in him.
There weren’t no way I could guess his age. The bald head and crows-feet round the eyes seemed to be tellin’ me one thing, whilst them muscles I could see bulgin’ out from his shirt sleeves, and the way he stood sort of cat-like an’ limber but rock-solid at the same time, was sayin’ something else entire.
After a minute he put his hat back on and shoved the kerchief into his pocket. Then he moved a step closer.
“I asked,” he repeated, even quieter than before, “if there is anything troubling you at the moment.” His eyes narrowed into two thin slits. “Perhaps you find something about myself or my equipment … amusing?”
Well, it weren’t no great feat to catch his meaning. No man cares for bein’ laughed at, and I’d of never done it this time if I’d had a mite of warning. But the whole outlandish she-bang come up on me so sudden, with it just nearly the funniest picture I’d put eyes to in a month of Sundays …
Still it wasn’t nothing I felt inclined to fight over. I’d had me a long tryin’ day already, and this here didn’t seem hardly worth the effort.
Might of been different if I was a couple years younger. Back then I’d fought any man at the drop of a hat. And drop it myself whenever I couldn’t find somebody else to do it. But lately I’d been realizin’ there was plenty enough trouble to go around, without nobody havin’ to put hisself out special lookin’ for more.
So right then it appeared like the smartest thing to do was just eat a little crow, and let bygones be bygones. I give it my best shot, but maybe I hadn’t got enough practice at that eatin’ crow part yet. ’Cause it turned out my best weren’t quite good enough.
I stood up from the ground and tugged at my hat brim, tryin’ real hard to wipe the grin off my face as I did it. Then I said, serious as I could manage, “Now don’t you go gettin’ your feathers all ruffled, mister. I didn’t mean nothin’ disrespectful. It’s only that, well, I’m kind of new to these parts. And I reckon I just ain’t never had no occasion before to see somethin’ like …” I felt the grin creepin’ back, ’spite of all I could do to stop it. “… like that …”
Well, I turned around and reached out a hand to point towards his rig. And first thing you knew I’d took another good look at it and come down with the giggles so hard I couldn’t finish what I was sayin’.
That was all Mr. Top-hat needed to make him shuck his temper for fair. And I suppose maybe I wouldn’t of blamed him much if I’d seed it from his point of view. But what he done next roused up my own dander to where I plumb forgot about his feelin’s, and changed my thoughts about fightin’ too, in pretty near half a toad-frog’s hop.
’Peared like one second I was bent down chucklin’ over that bright-colored rig with its fantastical assortment of kitchen fixin’s, and the next I’d been tripped up an’ throwed sprawling so my chin was plowin’ a furrow for the second time in one day. I rolled over an’ come off the ground fast, meanin’ to tear little Baldy’s meat house down just quick as I could get my fists set to take a sizable swing at him. But he’d already turned and started off the other way, carryin’ my hat in one hand and speakin’ to his lead mule as if he’d plumb forgot I was there.
“Here’s a little something I found to keep the sun out of your eyes, Cassius. It’s not much, but the man who was wearing it looked a lot more foolish than you will in it. And he was more ill-mannered too. Now just wait until I cut a pair of holes for your ears …”
I got a hand on his shoulder whilst he was reachin’ into his wagon for scissors, meanin’ to spin him round and toss him out in the road the way he done me. Only it didn’t work out just exactly like I’d figured.
That li’l bandy-legged gent was slippery as a moccasin and twict as quick. He ducked under my arm and took holt of it with both hands, then twisted round and hiked me over his shoulder faster’n you could say Jack Robinson. I hit the ground with a yelp and a grunt what took ever whisper of air clean out of me.
I was gettin’ awful close to losin’ my temper by this time. Bein’ whupped by big Jube this mornin’, and then by a little bald-headed runt half his size an’ twict his age in the afternoon, weren’t helpin’ my normal cheerful disposition much a-tall.
But I reckon them bumps an’ falls knocked a little sense into my noggin too. ’Cause this time I laid still and played possum after I lit, diggin’ my fingers into the sand on the side away from Baldy whilst I was at it. Sure enough, after a minute his curiosity got the best of him, and he come over to where I was layin’ to have a closer look.
I let fly with the sand in his eyes, twistin’ round in almost the same instant to bring my other fist off the ground with everthing I’d got behind her. It caught Baldy square in the chops and knocked him spinnin’, so he fetched up hard against the side of his wagon a dozen feet away. Whilst he was leaning there rubber-legged, shakin’ his head amidst the clatterin’ and clankin’ of all them pots and pans, I climbed back on my feet an’ bull-charged in, landin’ a couple solid rights and lefts to the body soon as I was close enough to do some damage.
They staggered him, but he was tough as old saddle leather and plenty game. After he’d managed to sidestep away from a kidney-punch, he come back underneath with a head-butt what brought twinklin’ lights to my eyes and made me drop my guard for almost half a second. Which give him all the time he needed to wrap them powerful arms around my body an’ trip me up.
The two of us went tumblin’ tail over teakettle through the dirt an’ sandspurs by the side of the road for what seemed a good five minutes or more, with him squeezin’ the air out from between my sore ribs whilst I gnawed on a ear and tried to get my fingers loose to where I could poke ’em in his eyes.
Each was tryin’ to get some advantage over the other without havin’ no success a-tall to speak of. I’d the edge in size, but ole Baldy was strong as a ox underneath them store-bought clothes. And it appeared like he’d done his share of no-holds rasslin’ here an’ there on top of it. Far as pure-out meanness went, I reckon we was pretty evenly matched.
Finally we just laid there, wrapped up in a death grip with the sweat pourin’ off both of us, a-huffin’ and a-gruntin’ like a couple ole boar hogs rootin’ through a cow pen. Prob’ly didn’t look nor smell too much different from them sorry critters neither about that time.
Baldy peered up from where I’d got him pinned underneath me, and his blue eyes seemed to crinkle just a little round the edges. Then he give my ribs one more good squeeze that like to made me holler out with pain in spite of myself.
“What about it, youngster?” he wheezed, grittin’ his teeth against the sharp twist I’d give his ear in reply. “You had enough yet? Or am I going to have to whip you some more?” He was grinnin’ when he said it, so I knew he figured we’d done fought to a draw.
“I ain’t too sure about the whippin’,” I answered, gaspin’ for breath my ownself between the words, “or leastways who’s got the worser of it so far. But I got to confess that rig of yours don’t appear half so funny as it did awhile back. Maybe if we was to let each other up I could take me another look, and reconsider my thinkin’.”
“Fair enough.” Baldy loosed his grip and we rolled apart. The two of us just laid there for several minutes, starin’ up at the sky and tryin’ to get our breathing back to normal. Then I pushed myself off the ground, swallowin’ a groan whilst I did it, and when I’d got to my feet I reached out a hand to help Baldy up as well.
He looked at me real suspicious before he took it. But I was only bein’ helpful. They’d been enough fightin’ and roughhouse today to last me at least another week. I weren’t of no mind to take up where I’d left off with this gent. Not over no outlandish tin pot an’ medicine-show rig, anyhow.
I stepped next to the wagon and leaned against one of them big wheels, restin’ myself and looking her over at the same time. Baldy walked over to pick up his hat and the celluloid collar what come loose during the fracas, before