C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN
Well, Doubtful, Wyoming, wasn't the same anymore. And wouldn't be. The town woke up on New Year's Day a different place. There wasn't a saloon operating. There wasn't a lick of whiskey to be had, at least in a public place. It was so serene you'd hardly know anyone lived there. There wasn't any place for people to gather, so people pretty much stayed home. They could sit around the potbellied stoves in the stores and gab a little, but it wasn't like having a little redeye with your friends at the old clubhouse on Saloon Row.
Rumor had it that some of those madams who closed their bars a little before midnight had socked away some booze somewhere, but no one could prove it. As for the saloons, they sat forlorn, windows punched out, letting the snow and dust drift in and cover a sea of broken glass and busted kegs littering the floors. Some of the saloon men packed up and left Doubtful. One or two rummaged through the busted saloons, trying to salvage a thing or two, but they were mostly out of luck. It was like picking up after an earthquake.
It sure was quiet. The cowboys didn't come in much, or buy much, or hang around town much. That worried the merchants, and some of them were unhappy with the Women's Temperance Union, fearing they'd lost trade. But others argued that Doubtful was the only place for the ranching people to go. They were mostly five or seven or ten miles out, but if they went over to Sweetwater County, or some other county seat, they'd have to ride their nags a good fifty miles. So there was no need to worry. And besides, the cathouses were still in business, and that was enough to lure the drovers off the ranches.
But it was still a wait-and-see time. The merchants were eyeing their empty tills and getting irritable, and wondering whether Doubtful would survive. But of course it would. It was the county seat, with a courthouse and all. Why would it disappear?
Amos Grosbeak was happy as could be, mostly because Eve Grosbeak told him to be happy. He wandered into my office a day or two after it was all over and settled in the chair across from my desk.
“Well, son, you did it. You got us switched over to prohibition without any loss, except for McGivers, and that wasn't any loss. No one got hurt. Every saloon in town shut down within minutes of midnight. The law slid into place real peaceable and quiet. You sure have my support for sheriff from now on.”
“Well, it wasn't my doing, sir. My ma, she always said don't take credit when you don't earn it.”
“Oh, pshaw, it was your doing. You didn't even have to put some drunk into these cells that night. The supervisors are going to meet soon, and I'll propose that you get a two-dollar-a-month raise, paid with our eternal gratitude.”
“You should cut my salary because I got nothing to do,” I said.
“Oh, you'll have some things to do. There'll be bootleg saloons springing up out in the hills, and you'll need to ride out there and shut them down. You can't expect a major change like prohibition without some effort to circumvent the law.”
“Well, that'll be better than sitting here in a sleepy town playing checkers.”
And playing checkers beside the office stove was about all I had to do as Doubtful slumbered through the winter. On my patrols, I made a point of hiking through Saloon Row, which stood quiet and forlorn now, the wind whistling through the sagging buildings. That outhouse blast and the one that leveled McGivers blew out the windows there, and now Saloon Row harbored nothing but rats and vagrants.
Mayor George Waller had a different viewpoint entirely. He complained that the city revenue of Doubtful had been cut in half. Saloon licenses paid for most of the town's budget; the only income remaining was the bordello licenses that the city collected every three months.
“I guess we'll have to begin with some property taxes now,” he said here and there, which evoked horror. No one wanted that. Some businessmen proposed that the city invite another three or four madams to set up shop so the city would have more income. And others in town suggested that each girl should have to get a license, and at fifty dollars a quarter, that would make up for the lost saloon income. But other shrewd businessmen said that would only drive the girls away, and then where would Doubtful be?
It was a dilemma, all right. Some of the good folks rejoiced because Doubtful was dry as a desert, but there were others who sorrowed, who talked of furtive trips to Laramie to stock up on booze. It sure was a sorrow for some. And there was the town drunk to think about, too. His name was Rat Ryan, and I had let him sleep it off in a cell many times. But now Rat was sober, and shaking, and unhappy, and threatening to go somewhere else. He'd been a swamper in the saloons, cadging drinks, mopping the floors, sleeping on billiard tables. But now he was a trembling, tear-eyed old fool, wandering dazed through Doubtful. I got to feeling so sorry for him I offered Ryan a stagecoach ticket to Laramie, but Rat just cried a little and wandered away.
The cowboys did return after a while, mostly to visit the girls, and it was rumored that the girls sometimes poured a shot for their most trusted customers. So that brought the ranch hands in, and they did spend a nickel or two in the stores, but it wasn't the same. They spent a lot more cash when Saloon Row was rolling.
One February day, I ran into Eve Grosbeak and Manilla Twining on Wyoming Street just as they were coming out of the Emporium carrying some gingham for dresses.
“Oh, Sheriff, this is so sublime!” said Eve. “Doubtful is peaceful and safe, and soon there'll be little children playing in vacant yards, and more Sunday school picnics, and nothing to worry about. I tell you what, Sheriff; the day will come when Doubtful won't even need a full-time lawman.”
“Yeah, well, ma'am, that's fine for you, but not for me.”
“Dear boy, we've been thinking about you,” Manilla said. “Have you found a young lady to spark?”
“No, ma'am, Doubtful's short of young ladies. Least your kind of young lady.”
“Well, we think you should get married. That's all you need. Once you're married, you won't be restless anymore. Have you tried to make yourself more presentable?”
“No, ma'am, I got the same old bad habits.”
“That's what worries us, Mr. Pickens. You come over to Eve's this afternoon, and we'll work on that. We want you to be happy, and eligible. A young woman always knows when a young man is eligible.”
“Well, I'll give her some thought,” I said, and tipped my hat.
But when afternoon rolled around, I had a choice between playing checkers with myself or going over there to Eve Grosbeak's nice little place on the north side, and getting past the peacocks and getting a lesson again. That beat checkers.
I opened the picket fence and was attacked by the male peacocks, but a good kick or two sent them off. They considered me a rival, even though I wasn't inclined toward female peacocks. Eve Grosbeak let me in at once, and I followed her through the sunny, fragrant house to a sewing room off on one side, where she and Manilla were cutting their new blue gingham along the patterns that were pinned to the fabric. It sure was a female sort of room, white wicker, big windows, and sewing stuff all over. I had never been in a room like that before and hardly knew what to make of it. But females had to do something in life, and maybe this was what they did. The room sort of solved a mystery about them.
They eyed me appreciatively. “Would you like some Earl Grey, Sheriff?” Eve asked.
“Is that some scotch?”
They laughed. “No, dear, it's tea, and much better for you.”
“There's nothing better for me right now than some redeye, or the like,” I said, meaning every syllable.
“Poor dear. You live with low expectations. We want you to learn what's available to you, so you live with high expectations. Spirits won't do you any good. A wife would. You need to take a wife, Sheriff.”
“Well, it's crossed my mind, but I can't afford just me on a sheriff salary, much less me and a woman.”
“You'll find that wives save you money. Think what you'll save not having to spend a nickel on spirits. Or not having to spend two dollars whenever you walk into, ah, one of those places.”
“You can have a five-dollar pleasure for free if you're married,” Manilla said.
“Or a ten-dollar one,” Eve added. “Of course, it's up to you to find the right woman.”
“My ma always said I was no good with money.”
They walked around me as if I were a dummy in a store window, studying and nodding, and pointing. It sure made me curious.
“How long has it been, Cotton?”
“That's kind of personal, ma'am.”
“I mean, how long since you washed your long johns?”
“Since Thanksgiving, ma'am. Got the pair at the Emporium.”
“We think you need to wash them. You can't go sparking in dirty long johns.”
“Oh, they're good to spring, ma'am.”
“No, Cotton. I can see grime peeking through. You can't go sparking a girl until you dress for it.”
“I didn't know you had to be dressed to spark,” I said.
Manilla laughed like a tinkling bell.
“You step behind that screen there and hand us your long johns, and we'll wash them,” Eve said.
“I couldn't do that. Not in front of women. And it'd take a long time to dry. I'd be stuck here for two days, bare-assed.”
“No, no, no. Mr. Grosbeak has several old pairs, and I'll give you one, and we'll wash yours and return it to you in a few days.”
“Well, ma'am, the Chinaman on Utah Street does a fine job, and I'll get these to him in the spring.”
“Get behind that screen, young man. I'm going to bring you a spare pair. They'll fit just fine.”
Eve vanished and I slid behind the screen, while Manilla pretended not to look. Truth to tell, I couldn't even manage one button, much less everything I wore.
“I'll come help you if you want, Cotton,” she said.
“I'll need to do it in the water closet,” I said.
“You just don't know anything about women,” she said.
“Well, thank heaven for that,” I said.
But I did manage at last, and peeled out of my boots and smelly stockings and shirt and pants. Then I got up my courage and pulled off the union suit. It sure was sort of clammy, now that I thought about it. I pitched it over the screen just when Eve showed up with a spare of Amos's. She set it atop the screen, and I snatched it and plundered my way into it, and pretty quick got myself back together. That new union suit felt soft and warm, and I had to admit I liked that. Eve took the old union suit away, holding it with two fingers, and I wondered if I'd ever see it again.
“There now,” said Manilla. “You're on the road to sparking.”
“You certainly are more fragrant,” she said. “I'm going to put a little witch hazel on you, just to improve the flavor.”
She had a bottle of that stuff, and pretty soon she was dabbing me here and there, behind the ears, on the neck, and on my wrists. Not bad. No worse than what I got in the tonsorial parlor over on Colorado Street.
“Now, Cotton, you'll need to buy some nicer clothing. We'll have Leonard Silver fix you up. We need to get you out of those, ah, slightly soiled trousers, and that, ah, ancient hat, and that, ah, frayed shirt, and those, ah, too comfortable boots.”
“What for, Mrs. Twining?”
“So that you can find a sweetheart and be properly married and settle down in a lovely little cottage with rambling roses and a picket fence and lots of cheerful little children.”
“Ah . . . but I only got through fifth grade.”
“This is America, Cotton. Everything is possible. Only believe.”
“Ah, but that's too many diapers, Mrs. Twining.”
“Well, you'll need to progress. You can evolve, you know. You can continue your education. There are mail-order institutes that will send you materials. When you are suitable, you'll be filled with wedded bliss.”
“Ah, madam, it's time for me to vamoose. I've got a hot game of checkers going.”
Eve Grosbeak stayed me. “No, Mr. Pickens. We want you properly prepared for our next stage. Puma County is still in dire need of reform.”
“It's already parched, ma'am. I don't know how it can get dryer.”
“Dear child, this is just the first stage. When we are done, Puma County will be a land of milk and honey, with no crime, joyous families, lots of churches, children going for Sunday strolls, mothers pushing perambulators on paved streets, big shade trees planted along all our boulevards, and happy schools, filled with beautiful teachers and joyous students. Civilization will come to Puma County. The barbarous frontier will soon slip away forever. And you will be a part of the great step upward.”