Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 22: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

804 be started by things other than wine. There are—as the old saying goes—women and song, you know.” The Doxey House was ordinarily a scene where such a conversation could go uninter- rupted for hours by any sound—other than the occasional neighing of a horse or the putter of hoofs as a rancher rode by, or per- haps the rattle of a buggy or a cheap car. Even the arrival of the automobile stage from the south over the route which many years before had included Sun-up as one of the stage-stops did not awaken the town. But on this occasion, before Hayden had finished his chicken dinner and his special cup of coffee, the conversation was brought to an abrupt end. The Painted Rock and Gilda Stage discharged a passenger—a woman. The proprietor turning from Hayden’s table, looked at the newcomer with a thrill of misgiving—as well as of vital interest. Noah Doxey, who hated women with considerably more venom than he hated men, observed that the new guest, dressed in sombrero, faded jersey suit and laced high boots, and carrying a ragged valise, was a girl of the challenging attractiveness of the many that Doxey had driven out of Sun-up in its palmiest and wickedest days. She resolutely passed the gamut of the sidewalk; a group that wanted to see what the stage had brought from the desert. She returned the stare of the drummer and old Doxey with an audacious challenge—with unfathomable eyes. “Yep! I know her kind—” Doxey mut- tered wisely. ‘““ Wait!’ Hayden whispered with evident excitement. “ Do you think you’ve got her number? Look how she walks up to that desk! Look at the way she holds her head! Look at that red mouth! Did you ever see the old dance hall girls walk into a hotel like that? No sir! They were always afraid! This girl looks as if she owned the place! And everyone in it!” The girl looked at the group of men and a slow, dimpled smile lit her features. The light of it was reflected on the face of every man there — Sam Quiggley, the harness- maker, the drummer, the stage driver. “A wicked smile—”’ said Doxey. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Hold on now!” Hayden objected. ‘Look closer! She’s beautiful!” “Yes, her lashes are beaded like the dance gals we’ve ousted from the town!” Hayden stared. ‘I'll be damned if they are!” “Anyway they’re the sinfullest eyes I ever seen!” ‘ Superb!” “Tf it ain’t paint, then she was born with a wicked face!” was Doxey’s final and irrevocable judgment. CHAPTER II. KNIGHTHOOD FLOWERS SUDDENLY. S the girl registered under the super- vision of Jen Parker—a squat sun- faded woman who acted as the day clerk—the proprietor from the seclusion of the dining room suspiciously studied his new guest. Without taking his eyes from her he mut- tered to the drummer from the corner of sagging lips: ‘“‘ Speaking of the old days of Sun-up and this here part of Arizona, that’s the kind of gals we used to have in town. Did you ever see a wickeder face?” Fred Hayden, without staring blankly in Doxey’s manner, made his own surreptitious appraisal: “‘ I don’t know, Mr, Doxey, as I could make an offhand estimate concerning this lady’s character. Her eyes are remark- able. Of course, it might be paint on her eyelids, but then if we could inspect her more closely—”’ ‘“‘T know the gal!”” Noah Doxey snapped conclusively. ‘‘ She’s from the Seven C’s Ranch across the desert—the Crockett’s outfit. Did you ever hear tell of Dan Crockett?” “You mean the gambler? Never saw him. But I’ve heard of him. Every one’s heard of him in the county. A handsome brute from Alabama—singer; all the women crazy about him; picturesque renegade of the old type.”’ ‘““Damned if you don’t call everything that comes out of hell’s fire picturesque! ”’ the little proprietor grunted in exasperation. ‘He was a devil, that’s all! And he sang negro songs, played on the banjo, mando- COMmiclooe (©