Plain Mary Smith: A Romance of Red Saunders Read online

  VIII

  ARCHIE OUT OF ASPINWALL

  The thing I recall clearest, when we dropped anchor at Aspinwall, was asmall boat putting off to us, and a curly yellow head suddenly poppingup over the rail, followed by the rest of a six-foot whole man. That wasJimmy Holton, my future boss.

  Him and Jesse swore how glad they was to see each other, andpump-handled and pounded each other on the back, whilst I sized thenewcomer up. He was my first specimen of real West-Missouri-country man;I liked the breed from that minute. He was a cuss, that Jimmy. When helooked at you with the twinkle in them blue eyes of his, you couldn'thelp but laugh. And if there wasn't a twinkle in those eyes, and youlaughed, you made a mistake. Thunder! but he was a sight to take youreye--the reckless, handsome, long-legged scamp! With his yellow silkhandkerchief around his neck, and his curls of yellow hair--pretty as awoman's--and his sombrero canted back--he looked as if he was made ofmountain-top fresh air.

  "Well, Jesse!" says he; "well, Jess, you durned old porpoise! You lookas hearty as usual, and still wearing your legs cut short, I see; butwhat the devil have you been doing to your boat?"

  "'Still wearing your legs cut short, I see'"]

  So then Jesse told him about the tornado.

  Jimmy's eyes were taking the whole place in, although he listened withcare.

  "Well, what brings you aboard, Jim!" says Jesse.

  "I'm looking for a man," says Jimmy. "I want a white man; a good, kind,orderly sort of white man that'll do what he's told without a word,and'll bust my head for me if I dast curse him the way I do the pupsworking for me now."

  "H'm!" says Jesse, sliding me a kind of underneath-the-table glance."What's the line of work?"

  "Why, the main job is to be around and look and act white. I got toodurned much to see to--there's the ranch and the mine and thestore--that drunken ex-college professor I hired did me to the tune offifteen hundred cold yellow disks and skipped. You see, I want somebodyto tell, 'Here, you look after this,' and he won't tell me that ain't inthe lesson. Ain't you got a young feller that'll grow to my ways? I'llpay him according to his size."

  "H'm!" says Jesse again, jerking a thumb toward me. "There's a boy youmight do business with."

  Jim's head come around with the quickness that marked him. Looking intothat blue eye of his was like looking into a mirror--you guessed allthere was to you appeared in it. He had me estimated in three fifths ofa second.

  "Howdy, boy!" says he, coming toward me with his hand out. "My name'sJim Holton. You heard the talk--what do you think?"

  I looked at him for a minute, embarrassed. "I don't seem to be able tothink," says I. "Lay it out again, will you? I reckon the answer isyes."

  "It sure is," says he. "It's got to be. What's your name?" He showed heliked me--he wasn't afraid to show anybody that he liked 'em--or didn't.

  "Bill," says I--"Bill Saunders."

  "Now Heaven is kind!" says he. "I hadn't raised my hopes above a Sam ora Tommy, but to think of a strapping, blue-eyed, brick-topped, bully-boyBill! Bill!" he says, "can you guess Old Man Noah's feelings when thelittle bird flew up to him with the tree in his teeth? Well, he'll seemsad alongside of me when I catch sight of that sunrise head of yoursabove my gang of mud-colored greasers and Chinamen. You owe it tocharity to give me that pleasure. By the way, William, if you should seea greaser flatten his ears back and lay a hand on his knife, what wouldyou do--read him a chapter of the Bible, or kick him in the belt?"

  I thought this over. "I don't know," says I. "I never saw anybody dothat."

  "Bill," says he, "I'm getting more and more contented with you. Ithought at first you might be quarrelsome. You don't fight, do you?"

  "Well," I says, flustered, "not to any great extent--not unless I getmad, or the other feller does something, or I feel I ought to, or--"

  "'Nough said," says he. "There's reasons enough to keep the peace ofEurope. I have observed, Bill, in this and many other countries, thatdove-winged peace builds her little nest when I hit first and hardest. Itell you, on the square, I'll use you right as long as you seem toappreciate it. That's my line of action, and I can prove it by Jesse--Ican prove anything by Jesse. No; but, honest, boy, if you come with me,there's little chance for us to bunk as long as you do your share. And,"he says, sizing me up, "if an accident should happen, when you've gotmore meat on that frame of yours, be durned if I don't believe it wouldbe worth the trouble."

  "Explain to him," says Jesse; "the boy's just away from his ma--he don'tknow nothing about working out."

  Jim turned to me, perfectly serious--he was like Sax--joke as long as itwas joking-time, then drop it and talk as straight as a rifle-barrel.

  "I want a right-hand man of my own country," he says. "You'll have towatch gangs of men to see they work up; keep an eye on what goes outfrom the stores; beat the head off the first beggar you see abusing ahorse; and do what I tell you, generally. For that, I'll put one hundredUnited States dollars in your jeans each and every month we're together,unless you prove to be worth more--or nothing. I won't pay less, for theman in the job that ain't worth a hundred ain't worth a cent--how's ithit you!"

  A hundred dollars a month! It hit me so hard my teeth rattled.

  "Well," I stammers, "a hundred dollars is an awful lot of money--youain't going to find the worth of it in my hide--I don't know aboutbossing men and things like that--why, I don't know _anything_--"

  He put his hand on my shoulder and smiled at me. He had a smile as sweetas a woman's. He was as nice as a woman, on his good side--and you'dbetter keep that side toward you. Him and Sax was of a breed there, too.I understood him better from knowing Sax.

  "Billy boy," he says, "that's my funeral. I've dealt with men someyears. I don't ask you for experience: I ask you for intentions. I getsick, living with a lot of men that don't care any more about me than Ido about them--that _ain't_ living. You can clear your mind. I like yourlooks. If I've made a mistake, why, it's a mistake, and we'll part stillgood friends. If I haven't made a mistake, it won't take you long tolearn what I want you to know, and I'll get the worth of my timetraining a good pup--is it a go, son?"

  I was so delighted I took right hold of his hand. "I begin to hope youand me will never come to words," said he as he straightened his fingersout.

  I blundered out an apology. He reached up and rubbed my hair around."There was heart in that grip, son," he said. "You needn't excuse that."

  Just then Mary came on deck and he saw her. He whistled under hisbreath. "That the kind of cargo you carry now, Jess?" he asked. "I'lltake all you got off your hands at your own price."

  "Like to know her?" says Jesse. "She's going to teach in one of themmission schools at Panama. You'll see her again, likely."

  "I suppose she ought to be consulted," says Jim; "but I'll waiveceremony with you, Jesse."

  So they went aft to where Mary stood, a little look of expectancy on herface. She'd been about to join Sax, but seeing the two come, didn't liketo move, as it was evident they had something to say to her.

  Jesse and Jim made a curious team. Jesse flew along on his littletrotters, whilst Jim swung in a long, easy cat-stride, three foot and ahalf to the pace. Jesse always looked kind of tied together loose. Jimwas trim as a race-horse--yet not finicky. His spurs rattled on thedeck. Take him from boots to scalp-lock, he was a pretty picture of aman.

  "Miss Smith," says Jesse, with a bob, "this feller's Jim Holton."

  "And very glad that he is, for once in his life," says Jim, sweeping thedeck with his hat, and looking compliments.

  Mary smiled just enough to make the dimples count. They were best of thedimple family--not fat dimples, but little spots you'd like to own.

  She wasn't the girl to take gaiety from a stranger; but, somehow, Jimshowed for what he was--a clean heart, if frolicsome.

  Mary was a match for him, all right. She made him as deep a bow, gavehim a look, and in a mock-earnest way, with her hand on her heart, said:

  "Am I to suppose myself the cause o
f so much joy?"

  "You're not to suppose--you're to know," says Jim.

  "Well," says Mary, with another flying look at him, "it doesn't seempossible; but the evidence of such very truthful and very blue, blueeyes"--she stopped and looked at the eyes--"is, of course, beyondquestioning."

  That knocked Jimmy. Underneath his dash, he was a modest fellow, and tohave his personal appearance remarked openly rattled him. Mary'd got thewar on his territory in two seconds. He looked at her, dumb; until,seeing her holding back her laughter by means of a row of the whitest ofteeth set into the most interesting of under lips, he laughed right outand offered his hand.

  "I'll simply state in plain English," he says, not wanting to quitwhipped, "that you are the best use those eyes have ever been put to."

  "That's entirely satisfactory," says Mary. "I'd have a bad dispositionnot to be contented with that--and, Mr. Holton, here's a friend ofmine--Mr. Saxton."

  Saxton was the only one who hadn't drawn entertainment out of theprevious performance. He and Holton shook hands without smiles. It wasmore like the hand-shake before "time" is called. But they looked eachother square in the eye--honest enemies, at least--not like the durnedbrute--well, he comes later.

  There they stood; fine, graceful, upstanding huskies, both; each ashandsome as the other, in his own way; each as able as the other, in hisown way; one black and poetic-looking; the other fair andromantic-looking. You pays your money and you takes your choice. Saxknew more of books; Jim knew more of men. Sax knew the wild lands ofmusic and such; Jim had slept with an Injun or two watching out to besure he wasn't late for the office the next morning. Either one wasplenty durn good enough to make a girl fix her hair straight.

  And there stood Mary, the cause of the look each man put upon the other.She'd brought down Jim in one stroke--he was a sudden sort of jigger.Well, there she stood; and if there's anything in having a subject worthfighting for, those two fellers ought to have been the happiest of men.

  I'm glad I can add this: Mary didn't _want_ any man to fight abouther--not much! She was the real, true woman; the kind that brings hopein her hand. Of course she had some vanity, and if two fellows got alittle cross when she was around, that wouldn't break her heart; but toarouse any deep feeling of anger between two men--why, I honestlybelieve she'd rather they'd strike her than each other. Oh, no! Shestood for nothing of that kind. She stood heart and soul for light andfun and kindness. If she made mistakes, it was from a naturalunderrating of how the other party felt, or, like her worst mistake,through some twisted idea of duty. There's a saying that a littleknowledge is a dangerous thing, and that's particularly true of women.When a good woman gets hold of half a fact, she can raise the very devilwith it.

  That two felt disposed to glare put restraint on conversation, and aftersome talk, in which Jim fished for an invitation to call on Mary inPanama, and got what you might call a limited order--"I shall be veryglad to see you, sometime, Mr. Holton"--he turned and treated me to aview of Western methods.

  "Pack your turkey and come with me, Bill," he says.

  "What--_now_?" says I.

  "Well, I'll wait, if you want me to," he says. "But what's your reason?"

  "Not any," says I, and skipped for my truck. Isn't it surprising howpeople, even boys, that ain't much troubled about fixed rules, will keepon going the same old way; not because there's sense, comfort, norprofit in it, but simply because it is the same old way? I've knownfolks to live in places and keep at jobs, hating both, could quiteasily, yet staying on and on, simply because they were there yesterday.I've got so that if people start talking over an act, I feel likesaying, "For Heaven's sake! Let's try it and then we'll _know_," whileat the same time it happens that their talk is so good, I feel bashfulabout cutting in. Give me the Western idea. People that get an actionon, instead of an oration. That is, if they're the right kind of people.Yet I dearly love to talk. It's a strange world!

  Jimmy was the Western idea on two legs. The moment he thought of athing, he grew busy. And when work was over, I'd talk him against anyman I ever met. Perhaps the chief difference between the Western man'sway and the Eastern man's way is that the Westerner says it's fun andbelieves it, whilst the Easterner says it's a great and holy undertakinghe's employed in, and wastes lots of time trying to believe it. We alldo the things we like to do, and we might as well admit it, cheerful.

  I hadn't much more than time to say good-by all around, and find outwhere Sax and Mary were going to stay, before I was off on the new deal.

  "Have you ever ridden a horse?" Jim asks me, when we hit shore.

  "Never," says I.

  "Well," says he, rubbing his head, "we _can_ go across on the railroad,but I'd like to stop here and there. It wouldn't be so bad if the goodcritters hadn't been all hired out or bought this last rush. As it is,you stand to get on to something that don't want you. My Pedro'd eat youalive if you laid a hand on him, or I'd trade with you--you got to learnsometime, Bill, but you'll get a tough first lesson here--suppose wetake the train, eh?"

  Now, I hadn't come to the Isthmus of Panama to exhibit all the things Iwas afraid of. I didn't like the thought of playing puss-in-the-cornerwith a horse I'd never met before, a little bit, and I liked the idea ofbacking out still less.

  "Trot your animal out," I says. "I guess, if I get a hold on him, wewon't separate for a while."

  Jim rubbed his head again.

  "I don't want to lose you right in the start," he says. "These mustangsare the most reliable hunks of wickedness on earth--"

  "All I need to try and ride is a horse," I says. He laughed and shruggedhis shoulders. "I won't quarrel with that spirit," he says. He spoke toa native in Spanish. The feller looked at me and spread both hands. Iscarcely knew there was such a thing as a Spanish language, but I knewthat those hands said, "This is the impossible you have shoved down mychimney."

  Jim translated. "He says he can't think of but one brute, and he can'timagine you and that one making any kind of combination."

  "If you're keeping me here to see my sand run out, you'll make it, allright," I says--"otherwise, get that horse."

  Jim spoke to the native and the native looked at me again, shaking hishead sorrowful. At last he discarded all responsibility and ambled off.

  Here come my gallant steed. His neck had a haughty in-curve; he wasbow-legged forrud, and knock-kneed aft. His hips stuck out so far thehair couldn't get the nourishment it needed, and fell out. He had a noselike Julius Caesar, an under lip that hung down three inches, and the eyeof a dying codfish. I lost all fear of him at once. Ignorance is thepapa of courage. According to instructions, I put my left foot in thestirrup and made ready to board. At that instant my trusty steed whippedhis head around like a rattlesnake, gathered a strip of flesh about sixinches long, shut his eyes, and made his teeth to approach each other.I've been hurt several times in my life, but for straight agony give mea horse-bite.

  With a yell that brought out every revolutionist in Aspinwall,--whichmeans the town was there,--I grabbed that cussed brute by the windpipeand stopped his draft. Jim and the native made some motions.

  "Keep out of this!" I hollered. "This is my fight!"

  So then me and my faithful horse began to see who could stand it thelongest. There was nothing soul-stirring and uplifting about thecontest. He pinched my leg, and I pinched his throat. He kicked me, andI kicked him. We wrastled all over the place, playing plainstick-to-him-Pete. The worst of having a hand-to-hand with an animal isthat he don't tire. You get weaker and weaker; they get stronger andstronger. Besides, the pain in my leg almost seemed to stop my heart.Murder! how it hurt!

  At the same time, a horse doesn't do as well without an occasionalbreath of fresh air, and I had this feller's supply cut off short.Pretty soon he got frantic, and the way he tore and r'ared around therewas a treat. It didn't occur to either one of us to let go. Finally,when I'd ceased to think entirely, there came a staggering sort of fall;hands took hold of me and dragged me away.

 
; Jim lifted my head and gave me a drink of water. He swore at himselfferocious, and by all that was great and powerful, lie was going toshoot that horse.

  By this time I was interested in the art of riding. I told him he wasn'tgoing to kill my horse; that I intended to ride that same mustang out ofthe town of Aspinwall if it took some time and all of my left leg.

  "What's the good of being a fool?" says he. "Now, Bill, you besensible."

  "Where's the horse?" says I.

  He had to laugh. "United you fell," says he. "I honest think he hadn't acent the best of it."

  I got on my feet and made for Mr. Mustang. As the critter stood there,with his sad lower lip hanging slack, thinking what a wicked world itwas, I recalled who he looked like. He was the dead ringer for ArchibaldBlavelt, back home. Archie was such a mean old cuss that theneighborhood was proud of him--he carried it 'way beyond the point whereit was a disgrace. I should have known better than to tackle anythingthat resembled Archie, but I didn't. Instead, I walked up, club in hand,waiting for the mustang to make a crooked move. He paid no attention,let me put my foot in the stirrup, swing aboard and settle down. Nottill then did he toss his head gaily in the air and holler for joy. Yousee, he'd made out that we were likely to break even, both on theground, so he tried getting under me. I refuse to say what happenednext. I thought I was aboard the _Matilda_ with the tornado on. I saw,in jerks, pale-faced men scrambling right up the sides of houses; womenshrieking and dusting away from there, and between thirty and fortythousand dogs, barking and snapping and tumbling out of the way.

  I laid two strong hands on Archie's (I called him Archie) mane andwrapped my legs around his barrel and gave myself up for lost. We spentyears tearing that section of Aspinwall to pieces, till, all of asudden, Archie give a jump that landed me on his rump and pulled out formore room. And didn't he go! It was scandalous, the way he flapped thembony legs of his. Once in a while he kicked up behind, and I made a finebow. Every time that happened some polite Spaniard took off his hat tome, thinking I was a friend he hadn't time to recognize.

  "I laid two strong hands on Archie's mane"]

  I stayed with that mustang, somehow, until we come to a narrow alley. Atthe end of it a fearful fat Spaniard, with a Panama hat and a greenumbrella, was crossing. I hollered to him to get out of the way, but thesight of me and Archie streaming in the breeze surprised him so he stoodparalyzed. He made a fat man's hop for safety, too late. When we werefifteen feet from him, Archie threw a hand-spring, and I put my head,like a red buttonhole bouquet, plumb in the gentleman's vest.

  "Assassin!" he cries, and fetches me a wipe with the green umbrellabefore he expires temporarily on the street.

  Of course, there's lots of things will damage you worse than butting astout gentleman; at the same time I went at him quick, and stoppedquicker. This world was all a dizzy show, till the crowd came up, Jim,on his Pedro, leading. They were all there: all the revolutionists, allthe women with babies, and all the dogs, down to the last pup. Icouldn't have had a bigger audience if I'd done something to be proudof.

  Some of 'em held on to the fat gentleman, who was yearning to draw myheart's blood with the green umbrella. Some of 'em stood and admiredArchie, who was smacking his lips over some grass that grew on the side,and looked about as vicious as Mary and her little lamb; some of 'emcome to help me--all conversed freely.

  "Now, darn your buttons!" says Jim, "you might have been killed! Hadn'tbeen for Senor Martinez there, you would 'a' been. Didn't I tell you notto try it again--didn't I?"

  It was quite true he had told me that very thing. At the same time, oneof the least consoling things in this world, when a man's made a fool ofhimself, is to have somebody come up and tell him he prophesied it.You'd like to think it just happened that way. It breaks your heart tofeel it's like twice two.

  I sat up and looked at Jim. "You told me all that," says I, "but what'sthe matter with letting virtue be its own reward?"

  Jim laughed and said he guessed I was not quite done yet. Then heintroduced me to Mr. Martinez as the grateful result of a well-linedstomach applied at the proper time.

  Martinez sheathed the green umbrella and extended the hand offriendship, like the Spanish gentleman he was.

  "Ah me!" says he, "but you ride with furiosity! And," he addsthoughtfully, "your head is of a firmness." He waved his hand so thediamonds glittered like a shower. "A treefle--a leetle, leetle treeful,"by which he meant trifle. "Now," says he, as if we'd finished someimportant business, "shall we resuscitate?"

  Jim said we would, so the whole crowd moved to where Santiago ChristobalColon O'Sullivan gave you things that lightened the shadows for the timebeing, and proceeded to resuscitate.

  Inside, Mr. Martinez the Stout told the whole story between drinks. Hewas the horse, or me, or himself, or the consequences, as occasionrequired. I'd have gone through more than that to see Mr. Martinezgallop the length of the saloon, making it clear to us how Archie acted.And when he was me, darned if he didn't manage to look like me, and whenhe was Archie he seemed to thin out and grow bony hip-jointsimmediately; Archie'd nickered at sight of him. How in blazes athree-hundred-pound Spanish gentleman contrived to resemble a thin,red-headed six-foot-two New England kid and a bow-necked, cat-hammedmustang is an art beyond me. He did it; let it go at that.

  Outside, the men went over it all. The women dropped their babies in thestreet, so they could have their hands free to talk. I think even thedogs took a shy at the story. Never were folks so interested. And,strange to Yankee eyes, not a soul laughed.

  I learned then the reason why the Spanish-American incorporated therevolution in his constitution. It's because of the scarcity oftheaters. If there was a theater for every ten inhabitants, and playswritten where everybody was a king, peace would settle on SpanishAmerica like a green scum on a frog-pond.

  Howsomever, I ain't going to jeer at those people. I got to like 'em,and, as far as that goes, we have little fool ways of our own that wenotice when we get far enough away from home to see straight.

  I didn't ride Archie out of Aspinwall. I went to a hotel, slept strictlyon one side, and scrapped it out with the little natives of the Isthmusuntil morning.

  Curious, how things go. After this first experience I shouldn't havesaid that riding a horse would grow on me until being without one mademe feel as if I'd lost the use of my legs. Water is all right. I likeboats--I like about everything--but still, I think the Almighty neverdid better by man than when he put him on a horse. A good horse, opencountry--miles of it, without a stick or hole--a warm sun and a coolwind--can you beat it? I can't.