Books: Happy Hawkins
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Robert Alexander Wason >> Happy Hawkins
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"Ches!" sez he. "Ralph Chester Stuart--Great Scott, have you lost
your memory?"
Well, by the Jinks, but I was glad to see the boy, an' we hid away
in a private room with two pure an' proper lemonades before us. He
was a genuine minin' engineer, an' had been havin' lots of queer
experiences. He wanted me to sign up with him, promisin' me that
we'd have change of bill twice a week; but I finally prevailed upon
him that I had aged considerable since our didoes with the goat, an'
all of a sudden he ups an' sez, "By the way, old hat, I've got you
news!"
"Yes?" sez I. "Where'd you get it?"
"Why, about the Creole Belle," sez he.
"Creole Belle!" sez I. "Well, tell it, tell it. Why don't you tell
it?"
"Oh, fudge," sez he; "it's been long enough on the way, an' I reckon
it'll keep a minute longer. The Creole Belle was a gold-mine named
after a woman."
"Good or bad?" sez I.
"Good," sez he. "Paid two hundred dollars to the ton in spots."
"I meant the woman, confound ya," sez I.
"Well, it seems that she was a purty square sort of a woman," sez
Ches, "but I didn't suppose 'at you'd care much about her. The mine-
-" I groaned. "Well, you fool me," sez Ches, seein' I was in
earnest. "The' was a purty florid romance mixed up in it too; but I
didn't suppose you was interested in such things, an' I didn't pay
much heed to that part of it."
"That's allus the way when a boy does anything," sez I, with
peevishness. "Now you set there an' think up all you can about the
deal--everything."
"Well," sez Ches, slowly, "it seems that a couple o' young
Easterners came out to find their fortune. They was the true Damon
an' Pythias brand o' partners, an' stood back to back durin' a
protracted spell o' good, stiff, copper-bottomed misfortune. They
finally located a mine that looked good-natured an' generous; but it
was a fooler. One day it coaxed 'em an' next it give 'em the laugh.
Finally they each got down in turn with mountain-fever an' a
beautiful young girl nursed 'em. She was there with her father, who
was workin' a claim near by. He was an odd sort of chap to be
minin'--though come to think of, that's not possible, seein' that
all kinds o' men--"
"Ches," I breaks in, "will you kindly get on with that tale, or must
I shake it out o' you?"
He seemed mightily surprised, but he went on: "Well, the girl was a
beauty, an' she had a gigantic maid--"
"Monody!" I shouted.
"Keeno!" shouts back Ches, some exasperated.
"Now that wasn't slang nor sarcasm what I was usin'," sez I,
smoothin' it over. "That gigantic maid you mentioned is part o' the
tale that you don't know yet."
"Well, naturally, while they was bein' nursed they both fell in love
with her--"
"With Monody?" I yells.
"No, you ijot, with the girl!" Ches was gettin' flustered. "She was
a corkin' handsome girl, an' they all called her the Creole Belle.
To be strictly honest though, they didn't really fall in love with
her. They both loved the same girl back in Philadelphia, an' they
just took to the Creole Belle as a sort of a substitute. Now the ol'
man an' the big maid watched over the girl careful, an' the' wasn't
no harm come of it; an' when the mine finally got to handin' out the
gilt without jokin' about it, the two pals got to goin' off alone
an' thinkin' o' the girl back East. They had four or five miners
workin' for 'em by this time, an' they was gettin' the dust in
quantities. Finally they got together about it. It seems that they
had an agreement that neither one would propose to the girl without
the other's consent, but they had each been makin' gentle-love in
their letters to her, while she didn't seem to know which she liked
best."
"Where'd you learn all this?" sez I.
"Oh, I've been askin' all the of miners I've met," sez Ches, "an' at
last I found one who knew the whole of it. All of 'em knew
something; things ain't done secret in a minin' camp, an' all the
boys got interested. Well, they finally agreed to play five hands o'
draw for the first chance to propose. If the lucky one got the girl
he was to pay the loser half the profits. If he lost an' the second
feller got the girl on his proposal, he was to get mine an' girl
both. They was still fond o' the Creole Belle an' she was fond o'
them--from all accounts they was men above the average, all right.
Well, they played the five hands an' it was even bones at the fourth
show. Then Jordan made a crooked move o' some kind, an' Whitman
called for a new deal. It was the first suspicion that had ever
raised its head between 'em, an' they looked into each other's eyes
a long time; then Jordan dealt again an' Whitman won.
"He wrote to the girl, an' after a time she answered, sayin' yes.
Jordan an' Whitman wasn't such good pals as before; but when the
girl was due to arrive they started down in the stage to meet her,
both together. Just as they was goin' by the of man's claim--Ol'
Pizarro, or some such a name as that he had--the stage lost a front
wheel an' Whitman got a broken leg. They took him into the ol' man's
cabin, sent a man on hoss-back after the doctor, an' Whitman
insisted that Jordan ride on down to meet the girl. They'd had a
hard time gettin' the girl to consent to come at all; but she was an
orphan with only a faithful servant for a family, an' she had
finally give in, seein' as Jordan would be there as her best friend;
an' now Whitman forced Jordan to go down an' meet her." I remembered
the letter 'at little Barbie had made me read, an' I was able to
guess the rest.
"Well, Jordan met the girl, an' the servant who had tagged along,--
the name of the servant was Melisse, if you want all the details."
"I knew it," sez I; "go on."
"He brought the girl back to where the Creole Belle was tendin' to
Whitman in a mighty gentle an' tender way. The girl didn't seem to
care much for Whitman when she saw him, an' that very day they had
it out. She didn't make no fuss, she was a game one all right; just
said that it was a mistake all 'round an' left on the next stage,
goin' to Frisco.
"Whitman was laid up six weeks, an' by the time he was out Jordan
told him that he was ready to propose to the girl on his own hook.
Whitman agreed, Jordan made his play, got a favorable answer, an'
Whitman made over a full deed to the Creole Belle. Just at this time
ol' Pizzaro cashed in, an' the first thing Whitman knew he was
married to the Creole Belle, had sold his wife's mine an' started to
leave the country. Down at the station he hears a chance word that
gives him a tip, an' he leaves his wife there an' goes back to the
mine. He accuses Jordan of havin' told the eastern girl that he was
already married to the Creole Belle when she came out to marry him
herself. Jordan denies it, but they fight, an' it's sure a bad
fight. Jordan gets three bullets in his body an' only laughs about
it; but he shoots Whitman twice, so that fever sets in, an' it was
reported that he died. Anyhow, he's taken down to the train an' put
on board, out of his head; an' was never heard of again.
"Jordan hid his wounds purty well, bein' a man o' wonderful grit;
but just when he was gettin' around again one o' the boys what
Whitman had done a good turn to picks a quarrel with Jordan, an'
Jordan still bein' stiff from the wounds he was hidin', gets the
worst of it, is hammered up with a pick-handle an' left for dead. He
don't die, however, he works the Creole Belle mine till he's taken
out about a million, an' then she closes up an' he gets out o' the
country for keeps. That's all the' is to that tale. Now you tell me
what part of it you're interested in."
"Was that all you heard about the gigantic maid?" sez I.
"You certainly have a healthy appetite for gossip," sez Chez,
laughin'. "But I did hear more about the maid: she came back to that
part a few months later to square things up with her lover. He
didn't appear willin' to square, an' they found him in his cabin one
mornin' with his throat tore out by the roots, an' they found her
clothes on the bank o' Devil Crick; so that ends her story. She must
'a' been some devil herself."
"No," sez I to chez, "the worst any one can call her is a man; an'
it wasn't altogether her fault that you can call her that, I'll
stake my soul on it."
Ches was ravenous to learn why it was that I wanted all that old
scandal dished up; but I was too busy to tell him right then, an' he
was goin' to leave in an hour to overlook some new findin's out in
Nevada. We promised to write to each other, an' I told him that
probably I'd be willin' to take a job with him in a month or so; an'
then he skinned out to make ready, an' I got busy on my letter.
Letters never was one o' my chief delights; but I wrote to Jim,
tellin' him enough o' the details to throw a bluff into Jabez; but
not enough to put Jim wise to the tale. Just gave him the right
names an' the name o' the mine an' told him to bluff that he knew it
all; but not to speak too free; an' that would suit all around an'
put Jabez into a nervous condition. I sent this letter to the
governor, tellin' him to give it to Jim personal, an' to hustle
things for a quick finish.
I posted my letter an' started up to the desk to pay my bill, when I
had another turn. I stood still with a shock, pinchin' myself to see
if I was in my right mind or only sufferin' from an extra foolin'
hang-over. A jaunty young chap with out-standin' clothes, an' a
brindle bull-terrier was registerin' their names, an' if I was in my
right mind I knew them folks for true. I was feelin' exuberant to a
dangerous limit, an' I sneaks up an' unsnaps the bull-terrier from
the leash what the porter was holdin'. Well, it was Cupid all right,
an' he was bugs to see me. He started jumpin' up on my shoulders an'
makin' queer sounds, an' I pertends 'at I'm scared to death an' duck
an' dodge around that office until I have all the inmates standin'
on the furniture an' yellin' police.
Bill runs around after us tellin' me not to be frightened, an'
givin' Cupid a tongue-handlin' that would 'a' stung a deaf
alligator. When I can't hold in any longer I rolls over on a dievan-
-that's what they call a hotel sofy--an' get Cupid in my arms an'
make a sound as if he was stranglin' me. Bill gets Cupid by the
collar an' jerks him off, an' then I stands up an' sez in a hurt an'
dignified voice, "It seems darned funny to me that I can't welcome
an old friend without you interferin'."
He give me one look--I was festooned a little out o' the ordinary--
an' then he begins. First he'd sing a chant about how tickled he was
to meet up with me, an' then he'd sermonize most doleful about how
untasteful it was to commit such a havoc as that in a hotel lobby,
especially with a dog what had been trained to have quiet an'
refined manners. I finally refused to hold my safety valve down any
longer; an' I grabbed him under the arms an' waltzed him over the
marble, while Cupid frolicked around us an' Bill kicked me on the
shins. I had had too many things happen to me in a small space o'
time to be altogether sane, an' it took a good many kicks on the
shins to get me down to a practical basis again. Bill was plumb
disgusted; but Jessamie, who had seen the last part of it, had to
join in with the rest o' the crowd an' have a laugh.
Bill refused to eat unless we could have a private dinin' room. Not
on Cupid's account neither; he'd got civilized enough to stand for
Cupid bein' treated like a dog by this time; but it was me he was
scared of, an' I sensed it, an' refused to feed with him at all
unless it would be in the main mess hall, an' Jessamie voted with
me; so Bill had to give in.
He didn't want to make the contrast too strong, so he slid into a
dark suit instead of the real caper, while I wiggled into my
champagne apron an' marched in like I was a foreign delegate. Well,
you should have seen Bill--his mouth took on the triangle droop, an'
his lamps was stretched to match. I was entirely at home, et with
the right forks, joshed the waiters, an' when my friends began to
drop over an' pass the season's greetings, an' I presented 'em to
Bill an' Jessamie, an' Bill saw that they was nothin' at all but
cream, I bet you a tip that he was the worst locoed man in topsy-
turvy Frisco.
We had a hard time throwin' the gang off the trail; but I finally
sent 'em over to the Pampered Pug restaurant, while I took Bill an'
Jessamie to a quiet little spot to hold our own reunion. They had
just come from a trip around the world--they was still on their
honeymoon, in fact; an' I had to listen to a heap o' Sunday-school
story adventures 'at they'd been havin'.
After a while, though, I nudged Bill hack to the Clarenden family
trail, an' he said 'at they had stopped for over a month with his
friends in England, an' was posted up to the minute.
"Well," sez I, as though I was inquirin' after an old pal, how's the
Earl?"
"They're plumb out o' earls in that family," sez Bill. "The old
one's dead an' they've hunted high an' low for the strays an' can't
even find Richard."
"They won't need him," sez I. "The younger son is still in good
order, an' when the proper time comes I'll spring him on 'em; but I
doubt if he takes the job after all."
"Confound you, Happy," sez Bill, "I never can tell whether you're
jokin' or not on this subject. Deuced if I ever could see where your
trail could have junctioned onto the Clarenden family."
"Son," sez I, "I'm a store-house o' knowledge, an' I'm about to open
the flood-gates an' pour it forth. How many Alice LeMoynes did you
ever happen to hear of?"
"Only but the one," sez Bill. "It was a fake name probably, an' one
was all they ever struck off that die. What about her?"
"Oh, nothin' much," sez I, "only a stray Englishman happened to pull
that name on us a while back, an' I wondered where he came into
possession of it."
"You got somethin' up your sleeve," sez Bill, who was a mite too
observin' at times; "what is it you want to know?"
"Nothin' at all," sez I; "I know all I want to now."
"What kind of lonkin' feller was it?" sez Bill.
"Purty harmless," sez I; "watery blue eyes, fair size, purty good
lookin', nice manners, book-talker, owns a little ranch; oh, he
won't set no important rivers on fire."
Bill studied awhile. "How old was he?" sez he.
"Why, he's about my age, in years," sez I.
"It might be Richard--if Lord James is still alive, Richard is the
heir apparent," sez Bill. "How long have you known o' this feller?"
"Oh, this ain't Richard," sez I. "He ain't got epolepsy nor
insanity; he's just stingy an' stupid."
"How do you know he ain't got epolepsy?" sez Bill.
"'Cause he don't bark like a dog nor froth at the mouth, nor he
ain't afraid o' water," sez I.
"You're thinkin' o' hydrophobia," sez Bill. "Epolepsy is sort o'
fits."
"Well, by gum, he did have one fit!" sez I.
"What kind?" sez Bill.
"Why, I worked a trick on him, an' he stiffened out an' his eyes got
set, an' he was the sickenest lookin' human I ever met up with," sez
I.
"That's it!" sez Bill, "an' you say he knew about Alice LeMoyne?"
"That's what give him the fit," sez I.
"I bet it's Richard," sez Bill. "This will make a story for me, an'
you can work things for the reward. Where is he?"
"Say, you come along with me to the Diamond Dot," sez I. "Things are
goin' to happen promiscuous up there after a bit, an' you don't want
to miss it. Never mind about the reward. I'm goin' to handle this
affair just as if the' wasn't such a thing on earth as the Clarenden
family."
"You make me tired," sez Bill; it allus was spurs to him to cut him
out of a secret. "You try to pertend 'at you're nothin' short of a
world power; but I bet you're just flim-flammin'."
"Nothin' 'at Happy Hawkins'd do would surprise me," sez Jessamie.
"Now that I've seen him in a dress suit, hob-nobbin' with the bun-
tong, I'm prepared for anything." She was a good feller all right.
Well, we chatted along a while, an' they told me that they wanted to
see Frisco an' the Yosemite Valley, an' then would head for Colonel
Scott's, where it'd be handy to drop over to the Diamond Dot at any
time.
"Well," sez I, "I'll write you some letters of introduction to a few
o' my friends here, an' mebbe after you've seen Frisco, all you'll
want will be rest--just plain, simple rest; less'n your ruggeder
built than me."
So sure enough I wrote 'em a parcel o' letters, pickin' out about
the most persistent spenders the town could show, an' it made me
laugh when I pictured Bill tryin' to lug home the list o' stuff
they'd load him up with. I packed up for the early, train, an' then
as it wasn't worth while to waste the handful o' minutes left o'
that night, I got back into my workin' togs an' went out for one
last Turkish bath. I'm mighty partial to Turkish baths, an' I wanted
to let 'em know that I was perfectly sober at least one night o' my
visit.
It was gray dawn when I came out o' the buildin', an' even in Frisco
that's a shivery period. In spite of me holdin' all the good cards
in the deck, an' knowin' just about how I was goin' to play 'em, I
was lonely an' down-hearted there in the dawning. All I wanted was
Barbie's happiness, an' I was goin' to give it to her full measure
an' nairy a whimper: but if it could just have been my home-comin'
instead of what I was goin' to do, that would light up her world for
her, I reckon I could have FLOWN all the way back to the Diamond
Dot.
I turned a corner an' came face to face on Piker. He was lookin'
downcast an' harried, an' I bought him a drink. He had told me where
Jim was, an' I didn't try to forget it. I sat down an' talked to him
an tried to soften his crust an' get him to agree to make a new try-
out o' life.
He finally got purty mellow an' told me some o' the steps down which
he had stumbled, an' how slippery the'd been when he'd tried to
climb back. I confided to him a lot o' my own mishaps, an' he got
purty near up to the mourner's bench, when all of a sudden he gets
bitter. "You're just like all the rest," sez he, "you make all kinds
of allowance for a good lookin', proud sort, like Silver Dick; but a
feller like me--you allus give the verdict again a feller like me,
an' you know it."
"Dick ain't been no saint, I know," sez I; "but at least he was out
in the open, while I can't quite get over that knee-gun you wore."
"Out in the open, was he?" sez Piker, with a leer. "Didn't he get to
your ranch an' try to land the daughter o' the boss--an' him a
married man all the time!"
I reached across the table an' got him by the collar, jerked him to
me, an' flopped him face up across the table. "You lie," sez I. He
shook his head, an' I felt a cold streak hit my heart.
I loosened up on him an' let him set up, an' he said 'at Silver Dick
was married to the woman at Laramte, an' he knew it. I tried to
bluff him out of it, but he stuck to it, finally sayin' that I had
him, an' could finish him if I wanted to; but that it was the God's
truth, an' he'd stick to it.
As I looked into his eyes I knew beyond a doubt that he was dealin'
straight; an' as my plans toppled over an' came tumblin' about me, I
felt like walkin' down to the dock an' endin' it all. Put this
passed in a flash; it wasn't my turn yet to think of myself. There
was little Barbie with the two serpents creepin' toward her, an' my
place was at her side till the fight was fairly won.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE DAY OF THE WEDDING
I had struck the Diamond Dot in a tol'able wide variety o' moods;
but I never felt like I did the mornin' I came back to ditch
Barbie's weddin'. I knew 'at the chances were 'at I'd break her
heart; but I had only one course open, an' I didn't intend to waver.
I had gone on through to Laramie, an' had found 'at Silver Dick's
wife was still there, livin' her locked-in life. Then I came on back
through Danders to Webb Station where I hired a feller to drive me
to within a mile o' the ranch house. All he knew was that the
weddin' was to come off in three weeks.
Jabez an' Barbie was both glad to see me; but I didn't make much
explanation for leavin' without notice, an' I didn't tell all about
my trip. Just told 'em about my experience as a knight an' on the
boat an' such. Barbie was purty thin an' a little under color; but
her grit was still keyed up to full tone. I had a good long talk
with her that very afternoon, tellin' her that I had found out a lot
o' stuff about the remnant she was thinkin' o' marryin', an' tried
to get her to test him out an' find out where he'd come from an'
what he was; but she seemed numb, an' told me that she would not
think it friendly if I said anything evil against the man she had to
marry. I couldn't understand her, she didn't seem like the same old
Barbie; but the more I hinted the more froze-up she got, so I
dropped it.
Then I told her that I had found out that Dick was even worse'n this
one; an' she opened up on me an' we had a purty square-off talkin'
match. She wouldn't listen to me, an' she wouldn't pay any heed to
my suggestions; an' I was consid'able out of patience. I was afraid
if I turned her again Dick she might marry this Hawthorn thing, an'
if I turned her again him too soon she might run off with Dick on
the rebound; so I was purty much hobbled, an' made a botch of it.
Finally she turned on me. "We've been good pals, Happy," sez she,
"an' we'll be good pals again some day; but you're not playin'
square now--I can tell by your actions. I almost believe 'at what
you're tryin' to do is to--" she stopped with her face red as fire.
"Well, say it," sez I.
"Is to marry me yourself," she blurted out.
I didn't say anything for a long time. I made every allowance for
her, an' I knew 'at some one had threw it in her face, 'cause this
wasn't one of her own brand o' thoughts; but I'm not all horn an'
bone, an' when I saw that she intended to go her own gait I made up
my mind that she'd know at the end of the course that she might have
saved herself several hard bumps.
"Barbie." I sez, an' at my voice she turned her face an' looked a
little frightened, "I ain't denyin' that I'd rather marry you than
be sure of gettin' into Heaven; but I want you to remember one
thing, an' that is that if I ever do marry you it will be because
you ask me to yourself."
We rode side by side back to the ranch house, an' her head wasn't
held an inch higher than mine nor her lips shut a grain tighter. I
was willin' to be used for a bumper; but I couldn't stand everything
even when I knew 'at she'd been hounded beyond endurance. From that
on Barbie was some cool to me; but I wasn't there for a vacation, I
had a duty to perform. Poor little Barbie, she didn't act much like
a bride elect. Jabez wanted a weddin' that would be the talk for
years; but Barbie said no, that she felt more like a widder than a
maid, an' she didn't take much stock in turnin' a second weddin'
into a circus. I didn't say nothin'. The ol' man didn't contrary her
much them days, so he dropped the subject; but he sent all the way
to Frisco for a store full o' fixin's an' a couple o' women to
engineer the construction of 'em.
A full week passed without me hearin' from Dick, an' then I
telegraphed to the Governor. I waited at Webb Station till I got the
answer. He said 'at he had give Dick my letter an' that he had left
two days before. That kept me on edge 'cause I wanted to see him
when he first arrived; so I kept a couple o' the boys watchin' each
road; but day after day dragged around until I got desperate. For
all I knew Silver Dick had enough black blood in him to take
advantage of me an' just fly his kite. He might have got news from
England too, an' all in all I was agitated.
Two days before the ceremony was scheduled I gave him up an' made a
run to Laramie. I wasn't sure just what I would do, but I was minded
to get all the evidence I could. I tried to get speech with Dick's
wife, but she wouldn't pay any heed to my knocks, an' finally the
lights in the house went out. I scented trouble; so when a couple o'
men pounced onto the place where I'd just stood they found me
immejetly behind 'em, an' I rapped 'em on the heads before they
could express a sound. I heard a noise at the keyhole an' I
whispered in, "If you want to save the life o' Silver Dick, open the
door."
I waited a minute an' then the door opened an inch, but a chain kept
it from goin' any wider. A woman's coarse voice sez, "What do ya
want?" I couldn't believe that this was the woman, so I sez, "I want
to speak to the other woman, an' it's got to be done quick."
Presently a soft, gentle voice sez, "What is it?"
"Silver Dick is in the Texas penitentiary, sentenced to be hanged
for a murder committed there in April four years ago. He'll be
hanged a week from to-morrow night if some one don't make a plea for
him. It takes a woman to do such a job as this--are you game?"
"Why, he couldn't have done it," sez she. "He was here all that
spring."
"Are you willin' to swear to it?" sez I.
"Oh, I don't want to appear in public--but of course I will, if the'
ain't no other way."
"You won't have to if you'll come with me to-night. The Governor of
Texas is up here on a huntin' trip; he'll be at a party to-morrow
night; all you'll need to do is to wait in a room where I'll hide
you until he gets into a meller mood--I know him well--an' then I'll
bring him to you an' you make a plea for him. You can be his wife or
his mother or daughter--or anything you wish."
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