Books: Happy Hawkins
R >>
Robert Alexander Wason >> Happy Hawkins
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19 |
20 |
21 | 22 |
23
"I'll go," sez she, in a quiet tone, an' I breathed free; an' as
soon as she opened the door I dragged the two men inside. They were
Greasers, the same as the old woman what had first talked to me; an'
I turned 'em over to her a' took the woman with the soft voice down
to the train by a back street. She still wore a heavy veil, an' I
never looked at her--not right straight--but I could see that she
walked with her feet an' held her head on the top of her neck; so I
was purty certain that if Dick did return an' try to finish the
weddin' as the star performer she'd give us an interestin'
exhibition.
Spider Kelley was at the station when I got off the train. I turned
the woman over to him, tellin' him to bring her out so as to arrive
the evenin' of the weddin', not to talk to her, an' not to let Dick
see her should he chance to come back that way; but to smuggle her
into the office as soon as preparations for the ceremony got
started. I still half looked for Dick, but I thought I had things
blocked out, no matter what turned up, an' I flopped on my hoss an'
rode him at about his best.
Everything around the house was whirlin' with preparation; but
Barbie was about the palest lookin' bride 'at ever got ready to toe
the scratch, I reckon. The Hawthorn critter had stayed over at his
own ranch for the last week, an' Barbie wouldn't 'a' had no search-
warrant swore out if he had sent over word that it looked so good to
him that he had decided to continue to remain there for a million
years.
The guests had arrived plenty early, an' whenever Barbie would
stumble on to a bunch of 'em she would head up an' get right rompy
again. We had about a ton o' stuff cooked, 'cause we was tol'able
thoroughly experienced on the neighbors. Folks out our way ain't
nowise uppity about such matters. All you need to do is to hint that
a little celebration is goin' to be pulled off an' you can count on
their presence; an' if so be 'at you've forgot anybody's invite, why
like as not they'll hear about it anyway an' be on hand in plenty o'
time. The weddin' was scheduled for Wednesday evenin' at eight
thirty; but by Sunday the house was full an' the grounds looked like
an Injun camp-meetin'.
Jabez, intended to give Barbie the full penalty; none o' your
squires for him, nothin' but Friar Tuck, who was one o' these here
Episcolopian preachers what sport a full regalia an' a book o'
tactics calculated to meet any complication a human bein' is apt to
veer into. Some say they're just Roman Catholics, gone Republican,
an' some say that they're the ones who started the first strike--I
don't know much about it myself.
He hadn't arrived by seven o'clock, but we didn't worry none; he
might have had to come fifty miles, an' he never had any time to
waste.
We'd had a sort o' light supper at four o'clock, an' it was intended
to have the weddin' feast after the performance was finished. It was
just eight o'clock when Friar Tuck swung off his pony an' as many of
the crowd as could gathered in the big dinin' room an' waited for
the words to be said. Spidier Kelley came an' told me that he had
locked the woman in the office, an' that she was behavin' herself
reasonable, so I knew 'at the finish wasn't far off. The tables an'
chairs had been taken out, the intention bein' to dance in the
store-room after the ceremony, an' while the dancin' was goin' on to
set the banquet in the dinin' room. Oh, it was all planned out like
a theater show: Jabez had a full orchestra too, three fiddlers, a
guitarist, an' a fifer; an' they began to play solemn music, like
they allus do at a wedding. It's a toss-up which is the most
touchin', a weddin' or a funeral,--a feller's takin' a mighty long
shot at either one.
The whole crowd was on edge, but myself was strained to the breakin'
point. Just as the old clock struck the half hour the orchestra
pealed forth a march, an' they all came struttin' in, slow an'
stately an' top-heavy, accordin' to the city way. Jabez was in a
brand-new suit o' black store clothes, an' had a mighty proud look
on his face; he was wearin' gloves too. Barbie was a-leanin' on his
arm, an' she was wearin' a dress 'at would 'a' made some o' the
queens crane their necks a bit, I reckon. Hawthorn had his nerve
with him, an' wore a low-necked vest an' a droop-tailed coat. I had
my own rig like this hid away in the stallion stable; so it didn't
jar me none; but some o' the boys had a hard time chokin' back their
grins. It was the first weddin' I had ever seen where the groom
hadn't wore a silk handkerchief around his neck.
They all met in front o' Friar Tuck, who was standin' under a tissha
paper bell with about four miles o' ribbon tied to it. I couldn't
see Barbie's face on account o' the veil she was wearin'; but she
held her head high, an' I knew she was ready to take all the jumps
without balkin'. The Friar had one o' these voices 'at never seem to
say an idle word, an' the room got as still as though it was a trial
for life; which ain't so mighty far off the mark, that bein' the
usual sentence, an' out our way we don't count it game to get
pardoned out for a new trial.
I was on pins an' needles durin' the openin', but Friar Tuck boomed
along until he arrived at the part where it sez "If any man knows
just cause why this here couple should not be joined together in
holy wedlock let him make his kick right now, or forever after hold
his peace." The room was as still as the grave, an' I had just taken
a full breath, so that I could make a clean throw, when a deep voice
at the back of the room sez: "I think that I know a cause. I don't
believe the girl is doin' this of her own free will."
We all whirled around, an' there stood Silver Dick. Dusty he was an'
travel-stained; but as he loomed up, straight an' tall, he certainly
did look like a man. His beard was gone, his face was pale with a
sort of unnatural whiteness, an' he was ganted down in weight a
little; but all the same he put up a great front as he stood with
his hands on his hips, his head thrown back, an' a grim smile on his
face. Quick as a flash the ol' man, who had half expected this,
pulls a gun out of his pocket an' drops it on Dick, while the crowd
politely splits apart to give 'em a fair show. Barbie had settled
back, an' I caught her in my arms an' held her a moment; but all the
time my eyes were on Dick as though I'd been charmed.
Never in my life have I seen such a figger of a man as him, as he
stood there alone an' unfriended. His hat was tilted back a bit, an'
his short wavey hair rippled across his forehead, his mustache had
been shaved off and his lips somehow reminded me of the muzzle of a
gun, they was that firm; while his eyes--man, he had the greatest
eyes in the world. Blue steel they was, but never for a moment free
from some hidden fire. When he smiled they danced; when he frowned
they blazed; but to-night the' was a new darin' in 'em,--a
confidence, a purpose, an' a strength that defied Death himself.
He had changed a heap since we'd seen him last. His face was as
smooth as a woman's, his hands were white, an' his clothes looked
like picture clothes out of a book. He didn't speak for some time,
an' then he said: "Is your gun broke, Mr. Judson, or do you think it
would be only the square thing to talk things over first? I think I
can interest you. I am not armed; perhaps you would be more
comfortable if you lowered your gun until you were ready to shoot."
The' was a sting in his slow, sarcastic tone, an' a scowl came over
Jabez' face; but he lowered his gun just the same. I didn't want to
soften any toward Dick so I had to keep grittin' my teeth as I
watched him, 'cause bluffin' a man like Cast Steel, armed an' ready,
was a stirrin' sight, an' Dick looked as if he had the backin' of an
army.
"Mr. Judson," sez Dick, "when I left here your daughter was promised
to marry me, an' I promised to write as often as possible; but after
I started in to clean up my record I was denied the privilege of
writin'. I am here now, with my record clean; the' ain't no spot on
this earth where I don't feel free to go--an' now I claim her hand."
"Claim her hand, do ya?" sez Jabez, with a wicked leer. "Well, you
allus was better at claimin' than at gettin'. I don't want to sadden
my daughter's weddin' night, but if you ain't minded to go your way
peaceable I'll have to spoil ya."
"Barbie," sez Dick, an' his voice was meller as a flute, "don't ya
love me no more?"
She raised her head an' looked at him, but she couldn't speak, so
she only nodded her head.
"Will ya marry me?" sez Dick, an' we all waited a long time for the
answer.
Once or twice she tried it, before her voice finally got back to
her, "Dick,," she sez, "I waited for ya a long time, an' I never
heard from you; so I thought 'at you had either forgot me or else
you were--were no longer living; an'--oh, Dick, you have no idee how
hard it has been for me. You can't imagine how often I refused, nor
what a lonely life I was forced to live; but I've never ceased to
love you, an' I allus told 'em so. Now I am half married to another
man; an' I don't see what we can do."
"Well, I see what we can do!" blurts out Jabez, raisin' his gun
again. "We can go right on with this ceremony. You have give your
word, an' the word of a Judson is bindin'. As for you, you sneakin'
card-sharp, I'll give you just ten to state your intentions."
Jabez started to count slow an' steady with his left forefinger,
while he held his gun above his right shoulder ready for the drop.
His face was white an' his eyes blazed like live coals. The' was no
time to waste now; Dick had a card up his sleeve, an' this was his
chance to take the trick, or he'd spoil my own game. The room was so
still it hurt you to breathe. Somebody sneezed, an' it sounded like
a boiler explosion.
"Judson," sez Dick, an' he was smilin' now; but it was the chillin'
smile I had first seen durin' the card game. It wasn't a pleasant
smile. "Judson, I did not cheat durin' that game, an' I never did
cheat, although gamblin was my business. You have become a fanatic
on the subject o' truth, an' I propose to tell you some. You are a
bully; you have bullied this girl in order to make her consent; and
you are a coward, a miserable coward. Any man afraid of his own past
is a coward; and your past stands back of you like a ghost, doggin'
your steps awake, an' hauntin' your dreams 'sleep. You preach the
truth; but your entire life is one black--"
"Stop!" yells Jabez, holdin' his hand over his heart, but gettin'
the drop on Dick, although his face looked like the face of a man
long dead. "Say another word an' a bullet will drive it back through
your teeth."
"All right," sez Dick, still smilin' his cruel, hard smile; "but you
have only counted up to five, an' you gave me ten. You're surely
honest enough to stick to your own agreement. Begin to count now,
while I start the tale about Jack Whitman an' the Creole Belle--"
When Dick mentioned the name o' Jack Whitman both o' Jabez' arms
fell to his side; an' when Dick spoke o' the Creole Belle his legs
shut together like a pocket knife; an' he crumpled down on a little
padded bench they had fixed up to kneel on. His face was gray, an'
his eyes had a scum over 'em, while his mouth hung open like the
mouth of a man dyin' of old age. Barbie gave a low, waverin' call:
"Oh, what have you done, oh, Dick! Daddy, Daddy; what's the matter
Dad?"
She jumped to his side, an' after tearin' off her veil she knelt at
his feet; but he drew his hands feebly away, an' refused to touch
her; while a look of sorrow--sorrow an' pain an' shame, swept across
his old gray face, an' his lips trembled so 'at he couldn't talk.
I glanced at Silver Dick; he stood there with his lips set tight,
his eyes cold an' hard, an' I knew 'at he was ready to make his
kill, cost what it would.
"Oh, Daddy," pleaded Barbie, "don't look this way. Tell me what it
is all about. Don't turn away from me, Dad; I don't care what it is,
or whether it is true or false--I am ready to forgive you, an' to
love you. Look at me. Daddy. I care more for you than for any one
else in the whole world.
"Yes," she sez, standin' up an' flashin' a look into Dick's eyes as
fierce as they had ever shot themselves. "Yes, an' if you think to
win me by strikin' down my old Dad, why--we have both been mistaken,
an' I despise you!"
Silver looked as though she had struck him in the face with a whip;
the hot blood swept up to his hair, an' then left him ghastly white
again; while she put her hand on the ol' man's shoulder an' looked
like an eagle protectin' her brood. I looked around for Hawthorn,
who had become entirely forgotten. Gee! how I envied him his chance
just then; but there he stood, lookin' like a white rabbit bein'
tried for murder. The girl looked at him too, gave him one long
scornful look; then she looked back at Silver, standin' all alone
like the statue of a king; an' then she looked up at me. "Happy,"
she sez, "you never failed me yet. Clear this room--clear it of
every one but just ourselves."
"Clear the room," I yells. "Come, friends, this is the time to step
lively. You can go into the store-room an' dance if you want to, but
the weddin' has been postponed."
They filed out in good order, all except Dick, Friar Tuck, an'
Hawthorn. Hawthorn stood leanin' again the wall, lookin' at Dick as
though he was seein' a ghost. I tapped him on the shoulder. "Git!" I
sez, "your number didn't win nothin'." He gives a start, then down
on the floor he flops with his eyes turned in an' his mouth frothin'
a little. Friar Tuck straightened him out an' began to rub his
hands; an' I turned to Dick.
"Now, it's your turn to go," I sez. "I'd advise you to go clear to
England, where you'll find good news."
He came toward me as if he didn't see me, an' when he reached me he
said: "You better go along too, Happy. I want to talk to them
alone."
"Jim," I said, usin' the old name, "I don't want to do you harm.
This game is up; you'd better go along peaceable."
He looked at me a moment in surprise, an' then his face got haughty,
an' he put out his hand to push me aside. I took him by the arm an'
swung him over against the wall. At first he couldn't seem to
understand that I was in ear-nest, an' then his hand shot to hip an'
breast; but he had spoke the truth, he wasn't armed. I had him
covered, an' he sneered into my face without speakin'. I walled over
an' examined him, but he didn't have even a knife. I didn't have the
heart to drive him forth like a dog, so I sez, too low for the rest
to hear: "Jim, I know the double life you've been leadin'; but you
can't break Barbie's heart. You're a married man, an' I know it."
"You lie," he sez, clear an' cold. It was just the word I needed.
I crossed the room an' laid my gun on a chair, an' then I turned to
him. "We're equal now," sez I. "The winner gets the gun."
He wasn't as strong as I was, quite; an' he was some out o'
condition; but he had had trainin' more than me, an' for a few
minutes he stood me off; an' then as he struck at me I grabbed his
wrist, his left wrist, with my right hand, shot it in close to his
body, an' clamped it behind his back; while I got his throat with my
left. Slowly I brought him to his knees, my fingers all the time
workin' deeper into his throat, while his right kept jabbin' me till
it made me grunt. No one tried to interfere at first; but then he
got too weak to strike. Barbie said sharply, "Happy Hawkins, stop
that at once!"
"I'll stop as soon as he promisses to go without further trouble,"
sez I.
She got up an' came across the room to us like a flash, an' seized
the wrist that held Jim's throat. "Let him alone, Happy," she said
fiercely.
I gave him a little push that sent him to the floor, an' then I
picked up my, gun. Jim rose to his feet; but the starch was purty
well taken out of him, an' of course this touched her heart, she
bein' a woman. "Are you hurt, Dick?" she sez sympathetic. "Yes, I'm
hurt," he snaps back, glarin' at me; "not at what he's done, but at
his lies."
"It's no lie," sez I.
"What was it?" asked Barbie--of Jim. He didn't answer for a minute,
an' when he did his voice shook; but he looked into her eyes as he
answered: "He said I was married."
Barbie drew away with a sharp gasp an' looked at him in horror; then
she looked at me with her face all drawn up with anguish. "I tried
to prepare you for this three weeks ago, Barbie," I sez, "an' you--
you know what you threw in my face."
"Oh, Happy, Happy," she whispered, "it's not true, it's not true--
say it's not true!"
"It is true, Barbie," sez I, an' she gave a scream.
"It is not true," sez Dick, an' she glanced from one to the other.
"I can prove it at once," sez I; "she's here to-night."
"Who?" asked Dick with a start.
"The wife you left in Laramie," sez I.
"Good God, you haven't brought her here. have you!" shouted Dick,
an' Barbie a queer, heart-broken little laugh. "It's true, it's
true," she sez. "You have convicted yourself, and it's true.
Happy,"--she went on speakin' to me,--"of all the men I have ever
known you are the only one that has been always true to me. You said
that you would never marry me unless I asked you to--prove to me
that this man is already married, an' I'll marry you. I'll get down
on my knees an' beg you to marry me. The world seems full of wolves
an' I want a man I can trust."
She was wild, an' the look in her eyes frightened me; but she came
over an' put her hand on my arm, an' said: "Prove it, prove it, an'
then let us go away together!"
"She's out in the office," sez I. "Shall I bring her in here?"
"No," sez Dick. "Happy, for heaven's sake don't do anything hasty."
"Bring her in, bring her in at once!" sez Barbie. "This is my
wedding-day, an' my father wanted it to be the talk of the whole
state. Bring her in!"
Just as I reached the door it opened, an' the strange woman came in
with old Melisse, who was makin' queer throaty noises like a dog.
Her veil was raised, an' I stepped back in surprise. She was an
elderly woman with gray hair, white at the temples, an' dark eyes
that rested for a moment on Dick, for a longer second on Barbie, an'
then stopped when they met the starin' eyes of of Cast Steel, who
had staggered to his feet.
He stood there with his hands clutchin' the side of his head, an'
his lips movin' rapidly, but not a sound comin' through 'em, an'
then his knees gave way beneath him, an' Friar Tuck eased him back
to the little padded bench. The hands of the strange woman were
clasped on her breast; but even when the rest of us started for
Jabez she didn't move.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE FINAL RECKONING
It hurts me inside to see anything plumb beaten. I've hunted a lot,
an' I'm as keen on the trail as a terrier dog an' durin the fight I
don't have no disturbin shudders; but after I've won an' I see the
light of joy an' hope an' freedom fadin' out of eyes that have been
so bright an' fearless, the' 's allus somethin' 'at swells inside o'
my breast an' makes me half sorry 'at all fights can't end in a
draw. The' 's one kind of nature which I never yet was able to
figger out, an' that's the nature that can rub it in on a fallen
foe.
Poor old Jabez, I'd judged him an' I'd judges him harsh; but when I
saw him go to pieces there on the padded bench I just seemed to go
to pieces with him. When I saw the strength leave him like the steam
from an engine as the flood reaches its fire-box; when I saw the
hands that thought they was strong enough to shape the future
danglin' between his crooked knees, an' the eyes that had never
before asked mercy lookin' up glazed an' pitiful, why, it felt to me
as if I was just tryin' to send the strength out of my own body into
his. Poor ol' Jabez, he was cast steel to the finish, no spring,
just simply rigid an' stiff, till at last he broke.
But runnin' the universe is no job for a human; every man would
choose to look his best when he's to meet the one woman; but if
Jabez had still been standin' like a rock an' lookin' out at the
world through eagle-eyes the woman at the door wouldn't never have
spoke to him. When she saw him tired an' broken an' heart-sick of
life itself, the mother in her finally tore out all the wrongs o'
the past, an' she crossed the room an' took one of his hands an'
said, "George, you mustn't give up, you mustn't give up now."
Barbie was holdin' his other hand, an' the ol' man looked first from
one to the other while big tears gathered in his open eyes an'
rolled slowly down his cheeks. I tell you it was a touchy sight, an'
I was sweatin' like a fish when ol' Friar Tuck tip-toed over an' put
one hand on my shoulder an' the other on Jim's, an' said: "They'll
get along better without us, boys. Let's just step outside till they
call us."
Oh, I tell you that Friar Tuck was a sky-pilot for true! We sneaked
stealthily to the door, passin' ol' Melisse on the way. She was
huddled up on the floor prayin' in Spanish, an' Friar Tuck rested
his hand on her head a second, an' then we went out into the night
air--I can taste my first breath of it yet.
He went over to see how the crowd was doin' in the storeroom, sayin'
that he thought he'd get some eatin'-things under way to sort of
ease the strain--he knew a human all right, the Friar did. Jim an' I
walked out together under the stars, an' I told him my side of it;
an' he told me that he had met Jack Whitman when he was runnin' a
gamblin' place close to the New Mexico line. Whitman ran it on the
square an' he had saved Jim a lot o' money one night, an' then
afterwards Jim had helped to stand off a hold-up gang, an' a strong
feelin' had grew up between 'em. Whitman had told part of the story,
but made out that Barbie's mother was his own sister. When she had
left Jabez an' the child--I don't know, myself, just why she left
him. It started when she found out how he had lied to Whitman an'
mighty near killed him; but just all that happened, before she
burned out her brand and skipped, I don't know to this day, but they
was both purty high-headed an' nervy in their youth, an' I've often
suspected that Jabez' conscience didn't get to workin' smooth until
after he was left alone with the child on his hands. It sometimes
happens that way.
Well, anyhow, when she had left him she had gone to the southern
part of California, where she'd got a job teachin' school. Whitman
had located her, an' when her health gave out he had sent her money
without lettin' her know where it came from. Whitman had follered
minin' till his wife died, an' then he got to speculatin' in stocks,
finally gettin' cleaned out full an' proper, an' then he started to
gamblin' in earnest. It was from him that Jim had picked up most of
his idees about business an' gamblin'. When Whitman himself had died
he had turned Barbie's mother over to Jim.
She was livin' on a ranch in northern Colorado at this time, on
account of her health. When Jim got cleaned out by the cattle crowd,
an' opened his joint in Laramie, he brought her over to keep house
an' be company for him. He pertended to be the son of a wild uncle
she'd had, an' he fixed up a believable tale to go with it. All the
while he'd been at the Diamond Dot he had supposed that she was
Whitman's sister--she went by her maiden name of Miss Garrison, an'
she had never told him her full story, simply hintin' enough at
times to let him know that she had gone through the mill.
He had never pieced things together until I had sent him my letter,
an' then he guessed how it was, an' puttin' what I told him onto
what she an' Whitman had told him, he saw it all. He didn't know
what had made her leave Judson, or rather Jordan; but he said he was
positive it was his fault, as she was some the finest woman he had
ever met, exceptin' of course her own daughter.
We talked it all over there in the starlight, until ol' Melisse came
an' called us in. I didn't want to go; I was tryin' to cut myself
out of the game entirely an' forget that I even existed; for the'
was a cry in my heart that wouldn't hush, an' I wanted to be alone;
but when Jim insisted I braced up an' went in.
Ol' Jabez looked a heap better, but still shaky; his wife had a
tender half sad smile on her face, while Barbie was radiant with the
joy she had waited for so long; she had kept her father, she had
found her mother, an' she was about to meet--her lover. I saw the
Sioux Injuns doin' the dance once, where they tie thongs through
their breast muscles an' circle around a pole. Every now an' again
they'd fling back their full weight on the thongs, an' their faces
would light with savage joy. That was the kind of joy I felt when I
saw Barbie's face.
Her mother smiled into Jim's eyes when he came in, an' Jabez stood
up an' held out his hand. "Do you want to marry her?" he said.
"That's the only wish I have," sez Jim.
"Then she's yours, an' I thank God she's got a true man," sez Jabez,
puttin' Barbie's hand into Jim's. I turned my face away.
The first thing I knew I felt a hand on my shoulder an' another hand
taken' hold of mine. I turned an' looked down into Barbie's face,
but I couldn't bear the light in her eyes. I turned my face away
again--an' my lips were tremblin', the blasted traitors.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19 |
20 |
21 | 22 |
23