Heart's Desire

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE CORPORATION AT HEART'S DESIRE

  _This being the Story of a Parrot, Certain Twins, and a Pair of CandyLegs_

  Time wore on at Heart's Desire, uncalendared and unclocked. The sunrose, passed through a sky impenetrably blue, and sank behind BaxterPeak at evening. These were the main events of the day. All men hadapparently long ago forgotten the departure of the stage-coach that hadborne away at one voyaging both Eve and Eastern Capital. Eve had goneforever, as she supposed, although Capital secretly knew full well thatit, at least, was coming back again.

  The population shifted and changed, coming and going, as was the wontof the land, but none questioned the man booted and spurred who rodeout of town or who came into town. Of late, however, certain bootedand bearded men wandered afoot over the mountain sides, doing strangethings with strange instruments. A railroad was about to cross thecountry somewhere. Grave and moody, Heart's Desire sat in the sun, andfor two months did not mention the subject which weighed upon its mind.Curly broke the silence one morning at a plebiscite of four men whogathered to bask near Whiteman's corral.

  "I hit the trail of them surveyors," said he, "other side of LoneMountain, day before yestiday. They've got a line of pegs drove in theground. Looks like they was afraid their old railroad was goin' to gitlost from 'em, unless they picketed it out right strong."

  Reproachful eyes were turned on Curly, but he went on.

  "It's goin' to run right between Carrizoso ranch and the mouth of ourcanon," said he. "You'll have to cross it every time you come to town,McKinney. When she gits to runnin' right free and general, there'll bea double row of cow corpses from here to Santa Rosa. What this herenew railroad is a-goin' to do to your English stockholders, Mac, is adeep and abidin' plenty."

  McKinney made no reply, but looked stolidly out across the valley.

  "Them fellers come up into town for tobacco, Doc." Curly threw out thesuggestion cheerfully.

  "Tobacco ain't _drugs_," said Doc Tomlinson, annoyed. He wassensitive about allusions to his stock of drugs, which had beenimported some years before, and under a misapprehension as to Heart'sDesire's future.

  "We might shoot up the surveyors," said Curly, tentatively. But DanAnderson shook his head.

  "That's the worst of it," he answered, "We might shoot any one of ushere, and the world wouldn't care. But if we shot even a leg off oneof the least of these, them States folks would never rest content. Forme, I'm goin' in with the railroad. Looks like I'd have to becorporation counsel."

  "Well, I reckon we won't have to drive our cows quite so far tomarket," apologized McKinney, striving to see the silver lining.

  "Oh, drop it," snapped Doc Tomlinson. "I might as well say I could getin my drugs easier. Cows can walk; and as for importin' things,everybody knows that Tom Osby can haul in everything that's needed inthis valley."

  The members of the plebiscite fell silent for a time, willing to waitfor Tom Osby's arrival, whenever that might be.

  "Now, we ain't downtrod none in this country," finally began DocTomlinson, who had made political speeches in Kansas.

  "Is _any_body?" asked Curly, who had never lived anywhere but on thefree range.

  "We've had three squares a day," said McKinney. "This country's justas good as the States."

  "States!" cried Dan Anderson. "We've got a state of our own, or didhave, right here, the Free State of Heart's Desire. But it ain't goodenough for us. We want to hitch our little wagon to the star ofprogress. I reckon we oughtn't to holler if the star travels somefast. It was ours, the Free State of Heart's Desire! And we--well--"

  "Well," said Curly, ruminatingly, "I don't see as ole Carrizo isfrettin' any about these here things." He glanced up at the bigmountain whose shadow lay athwart the valley. Dan Anderson gazedthither as well. McKinney sat looking quietly up the street.

  "No use frettin' about it, anyhow," said he, in his matter-of-fact way."And as to Tom Osby, fellers, I'll bet a plug of tobacco that's himpullin' in at the head of town right now."

  "Just like I said," exclaimed Doc Tomlinson. "He's good enoughrailroad for any one, and he's safe! I wonder what did he bring thistime."

  What Tom Osby brought this time, besides sundry merchandise forWhiteman the Jew, was a parrot and a pair of twins. Neither of thesespecialties had ever before been seen in Heart's Desire.

  "Twins!" exclaimed Dan Anderson, when the facts were divulged, "and aparrot!"

  Tom Osby, after making known the full nature of his cargo, dischargeddivers boxes, bales, and other packages at the store of Whiteman theJew. The parrot was not disposed to wait for the close of theseformalities. From under the white cover of the wagon there came soundsof profane speech. Tom Osby paused and filled his pipe. "Him?" saidhe, jerking his head toward the cover, as he scratched a match on theside of the wagon seat. "He's a shore peach. Talked to me all the wayfrom Vegas down."

  "Quork!" said the parrot. "Look out! Look out! Brrrrrrrr--awk--awk!Quork!"

  "I told you so," said Tom.

  "Oh, dang it, I'm tired!" continued the bird.

  "This," remarked Dan Anderson, "seems to be a cultivated gentleman.But how about the twins? Where are they? And might we--er--ask whoseare they?"

  "Them?" said Tom. "Why, they're for Curly. They're asleep down underthe seat here. Now, between the parrot and them twins, my trip downain't been any lonesome to speak of."

  All eyes were turned on Curly, the newly wedded cow puncher, whoblushed a bright brick red to the roots of his hair. "Wh--where didthey come from?" stammered he.

  "I presume, Curly," said Dan Anderson, gravely, "like enough they camefrom somewhere over on the Brazos, your earlier home. Why didn't youtell us you were a married man?"

  "I ain't--I never was!" cried Curly, hotly. "I never did have no twinsnowhere. Where'd you git 'em, Tom?"

  The freighter threw his leg across the seat. "Oh, they're yours allright, I reckon, Curly," said he. "Mother's dead. No relations. Theycome from Kansas, where all the twins comes from. I found 'em waitin'up there in Vegas, billed through to you. Both dead broke, both plumbhappy, and airy one of 'em worth its weight in gold. Its name isSusabella and Aryann, or somethin' like that. Shall I wake it up?It's both alike."

  "Now, why, my woman's folks," began Curly, "up there in Kansas--Ireckon maybe _that's_ how it happened! She had a sister done marrieda Baptis' preacher, onct. Say, now, I bet a horse that's right howthis here happened. Say, they was so pore they didn't have enough toeat."

  "Letter come with 'em," said Tom, taking out a handful of tobacco fromhis pocket with the missive. "I reckon, that explains it, I wouldn'ttake a thousand dollars for 'em if they was mine. Here, you kids, getout of there and come and see the nice gentlemen. Here they are,fellers."

  He haled forth from beneath the wagon cover two solemn-eyed and sleepylittle girls, perhaps five years of age, and of so close a personalresemblance to each other as impressed all as uncanny. The four menstepped to the wagon side, and in silence gazed at the curly-headedpair, who looked back, equally silent, upon the strange groupconfronting them. At length the twins buried their faces in Tom Osby'soveralls.

  "Look here, friend," said Tom Osby to Curly, with asperity, "if youdon't want these here twins, why, I'll take 'em off your hands mightydamn quick. They're corral broke and right well gentled now, half goodstock anyway, and is due to be right free steppers. If you don't want'em, they're mine for the board bill."

  But Curly stepped up and laid an awkward hand on the head of each ofthe twins. "Fellers," said he, "I ain't got a whole lot of experiencein this here twin game, but this goes. These here twins is mine. Thisis some sudden, but I expect it'll tickle the little woman about halfto death. I reckon I can get enough for 'em all to eat, somehow."

  McKinney looked at him with anger in his gaze. "I told you, Curly," hereminded the cow puncher with undue emphasis, "that you was drawin' tenextry from day before yestiday. I reckon the s
tockholders can standthat."

  "That'll make it about break even," Curly answered simply.

  "Now," said Doc Tomlinson, "if either of them twins should need anydrugs--"

  "Drugs!" snorted Dan Anderson. "What would they want with drugs?After they've run around in here for two weeks, you couldn't kill 'emwith an axe. If the coyotes don't catch 'em, there's nothing else canhappen to 'em."

  "I'll give you about eight dollars for the green canary, Tom," said DocTomlinson. "I want to hang him in my store."

  "But I want to hang him in my wagon," objected Tom Osby. "He'scompany. You fellers plumb rob me every time I come to town." Hisvoice was plaintive.

  "The court rules," observed Dan Anderson, judicially, "that the parrotgoes with the twins." And it was finally so decided by the referendum.Whereupon Tom Osby, grumbling and bewailing his hard lot as commoncarrier, drove off with Curly across the _arroyo_ in search of a newmother for the twins.

  The Littlest Girl, Curly's wife, read the letter which Tom offered.Tears sprang to her eyes; and then, as might have been expected of theLittlest Girl, she reached up her arms to the homeless waifs, who stoodat the wagon front, each clasping a stubby forefinger of Tom Osby'shand.

  "Babies!" cried she. "You poor little babies! Oh!" And so shegathered them to her breast and bore them away, even though a curlyhead over each shoulder gazed back longingly at the gnarled freighteron his wagon seat. Tom Osby picked up his reins and drove back acrossthe _arroyo_. Thus, without unbecoming ostentation, Heart's Desirebecame possessed of certain features never before known in its history.

  Within a few weeks the parrot and the twins had so firmly establishedthemselves in the social system of the place as to become matters ofregular conversation. Curly never appeared at the forum of Whiteman'scorral without finding himself the recipient of many queries.

  "Why, them twins," he replied one day, "they're in full charge of the_rodeo_. They've got me and the woman hobbled, hitched, andside-lined for keeps. Dead heat between them and Bill, the parrot.They're in on all the plays together. Wherever they go, he's rightafter 'em, and he night-and-day-herds 'em closer'n a Mexican shepherddog does a bunch of sheep. Now, I blew in last night, intoe theirroom, and there was old Bill, settin' on the foot of the bed, watchin'of 'em, them fast asleep. 'Too late now,' says he to me. 'Too late.All over now!' I didn't know what he meant till I looked under thebedclothes; and there was a pan full of ginger cakes the woman had madefor the fam'ly. You needn't tell me a parrot can't think."

  "It would seem," said Dan Anderson, meditatively, "that we may reportprogress in civilization."

  "But say, fellers," remarked Curly, taking off his hat and scratchinghis head perplexedly, "sometimes I wish Bill was a chicken hawk insteadof a talker. There is rats, or mice, or something, got into thisvalley at last."

  "Do you want any drugs?" asked Doc Tomlinson, suddenly.

  "No, not yet," Curly shook his head. "Never did see airy rat or mouseround here, but still, things is happenin' that looks right strange.

  "It's this-a-way, fellers," he continued, "--set down here and let metell you." So they all sat down and leaned back against the fence ofWhiteman's corral.

  "Last Christmas," Curly began at the beginning, "why, you see, my girl,she got a Christmas present from some of her folks back in Kansas, inthe States. It was a pair of candy legs."

  "What's that, Curly?" said Dan Anderson, half sitting up.

  "Legs," said Curly, "made out of candy, about so long, or maybe alittle longer. Red, and white, and blue--all made out of candy, youknow. Shoes on the feet, buckles on the shoes, and heels. Sort offrill around on top. The feller that made them things could shore docandy a-plenty. They was too pretty to eat up, so the little woman,she done put 'em in the parlor,--on the table like, in the middle ofthe floor; tied 'em together with a blue ribbon and left 'em there.Now, you all know right well that's the only pair of candy legs inHeart's Desire."

  "That's legitimate distinction, Curly," Dan Anderson decided. "Itentitles your family to social prominence."

  "Oh, we wasn't stuck up none over that," laughed Curly, modestly, "butwe always felt kind of comfortable, thinkin' them there legs was rightthere on the parlor table in the other room. You can't help feelin'good to have some little ornyment like that around the place, you know,special if there's women around. But now, fellers, what I was goin' tosay is, there's mice, or rats, got in on this range some how, andthey--"

  "Why didn't you put 'em in a box?" asked McKinney, severely. "Youain't got sense enough to know the difference between a hair rope and acan of California apricots."

  "Put 'em in a box?" cried Curly. "Why? Them was _ornyments_! Nowyou ain't got a ornyment on your whole place, except a horned toad andfour tarantulas in a teacup. Now a real ornyment is somethin' you puton the parlor table, man, and show it free and open. It's sort ofsacred like."

  "Not for rats," said McKinney.

  "You'd better keep your eye on that parrot," warned Doc Tomlinson."About to-morrow, you tell us what you find out."

  But on the morrow the mystery remained unsolved. "One heel's plumbgone," said Curly, sighing. "And they've begun on the toe of the otherfoot."

  Bill, the parrot, remained under increasing suspicion. "He's got awall eye," said McKinney, "and I never seen a wall eye in a man, woman,or mustang, that it didn't mean bad. This here bird ain't no Hereford,nor yet a short-horn. He's a dogy that ain't bred right, and he ain'tdue to act right." All Curly could do was to shake his head,unpersuaded.

  Meantime, there went on in the little cabin across the _arroyo_, areproduction of an old, old drama. Should we, after all, criticisethese two descendants of the first sweet human woman of the world?Consider; to their young and inexperienced eyes appealed all thefascinations of this august but tempting object, new, strange,appealing. For a time their hearts were strong, upon their soulsrested the ancient mandate of denial. They gazed, short breathed, inawe, upon this radiantly bestriped, unspeakably fascinating, wholly andresplendently pulchritudinous creation. They must have known that itwas a part of the family pride, a part of the parlor--a part, indeed,of the intermingled fabric of the civilization of Heart's Desire! Andyet--alas!

  One morning the twins foregathered in the parlor. The hour oftemptation, as is always the case, found all things well ordered forthe success of evil.

  "Everybody's gone," whispered Suzanne. "There ain't nobody here atall."

  "Only Bill," said Arabella, looking at the parrot, which regarded themwith a badly bored aspect. "I wonder if he'd tell?"

  "Oh, dang it all!" remarked Bill; "I'm tired!"

  "He's awful," remarked Arabella. "He swears. Folks that swears goesto the bad place. Besides, Bill wouldn't tell, would you, Bill?"

  "He'll go to sleep," said Suzanne. "Besides, we ain't goin' to biteoff only just a little _bit_ of a _bite_! Nobody'll never notice it."

  Twofold Eve edged up to the centre table. "You first," said Arabella.

  "No, you."

  "You first," insisted Arabella. "I'm afraid. Bill, he's lookin'."

  "I ain't afraid," Suzanne asserted boldly, and stretched out her hand.

  That was the time when the first heel disappeared. Even as Suzanne'swhite teeth closed upon it, the parrot gave a vast screech ofdisapproval. "Quork!" cried he. "Look out! Look out!" At whichwarning both the twins fled precipitately underneath the bed; whencepresently their heads peered out, with wide and frightened eyes.

  "I didn't have my bite," whimpered Arabella.

  "It's only Bill!" Suzanne was disgusted with herself for running."Come on. Who's afraid?" Arabella chose the toe of the other foot.

  Thus it was that temptation, at first insidious, at lengthirresistible, had its way. The lustre paled and dimmed on one gaudilybepainted leg. The remaining heel disappeared. A slight nick becamevisible on the cap of the right knee.

  "Well, I'll be darned!" said Curly, scratching his head, as he observedthese devel
opments.

  "So'll I," remarked Bill, in frank friendship. "Ha! Ha!"

  Curly looked at him pugnaciously for a moment. "For one cent, Bill,"said he, "I'd wring your cussed green neck for you. I'll bet a hundredyou're the feller that's been a-doin' all this devilment. Hereyou,--Susy--Airey,--have you seen Bill a-eatin' the ornyment?" Boththe young ladies solemnly and truthfully declared that they had nevernoticed any such thing; and pointed out that parrots, in their belief,did not eat candy.

  The next day amputation and subtraction had proceeded yet further.Only Bill was present when Arabella broke out into tears.

  "What's the matter?" asked stout-hearted Suzanne.

  "Why, we--we--we--can't eat it but _once_," mourned Arabella."Now--now--now it's most _gone_! OO--oo--oo!"

  "It's good," said Suzanne.

  "Will we go to the bad place?" asked Arabella.

  Suzanne evaded this question. "How can we _help_ it, when it looks sopretty, and tastes so good? They ought to put 'em in a _box_. Ic-c-can't help it!" And now tears broke from her eyes also. Theyleaned their heads upon each other's shoulders and wept. But even asthey did so, the hand of either, upon the side nearest to the table,reached out toward the disfigured remnant. A week later the last bitewas taken. The parlor table was bare and vacant. Heart's Desire, inall its length and breadth, contained no parlor ornament!

  That was the last day when Curly reported to the group at the side ofWhiteman's corral. "They're gone, up to both knees now," said he,gloomily. "The finish ain't far off. You all come on over across the_arroyo_ with me, and if you can find a sign showin' how this thinghappened, I'll make you a present of the whole shootin' match."

  It was thus that Curly, Dan Anderson, Doc Tomlinson, McKinney, andLearned Counsel rose and adjourned across the _arroyo_. They foundSuzanne and Arabella industriously carrying in aprons full of pinonchips for the kitchen stove.

  The clean-swept room at which the visitors entered was the neatest onein Heart's Desire. The tall, narrow fireplace of clay in the corner ofthe other room was swept clean, spick and span. A chair stood exactlyagainst the wall. The parlor table--ah, appalling spectacle! theparlor table, bare and empty, held upon its surface no object of anysort whatever!

  "They're gone!" cried Curly, "plumb gone!" His hand instinctivelyreached toward his hip, and he cast a swift glance upon Bill, theparrot, who sat blinking at the edge of the table.

  "All over now!" remarked Bill. "All over! Too late! Quork!"

  "Rope him and throw him," urged Doc Tomlinson, "Search his person. Wegot to look in his teeth."

  "Not necessary," said Dan Anderson. "He hasn't got any teeth." Theentire party looked with enmity at Bill, but the latter turned uponthem so brave and unflinching a front that none dared question hishonor.

  Dan Anderson, his hands in his pockets, turned and strolled alone intothe other room, and thence out of the door into the sunlight, where thetwins were still continuing their unwonted industry at the chip pile.He stood and looked at them, saying no word, but with a certain smileon his face. A corner of each apron fell down, spilling the chips uponthe ground. The other hand of each twin was raised as though to wipe afurtive tear. Dan Andersen put out his arms to them.

  "Come here, little women," he said softly, and took them in his arms.One chubby face rested against each side of his own. His long armstightened around them protectingly. Tears now began to wet his cheeks,falling from the eyes of the twins.

  "You--you won't tell?" whispered Suzanne, in his right ear, andArabella begged as much upon the left.

  "No," said Dan Anderson, hugging them the tighter, "I won't tell."

  "It's gone!" said Suzanne, vaguely.

  "Yes," said Dan Anderson, "it's gone." He turned at the sound ofvoices. Curly appeared at the door, carrying in his hand a limp,bedraggled figure.

  "That," said Dan Anderson, "I take to be the remains of our late friendBill, the parrot. What made you, Curly?"

  "Well," said Curly, defensively, as he held the body of Bill suspendedby the head between two fingers, "I was lookin' for his teeth, to seeif he had any candy in 'em, and he bit my finger nigh about off. So Ijust wrung his neck. Do you reckon he'd be good fried?"

  "He'd like enough be tolerable tough," said McKinney. "Them parrotsgets shore old."

  "You ought to have some drugs to tan his hide," Doc Tomlinsonvolunteered hopefully. "It'd be right stylish on a hat."

  Dan Anderson gazed at Curly with reproach in his eyes. "Now, I justwrung his neck," repeated the latter, protesting.

  "Yes," said Dan Anderson, "and you've wrung the wrong neck. Bill wasinnocent."

  "Then who done et the legs?"

  "That," said Dan Anderson, "brings me again to the position which Ienunciated this morning. In these modern days of engineers, miningcompanies, parrots, and twins, the structure of our civilization is socomplex as to require the services of a highly intelligent corporationcounsel. You ask who ate the candy ornament, representation, or imageformerly existent on your premises. I reply that in all likelihood itwas done by a corporation; but these matters must appear in court at alater time."

  "Well," said McKinney, "it looks like the joke was on us."

  Dan Anderson smiled gravely. "In the opinion of myself and theconsolidation which I represent," said he, and he hugged the twins, wholooked down frightened from his arms, "the joke is on Bill, theprisoner at the bar."

  The group would have separated, had it not been for a suddenexclamation from Curly. "Ouch!" cried that worthy, and cast from himthe body of Bill. supposedly defunct. "He bit me again, blame him!"said Curly, sucking his thumb.

  "If he bit you for true," said McKinney, who was of a practical turn ofmind, "like enough he ain't been dead at all."

  Corroboration was not lacking. The prisoner at the bar, thrownviolently upon the ground, now sat up, half leaning against a pinonlog, and contemplated those present with a cynical and unfriendly grayeye.

  "Now," said Doc Tomlinson, regarding him, "you get him a few drugs, andhe'll be just as good as new, right soon."

  "All I got to say," grumbled Curly, "is, for a thing that ain't got noteeth, and that's dead, both, he can bite a leetle the hardest ofanything I ever did see."

  "Yet it is strange," remarked Dan Anderson, "that the innocentbystander should sit up and take notice, after all. How are youfeeling, friend?"

  This to Bill, who was now faintly fanning a wing and ruffling up hisyellow crest.

  "I'm mighty tired," said Bill.

  "I don't blame you," remarked Dan Anderson, cheerfully, turning to putdown Suzanne and Arabella safe within the door, "but as corporationcounsel I am bound to protect the interests of my clients. Run, youkids!

  "As to you, Curly," he continued, "you represent, in your ignorance,ourselves and all Heart's Desire. We have intrusted to us a candypalladium of liberty, which, being interpreted, means a man's chance tobe a grown man, with whiskers, in a free state of Heart's Desire. Whatdo we do then? Ask in a railroad corporation, and shut our eyes!"

  "And a corporation," said Curly, meditatively, "can be a shore cheerfulperformer."