W. C. Tuttle

“ I went down to Paradise that afternoon, and almost froze my other ear. Paradise town is about the same size as Piperock, but if all their morals were laid end to end you’d have to use calipers and a magnifyin’ glass to measure ’em.
I finds Tombstone Todd, Hair Oil Heppner and Hip Shot Harris over from Yaller Horse, and if there ever was an unholy trinity, these are it. Tombstone tries to question me a lot about our festivities, but I don’t respond very much, ’cause I don’t know enough about it myself.
“Peace on earth!” snorts Hip Shot. “Good will toward men! Does that mean men from Piperock? ”

“ I looks over the assemblage with fear and tremblin’. There ain’t a paid murderer in the whole gang— They do their stuff for nothin’.
“Thank Gawd, there ain’t no Piperocker ownin’ any tickets on that raffle,” says Magpie. “If Paradise or Yaller Horse don’t win that autymobile, it’s ’cause they’ve lost the right ticket.”
I reckon Dirty Shirt has told Magpie about me losin’ mine in that poker game—that is, all except one. I’m wonderin’ if they know the money is to be used to uplift Piperock. ”

“ Magpie wasn’t at home, and I knew he was as busy as a rat-tail bronc in fly time. He’s always the movin’ spirit in Piperock, and up to the present time, I’m the sacrificial goat that you read about in the Bible. But not this time. For once in his life Ike Harper, Esquire, is goin’ to set back and let somebody else be the burnt offerin’.
About nine o’clock that night Dirty Shirt comes down to my cabin.
“Do you want to re’lize on them tickets you got, Ike?” he asks. “We’ve plumb run out of cardboard, and the market is good in Paradise. ”

“ We’re puttin’ the autymobile up into the Mint Hall, and we’ve got to cut out the side of the wall at the top of the stairs. We’ll elevate the machine up on a couple saw horses, where everybody can look her over. Goin’ to run her up on planks, with a block and fall.”
It shore was a good lookin’ machine, all fancy with shiny paint and brass dinguses. We never had but one other machine in Piperock, and somebody put dynamite under that one. Yaller Rock County is a horse country. ”

“ What are these chances on, anyway?”
“Scenery Sims’ autymobile,” says Buck. “It cost a thousand, new. If you can win it for twenty dollars—”
I blowed right up, but Wick Smith cramped my gun hand and tried to explain:
“It’s to build a new church and buy a bell. It means advancement for Piperock. Here’s Old Testament, grown as gray as a jackrabbit, tryin’ to chase the devil away from us. He’s been a long laborer in the vineyard of the Lord, and we’ve got to show our appreciation. Our church don’t look like a church. There ain’t no bell. ”

“ I tell you, we’ve been gypped. It don’t stand to reason that one lone ticket—”
“Don’tcha worry, Dog Rib,” says Tombstone. “This ain’t over yet. The Todd fambly never quits! I had eighty tickets, and any old time I spend eighty dollars, I hang around pretty close.”
“You ain’t got no more right to it than I have. Numbers don’t—”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin,” says the judge. “As far as Piperock is concerned, the raffle was on the square, and Ike Harper wins.”
Old Testament steps outside the curtain.
“The first scene,” says he, “is the Three Wise Men in the desert. ”

“ Gravity is somethin’ I ain’t never found out how to defy, and if there’s any rubber in my system, it shore crawls to the upper side every time I fall off anythin’. I pleads a plenty, but it falls on deaf ears; so I resigns myself to fate, reservin’ the right to kill both of ’em as soon as I git around to an even break.
They leads me up to the Mint Hall, where everybody in the world is congregated, and takes me around to the rear of the big platform, across the front of which is stretched a big black curtain. ”

“ Wick Smith is a retired killer. He still retains the disposition, plus a walrus mustache and some bunions. He runs the Piperock Merchandise Company, and agrees with his wife, who scales two hundred and sixty. Buck Masterson was suspected of many things, before he settled down to runnin’ a saloon. He ain’t so tall, but he’s got plenty waist, big shoulders and skinny legs. On the Fourth of July he wears a collar, and on Christmas he adds a necktie to same. ”

“ Set down, before somebody kills you. This here peace on earth stuff means to keep down and protect your own head.”
“And Tombstone Todd still bosses Yaller Horse,” grunts Tombstone, as he helps himself to Dog Rib’s gun and his own, while Mrs. Todd recovers most of the tickets.
I can see and hear all this from my perch on top of the chimbley, where I’m swayin’ like a jaybird on a limb.
“Git ready to yank the curtain,” says Magpie. “Put all them lanterns inside the manger. Makes it look better. Somebody blow out the lights out in front.” ”

“ Scenery, git Testament off the platform, and let’s start the show before they git time to start anythin’. Ike, you danged fool, we swore to Paradise that there wasn’t a ticket held in Piperock. That’s why they spent all their money. Somebody git that quartette to sing. Dirty Shirt, you do it. Tell Muley Bowles to start it. Where’s your whiskers, Ike?”
“The camel done et ’em.”
“Hell! Well, you’ll have to be Santa Claus without the whiskers. No way out of it now. Somebody light the star, will you, Scenery. Will you git Araby set for this scene? ”

“ They see the star of Bethlehem, which is brighter than all the stars. It is so bright that it leads them on. And so they arise and foller the star.”
“Do they ever ketch it?” asks somebody.
But jist then the curtain is drawed back, showing Magpie Simpkins, Tellurium Woods and Dirty Shirt Jones standin’ in single file, with Araby back of ’em. And there’s the iron star, with the candle inside it, hanging up in front of a black cloth.
“And the Wise Men saw the star,” says Old Testament piously. ”

“ Dugout Dulin, who is six feet six inches tall, and will weigh about a hundred and ten. They ain’t got no bathtub in their house—they use a shotgun barrel.
I’m too full of Christmas cheer to pay much attention, and like a fool I let ’em dress me in a buffalo robe coat, string me with sleigh bells, and try to tell me all about it at the same time.
“No time to rehearse,” pants Magpie, cinchin’ up my belt. “Anyway, you’ll know what to do, Ike. That’s fine! Where’s the whiskers?”
There’s an apparition holdin’ the lantern, and it gradually dawns on me that this is Dirty Shirt. ”

“ Over at Hank Padden’s saloon I finds ’em playin’ poker, usin’ tickets as legal tender, and only bein’ discounted fifty per cent. I got into that game and lost nineteen tickets on the first jackpot. I’d have lost twenty, but I’d misplaced one of ’em, and didn’t find it until I was halfway home. Old Tombstone Todd won ’em all from me.
Paradise has always wanted that autymobile, and as far as I can see, most of the town are comin’ up to our shindig. Paradise can’t get along together well enough to ever pull off a celebration ”

“ I don’t reckon that machine would do very well in Paradise. But them Paradise and Yaller Horse folks will buy raffle chances on anythin’. They are so danged crooked themselves that they think Piperock is goin’ to pull a crooked deal on the raffle. ”

“ He hit you with a boot. Did he hurt you, honey?”
“Honey’s in the comb,” says Hair Oil. “You shore do lift and drop a wicked boot, Dog Rib. But you ort to have removed the spur. Common etikette will tell you that it ain’t ethical to pet a man over the head with a loose boot and not remove the spur first. I’ll betcha he’ll part his hair in the middle for a long time to come. Well, the show gits better as we go along, don’t it, folks?”
“The danged murderer’s got some of Tombstone’s tickets!” ”

“ All I crave is to be left alone.”
Well, they both talked with me plenty, and like a fool I let ’em lead me uptown. I don’t know what they want of me, but what chance have I got against two men, both bigger ’n I am, and three guns? ”

“ THE CATSPAW OF PIPEROCK
By W. C. Tuttle
Ike Harper and Dirty Shirt Jones return in a hilarious story of the Christmas Season
Dirty Shirt Jones and Scenery Sims got religion. That in itself ain’t of much interest, unless you knew these two. I’ve knowed lots of men who got religion jist like Dirty Shirt and Scenery got it. Remorse, that’s what she was—not religion. Too much liquor on an empty stummick. ”