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Page 22
The burning sun rose higher and higher. The buzzard dropped
lower in the sky. The silence of death brooded over the
railroad-station.
CHAPTER V
Hoover Bows to Hymen
Unknown to Bud Lane and Buck McKee, who were rioting in Florence,
Jack Payson had hurried up the wedding. Colonel Jim had wheedled
Josephine into consenting that it should take place two months
ahead of the time that had been fixed. "April is the month fer
showers, Josie, an' we'll let you weep all you please."
Two weeks' notice, however, gave scant time for preparation for
the important ceremony that Mrs. Allen deemed necessary. During
this period the busiest spot in Arizona was the kitchen of Allen
hacienda. An immense cake, big as a cheese, was the crowning
effort of Josephine, who wept copiously at the thought of losing
her daughter as she measured and mixed the ingredients. A layer
of frosting an inch in thickness encrusted this masterpiece of
the art of pastry-making. Topping the creation were manikins of
a bride and bridegroom.
This climax of the bridal cake had been brought up by wagon from
Tucson with more caution than if it were a month's clean-up of a
paying mine. Mrs. Allen allowed no one to go near the artistic
achievement. Others might look at it from afar, but at the
slightest movement to get close to it, she would push the
observer back, with the warning: "Keep yer dirty fingers off'n
it.
"'Tain't common icin'; that's confectionary."
Enough chickens to feed a darky camp-meeting were killed for the
feast. Fried, roasted, cold or minced as tamales, the dishes
filled ovens and tables, and overflowed into the spring-house.
Favorite recipes carried across the plains by the wives of the
Argonauts met in rivalry with the dishes of the cooks of old
Mexico.
Colonel Allen wandered aimlessly about the ranch, while the
preparations for the feast were in progress. The women folk
drove him from one favorite loafing-place to another. His advice
was scorned and his wishes made a subject for jests.
Defiantly he had taken full charge of the liquid refreshments. A
friendly barkeeper in Tucson, acting under his orders, had
shipped him cases of champagne, a barrel of beer, and a siphon of
seltzer. Why the seltzer he never could explain. Later the
unlucky bottle marred the supper and nearly caused a tragedy. A
guest picked it up and peered into the metal tube to see "how the
durned thing worked."
As he gazed and pondered, shaking the bottle in effort to solve
the mystery, he pressed the handle. The stream struck him fairly
between the eyes. Shocked, surprised, and half-blinded, he
pulled his gun and declared immediate war on the "sheep-herder
who had put up the job on him." Allen's other supplies were of
the kind taken straight in the Southwest, and were downed with a
hasty gulp.
Driven from the house on the day of the wedding he took refuge on
the piazza. From behind the hacienda floated dreamily on the
sun-drenched air the music of guitars and mandolins played by
Mexicans, practising for the dance which would follow the
ceremony.
The Colonel dozed and dreamed.
Suddenly the peace of the afternoon was shattered by the wild
"yip-yips" of a band of cowboys, riding up the trail.
Revolver-shots punctuated their shrill cries.
Allen bounded from his chair, shaking himself like a terrier.
This riotous sound was the music he longed to hear.
When the staccato beats of the ponies' hoofs ceased, he shouted:
"Come on, boys, make this your home. Everything goes, and the
Sweetwater outfit is always welcome."
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