The Long Dim TrailHooker, Forrestine C. (Forrestine Cooper)
General
The Long Dim Trail
Hooker, Forrestine C. (Forrestine Cooper)
Arizona -- Fiction; Cowboys -- Fiction; Ranch life -- Fiction; Western stories
A chair, facing the wall on which was a fly-specked mirror, a row of
wooden seats, and a conspicuous placard bearing the pleasant, but
misleading fiction, "Fresh towel for each customer," constituted the
furnishings of the place. Dunning's hair shone glossy brown; his
moustache curled tightly as a pug dog's tail, a gorgeous red four-in
hand, tight, grey trousers with broad black stripes made him brilliantly
conspicuous among the citizens of Willcox. Between shaves and haircuts
the barber delved into sentimental fiction.
With reluctance he put aside a yellow-backed novel and rose leisurely to
his feet. His speculative survey was interrupted by Holy.
"Say, Dunning, you know ol' man Walton," he began.
"Lived round here fifteen years, never had his hair nor beard cut onct;"
catalogued Dunning. "So derned stingy that he'd skin a flea to get its
hide and tallow!"
"Mebbe you'll git a chanct at him today;" encouraged Holy. "He's goin'
to git married!"
The others snorted in surprise, and Bronco announced contemptuously,
"There ain't a bunch of calico in Arizona that would let him near enough
to rope her, let alone carry his brand."
"Oh, you make me tired," Holy retorted. "Who said he was workin' any
Arizona range? The girl's comin' from the East on today's train. He
showed me her picture. I give him a fill about his white hair makin' him
look old, and said he'd oughter get Dunning to fix him up. Say!--he
swallered it like a rattlesnake swallers a gopher."
"She must be locoed," growled Bronco, suspiciously.
"I own I ain't been dazzled by the charm that draws her," acknowledged
Holy, "but what interests me is that the Diamond H owes ol' Walton for a
heap of things he ain't done. Say, Dunning, there's twenty-five pesoes
for you, if you fix him good and proper. I got an idee--but you may have
to go out of town for a few days."
"That's all right. Business ain't pressing. I figured on goin' out
prospecting for a couple of weeks, anyhow. If any of the boys wants a
hair-cut they can wait till I get back."
"Say Dunning, stay away three weeks," begged Bronco. "I'll make it
thirty dollars if you do."
It was not solicitude for Dunning's safety that prompted this request,
but Bronco, remembering that Dunning was the only barber, had a vision
of the entire male population of Willcox sporting Rip Van Winklish hair,
unless their flowing locks were mutilated by connubial scissors during
Dunning's absence.
"Thirty goes," agreed Dunning. "Now, what is it you boys want done?"
Holy explained, interrupted by bursts of laughter from Bronco and
Roarer, and finally, Dunning, with a grin, ended the consultation by
saying, "You fellers get him in here and I'll earn that thirty."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Walton left Soto's store after giving orders that his purchases be ready
when he came with his wagon at four o'clock, then he walked slowly down
the street, weighing Holy's suggestion. Vanity struggled with parsimony.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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