Mavericks
“Is it? You admit that you led him into temptation, Steve Pelliser?”
“Well, I—I bought the liquor.”
Caliente started to come out of the kitchen, turned right around and
went through the back door, fairly carrying Uncle Hoddy with him.
“You know his weakness,” said Aunt Ida severely.
“Yeah, he can’t stand much liquor.”
“Well, I shall stop any further indulgence.”
Aunt Ida flung open the door and swept grandly into the kitchen. The men
were massed around a table, where One Hop, the cook, was pouring out the
liquor. Aunt Ida’s eyes quickly searched the group. There was Piute
Jones, but of Caliente and Uncle Hoddy there was no trace.
Ed Lane coughed apologetically and Aunt Ida shot him a searching glance.
“Does Julia know you are in here, steeping your soul in this devil’s
brew?” she asked.
“She ought to know me, after all these years, Aunt Ida,” he said.
“Mm-m-m-m! I’ll bet she don’t.”
“I’ll bet she will,” meaningly.
“Where’s Hoddy and Caliente?”
“I dunno. Anybody know where they are?”
“Hoddy and Caliente,” said Piute owlishly, “have gone out to pail the
cows.”
“Piute Jones, you’re drunk!”
“Mad’m,” replied Piute, “that’s a debatable ques’n.”
“You don’t even know what you’re doing.”
“Debatable, mad’m. I know what you’re doin’.”
“What am I doing?”
“Ruinin’ a perf’ly good party for everybody.”
Aunt Ida went out, slamming the door behind her. In the living room she
found Uncle Hoddy and Caliente, seated side by side, very erect and as
immovable as two statues. They had sneaked in the front way. To her
everlasting credit she said nothing to them, but sat down with the women
and resumed the conversation.
Steve Pelliser mopped his eyes, while the two men looked him over
gravely.
Jim McGowan was greatly amused, but finally moved over closer to
Pelliser.
“I want to talk seriously to you, Steve,” he said softly.
“Seriously?”
“It’s serious with me.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, go ahead, Mac.”
“I want to marry your daughter.”
For several moments Steve Pelliser did not speak. His eyes shifted to
Mary and he lifted his head, staring at the opposite wall.
“That is serious,” he said slowly. “Too serious, I’m afraid, Mac. You’re
old enough to be her father.”
“What has age to do with it?”
“You’re close to fifty, while she’s twenty-one. That’s a big gap.”
“It’s been done before, Pelliser.”
“Yes, I suppose it has—and to the sorrow of both parties, in many cases.
Have you spoken to Mary?”
“No. I wanted your permission first. That is, I wanted you to know my
intentions.”
Steve looked squarely at McGowan now, and their eyes met.
“What did you mean by that last remark, McGowan?” asked Pelliser.
“Just what I said.” McGowan’s eyes shifted, his jaw squared. “She’s of
age.”
“I reckon I understand your meanin’, now. Yes, she’s of age. And if she
wants to marry you against my wishes, I’ll have to stand for it, I
reckon.”
McGowan’s fists clenched.
“Against your wishes, Pelliser?”
“That’s what I said. I want her to marry happily, and I don’t think she
would be happy with you.”
“Thanks. What have you got against me?”
“You.”
Mary was coming toward them, and Pelliser went to meet her.
“I wonder where Pink Lowry and Dud Evans are?” she asked.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about them two, honey. Maybe they had to ride on
official business. But they’ll be here. Any time Dud or Pink miss a
party, it’s mighty serious.”
* * * * *
McGowan walked past them, heading for the kitchen. Uncle Hoddy and
Caliente turned their heads wistfully and watched him go. Aunt Ida
looked at them and they froze to their chairs.
“Can’t you get Aunt Ida upstairs?” whispered Steve. “Take her somewhere
to give them old boys a chance to sneak.”
Mary shook her head slowly.
“Daddy, she wouldn’t move out of here to catch a glimpse of her favorite
heaven. What were you and Jim McGowan quarreling over?”
“We weren’t quarreling.”
“No? I thought you were. Is he an awful good friend of yours?”
“Why?”
“I just wondered if I needed to be especially nice to him.”
Her father laughed shortly.
“I never asked you to be especially nice to anybody, did I?”
“No, but I just wondered. I don’t believe I like him very well.”
“Oh! Well, run along and have a good time.”
And just at that moment Pink Lowry and Dud Evans came in. Some of the
boys came from the kitchen at the same time, stopping at the doorway to
stare at the two officers. And well they might.
They wore the first dress suits ever seen in the Willow Valley.
“My Gawd!” blurted Caliente Smith, pointing at Pink. “Look at the tiger
lily in mournin’!”
Pink shot Caliente a glance of deadly hatred, but kept still, while
every one stared at them. It was Mary who broke the spell by stepping
forward to welcome them. The men crowded in, all talking at once, and in
the confusion both Caliente and Uncle Hoddy made their escape to the
kitchen.
“I’m so glad you came,” said Mary chokingly.
“Oh, we’d shore come,” grinned Pink. “Try to keep us away.”
Pink was resplendent in the red and black silk shirt, which was not at
all subdued, the glaring yellow tie fairly shrieking against it. Dud
wore a green silk shirt and a bright red tie, pinned to the bosom of his
shirt with an immense bejeweled horseshoe. The tails of Pink’s coat
nearly reached the floor. That is, one tail did. The other was hiked up
over the butt of a heavy Colt revolver, which Pink wore in one of his
hip pockets in lieu of a belt and holster. Dud wore his gun stuck inside
the waistband of his trousers, blousing his shirt over the butt.
Both men went around shaking hands, followed by amazed eyes. Pink shook
hands violently with Aunt Ida.
“Where’s Uncle Hoddy?” he asked.
She craned her neck past Pink and looked at the empty chairs.
“He’s gone,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
“Yeah?” Pink stared at her. “You don’t mean he—died?”
“If I don’t stop him, he might.” She jumped to her feet and headed for
the kitchen.
A look of understanding overspread Pink’s face and he turned to meet Jim
McGowan. McGowan was looking him over in an insolent, amused way, and
Pink’s ears reddened quickly.
“Well, go ahead and say it,” said Pink coldly.
McGowan laughed shortly.
“Are you _trying_ to be funny, Lowry?”
Pink’s blue eyes narrowed. Trying to be funny! He did not understand.
“This wasn’t no masquerade, you know,” said McGowan.
Possibly a dozen people heard that remark. Pink looked down at his new
clothes, at the riot of color on his bosom. Masquerade! He looked up,
but McGowan was walking away, grinning. Mary had heard some of it. Pink
looked at her. She was not laughing at him. Then he turned and went into
the kitchen.
Pink had made up his mind not to touch a drink, but he needed something
now. He was not mad; he was hurt. Besides Mary and McGowan, none of the
people considered his garb incongruous. They did not understand. Pink
realized that neither he nor Dud looked like the man in the little
catalogue, but he did not know that their shirts, ties and boots were
out of place with dress clothes. He knew now.
Dud was out there drinking with the men, explaining about the new suits.
“They’re the latest thing in Sunday clothes,” he told them. “They call
these the ‘show your shirt’ coats. Pretty slick, eh? Well, here’s m’
best regards. Somebody give Pink a glass, will you? Another glass, One
Hop. That’s the boy! What’s th’ matter, Pink?”
“Nothin’ the matter with Pink,” chorused several.
“Open and above board,” laughed another.
“You jist missed out, Pink,” laughed Jerry Dole. “Aunt Ida jist saved
Uncle Hoddy from temptation. He ain’t had more than a quart. She tried
to save Caliente, but the old boy was goin’ down for the last time, and
her rope was too short. He’s settin’ on the wood box.”
But Pink was in no laughing mood. He was getting over his hurt, and
anger was taking its place.
“I’ll take another,” he said seriously. “That stuff ain’t strong.”
Steve Pelliser had seen it all and wondered what it was about. Then Mary
told him what McGowan had said.
“Well, wasn’t them suits all right, honey?” he asked.
“You wouldn’t understand, Daddy. They were all wrong. But what does it
matter? Oh, I felt so sorry for Pink. He’s hurt deeply and I’m afraid
he’s hurt at me.”
“I don’t think so. Pink’s no fool. Sa-a-ay!” He took her by the
shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “You seem to be a heap interested
in Pink Lowry’s feelin’s.”
Mary flushed quickly, but her eyes did not draw away when she replied:
“Pink is one of our guests, Daddy. I would insult myself if I said or
did anything wrong toward him tonight.”
“Do you consider McGowan’s talk as an insult to you?”
“Don’t you?”
Pelliser sighed deeply.
“I dunno much about such things, Mary.”
“Maybe we better forget it for this time. At least Pink was too much of
a gentleman to resent it.”
* * * * *
The orchestra was tuning up in the dining room and Jerry Dole, who
called all the Willow Wells dances, was yelling for everybody to take
partners for a quadrille. McGowan hurried to find Mary, only to be told
that she was engaged for the first dance. McGowan frowned, but said
nothing except that he was sorry.
“Two more couple!” yelled Jerry. “Two more couple!”
Mary realized her predicament. No one had asked her for the first dance.
She stepped to the door of the dining room, with McGowan standing just
behind her.
“One more couple!” yelled Jerry. “Jist one more couple!”
Pink came from the kitchen and Mary motioned for him to take her. He did
not understand for several moments, and she walked toward him, motioning
at the vacant spot in the set. Then he understood. Jim McGowan also
understood. He shut his jaw tightly, turned and walked back to the front
of the room, where he rolled a cigarette, thinking blackly.
Finally he went outside, closing the door behind him. Steve Pelliser and
Dud Evans were still in the kitchen, while the house resounded with the
strains of “Money Musk” and the trampling of heavy feet.
“Did you and Pink stable your horses?” asked Steve.
“Didn’t bother about it, Steve. Tied ’em to the fence.”
“I’ll have one of the boys stable ’em. You won’t go home until late, and
there’s no use havin’ ’em stand out there all night. How about one more
jolt?”
“Fine.”
Someone called to Dud and he left the kitchen. Steve talked for a few
moments with One Hop about the supper and then went outside, where he
untied the two horses and took them to the stable.
Mary knew that Pink was hurt. He did not join in the laughter and
good-natured joking with the rest. He got all mixed up in the changes,
which was unusual with Pink, for he was a good dancer.
“I hope you will have a good time,” she said timidly, when they stopped
after the first set.
“I’m havin’ a good time,” he said wearily. “I—I just don’t feel so
good.”
“I wouldn’t let McGowan hurt my feelings, Pink.”
“Oh, him!”
The music started again, cutting off further conversation, and after the
dance was over he thanked Mary and walked away. He wanted to be alone;
he walked through the kitchen and went outside. One Hop was on the back
porch, turning the handle of an ice cream freezer, which creaked loudly.
It was dark out there.
Pink stepped off the porch and walked slowly down toward the corral. His
first impulse was to get on his horse and go home, but he decided that
such a move would be unkind to Steve and Mary. He went down to the
corral, where he sat down on a pile of old lumber. No one would see him
there in the dark, and he could think things over calmly.
He heard the stable door shut with a loud bang. Someone came out on the