Mavericks
It was only after much earnest labor that they managed to get on the
buckboard seat. There were three sacks of flour in the back, and two
sacks under their feet. The old springs sagged dangerously under the
weight, and the half-broken team wanted to run.
Hank managed to curb their desire until they were a mile out of town,
when Jerry complained about their snail-like pace, grabbed the lines
away from Hank and dropped one of them. The sudden movement behind them
was enough to startle the team. Away they went, with Jerry hanging to
the one line, and all three men hanging to each other to keep upright.
The road was crooked but flat, and the brush grew close to the sides.
Jerry did not try to guide them. They were cold-jawed brutes, anyway,
and they wanted to run. The road was sandy and the runaways made little
sound above the squeal of the dry axles.
The two horses were running as fast as they could, the wheels of the
buckboard showering the brush with sand at every curve, when suddenly
both animals shied to the right, and three men, with three sacks of
flour, went high into the air and came down in a heap.
One sack caught on a mesquite snag, ripped half open, and its contents
descended like an avalanche. The team kept right on going. When the
cloud of dust and flour blew aside there stood Bill McGill in the middle
of the road, in the same position as when the team shied away from him.
* * * * *
Bill had lost his hat, his pants were torn, shirt ripped, and he was
carrying one boot in his hand. His face and hands were burned a bright
red and his nose looked like a pickled beet. Taken altogether, Bill
McGill did not greatly resemble the William Allen McGill of San
Francisco.
Hank was the first to recover. He came up like a snowman. His face was
white and his collar was full of flour. He blew disgustedly and the
blast left a dark streak up his face. Then he sneezed. Bill McGill
jerked slightly. Up came Hoddy. He was also white, until he drew a
sleeve across his face, leaving part of his features exposed. Then came
Jerry. The only reason why his face was not white was that Jerry had
landed face down. The three of them gazed at Bill, and Bill gazed at
them.
“There’s the devil,” grunted Jerry. “I reckon we all got killed.”
“I’m William Allen McGill,” said Bill, slowly and distinctly.
The three men looked at one another.
“T’ meetcha,” said Jerry, bobbing his head.
“What’re you doin’ out there?” asked Hoddy. “Was it you that scared our
team off the road?”
“They went off that way,” said Bill, pointing. “I suppose that is the
team to which you refer.”
“Have you scared other teams today?” asked Hank curiously.
“No, sir. I—I just found this road.”
“Was it lost?” asked Jerry.
“I was lost, I suppose.”
“Mm-m-m. Too damn’ bad you didn’t stay lost—until we got past you. Where
do you think you’re goin’?”
“I haven’t any idea.”
The three men, nearly sobered by their fall, came out through the brush
and looked at Bill.
“In a couple days you’re goin’ to peel off,” said Hank, looking at
Bill’s red face and hands. “Where’s your hat?”
“I lost it.”
“Uh-huh. Foot sore?”
“Very. In fact, I am afraid it is one mass of blisters. That is why I am
not wearing my boot.”
“I’d judge that’s why. Belong around here?”
Bill shook his head slowly.
“I don’t believe I do.”
“Maverick,” pronounced Jerry.
“McGill,” corrected Bill quickly.
“Well, hell!” snorted Hoddy. “Let’s stop gassin’ and find that team.”
“We’ll find ’em at the ranch-house gate,” said Hank. “Steve will be
there and fire me and Jerry. He said he’d tie a can on us if we ever got
drunk again durin’ the month.”
“Is this durin’ the month?” asked Jerry.
“It’s the fifteenth.”
“Goodby job. Well, I been meanin’ to move on, anyway. I ain’t wed to no
job.”
“I’m still lost,” said Bill helplessly.
Hank got a sudden idea.
“Let’s take him back to the ranch. Mebbe Steve will git to laughin’ and
forget to fire us.”
“Shore,” agreed Jerry quickly. “C’mon, redskin. We’ll paint you up with
vaseline and you won’t pain yourself so much.”
“I should be very grateful. You see, I have been walking since early
last evening. Luckily I found two places where water oozed from the
ground, and was able to get a drink. But at one place some cows chased
me and I was obliged to seek safety in a tree.”
“Where the hell did you come from?” asked Hank.
“I believe the town was Cinnabar.”
“You walked from Cinnabar?”
“Well, I ran a little, you see.”
“Didn’t you have no horse?”
“Well, I did have. You see, I loaned two men four hundred and fifty
dollars to purchase three horses. One of these horses was given to me
and I was instructed to wait for them along an old road. It was after
dark, when a man came along. I made myself known to him, and he—he
knocked me down, robbed me of my remaining money and took my horse. So,
I walked.”
The three men looked at one another seriously and then looked at Bill.
Bill was not lying and they knew it.
“That’s why I’ve allus wanted to git away from here and into a place
like Cinnabar, where there’s opportunities,” said Jerry sadly.
“And so you walked, eh?” mused Hank.
“Yes. I didn’t want to go back. You see, they tried to arrest me for
stealing horses in High Grade.”
“Didja?”
“No. I merely purchased a stolen horse.”
“Feller,” grinned Jerry, “you’ve been livin’ a fast pace.”
“But I was innocent.”
“Anybody could look at you and see that. What didja say your name was?”
“Is,” corrected Bill. “My name is—I am known as William Allen McGill.”
“Well, Bill, I’d like you to meet Hank Blue, Uncle Hoddy Noon and Jerry
Dole. I’m Dole.”
“I’m certainly pleased to make your acquaintance, gentlemen.”
“Do you drink?” asked Uncle Hoddy.
“Why, I—I never have—not intoxicating liquors.”
Hoddy shook his head sadly.
“Gotta keep him away from my wife. All she needs is a howlin’ example to
point out what I might be like if I didn’t drink. Let’s go. I’ll borrow
a horse from Steve to ride home.”
* * * * *
They plodded along the hot road, with Bill bringing up the rear. He was
hardly able to navigate, but he did not complain. He had been alone so
long that his aches and pains were forgotten in the pleasurable
knowledge that he was again among human beings.
The team had gone home, and Sid Brayton had unhitched them. The front
axle had been badly sprung and several spokes knocked from the wheels,
but otherwise the equipage was intact. The harness was broken in a few
places, but that could be easily repaired. Steve Pelliser was not at
home, but Mary was there.
They walked up to the porch, where she was standing. Mary knew what had
happened; knew that Hank and Jerry had got drunk and let the team run
away. And it was not difficult for her to imagine that Uncle Hoddy had
been drinking with them. They were still covered with flour.
Bill McGill stopped at the bottom step and stared at Mary. He was still
carrying one boot in his hand, and most of the sock on that foot was
gone.
“Miss Pelliser,” said Hank gravely, “lemme make you used to Bill McGill.
He’s somethin’ we found in the road jist after the smash. Bill, this is
Miss Pelliser.”
“I am certainly pleased to meet you, Miss Pelliser,” said Bill.
Mary checked a smile. It was easy to see that Bill McGill was not a
product of the cattle country. His nose was swelling from sunburn, and
there was a suspicion that Bill’s entire face might change contour from
the scorching it had received.
“He walked all the way from Cinnabar,” offered Jerry.
“Said he run part of the way,” said Uncle Hoddy seriously. “How are you,
Mary?”
“Fine, Uncle Hoddy. How is Aunt Ida?”
“Full of aches.”
“She isn’t sick, is she?”
“Mentally. I took a couple drinks, and she drove home without me.”
Mary smiled with complete understanding; she turned to Bill.
“You better come in and let me dope up your face, Mr. McGill. You are
not accustomed to an Arizona sun, I am afraid.”
Bill grinned foolishly.
“I lost my hat last night. But I—I do not wish to bother any one with my
troubles.”
“No trouble,” said Mary. “I’ll get some olive oil from One Hop. It will
stop the burning very quickly.”
She went back into the house and Bill sank down on the steps. He was
about at the end of his endurance.
“I reckon I better borrow a bronc and head for home,” said Uncle Hoddy.
“Might as well get it over with. I’ve got jist so much comin’ to me, and
the sooner it’s over the better I’ll be feelin’. A man is a fool to
drink.”
“Why do you drink?” asked Bill indifferently.
“You and my wife would make a damn’ good team! That question was old
when them hills out there was holes in the ground, and no man has ever
been wise enough to answer it correctly. And is it any of your
business?”
“None,” replied Bill dully.
“Then you won’t team with my wife worth a dang. Gimme a horse, Hank.”
The three of them wandered down to the stable. Mary came out with the
olive oil bottle. Bill was really a pitiful sight. His ears were one
mass of blisters, and his eyes were beginning to puff badly. Mary looked
him over thoughtfully.
“Young man,” she said, as though she were old enough to be his mother,
“you are a fit subject for a hospital. Come in the house.”
He stumbled in after her, and she led him to a cool bedroom at the rear
of the old ranch-house. Then she called to One Hop, the Chinese cook,
who came shuffling in, grinning widely. She handed him the bottle and
pointed at Bill.
“As soon as he is undressed you sop this oil all over his burns. Give
him plenty. And you better fix up his foot, too. That’s all blistered.”
“Yes’m.” One Hop bobbed his head. “Plenty oil on head. Velly bad. Fix up
foot, yes’m.”
“How long since you ate a meal, Mr. McGill?”
“Yesterday morning, Miss Pelliser,” Bill answered weakly.
“I fix meal,” said One Hop. “Fix head and foot, fix meal. Yessa.”
“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother,” said Bill wearily.
“Where do you think you are—in a city?”
“Oh, I beg your pardon. Mighty nice of you.”
“Rats!” said Mary inelegantly. “We even doctor sick calves. You let One
Hop fix you up. He’s good at such things. You better eat something and
then take a good sleep. No one will bother you here.”
“I don’t suppose I can ever repay you. I don’t know what I would have
done if I hadn’t met those men. I’m really going blind.”
“Plenty swell,” grinned One Hop. “All lite tomalla, mebbe.”
Mary walked out and closed the door. She was sitting on the porch when
her father came up from the stable, still wearing his chaps and gun. He
had been told about the tenderfoot. Mary explained his condition and
what she had done with him.
“That’s fine,” said her father. “Poor devil needs attention, I reckon.
Well, Hank and Jerry have quit the job.”
“Quit?”
He nodded thoughtfully.
“Yes. The last time they got drunk and smashed up a rig, I told ’em that
if they ever done it again I’d fire the pair of ’em. Well, they smashed
another rig today—and quit. I wouldn’t have fired ’em, but I suppose
it’s just as well.”
“Leaves us rather short-handed, Daddy.”
“Yeah, that’s true; but we’ll get along. They’ve been wantin’ to go up
into Wyomin’ for quite awhile. Hank’s got a brother up in the Wind River
country.”
“Did you see Uncle Hoddy?”
“No. He got away just ahead of me.” Steve Pelliser laughed. “I’d like to
be a mouse in the wall when Hoddy meets Aunt Ida. But she’s to blame for
a lot of it. A man don’t like to be preached to all the time. She talks
liquor to him so often that he gets thirsty. What’s the name of this
young bunch of sunburn you’ve adopted?”
“I never adopted him. His name is McGill—Bill McGill.”