W. C. Tuttle

“ I hears somebody swearing sweet and low; a cow grunts deep-like, and then comes a dull thud.
“Wa-a-a-a! Ma-a-a-a!” wails the kid.
“Woof!” I hears Magpie grunt and then, “Come huh-here! Got ’um!”
I lays the baby down on the ground and crawls through the fence. A cow sticks its cold nose in my face in the dark and uses my necktie for a handkerchief.
“Where you got ’um?” I asks, peering around.
“Huh-here, Ike.”
I peers closer and finds Magpie down on his shoulders, with a cow’s head in his arms. The rest of the animal is making useless jerks, trying to get loose.
“Mum-milk it,” he stutters. ”

“ We pilgrims along for a while sort of aimless-like.
“Where had we ought to go now?” wonders Magpie.
“——!” says I.
“Brilliant thought,” agrees Magpie. “They say that all babies are angels; so so you’d be safe—that’s a cinch.”
“They don’t wear yaller boots there; so that would help some,” says I.
Under ordinary circumstances I reckon we would have argued the point; but the triplets start a concert, and we decides to pilgrim on. The rain still visits the earth, and, if you think it’s any cinch trying to walk in the dark with rain in your eyes and a squalling baby on each arm, you’re all wrong. ”

“ I manages to twist myself over on my back, swing my free leg up high—which gave me added weight on my outside end—and just as I sways toward the earth I feels the hot breath of a shotgun pass over me. ”

“ We’re too miserable to think of anything except making a wholesale delivery. Maybe Magpie had a vision of a pair of boots; I don’t know.
“Do we lie to them about things, Magpie?” I asks as we nears the place.
“We do not, Ike. No more lies. A certain measure of precaution but not a prevarication. I won’t be the father of triplets—not barefooted.”
We stumbles right up to the door. Magpie hammers on the middle panel with the butt of his six-shooter.
A feller sticks his head out of the door and stares at us. He’s got a face like a full moon. ”

“ We sets there in the dark as long as we can stand the wailing, and, when our nerves give out, we gets up and looks around.
“Which way lieth the shack?” inquires Magpie. “We’ve got to take that last kid back home.”
I don’t know which way we came. It’s so dark that I can hardly see Magpie, who is right beside me. From the north comes a feel of storm, and a little rumble from above seems to ask us if we ain’t got sense enough to come in out of the rain.
“Standing here ain’t going to do nothing for us,” states Magpie. “We may point wrong and get nowhere, but our intentions are good.” ”

“ It’s all right for a feller to desire to appear to a good advantage, especially on Sunday, but a finicky person hadn’t ought to pack a gun at a time when he’s just acquired something out of the ordinary in haberdashery.
New boots don’t mean nothing but misery to me. They could set diamonds all the way around the sole, but just the same she don’t spell nothing but blisters and cramps to Ike Harper. Anyway, I’m so bow-legged that my heels have got to be run over on the outside edges before I can be comfortable around the knees.
Magpie paid twenty dollars for them yaller boots. ”

“ Being part and parcel of Magpie’s crew, I immediate and soon bends my gun over the conductor’s head. Folks will likely say that I was wrong, that I had no interest in them yaller boots; but there’s bound to be some Sundays when Magpie won’t wear ’em, and there ain’t no law against me dressing up a little.
What is politely known as consternation seems to prevail. Some folks even go so far as to try and hand us their valuables, while others seem to have the instinct of prairie-dogs and hunt a hole. ”

“ I’ll harp on their heartstrings until they feeds the baby and shoes Magpie. You hang around, Ike. If we both went in, there’d be too much to explain.”
“Your scheme sounds good,” says I. “Play her plumb across the board. Don’t refuse to take a sandwich along if they offers it, ’cause Ike Harper is about to wail for food, too.”
Magpie limps up to the door and knocks, while I sets down on the fence and rolls a smoke. The night seems peaceful since the wailing of the infant has ceased, and I feel sort of free-like. Being a father must take a lot of responsibility. ”

“ Then I hears Magpie’s voice, resigned-like:
“Why say ‘hard’? Human beings can’t hand me nothing more than I’ve already been through.”
“Here! Keep them dogs out of here!” yelps a voice. “Danged bloodhounds will track this carpet all up! Get under the bunk! Danged lop-earned trailers!”
They got under the bunk, all right. Four of ’em! All muddy and sloppy and full of affection, and they sure licked Ike Harper’s face around and around, upside down and crossways. ”

“ A pair of boots ain’t nothing but footwear, except when they’re the color of a sunset in Injun Summer and fit like the skin on a sausage—and cost twenty dollars.
Some folks will likely argue that Magpie hadn’t owned said boots long enough to become attached to ’em, but to those critics I will say: you don’t have to have a twenty-dollar bill around the house very long before you becomes sentimental about it. ”

“ He crawls over the fence and approaches the herd. I’ll admit that Magpie has a soothing voice, and his “So-o-o, boss,” would assure most anything of his good intentions. But them cows ain’t used to having strangers come out of the night to steal their juice. They sort of mills around and acts foreign to his designs.
“Make that kid shut up!” he yelps. “It’s scaring the critters, Ike.”
“I ain’t no murderer,” says I. “There is things that nothing short of sudden death will stop. Hurry up with the nourishment.”
I hears a cow bawl, and then comes a rattle, a bump and a curse. ”

“ Not any milk, thanks. Give me your hat, Magpie.”
“Lost it. You danged— Sh-h-h-h!”
Then we heard footsteps approaching on horseback. Up that line fence comes some indistinct shapes. We hears the creak of saddles, and then somebody curses a loose cinch. They stops right near to us, and we holds the cow and our breaths.
“Can’t do much until daylight,” opines a voice. “Never catch anything busting around in the dark.” ”

“ We sets there in the dark and contemplates deep-like. Off in the distance a coyote raises its voice in protest against the bounty law, and then a cow bawls soft-like.
“My ——!” grunts Magpie prayerful-like. “Cow! Don’t they make condensed milk out of cow milk, Ike?” ”

“ After a while I says:
“Magpie, it’s easy to figure that the kidnaper got scared and left that baby in that shack, but what I don’t understand is this: All little babies being more or less alike in the face, how in —— did them men know at a glance that your baby wasn’t little Oscar?”
“Huh! I never seen Oscar myself, Ike, but I’d ’a’ known it wasn’t Oscar. Little Georgie’s father was the porter that blacked my yaller boots, Ike.” ”

“ I asks, and Magpie stops.
“A feller what don’t know any more about babies than you do, Ike, sure is liable to mistake one for a pair of boots,” says he sarcastic-like. “The thing is hungry. My gosh! What are you doing—carrying it upside down? Give it to me! Feller like you hadn’t ought to never pack a kid. Poor little jasper is hungry as ——!”
“Likely starved to death,” I agrees. “But that ain’t no reason for you to use that kind of language before you finds out the sex. It’s as much my baby as yours, Magpie, and I ain’t going to raise no female child to swear like a mule-skinner. Sabe? ”

“ Maybe she’d recognize good leather and workmanship, but at a time like that you can’t expect a mother to pay much attention to tanning and stitching on a pair of high-heeled boots—even if they did cost twenty dollars.
“Great gosh!” says I after due consideration. “This is awful!”
“It sure is,” agrees Magpie. “I’ll get my feet full of cactus.”
“Dang your feet! Think of what we’ve done!”
“Yeah? What you’ve done, Ike. Don’t embroil me in it. Them boots cost me regular money.” ”

“ We just traveled regardless, follering the lines of least resistance. Magpie has got so he ignores his bare feet. I reckon a feller’s feet can get just so full of cactus and stone-bruises that nothing can hurt ’em any more. ”

“ That’s just like Magpie. In danger he forgets his responsibility, and Ike Harper, who is very cool, picks up the two babies off the bunk and follers in his wake. Man, it sure was pouring out there. Ever’ once in a while comes a flash of lightning, which is fine while she lasts but harder when she’s gone. I sure flounders around a lot. ”