“Expecting me?” he wonders aloud. “I suppose ‘Tellurium’ had to go and tell everybody.”
“Uh-huh,” I agrees. “Tellurium Woods never could keep still.”
So far as I know Tellurium ain’t been in Paradise for six months, but he’s as good as anybody to blame it on. Him and Calamity used to be pardners.
“Well, well!” says Calamity, brushing the dust off his mustache, and giving his cigaret a chance to burn hair freely. “Here I been figuring on surprising the old-timers, and I been told upon by a friend. Henry Peck, I done sold out my property over in the Little Rockies, and now I’m rich.
“I got more money than a dog has fleas, but I ain’t enjoyed it none. I opines to throw a surprise into Paradise, so I buys this gasoline buckboard, has her shipped to Silver Bend, and here I am. She’s worse than any outlaw bronc that ever flinched under a saddle, Henry, and I’m older by years and years than I was a week ago when a man teached me how to drive it. I don’t know what makes her run. All I got to do is put gasoline in her, twist her tail a few times, pull the designated levers, and point her away from the stumps. She sure makes enough noise.”
“You figured the tune right, Calamity,” says I. “Paradise sure is doing itself proud in your honor.”
“‘In my honor?’ What’s the idea, Henry?”
“Well, yuh see it ain’t often that a town can have a former inhabitant come home rich and distinguished like you are. The public sure admires a man with a chunk off the root of all evil, Calamity. We’ve decorated in your honor, and tomorrow we parades before yuh to show our admiration and respect. Sabe?”
“My gosh, Henry!” he snorts. “This is too much.”
“It’s considerable, Calamity, but look who you are.”