Two or three times they came and tried to open our door. Then there was some more shooting outside, and I looked out the window again.
Ham Gossett, the town marshal, had a posse in the houses and stores across the street, and was trying to bag a Trimble or two through the windows.
"I lost that game of checkers. I"m free in saying that I lost three kings that I might have saved if I had been corralled in a more peaceful pasture. But that drivelling married man sat there and cackled when he won a man like an unintelligent hen picking up a grain of corn.
"When the game was over Perry gets up and looks at his watch.
""I"ve had a glorious time, Buck," says he, "but I"ll have to be going now. It"s a quarter to seven, and I got to be home by seven, you know."
"I thought he was joking.
""They"ll clear out or be dead drunk in half an hour or an hour,"
says I. "You ain"t that tired of being married that you want to commit any more sudden suicide, are you?" says I, giving him the laugh.
""One time," says Perry, "I was half an hour late getting home. I met Mariana on the street looking for me. If you could have seen her, Buck--but you don"t understand. She knows what a wild kind of a snoozer I"ve been, and she"s afraid something will happen. I"ll never be late getting home again. I"ll say good-bye to you now, Buck."
"I got between him and the door.
""Married man," says I, "I know you was christened a fool the minute the preacher tangled you up, but don"t you never sometimes think one little think on a human basis? There"s ten of that gang in there, and they"re pizen with whisky and desire for murder. They"ll drink you up like a bottle of booze before you get half-way to the door.
Be intelligent, now, and use at least wild-hog sense. Sit down and wait till we have some chance to get out without being carried in baskets."
""I got to be home by seven, Buck," repeats this hen-pecked thing of little wisdom, like an unthinking poll parrot. "Mariana," says he, "will be out looking for me." And he reaches down and pulls a leg out of the checker table. "I"ll go through this Trimble outfit,"
says he, "like a cottontail through a brush corral. I"m not pestered any more with a desire to engage in rucuses, but I got to be home by seven. You lock the door after me, Buck. And don"t you forget--I won three out of them five games. I"d play longer, but Mariana--"
""Hush up, you old locoed road runner," I interrupts. "Did you ever notice your Uncle Buck locking doors against trouble? I"m not married," says I, "but I"m as big a d----n fool as any Mormon.
One from four leaves three," says I, and I gathers out another leg of the table. "We"ll get home by seven," says I, "whether it"s the heavenly one or the other. May I see you home?" says I, "you sarsaparilla-drinking, checker-playing glutton for death and destruction."
"We opened the door easy, and then stampeded for the front. Part of the gang was lined up at the bar; part of "em was pa.s.sing over the drinks, and two or three was peeping out the door and window and taking shots at the marshal"s crowd. The room was so full of smoke we got half-way to the front door before they noticed us. Then I heard Berry Trimble"s voice somewhere yell out:
""How"d that Buck Caperton get in here?" and he skinned the side of my neck with a bullet. I reckon he felt bad over that miss, for Berry"s the best shot south of the Southern Pacific Railroad. But the smoke in the saloon was some too thick for good shooting.
"Me and Perry smashed over two of the gang with our table legs, which didn"t miss like the guns did, and as we run out the door I grabbed a Winchester from a fellow who was watching the outside, and I turned and regulated the account of Mr. Berry.
"Me and Perry got out and around the corner all right. I never much expected to get out, but I wasn"t going to be intimidated by that married man. According to Perry"s idea, checkers was the event of the day, but if I am any judge of gentle recreations that little table-leg parade through the Gray Mule saloon deserved the head-lines in the bill of particulars.
""Walk fast," says Perry, "it"s two minutes to seven, and I got to be home by--"
""Oh, shut up," says I. "I had an appointment as chief performer at an inquest at seven, and I"m not kicking about not keeping it."
"I had to pa.s.s by Perry"s little house. His Mariana was standing at the gate. We got there at five minutes past seven. She had on a blue wrapper, and her hair was pulled back smooth like little girls do when they want to look grown-folksy. She didn"t see us till we got close, for she was gazing up the other way. Then she backed around, and saw Perry, and a kind of a look scooted around over her face--danged if I can describe it. I heard her breathe long, just like a cow when you turn her calf in the lot, and she says: "You"re late, Perry."
""Five minutes," says Perry, cheerful. "Me and old Buck was having a game of checkers."
"Perry introduces me to Mariana, and they ask me to come in. No, sir-ee. I"d had enough truck with married folks for that day. I says I"ll be going along, and that I"ve spent a very pleasant afternoon with my old partner--"especially," says I, just to jostle Perry, "during that game when the table legs came all loose." But I"d promised him not to let her know anything.
"I"ve been worrying over that business ever since it happened,"
continued Buck. "There"s one thing about it that"s got me all twisted up, and I can"t figure it out."
"What was that?" I asked, as I rolled and handed Buck the last cigarette.
"Why, I"ll tell you: When I saw the look that little woman gave Perry when she turned round and saw him coming back to the ranch safe--why was it I got the idea all in a minute that that look of hers was worth more than the whole caboodle of us--sarsaparilla, checkers, and all, and that the d----n fool in the game wasn"t named Perry Rountree at all?"