Two Hearts That Beat As One

: A Deal In Wheat And Other Stories

"Which I puts it up as how you ain't never heard about that time that

Hardenberg and Strokher--the Englisher--had a friendly go with bare

knuckles--ten rounds it was--all along o' a feemale woman?"



It is a small world and I had just found out that my friend, Bunt

McBride--horse-wrangler, miner, faro-dealer and bone-gatherer--whose

world was the plains and ranges of the Great Southwest, was known of the

Th
ee Black Crows, Hardenberg, Strokher and Ally Bazan, and had even

foregathered with them on more than one of their ventures for Cyrus

Ryder's Exploitation Agency--ventures that had nothing of the desert in

them, but that involved the sea, and the schooner, and the taste of the

great-lunged canorous trades.



"Ye ain't never crossed the trail o' that mournful history?"



I professed my ignorance and said:



"They fought?"



"Mister Man," returned Bunt soberly, as one broaching a subject not to

be trifled with, "They sure did. Friendly-like, y'know--like as how two

high-steppin', sassy gents figures out to settle any little strained

relations--friendly-like but considerable keen."



He took a pinch of tobacco from his pouch and a bit of paper and rolled

a cigarette in the twinkling of an eye, using only one hand, in true

Mexican style.



"Now," he said, as he drew the first long puff to the very bottom of the

leathern valves he calls his lungs. "Now, I'm a-goin' for to relate that

same painful proceedin' to you, just so as you kin get a line on the

consumin' and devourin' foolishness o' male humans when they's a woman

in the wind. Woman," said Bunt, wagging his head thoughtfully at the

water, "woman is a weather-breeder. Mister Dixon, they is three things

I'm skeered of. The last two I don't just rightly call to mind at this

moment, but the first is woman. When I meets up with a feemale woman on

my trail, I sheers off some prompt, Mr. Dixon; I sheers off. An'

Hardenberg," he added irrelevantly, "would a-took an' married this

woman, so he would. Yes, an' Strokher would, too."



"Was there another man?" I asked.



"No," said Bunt. Then he began to chuckle behind his mustaches. "Yes,

they was." He smote a thigh. "They sure was another man for fair. Well,

now, Mr. Man, lemmee tell you the whole 'how.'



"It began with me bein' took into a wild-eyed scheme that that maverick,

Cy Ryder, had cooked up for the Three Crows. They was a row down

Gortamalar way. Same gesabe named Palachi--Barreto Palachi--findin'

times dull an' the boys some off their feed, ups an' says to hisself,

'Exercise is wot I needs. I will now take an' overthrow the blame

Gover'ment.' Well, this same Palachi rounds up a bunch o' insurrectos

an' begins pesterin' an' badgerin' an' hectorin' the Gover'ment; an'

r'arin' round an' bellerin' an' makin' a procession of hisself, till he

sure pervades the landscape; an' before you knows what, lo'n beholt,

here's a reel live Revolution-Thing cayoodlin' in the scenery, an' the

Gover'ment is plum bothered.



"They rounds up the gesabe at last at a place on the coast, but he

escapes as easy as how-do-you-do. He can't, howsomever, git back to his

insurrectos; the blame Gover'ment being in possession of all the

trails leadin' into the hinterland; so says he, 'What for a game would

it be for me to hyke up to 'Frisco an' git in touch with my financial

backers an' conspirate to smuggle down a load o' arms?' Which the same

he does, and there's where the Three Black Crows an' me begin to take a

hand.



"Cy Ryder gives us the job o' taking the schooner down to a certain

point on the Gortamalar coast and there delivering to the agent o' the

gazabo three thousand stand o' forty-eight Winchesters.



"When we gits this far into the game Ryder ups and says:



"'Boys, here's where I cashes right in. You sets right to me for the

schooner and the cargo. But you goes to Palachi's agent over 'crost the

bay for instructions and directions.'



"'But,' says the Englisher, Strokher, 'this bettin' a blind play don't

suit our hand. Why not' says he, 'make right up to Mister Palachi

hisself?'



"'No,' says Ryder, 'No, boys. Ye can't. The Signor is lying as low as a

toad in a wheeltrack these days, because o' the pryin' and meddlin'

disposition o' the local authorities. No,' he says, 'ye must have your

palaver with the agent which she is a woman,' an' thereon I groans low

and despairin'.



"So soon as he mentions 'feemale' I knowed trouble was in the

atmosphere. An' right there is where I sure looses my presence o' mind.

What I should a-done was to say, 'Mister Ryder, Hardenberg and gents

all: You're good boys an' you drinks and deals fair, an' I loves you all

with a love that can never, never die for the terms o' your natural

lives, an' may God have mercy on your souls; but I ain't keepin' case

on this 'ere game no longer. Woman and me is mules an' music. We ain't

never made to ride in the same go-cart Good-by.' That-all is wot I

should ha' said. But I didn't. I walked right plum into the sloo, like

the mudhead that I was, an' got mired for fair--jes as I might a-knowed

I would.



"Well, Ryder gives us a address over across the bay an' we fair hykes

over there all along o' as crool a rain as ever killed crops. We finds

the place after awhile, a lodgin'-house all lorn and loony, set down all

by itself in the middle o' some real estate extension like a tepee in a

'barren'--a crazy 'modern' house all gimcrack and woodwork and frostin',

with never another place in so far as you could hear a coyote yelp.



"Well, we bucks right up an' asks o' the party at the door if the

Signorita Esperanza Ulivarri--that was who Ryder had told us to ask

for--might be concealed about the premises, an' we shows Cy Ryder's

note. The party that opened the door was a Greaser, the worst looking I

ever clapped eyes on--looked like the kind wot 'ud steal the coppers off

his dead grandmother's eyes. Anyhow, he says to come in, gruff-like, an'

to wait, poco tiempo.



"Well, we waited moucho tiempo--muy moucho, all a-settin' on the edge

of the sofy, with our hats on our knees, like philly-loo birds on a

rail, and a-countin' of the patterns in the wall-paper to pass the time

along. An' Hardenberg, who's got to do the talkin', gets the fidgets

byne-by; and because he's only restin' the toes o' his feet on the

floor, his knees begin jiggerin'; an' along o' watchin' him, my knees

begin to go, an' then Strokher's and then Ally Bazan's. An' there we sat

all in a row and jiggered an' jiggered. Great snakes, it makes me sick

to the stummick to think o' the idjeets we were.



"Then after a long time we hears a rustle o' silk petticoats, an' we all

grabs holt o' one another an' looks scared-like, out from under our

eyebrows. An' then--then, Mister Man, they walks into that bunk-house

parlour the loveliest-lookin' young feemale woman that ever wore hair.



"She was lovelier than Mary Anderson; she was lovelier than Lotta. She

was tall, an' black-haired, and had a eye ... well, I dunno; when she

gave you the littlest flicker o' that same eye, you felt it was about

time to take an' lie right down an' say, 'I would esteem it, ma'am, a

sure smart favour if you was to take an' wipe your boots on my

waistcoat, jus' so's you could hear my heart a-beatin'. That's the kind

o' feemale woman she was.



"Well, when Hardenberg had caught his second wind, we begins to talk

business.



"'An' you're to take a passenger back with you,' says Esperanza after

awhile.



"'What for a passenger might it be?' says Hardenberg.



"She fished out her calling-card at that and tore it in two an' gave

Hardenberg one-half.



"'It's the party,' she says, 'that'll come aboard off San Diego on your

way down an' who will show up the other half o' the card--the half I

have here an' which the same I'm goin' to mail to him. An' you be sure

the halves fit before you let him come aboard. An' when that party comes

aboard,' she says, 'he's to take over charge.'



"'Very good,' says Hardenberg, mincing an' silly like a chessy cat

lappin' cream. 'Very good, ma'am; your orders shall be obeyed.' He sure

said it just like that, as if he spoke out o' a story-book. An' I kicked

him under the table for it.



"Then we palavers a whole lot an' settles the way the thing is to be

run, an' fin'ly, when we'd got as far as could be that day, the

Signorita stood up an' says:



"'Now me good fellows.' 'Twas Spanish she spoke. 'Now, me good fellows,

you must drink a drink with me.' She herds us all up into the

dining-room and fetches out--not whisky, mind you--but a great, fat,

green-and-gold bottle o' champagne, an' when Ally Bazan has fired it

off, she fills our glasses--dinky little flat glasses that looked like

flower vases. Then she stands up there before us, fine an' tall, all in

black silk, an' puts her glass up high an' sings out----



"'To the Revolution!'



"An' we all solemn-like says, 'To the Revolution,' an' crooks our

elbows. When we-all comes to, about half an hour later, we're in the

street outside, havin' jus' said good-by to the Signorita. We-all are

some quiet the first block or so, and then Hardenberg says--stoppin'

dead in his tracks:



"'I pauses to remark that when a certain young feemale party havin'

black hair an' a killin' eye gets good an' ready to travel up the centre

aisle of a church, I know the gent to show her the way, which he is six

feet one in his stocking-feet, some freckled across the nose, an' shoots

with both hands.'



"'Which the same observations,' speaks up Strokher, twirlin' his yeller

lady-killer, 'which the same observations,' he says, 'has my hearty

indorsement an' cooperation savin' in the particular of the description

o' the gent. The gent is five foot eleven high, three feet thick, is the

only son of my mother, an' has yeller mustaches and a buck tooth.'



"'He don't qualify,' puts in Hardenberg. 'First, because he's a

Englisher, and second, because he's up again a American--and besides, he

has a tooth that's bucked.'



"'Buck or no buck,' flares out Strokher, 'wot might be the meanin' o'

that remark consernin' being a Englisher?'



"'The fact o' his bein' English,' says Hardenberg, 'is only half the

hoe-handle. 'Tother half being the fact that the first-named gent is all

American. No Yank ain't never took no dust from aft a Englisher, whether

it were war, walkin'-matches, or women.'



"'But they's a Englisher,' sings out Strokher, 'not forty miles from

here as can nick the nose o' a freckled Yank if so be occasion require.'



"Now ain't that plum foolish-like," observed Bunt, philosophically.

"Ain't it plum foolish-like o' them two gesabes to go flyin' up in the

air like two he-hens on a hot plate--for nothin' in the world but

because a neat lookin' feemale woman has looked at 'em some soft?



"Well, naturally, we others--Ally Bazan an' me--we others throws it into

'em pretty strong about bein' more kinds of blame fools than a pup with

a bug; an' they simmers down some, but along o' the way home I kin see

as how they're a-glarin' at each other, an' a-drawin' theirselves up

proud-like an' presumptchoous, an' I groans again, not loud but deep, as

the Good Book says.



"We has two or three more palavers with the Signorita Esperanza and

stacks the deck to beat the harbor police and the Customs people an'

all, an' to nip down the coast with our contraband. An' each time we

chins with the Signorita there's them two locoes steppin' and sidle'n'

around her, actin' that silly-like that me and Ally Bazan takes an'

beats our heads agin' the walls so soon as we're alone just because

we're that pizen mortified.



"Fin'ly comes the last talky-talk an' we're to sail away next day an'

mebbee snatch the little Joker through or be took an' hung by the Costa

Guardas.



"An' 'Good-by,' says Hardenberg to Esperanza, in a faintin', die-away

voice like a kitten with a cold. 'An' ain't we goin' to meet no more?'



"'I sure hopes as much,' puts in Strokher, smirkin' so's you'd think he

was a he-milliner sellin' a bonnet. 'I hope,' says he, 'our delightful

acquaintanceship ain't a-goin' for to end abrupt this-a-way.'



"'Oh, you nice, big Mister Men,' pipes up the Signorita in English, 'we

will meet down there in Gortamalar soon again, yes, because I go down by

the vapour carriages to-morrow.'



"'Unprotected, too,' says Hardenberg, waggin' his fool head. 'An' so

young!'



"Holy Geronimo! I don't know what more fool drivelin' they had, but they

fin'ly comes away. Ally Bazan and me rounds 'em up and conducts 'em to

the boat an' puts 'em to bed like as if they was little--or drunk, an'

the next day--or next night, rather--about one o'clock, we slips the

heel ropes and hobbles o' the schooner quiet as a mountain-lion stalking

a buck, and catches the out-tide through the gate o' the bay. Lord, we

was some keyed up, lemmee tell you, an' Ally Bazan and Hardenberg was at

the fore end o' the boat with their guns ready in case o' bein' asked

impert'nent questions by the patrol-boats.



"Well, how-some-ever, we nips out with the little Jokers (they was writ

in the manifest as minin' pumps) an' starts south. This 'ere pasear

down to Gortamalar is the first time I goes a-gallying about on what the

Three Crows calls 'blue water'; and when that schooner hit the bar I

begins to remember that my stummick and inside arrangements ain't made

o' no chilled steel, nor yet o' rawhide. First I gits plum sad, and

shivery, and I feels as mean an' pore as a prairie-dog w'ich 'as eat a

horned toad back'ards. I goes to Ally Bazan and gives it out as how I'm

going for to die, an' I puts it up that I'm sure sad and depressed-like;

an' don't care much about life nohow; an' that present surroundin's lack

that certain undescribable charm. I tells him that I knows the ship is

goin' to sink afore we git over the bar. Waves!--they was higher'n the

masts; and I've rode some fair lively sun-fishers in my time, but I

ain't never struck anythin' like the r'arin' and buckin' and

high-an'-lofty tumblin' that that same boat went through with those

first few hours after we had come out.



"But Ally Bazan tells me to go downstairs in the boat an' lie up quiet,

an' byne-by I do feel better. By next day I kin sit up and take solid

food again. An' then's when I takes special notice o' the everlastin'

foolishness o' Strokner and Hardenberg.



"You'd a thought each one o' them two mush-heads was tryin' to act the

part of a ole cow which has had her calf took. They goes a-moonin' about

the boat that mournful it 'ud make you yell jus' out o' sheer

nervousness. First one 'ud up an' hold his head on his hand an' lean on

the fence-rail that ran around the boat, and sigh till he'd raise his

pants clean outa the top o' his boots. An' then the other 'ud go off in

another part o' the boat an' he'd sigh an' moon an' take on fit to

sicken a coyote.



"But byne-by--we're mebbee six days to the good o' 'Frisco--byne-by they

two gits kind o' sassy along o' each t'other, an' they has a

heart-to-heart talk and puts it up as how either one o' 'em 'ud stand to

win so only the t'other was out o' the game.



"'It's double or nothing,' says Hardenberg, who is somethin' o' a card

sharp, 'for either you or me, Stroke; an' if you're agreeable I'll play

you a round o' jacks for the chance at the Signorita--the loser to pull

out o' the running for good an' all.'



"No, Strokher don't come in on no such game, he says. He wins her, he

says, as a man, and not as no poker player. No, nor he won't throw no

dice for the chance o' winnin' Esperanza, nor he won't flip no coin, nor

yet 'rastle. 'But,' says he all of a sudden, 'I'll tell you which I'll

do. You're a big, thick, strappin' hulk o' a two-fisted dray-horse,

Hardie, an' I ain't no effete an' digenerate one-lunger myself. Here's

wot I propose--that we-all takes an' lays out a sixteen-foot ring on the

quarterdeck, an' that the raw-boned Yank and the stodgy Englisher strips

to the waist, an' all-friendly-like, settles the question by Queensbury

rules an' may the best man win.'



"Hardenberg looks him over.



"'An' wot might be your weight?' says he. 'I don't figure on hurtin' of

you, if so be you're below my class.'



"'I fights at a hunder and seventy,' says Strokher.



"'An' me,' says Hardenberg, 'at a hunder an' seventy-five. We're

matched.'



"'Is it a go?' inquires Strokher.



"'You bet your great-gran'mammy's tortis-shell chessy cat it's a go,'

says Hardenberg, prompt as a hop-frog catching flies.



"We don't lose no time trying to reason with 'em, for they is sure keen

on havin' the go. So we lays out a ring by the rear end o' the deck, an'

runs the schooner in till we're in the lee o' the land, an' she ridin'

steady on her pins.



"Then along o' about four o'clock on a fine still day we lays the boat

to, as they say, an' folds up the sail, an' havin' scattered resin in

the ring (which it ain't no ring, but a square o' ropes on posts), we

says all is ready.



"Ally Bazan, he's referee, an' me, I'm the time-keeper which I has to

ring the ship's bell every three minutes to let 'em know to quit an'

that the round is over.



"We gets 'em into the ring, each in his own corner, squattin' on a

bucket, the time-keeper bein' second to Hardenberg an' the referee being

second to Strokher. An' then, after they has shuk hands, I climbs up on'

the chicken-coop an' hollers 'Time' an' they begins.



"Mister Man, I've saw Tim Henan at his best, an' I've saw Sayres when he

was a top-notcher, an' likewise several other irregler boxin' sharps

that were sure tough tarriers. Also I've saw two short-horn bulls

arguin' about a question o' leadership, but so help me Bob--the fight I

saw that day made the others look like a young ladies' quadrille. Oh, I

ain't goin' to tell o' that mill in detail, nor by rounds. Rounds! After

the first five minutes they wa'n't no rounds. I rung the blame bell

till I rung her loose an' Ally Bazan yells 'break-away' an' 'time's up'

till he's black in the face, but you could no more separate them two

than you could put the brakes on a blame earthquake.



"At about suppertime we pulled 'em apart. We could do it by then, they

was both so gone; an' jammed each one o' 'em down in their corners. I

rings my bell good an' plenty, an' Ally Bazan stands up on a bucket in

the middle o' the ring an' says:



"'I declare this 'ere glove contest a draw.'



"An' draw it sure was. They fit for two hours stiddy an' never a one got

no better o' the other. They give each other lick for lick as fast an'

as steady as they could stand to it. 'Rastlin', borin' in, boxin'--all

was alike. The one was just as good as t'other. An' both willin' to the

very last.



"When Ally Bazan calls it a draw, they gits up and wobbles toward each

other an' shakes hands, and Hardenberg he says:



"'Stroke, I thanks you a whole lot for as neat a go as ever I mixed in.'



"An' Strokher answers up:



"'Hardie, I loves you better'n ever. You'se the first man I've met up

with which I couldn't do for--an' I've met up with some scraggy

propositions in my time, too.'



"Well, they two is a sorry-lookin' pair o' birds by the time we runs

into San Diego harbour next night. They was fine lookin' objects for

fair, all bruises and bumps. You remember now we was to take on a party

at San Diego who was to show t'other half o' Esperanza's card, an'

thereafterward to boss the job.



"Well, we waits till nightfall an' then slides in an' lays to off a

certain pile o' stone, an' shows two green lights and one white every

three and a half minutes for half a hour--this being a signal.



"They is a moon, an' we kin see pretty well. After we'd signaled about a

hour, mebbee, we gits the answer--a one-minute green flare, and

thereafterward we makes out a rowboat putting out and comin' towards us.

They is two people in the boat. One is the gesabe at the oars an' the

other a party sitting in the hinder end.



"Ally Bazan an' me, an' Strokher an' Hardenberg, we's all leanin' over

the fence a-watchin'; when all to once I ups an' groans some sad. The

party in the hinder end o' the boat bein' feemale.



"'Ain't we never goin' to git shut of 'em?' says I; but the words ain't

no more'n off my teeth when Strokher pipes up:



"'It's she,' says he, gaspin' as though shot hard.



"'Wot!' cries Hardenberg, sort of mystified, 'Oh, I'm sure a-dreamin'!

he says, just that silly-like.



"'An' the mugs we've got!' says Strokher.



"An' they both sets to swearin' and cussin' to beat all I ever heard.



"'I can't let her see me so bunged up,' says Hardenberg, doleful-like,

'Oh, whatever is to be done?'



"'An' I look like a real genuine blown-in-the-bottle pug,' whimpers

Strokher. 'Never mind,' says he, 'we must face the music. We'll tell her

these are sure honourable scars, got because we fit for her.'



"Well, the boat comes up an' the feemale party jumps out and comes up

the let-down stairway, onto the deck. Without sayin' a word she hands

Hardenberg the half o' the card and he fishes out his half an' matches

the two by the light o' a lantern.



"By this time the rowboat has gone a little ways off, an' then at last

Hardenberg says:



"'Welkum aboard, Signorita.'



"And Strokher cuts in with----



"'We thought it was to be a man that 'ud join us here to take command,

but you,' he says--an' oh, butter wouldn't a-melted in his mouth--'But

you he says, 'is always our mistress.



"'Very right, bueno. Me good fellows,' says the Signorita, 'but don't

you be afraid that they's no man is at the head o' this business.' An'

with that the party chucks off hat an' skirts, and I'll be Mexican if

it wa'n't a man after all!



"'I'm the Signor Barreto Palachi, gentlemen,' says he. 'The gringo

police who wanted for to arrest me made the disguise necessary.

Gentlemen, I regret to have been obliged to deceive such gallant

compadres; but war knows no law.'



"Hardenberg and Strokher gives one look at the Signor and another at

their own spiled faces, then:



"'Come back here with the boat!' roars Hardenberg over the side, and

with that--(upon me word you'd a-thought they two both were moved with

the same spring)--over they goes into the water and strikes out hands

over hands for the boat as hard as ever they kin lay to it. The boat

meets 'em--Lord knows what the party at the oars thought--they climbs in

an' the last I sees of 'em they was puttin' for shore--each havin' taken

a oar from the boatman, an' they sure was makin' that boat hum.



"Well, we sails away eventually without 'em; an' a year or more

afterward I crosses their trail again in Cy Ryder's office in 'Frisco."



"Did you ask them about it all?" said I.



"Mister Man," observed Bunt. "I'm several kinds of a fool; I know it.

But sometimes I'm wise. I wishes for to live as long as I can, an' die

when I can't help it. I does not, neither there, nor thereafterward,

ever make no joke, nor yet no alloosion about, or concerning the

Signorita Esperanza Palachi in the hearin' o' Hardenberg an' Strokher.

I've seen--(ye remember)--both those boys use their fists--an' likewise

Hardenberg, as he says hisself, shoots with both hands."



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