A First Family of Tasaa | Page 4

in; thar won't be much teamin' over Tasajara
for the next two weeks, I reckon," said the fourth lounger, who, seated
on a high barrel, was nibbling--albeit critically and
fastidiously--biscuits and dried apples alternately from open boxes on
the counter. "It's lucky you've got in your winter stock, Harkutt."
The shrewd eyes of Mr. Harkutt, proprietor, glanced at the occupation
of the speaker as if even his foresight might have its possible
drawbacks, but he said nothing.
"There'll be no show for Sidon until you've got a wagon road from here
to the creek," said Billings languidly, from the depths of his chair. "But
what's the use o' talkin'? Thar ain't energy enough in all Tasajara to
build it. A God-forsaken place, that two months of the year can only be
reached by a mail-rider once a week, don't look ez if it was goin' to
break its back haulin' in goods and settlers. I tell ye what, gentlemen, it
makes me sick!" And apparently it had enfeebled him to the extent of
interfering with his aim in that expectoration of disgust against the
stove with which he concluded his sentence.

"Why don't YOU build it?" asked Wingate, carelessly.
"I wouldn't on principle," said Billings. "It's gov'ment work. What did
we whoop up things here last spring to elect Kennedy to the legislation
for? What did I rig up my shed and a thousand feet of lumber for
benches at the barbecue for? Why, to get Kennedy elected and make
him get a bill passed for the road! That's MY share of building it, if it
comes to that. And I only wish some folks, that blow enough about
what oughter be done to bulge out that ceiling, would only do as much
as I have done for Sidon."
As this remark seemed to have a personal as well as local application,
the storekeeper diplomatically turned it. "There's a good many as
DON'T believe that a road from here to the creek is going to do any
good to Sidon. It's very well to say the creek is an embarcadero, but
callin' it so don't put anough water into it to float a steamboat from the
bay, nor clear out the reeds and tules in it. Even if the State builds you
roads, it ain't got no call to make Tasajara Creek navigable for ye; and
as that will cost as much as the road, I don't see where the money's
comin' from for both."
"There's water enough in front of 'Lige Curtis's shanty, and his location
is only a mile along the bank," returned Billings.
"Water enough for him to laze away his time fishin' when he's sober,
and deep enough to drown him when he's drunk," said Wingate. "If you
call that an embarcadero, you kin buy it any day from 'Lige,--title,
possession, and shanty thrown in,--for a demijohn o' whiskey."
The fourth man here distastefully threw back a half-nibbled biscuit into
the box, and languidly slipped from the barrel to the floor, fastidiously
flicking the crumbs from his clothes as he did so. "I reckon somebody'll
get it for nothing, if 'Lige don't pull up mighty soon. He'll either go off
his head with jim-jams or jump into the creek. He's about as near
desp'rit as they make 'em, and havin' no partner to look after him, and
him alone in the tules, ther' 's no tellin' WHAT he may do."
Billings, stretched at full length in his chair, here gurgled derisively.

"Desp'rit!--ketch him! Why, that's his little game! He's jist playin' off
his desp'rit condition to frighten Sidon. Whenever any one asks him
why he don't go to work, whenever he's hard up for a drink, whenever
he's had too much or too little, he's workin' that desp'rit dodge, and
even talkin' o' killin' himself! Why, look here," he continued,
momentarily raising himself to a sitting posture in his disgust, "it was
only last week he was over at Rawlett's trying to raise provisions and
whiskey outer his water rights on the creek! Fact, sir,--had it all written
down lawyer- like on paper. Rawlett didn't exactly see it in that light,
and told him so. Then he up with the desp'rit dodge and began to work
that. Said if he had to starve in a swamp like a dog he might as well kill
himself at once, and would too if he could afford the weppins. Johnson
said it was not a bad idea, and offered to lend him his revolver; Bilson
handed up his shot-gun, and left it alongside of him, and turned his
head away considerate-like and thoughtful while Rawlett handed him a
box of rat pizon over the counter, in case he preferred suthin' more
quiet. Well, what did 'Lige do? Nothin'! Smiled kinder sickly,