box and a table on the stage. The Judge, he turned and waved his hand.
”Our first number,” he says, ”will be the Murrays in they marvellous act.”
Wal, them fancy-vests and the lady was the Marvellous Murrays. And they was all in pink circus-clothes. ”Two brothers and a sister, I guess,” says Hairoil. I should _hope_ so! 'Cause the way they jerked each other 'round was enough t' bring on a fight if they hadn't 'a' been relations. All three of 'em could walk on they hands nigh as good as on they feet, and turn somersets quicker'n lightnin'. And when the somersettin' and leap-froggin' come to oncet, it was grand!
First the big feller'd git down; then, the other'd step onto his back. And as the big one bucked, his brother'd fly up,--all in a ball, kinda--spin 'round two 'r three times, and light right side up. And then they stood on each other's faces like they'd plumb flat 'em out!
When they was done, they all come to the edge of the platform, the lady kissin' her hand. All the punchers kissed back!
Wal, ev'rybody laughed then, and clapped, and the Judge brought on the Injun. That Injun was smart, all right. Wiggled his fingers behind a sheet and made 'em look like animals, and like people that was walkin'
and bowin' and doin' jigs. I wondered if Macie Sewell liked it. Guess she did! She was a-smilin' and leanin' for'ards to whisper to Billy and Rose. But not much to Simpson, _I_ thought. Say! I was glad of that.
Wasn't _none_ of my business, a-course. _Course,_ it wasn't. But, just the same, whenever I seen him put his haid clost to hern, it sh.o.r.e got under my skin.