Where Whiskey Billy Died

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Title:     Where Whiskey Billy Died
Author: Alfred Henry Lewis [More Titles by Lewis]

"Lies in the lump that a-way," said the Old Cattleman, apropos of some slight discussion in which we were engaged, "is bad--an' make no doubt about it!--that is, lies which is told malev'lent.

"But thar's a sort of ranikaboo liar on earth, an' I don't mind him nor his fabrications, none whatever. He's one of these yere amiable gents who's merely aimin' to entertain you an' elevate your moods; an' carryin' out sech plans, he sort o' spreads himse'f, an' gets excursive in conversation, castin' loose from facts as vain things onworthy of him. Thar used to be jest sech a mendacious party who camps 'round Wolfville for a while--if I don't misrecollect, he gets plugged standin' up a through stage, final--who is wont to lie that a-way; we calls him 'Lyin' Amos.' But they're only meant to entertain you; them stories be. Amos is never really out to put you on a wrong trail to your ondoin'.

"We-all likes Amos excellent; but, of course, when he takes to the hills as a hold-up, somebody has to down him; an' my mem'ry on that p'int is, they shorely do. What for lies would this yere Amos tell? Well, for instance, Amos once regales me with a vivid picture of how he backs into a corner an' pulls his lonely gun on twenty gents, all 'bad.' This yere is over in Deming. An' he goes on dilatin' to the effect that he stops six of 'em for good with the six loads in his weepon, an' then makes it a stand-off on the remainin' fourteen with the empty gun.

"'It is the slumberin' terrors of my eye, I reckons,' says this Lyin' Amos.

"Which it's reason, an' likewise fact, that sech tales is merest figments on their faces; to say nothin' of the hist'ry of that camp of Deming, which don't speak of no sech blood.

"But, as I says, what of it? Pore Lyin' Amos!--he's cashed in an' settled long ago, like I mentions, goin' for the Wells-Fargo boxes onct too frequent! Which the pitcher goes too often to the well, that a-way, an' Amos finds it out! Still, Amos is only out to entertain me when he onfurls how lucky an' how ferocious he is that time at Deming. Amos is simply whilin' the hours away when he concocts them romances; an' so far from bein' distrustful of him on account tharof, or holdin' of him low because he lets his fancy stampede an' get away with him, once we saveys his little game in all its harmlessness, it makes Amos pop'lar. We encourages Amos in them expansions.

"Speakin' of lyin', an' bein' we're on the subject, it ain't too much to state that thar's plenty o'casions when lyin' is not only proper but good. It's the thing to do.

"Comin' to cases, the world's been forever basin' its game on the lies that's told; an' I reckons now if every gent was to turn in an' tell nothin' but the trooth for the next few hours, thar would be a heap of folks some hard to find at the close of them mootual confidences. Which places now flourishin' like a green bay-tree would be deserted wastes an' solitoodes. Yes, as I says, now I gets plumb cog'tative about it, sech attempts to put down fiction might result in onpreecedented disaster. Thar be times when trooth should shorely have a copper on it; but we lets that pass as spec'lative.

"As my mind is led back along the trail, thar looms before the mirror of mem'ry a hour when the whole Wolfville outfit quits every other game to turn itse'f loose an' lie. Which for once we takes the limit off. Not only do we talk lies, we acts 'em; an' Enright an' Doc Peets an' Texas Thompson, as well as Moore an' Tutt an' Boggs, to say nothin' of myse'f an' Cherokee Hall, an' the rest of the round-up, gets in on the play. Which every gent stands pat on them inventions to this yere day, disdainin' excooses an' declinin' forgiveness tharfor. Moreover, we plays the same system ag'in, layout an' deal box bein' sim'lar. The fact is, if ever a outfit's hand gets crowded, it's ours.

"The demands for these yere falsehoods has its first seeds one evenin' when a drunken party comes staggerin' into camp from Red Dog. It's strange; but it looks like Wolfville has a fasc'nation for them Red Dog sots; which they're allers comin' over. This victim of alcohol is not a stranger to us, not by no means; though mostly he holds his revels in his Red Dog home. His name I disremembers, but he goes when he's in Wolfville by the name of 'Whiskey Billy.' If he has a last name, which it's likely some he has, either we never hears it or it don't abide with us. Mebby he never declar's himse'f. Anyhow, when he gets his nose-paint an' wearies folks in Wolfville, sech proceedin's is had onder the nom de ploome of 'Whiskey Billy,' with nothin' added by way of further brands or y'ear-marks tharonto.

"This partic'lar date when he onloads on us his companionship, Whiskey Billy is shore the drunkest an' most ediotic I ever sees. Troo, he saveys enough to pull his freight from Red Dog; but I allers allows that's merely the work of a loocid interval.

"Whiskey Billy ain't brightened Wolfville with his society more'n an hour--he only gets one drink with us--when he lapses into them treemors. An', you hear me, son, he shorely has 'em bad; Huggins' attacks that a-way is pooerile to 'em.

"It looks like that Red Dog whiskey is speshul malignant. I've beheld gents who has visions before ever Whiskey Billy emits that preelim'nary yelp in the Red Light, an' allows that Black Jack is pawin' 'round to skelp him; but I'm yere to remark, an' ready to enforce my statements with money, argyments or guns, I never witnesses no case which is a four-spot to Whiskey Billy's.

"Why, it gets so before he quits out--which he does after frothin' at the mouth for days, an' Boggs, an' Tutt, an' Jack Moore, with Doc Peets soopervisin', ridin' herd onto him an' holdin' him down in his blankets all the time--that if Whiskey Billy goes to take a drink of water, he thinks the beverage turns to blood. If he sees anythin' to eat, it changes into a Gila monster, or some sech creepin' an' disrepootable reptile; an' Billy jest simply r'ars back an' yells.

"As I intimates, he yields to them errors touchin' his grub an' drink for days; followin' which, Billy nacherally gives way to death, to the relief of all concerned.

"'You can gamble I'm never so pleased to see a gent die in my life!' says Dan Boggs.

"It's most likely the second day after Billy's been seein' things, an' we've corraled him in a wickeyup out back of the dance hall, when Doc Peets is in the Red Light thoughtfully absorbin' his whiskey.

"'This yere riotous patient of mine,' says Peets, as he leans on the bar an' talks general an' free to all, 'this noisy party whom you now hears callin' Dan Boggs a rattlesnake, bein' misled to that extent by Red Dog licker, has a ca'm moment about first drink time this mornin', an' beseeches me to send for his mother. As a sick gent has a right to dictate terms that a-way, I dispatches a telegram to the lady he names, sendin' of the same by Old Monte to be slammed through from Tucson. I reckons she gets it by now. Old Monte an' the stage has been in Tucson for more'n an hour, an' as 'lectricity is plenty sudden as a means, I takes it Whiskey Billy's mother is informed that he's askin' for her presence.'

"'Which if he's callin' an' honin' for his mother,' says Texas Thompson, who's at the bar with Peets, 'it's cattle to sheep he's a goner. You can allers tell when a sport is down to his last chip; he never omits to want to see his mother.'

"'That's whatever!' says Enright. 'Like Texas, I holds sech desires on the part of this yere Red Dog martyr as markin' the beginnin' of the end.'

"'Bein' he's plumb locoed,' remarks Pests, after Texas an' Enright expresses themse'fs, 'I takes the liberty to rustle them clothes of Billy's for signs. I developed letters from this near relatif he's clamorin' for; also a picture as shows she's as fine a old lady as ever makes a flapjack. From the way she writes, it's all plain an' easy he's been sendin' her some rainbows about how he's loomin' up, like Slim Jim does his sister that a-way. He's jest now industriously trackin' 'round, lookin' to locate himse'f as a lawyer. I don't reckon this yere mother has the slightest idee he's nothin' more'n a ragged, busted victim of Red Dog. Lookin' at it that a-way,' concloodes Pests, 'I'm wonderin' whether I don't make a crazy-boss play sendin' this lady them summons.'

"'When she gets here, if she comes,' says Enright, an' his voice shows a heap of sympathetic interest; 'when she finds out about Whiskey Billy, it's goin' to break her heart. That she ain't game to make the trip is shorely to be hoped.'

"'You can gamble a pony she comes,' says Texas. 'If it's a wife, now, like mine--which goes ropin' 'round for a divorce over in Laredo recent; an', as you-all is aware, she shorely ties it down-- thar might be a chance out ag'in her advent. But bein' she's his mother, Wolfville may as well brace itse'f for the shock.'

"'I don't reckon thar's no doubt of it, neither,' replies Enright, drawin' a sigh; 'which bein' the case, we've got to organize. This camp must turn in when she gets here an' deloode that pore old mother into the belief that her son Billy's been the prop an' stay of Arizona, an' that his ontimely cuttin' off quenches the most shinin' light that a-way of the age wherein we lives.'

"'Mighty likely,' says Peets, 'we gets a message from her to-morry, when Old Monte trails in. That'll tell us what to expect. I'm like you-all, however; I don't allow thar's a morsel of doubt about that mother comin'.'

"'Which I shorely hopes she does,' says Texas 'an' I yereby drinks to it, an' urges every gent likewise. If thar's a thing on earth that melts me, it's one o' them gray-ha'red old ladies. Young females that a-way is all right, an' it's plenty nacheral for a gent to be cur'ous an' pleased tharwith; but I never does track up with an old lady, white-ha'red an' motherly mind you, but I takes off my sombrero an' says: "You'll excuse me, marm, but I wants to trespass on your time long enough to ask your pardon for livin'." That's right; that's the way I feels; plumb religious at the mere sight of 'em. If I was to meet as many as two of 'em at onct, I'd j'ine the church. The same bein' troo, I'm sayin' that this yere Whiskey Billy's mother can't strike camp too soon nor stop too long for Texas Thompson.'

"'Every gent I reckons feels all sim'lar,' says Cherokee Hall. 'A old lady is the one splendid thing the Lord ever makes. I knows a gent over back of Prescott, an' the sight of a good old woman would stop his nose-paint for a week. Wouldn't drink a drop nor play a kyard, this party wouldn't, for a week after he cuts the trail of somebody's old mother. He allows it revives mem'ries of his own, an' that he ain't out to mix no sech visions with faro-bank an' whiskey bottles.'

"'An' I applauds this yere Prescott person's views,' says Texas Thompson, 'an' would be proud to know the gent.'

"'How long, Peets,' says Enright, who's been thinkin' hard an' serious, 'how long--an' start at onct--before ever this yere Whiskey Billy's parent is goin' to strike the camp?'

"'It'll be five days shore,' answers Peets. 'She's 'way back yonder the other side of the Missouri.'

"When Old Monte comes rumblin' along in next day, thar's the message from Whiskey Billy's mother. She's shore a-comin'. This yere Billy is so plumb in the air, mental, he never does know it, an' he dies ten hours before the old lady drives in. But Wolfville's ready. That's the time when the whole band simply suspends everythin' to lie.

"Whiskey Billy is arrayed in Doc Peets' best raiment, so, as Peets says, he looks professional like a law sharp should. An' bein' as we devotes to Billy all the water the windmill can draw in a hour, he is a pattern of personal neatness that a-way.

"Enright--an' thar never is the gent who gets ahead of that old silver tip--takin' the word from Peets in advance, sends over to Tucson for a coffin as fine as the dance-hall piano, an' it comes along in the stage ahead of Billy's mother. When she does get thar, Billy's all laid out handsome an' tranquil in the dinin'-room of the O. K. Restauraw, an' the rest of us is eatin' supper in the street. It looks selfish to go crowdin' a he'pless remainder that a-way, an' him gettin' ready to quit the earth for good; so the dinin'-room bein' small, an' the coffin needin' the space, the rest of us vamoses into the causeway, an' Missis Rucker is dealin' us our chuck when the stage arrives.

"Thar's a adjournment prompt, however, an' we-all goes over to cheer up Whiskey Billy's mother when she gets out. Enright leads off, an' the rest trails in an' follows his play, shakin' the old lady's hand an' givin' her the word what a success her boy is while he lives, an' what a blow it is when he peters. It comes plumb easy, that mendacity does, for, as Texas Thompson surmises, she is shorely the beautifulest old lady I ever sees put a handkerchief to her eyes.

"'Don't weep, marm,' says Enright. 'This yere camp of Wolfville, knowin' Willyum an' his virchoos well, by feelin' its own onmeasured loss, puts no bound'ries on its sympathy for you.'

"'Death loves a shinin' mark, marm,' says Doc Peets, as he presses the old lady's hand an' takes off his hat, 'an' the same bein' troo, it's no marvel the destroyer experiments 'round ontil he gets your son Willyum's range. We're like brothers, Willyum an' me, an' from a close, admirin' friendship which extends over the year an' a half since he leaves you in the States, I'm shore qualified to state how Willyum is the brightest, bravest gent in Arizona.'

"An' do you know, son, this yere, which seems a mockery while I repeats it now, is like the real thing at the time! I'm a coyote! if it don't affect Texas Thompson so he sheds tears; an' Dan Boggs an' Tutt an' Moore an' Cherokee Hall is lookin' far from bright about the eyes themse'fs.

"We-all goes over to the O. K. House, followin' the comin' of the stage, an' leads the old gray mother in to the side of her son, an' leaves her thar. Enright tells her, as we turns cat-foot to trail out so she won't be pestered by the presence of us, as how Peets'll come back in a hour to see her, an' that as all of us'll be jest across the street, it'll be plenty easy to fetch us if she feels like company. As we starts for the Red Light to get somethin' to cheer us up, I sees her where she 's settin' with her arm an' face on the coffin.

"It's great work, though, them lies we tells; an' I notes how the mother's pride over what a good an' risin' sport her son has been, half-way breaks even with her grief.

"Thar is only one thing which happens to disturb an' mar the hour, an' not a whisper of this ever drifts to Whiskey Billy's mother. She's busy with her sorrow where we leaves her, an' she never hears a sound but her own sobs. It's while we're waitin', all quiet an' pensif, camped about the Red Light. Another outlaw from Red Dog comes cavortin' in. Of course, he is ignorant of our bein' bereaved that a-way, but he'd no need to be.

"'Whatever's the matter with you-all wolves yere?' he demands, as he comes bulgin' along into the Red Light. 'Where's all your howls?'

"Texas arises from where he's settin' with his face in his hands, an' wipin' the emotion outen his eyes, softly an' reverentially beats his gun over this yere party's head; whereupon he c'llapses into the corner till called for. Then we-all sets down silent an' sympathetic ag'in.

"It's the next day when Whiskey Billy takes his last ride over to Tucson on a buckboard. A dozen of us goes along, makin' good them bluffs about Billy's worth; Enright an' Peets is in the stage with the old mother, an' the rest of us on our ponies as a bodygyard of honor.

"'An' it is well, marm,' says Enright, as we-all shakes hands, as Billy an' his mother is about to leave Tucson, an' we stands b'ar- headed to say adios; 'an' death quits loser half its gloom when one reflects that while Willyum dies, he leaves the world an' all of us better for them examples he exerts among us. Willyum may die, but his mem'ry will live long to lead an' guide us.'

"I could see the old mother's eyes shine with pride through her tears when Enright says this; an' as she comes 'round an' shakes an' thanks us all speshul, I'm shorely proud of Wolfville's chief. So is everybody, I reckons; for when we're about a mile out on the trail back, an' all ridin' silent an' quiet, Texas ups an' shakes Enright by the hand a heap sudden, an' says:

"'Sam Enright, I ain't reported as none emotional, but I'm yours to command from now till death, an' yere's the hand an' word of Texas Thompson on it.'"

[The end]
Alfred Henry Lewis's short story: Where Whiskey Billy Died

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