Part 4 (2/2)
Lookin' back it seems to me that all them vanities was only part of living natural, being natural. I seen c.o.c.k birds playing up much the same to the hen birds--which made believe most solemn they wasn't pleased.
Time I speak of, our outfit had turned over three thousand head of long-horns to the Circle S and rode right into Abilene. Thar we was to take the train for our home ranch down south, and I hoped to get back to my dog pup Rockyfeller. In my bunk at the ram pasture, too, there was a china dog, split from nose to tip, but repaired. Yes, I keened for home.
And yet I'd never before been on a railroad, and dreaded the boys would find out how scared I was of trains.
A sailorman feels queer, steppin' ash.o.r.e on to streets which seem to heave although you know they don't--yes, that's what a puncher feels, too, alighting in a town. Gives you a sort of bow-legged waddle, and spurs on a sidewalk trail a lot too loud. I lit in Abilene with a blush, and just stood rooted while a guy selling gold watches reads my name graved on the saddle, and then addresses me as _Mister_ Smith. Old Pieface, scared for my morals, did kick this person sudden and severe, but all the same that _Mister_ went to my head.
The smell of indoors made my stomach flop right over while we ranged up brave at the bar for a first drink. The raw rye felt like flames, though the preserved cherry afloat in it tasted familiar, like soap. At the same time the sight of a gambling lay-out made my pocket twitch, and I'd an inward conviction telling me this place ain't good for kids. It's the foreman sent me off with a message.
I rolled my tail, and curved off with Tiger to take in the sights of the town. He s.h.i.+ed heaps, and it's curious to think why he objected to sign-boards, awnings, lamp-posts, even to a harmless person lying drunk.
Then a railroad engine snorted in our face, so Tiger and me was plumb stampeded up a little side street. It's thar that he bucks for all he's worth, because of a kneeling man with a straw hat and a punctured soul, praying abundant. Of course this penitent turned round to enjoy the bucking match--and sure reveals the face of my ole friend, Bull Durham.
We hadn't met for years, so as soon as Tiger was tired, Bull owned to finding the Lord, and being stony busted, ask if I was saved. I seen he'd got 'em bad, and shared my wad of money level with him. So we had cigars, a pound of chocolate creams, an oyster stew, and he bought a bottle of patent medicine for his liver. We shared that, and went on, he walking by my stirrup to the revival meeting.
This revival was happening at a barn, so I rode in. Tiger you see, needed religion bad, and when people tried to turn him out, he kicked them. You should just have heard what the preacher told the Lord about me, and all the congregation groaned at me being so young and fair, with silver harness, and the hottest prospects--just as Pieface always said when I was late for breakfast.
They had a great big wooden cross upon the dais, and somehow, I dunno why, that made me feel ashamed. A girl in a white dress was singing _Rock of Ages_--oh, most beautiful, her arms thrown round the cross, the sun-bright hair about her like a glory.
I could a' cried. Yes. For her great cat eyes were set on me, while her voice went through an' through me, an'--sudden a dumb yearning happened inside my belt. Seems that half-bottle of liver dope had scouted round, found all them chocolate creams, and rared up for battle. But no, the whisky was still calm, though I felt pale.
Something was goin' wrong, for a most frightsome panic clutched my throat. Suppose I'd caught religion! Oh, it couldn't be so bad as all that. Fancy being saved like them wormy railroad men, and town scouts, took abject because the sky pilot was explaining h.e.l.l. Made in G.o.d's image? No. That don't apply to cowards.
An' yet it's cows to sheep thar's something wrong when tears runs down my face, because a girl--why since fifteen I'd been in love with every girl I seen. As a species they was scarce, some good, some even better.
The sight of girls went to my head like liquor, and this one was surely good with her sunbright hair, her cheeks flushed 'cause I stared, her sulky lips rebuking when I throw'd a kiss, her yellow-brown eyes--.
Oh, had I really washed behind my ears? Suppose I'd got high-water marks! Was my hands--I whipped off my gloves to inquire. That's what's the matter, sure. Got to make good before bein' introduced. Got to get a move on Tiger. I swung, spurred with one spring through the doors, yelled ”Injuns” and stampeded, scatterin' gravel and panic through Abilene. I just went like one man for our cook wagon down by the railroad corrals.
Now, for all the shaving-gla.s.s could see, I was nice an' clean, but then that mirror has small views, and I'm not taking risks, but stripped and scrubbed all over. The place was so durned public I blushed from nose to heels till I was dressed again, s.h.i.+ning my hair and boots. Then I procured an extra special, cherry-red, silk scarf out of the wrangler's kit.
Some of our boys made friendly signs as I pa.s.sed on my way back, and fired a few shots after me for luck, but I'd no time to play. I joined the revival meeting just as the hat came round, so penitent sinners making for the door, came back to stay and pay because of Tiger. I give Bull ten dollars to hand to the hat, only he pa.s.sed it into his own pocket. He seemed annoyed, too, saying, ”Waste not, want not.” Then he explained how the fire-escape only paid Miss Ellis fifty dollars a day, whereas he was making hundreds.
Just then she pa.s.sed, and I got introduced. ”Say, Polly,” says Bull, ”here's Sailor Jesse wants to get acquainted.”
She stopped, sort of impatient for supper, and velvet-soft her voice, full of contempt.
”Oh, pshaw!”
Hard gold-brown eyes all scorn, soft gold-brown hair, an' freckled neck, red lips, fierce, tiger fierce--
”Another d.a.m.ned suppliant?” she asked, and Bull was holding a light for her cigarette. ”Is it saved?” she added.
I couldn't speak. I wanted to tell her how I despised all the religion I'd seen, the bigots it made, an' the cowards. I'd rather burn with the goats than bleat among sheep even now.
”Oh, that's all right, then,” she said as though she answered me, and frank as a man she gave her hand to shake. ”Good stunt of mine, eh?
Although I own I'd like to have that cross stage-managed.”
She pa.s.sed the weather, admired Tiger, talked Browns and Joneses with Bull, turning her back on me, asked him to supper, walked off with him, an' that's all. Egg-sh.e.l.ls throw'd in the ash-heap may feel like I did then.
n.o.body loved me, 'cept our pony herd, inquirin' piteous for food an'
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