The Fighting Shepherdess | Page 7

that he had not thought of this before, for deep
within him was a longing to have his name figure in the pages of the
history of the big new state. Tombstones blew over, dust storms
obliterated graves, photographs faded, but with a town named after him
and safely on the map, nobody could forget him if he wanted to.
The Major's assertion concerning his "pull" was no idle boast. There
were few men in the state with a wider acquaintance, and he was a
conspicuous figure around election time. The experience he had
acquired in his younger days selling Indian Herb Cough Syrup from the
tailboard of a wagon, between two sputtering flambeaux, served him in
good stead when, later, he was called upon to make a few patriotic
remarks at a Fourth of July Celebration. His rise was rapid from that
time, until now his services as an orator were so greatly in demand for
cornerstone layings and barbecues that, owing to distance between
towns, it kept him almost constantly on the road.
The Major sold an occasional box of salve, and in an emergency pulled
teeth, in addition to the compensation which he received for what was
designated privately as his "gift of gab." But the Major, nevertheless,
had his dark moments, in which he contemplated the day when age
should force him to retire to private life. Since the wagon containing
his patent leather valise was his home, the Major had no private life to
retire to, and his anxiety concerning the future would seem not without
cause. Now in a flash all his worries smoothed out. He would capitalize
his wide acquaintance and his influence, gain independence and
perpetuate his name in the same stroke. At the moment he actually
suffered because there was no one present to whom he could
communicate his thoughts.
The cloud of dust was closer, but not near enough yet to distinguish the
moving objects that caused it, so he set himself energetically to

applying White Badger Salve to the axle, replacing the wheel and
tightening the nut. When he straightened a horseman who had ridden
out of the creek bed was scrambling up the side of the "bench." He was
dressed like a top cowpuncher--silver-mounted saddle, split-ear bridle
and hand-forged bit. The Major was familiar with the type, though this
particular individual was unknown to him.
"Howdy!" The cowboy let the reins slip through his fingers so his horse
could feed, and sagged sidewise in the saddle.
"How are you, sir?" There was nothing in the dignified restraint of the
Major's response to indicate that his vocal cords ached for exercise and
he was fairly quivering in his eagerness for an ear to talk into. There
was a silence in which he removed a nose bag, bridled and shoved a
horse against the tongue.
"Back, can't ye!"
"Nooned here, I reckon?"
The Major thought of his chickenless handout and his face clouded.
"I et a bite."
"Thought maybe you was in trouble when I first see you."
"Had a hot box, but I don't call that trouble." He added humorously:
"I can chop my wagon to pieces and be on the road again in twenty
minutes, if I got plenty of balin' wire."
The cowboy laughed so appreciatively that the Major inquired
ingratiatingly:
"I bleeve your face is a stranger to me, ain't it?"
"I don't mind meetin' up with you before. I've just come to the country,
as you might say."

The Major waited for further information, but since it was not
forthcoming he ventured:
"What might I call your name, sir?"
The cowboy shifted his weight uneasily and hesitated. He said finally
while the red of his shiny sun-blistered face deepened perceptibly: "My
name is supposed to be Teeters--Clarence Teeters."
As a matter of fact he knew that his name was Teeters, but injecting an
element of doubt into it in this fashion seemed somehow to make the
telling easier. Teeters was bad enough, but combined with Clarence!
Only Mr. Teeters knew the effort it cost him to tell his name to
strangers. He added with the air of a man determined to make a clean
breast of it:
"I'm from Missoury."
The Major's hand shot out unexpectedly.
"Shake!" he cried warmly. "I was drug up myself at the foot of the
Ozarks."
"I pulled out when I was a kid and wrangled 'round considerible."
Teeters made the statement as an extenuating circumstance.
"I took out naturalization papers myself," replied the Major
good-humoredly. "My name is Prouty--Stephen Douglas Prouty. You'll
prob'ly hear of me if you stay in the country. The fact is, I'm thinkin' of
startin' a town and namin' it Prouty."
"Shoo--you don't say so!" In polite inquiry, "Whur?"
"Thur!"
Mr. Teeters looked a little blank as