All but one; Cape Jinks. He knew it meant him the moment Cottonwood Wasson uttered the first syllable, and his pistol came bluntly to the fore without a word. His rival's was already there, and the shooting set in like a hailstorm. As a result, Cottonwood Wasson received an injury that crippled his arm for days, while Cape Jinks was picked up with a hole in his side, which even the sanguine sentiment of Wolfville, inclined to a hardy optimism at all times, called dangerous.
“Well!” said Old Man Enright, drawing a deep, troubled breath, after the duellists were cared for at the O. K. House, “yere we be ag'in an' nothin' settled! Thar's all this shootin', an' this blood-lettin', an' the camp gets all torn up; an' thar's as many of these people now as thar is before, an' most likely the whole deal to go over ag'in.”
“I shore 'bominates things a-splittin' even that a-way!” said Cherokee.
The next day a new face was given the affair when “The Cactus” was observed, clothed in her best frock and with two violent red roses in her straw hat, to take the stage for Tucson. The stage company reported, in deference to the excited state of the Wolfville mind, that “The Cactus” would return in a week.
“Goin' for her weddin' trowsoo, most likely,” said Dan Boggs, as he gazed after the stage.
“Let's drink to the hope she wins out a red dress!” remarked Texas Thompson. “Set up the bottles, bar-keep, an' don't let no gent pass up the play. Which red is my fav'rite colour!”
No one seemed to know the intentions of “The Cactus.” The shooting would appear to have in nowise disturbed her. That may have been her obdurate heart, or it may have come from a familiarity with the evanescent tenure of human life, born of her years on the border. Be that as one will, she expressed not the least concern touching her brace of wounded lovers, and took the stage without saying good-bye to any one.
“An' some fools say women is talkers!” remarked Jack Moore, the Marshal, in high disgust.
Three days later Old Monte, the stage driver, came in with thrilling news. “The Cactus” had wedded a man in Tucson, and would bring him to Wolfville in a week.
“When I first hears of it,” went on Old Monte with a groan, “an' when I thinks of them two pore boys a-layin' in Wolfville, an' their claims bein' raffled off in that heartless way, I shore thinks I'll take my Winchester an' stop them marriage rites if I has to crease the preacher. But, pards, the Tucson marshal wouldn't have it. He stan's me off. So she nails him; an' the barkeep at the Oriental Saloon tells me over thar, how she's been organisin' to wed this yere prairie dog before she ever hops into Wolfville at all. I sees him afterwards; an', gents! for looks, he don't break even with horned toads!”