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Part 3

The Great Small Cat, and Others: Seven Tales · May E. Southworth — chapter 3 of 10 · ~3,293 words · public domain

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"Oh, she's just a small stray that loped in on our range, but y'u can bet ye'r life she's a winner all right and a bunch hard to beat. She's 'just cat,' but there ain't nothing nowhere purtier, and y'u couldn't go out in a whole round-up of felines and rope a gentler one, though she's grit clear through to the backbone."

The "bunch hard to beat" looked up into her friend's face with bright, inquiring eyes, understanding the love and approval in his glance if not the great distinction conferred upon her of being the bright, particular star in the story he was relating.

"Well, y'u see, it's this-a-way," explained Larry, in his pleasant drawl, removing his briar and stiffening his muscles: "Cats is mighty useful things. What would the blamed country be without them anyway?--an' it's no way reasonable that we could run this ranch without this little peacherino. She's just a soft pretty thing, but she's sure got spunk enough for a wild bull. Lordy me! we're just plumb foolish over her, and she don't step on nobody's bunions no more, y'u bet! She ain't that sort. She's so modest and quiet it beats all how good it makes y'u feel just to have her round; a sort of spiritual uplift and missionary 'home sweet home' broke gentle to the gang."

Evidently these men, really manly men, some of them as brown and wrinkled as an old leather shoe, were the little cat's sincere admirers. As I listened to the story, I stole her from the ranchman's hand and gathered her, almost reverently, in my lap, more then as a testimony to the big-heartedness and sterling human qualities of the Western cattlemen, than as the distinguished heroine of the narrative.

It seems that at the noon hour, about the middle of one April, while the men were idly loitering on the shady side of the adobe, waiting for the hour to strike which called them to work again, a dusty, fuzzy little black streak scooted in from the direction of the road and dropped all in a heap, breathless and exhausted, at their feet. The "déboo" of this miserable little stranger had been unannounced and the suddenness of this rather dramatic entrance upon the scene of the unexpected, though tiny débutante, caused quite a flutter among the men, and pipes and cigarettes were hastily laid aside in order that they might look over at close range this "feeble short horn." The bedraggled little "black streak" proved on examination to be the thinnest, most woebegone, footsore, starved and wholly exhausted black kitten ever seen, whose tired legs had been able to carry her just this far--not a step farther could she have gone. She was indeed a pitiful creature, half-dead with fear and fatigue, and in looks so painfully appealing that she waked compassion in even the stoniest heart. Evidently she had traveled far, without food or rest, as she was completely done for. Why she came, or from where, nobody could tell, but probably chased and hunted until absolutely worn out, she had in her extremity ventured into this refuge of humans, taking her chances. To the everlasting honor of these rough ranch hands, their tough bachelor hearts were touched by this helpless, sick-looking little mite of a kitten, and they decided that she was to stay and be made comfortable. Feeling half-ashamed of their compassionate impulse and in order to hide even from one another any unmanly sentiment in the matter, one said:

"H'its powerful good luck to have a black cat hit the camp! I like the color, boys, and have a hunch it'll bring us great; let's rope and brand her for our diggins."

So the "good luck" was not scatted off, but was introduced to the ranch and seemed very grateful for their soft-hearted hospitality. When she had lapped some good warm milk into her vacant stomach she gained sufficient strength to express her satisfaction with what had been "handed out to her," and showed a most beautiful willingness to stay by it.

The "hostess" of this ranch was a large, wide "widow woman," in eloquent vernacular "grass," one of those very capable, hard-working individuals whose precarious temper even when all went well with her, was never to be imposed upon. Her brisk, ponderous tread was a power, real and felt, and not to be trifled with for a moment in any mood. The boys realized that she would be "plumb discouraging" to any scheme for the adoption of this tiny waif, and knew the utter futility of trying to pull her heartstrings in any kind of sympathy for "only a cat." So they turned all their energies into the most guilty, barefaced personal coaxing and cajolery in order to get any kind of concession in her department for this additional feeder. As they expected, she was about as responsive as a Chinese Joss and as hard as a stone to any possible allurements the kitten might develop as a home-maker, and the very most they could gain from the "old grouch" was a grudging consent to just "let her stay round till some other place can be found for her."

"And her face wasn't a mite smiling or even friendly as she said it." So the poor little kitten, being only on sufferance, accepted such crusts of charity as came her way, and was mighty grateful; for she was very hungry, very weary, and good food had long been a strange thing in her small stomach. It was plain the kitten had never known anything of home or a fireside and was simply of the humble garden variety of cat. Yet she was not an outcast or a tramp by nature, for she proved very quick to fall into ways which contributed to the cosiness of the cabin kitchen, even with the scant encouragement she received. The feminine eternal heart-throb of home-making was certainly there in her breast, for just like "other folks" she took her allotted place in the corner back of the big stove and was singularly human in the snug enjoyment of the comfort of it.

Although the Small Stray Was Minus All Signs of Pedigree, She Held Her Head High and Was Accorded the Respect and Good Treatment Due a Lady]

In the cattle country the one momentary lull in affairs is when the day's work is over and night has settled down over the lonesome miles of ranch and the men are all gathered in a circle round the open fire. In this good-fellowship under the big stars one night, they fell to discussing their little black protégée, and the permission they had to only "let her stay round." As they were almost maternally solicitous that she should have a permanent home with them, they decided that as her sponsors they were in a way responsible and had better get busy at once and attend to her serious education, laying out the details of her conduct on a straight and narrow path of duty.

Larry was the one selected to "break her gentle," and at his very first opportunity was requested to "do the decent" and to start her off with a strictly private and business tip, speaking for the whole outfit. In recalling this incident in the game, Larry's big laugh rang out until he wiped the tears away with a corner of the gay bandanna knotted about his neck.

"I took this tenderfoot aside," he said, "and gave it to her personally and straight, y'u bet. Come here, pard, says I, I've got to give it to y'u private and special. We want y'u to camp in this yere diggins for always, but, if y'u get a chance to stay, y'u've got to conduct yereself decorus. This yere is a bachelor round-up with one skirt that's the big boss of the whole outfit. What she says goes and y'u want to get that into yere system from the start-off. We want to give y'u a square deal with no superfluous language, but She's the cinch and y'll get what's coming to y'u, all right, if y'u don't go cautious."

The recounter said that the very grave and polite way the kitten took this "rounding-up spiritually" was killing, solemnly looking him straight in the eye with painful concentration, her little nose in nervous crinkles. Larry confessed that the big effort this small vagrant made "to get the drift" of what he was trying to impress on her mind, made him feel like a huge brute. Anyway, by some trick of his slow, delicious drawl, the timely warning "sunk in" and found a responsive chord in her consciousness. In some way she fathomed his friendly intention and understood, at least, the magic timbre of his soothing voice which flashed back entire confidence and drew to him a friend, one who was infinitely shy, but one who would trust him absolutely while life lasted.

These paternal young cowmen, having delivered their souls of this religious act of discipline, "pulled the stake" and let her go free. By the time the days of kittenhood had passed the "stray" had grown plump and her coat glossy, and although minus all signs of pedigree, she held her head high and had acquired a certain modest dignity, sufficient to deceive a layman and to insure the respect and good treatment due a lady. Evidently she had been careful to mind the warning and was conducting herself "decorus." In return for their hospitality she attended to her part of the ranch business by keeping the cabin and pantry strictly clear of all rats and mice. Occasionally she gave chase to the wild things good for cats, and at milking time, if she happened to "hang round," the men were sure to give her a fine dessert of warm milk. As the days and weeks went happily by for her, she unobtrusively arranged her life to suit the pleasant place she had fallen into, gaining an honest living by her skill, with a few luxuries thrown in at unexpected intervals by the men, who would forget her for days at a time, owing to her modest way of keeping in the background. If on some lean and hungry days, when hunting had not been so successful, she would sometimes wistfully sniff, with eager, yearning stomach and longing, though decently distant eyes, the bountiful, savory mess of the kitchen, or venture to rub too coaxingly near the bustling form juggling the pots and pans with energetic vehemence, she was soon made to understand that she had overstepped the bounds of her tolerance, in trespassing on the particular domain of one who just endured her unwelcome presence. Being feminine and an unusually sensible and peaceable cat, she soon developed a surprising acuteness in diplomacy and in warding off unnecessary trouble. After various mortifying experiences she found it best to be "only handy" at such times as the feasts were in progress, creeping most cautiously in, a-tiptoe on her soft noiseless pads, just to be there in case any tidbits should come her way.

All might have been well, and life a long holiday, leading her in pleasant ways to the end, had she not erred, and so innocently and blindly erred. Of course it was scandalous, if natural, and not to be tolerated for one moment by the already much overburdened landlady. The downfall came as a terribly stiff jolt to poor kitty, for her heart had swelled with guiltless pride over her sin and its achievement.

One sad Sunday morning she was discovered in her cosy corner, a very picture of innocent content over the beautiful surprise she had created for the family. There she lay with her eyes half-closed, softly beaming in rapture on six very small, newly born infants at her breasts. As she was "discovered" she looked up in her delirium of happiness with a hesitating, half-apologetic sort of smile, as one longing for, yet meeting, no response. Her anxiety was so exactly human that no one could mistake her meaning or her little weak smile of hesitating conciliation. But it froze in a flash when with frightened dismay she heard the hustling housewife's loud and angry denunciation of "the march that hussy had stolen on us," and the sentence of "immediate death" or "transportation" pronounced on "her and her brood," in stentorian and not-to-be-trifled-with tones.

These square men with square jaws were "all in a heap" over the size and caliber of the shock their pet had handed out to them. The smoldering spark of guardianship that had been fanned to a warm, comfortable flame in their breasts was not so easily extinguished, but they realized that all pleading and diplomacy with the outraged Authority would be in vain this time. No pet on the ranch had ever, in an unobtrusive way, gained so firm a hold on their stout hearts and "their pile of hope was busted well" by this rude interruption to the tremendous bid they had made on the bad-tempered woman's favor. Not only did they hate to part with this shy, little, inoffensive protégée, but that she had failed to "make good" in the eyes of the one whom, in their fiercest rage they dared not oppose, and so had lost her home, was a sickening disappointment. As they braced themselves for the worst and stood there smiling indulgently down on the cat so snug in her bed, there was a long and rather anxious pause during which they all seemed tongue-tied, until at last one said in playful disgust:

"Humph! y'u've been plumb busy to-day, hav'n't y'u, old girl, and this time, like all females, handing out trouble for yereself with both hands."

They were both disgusted and "plenty sorrowful" over the terrible fiat, but it was a case, on their part, of "have to," and a bad case, too. Not that they were afraid, but they were "hobbled," all right, as well as "bridle wise," and frankly confessed that when it came to women, they were "a mite timid." But since there was a choice of evils, in sorrowfully bending to the inevitable they, of course, decided on "transportation." In indignation they considered places, finally determining to take the offending family across the river, far, far, away where they would never more be able to trespass on so reluctant a hospitality as the ranch cabin afforded. In wide-eyed wonderment and feverish anxiety, the crestfallen young mother followed every movement in the preparations that were being made for her journey. She, of course, could not understand, but watched with vastly puzzled eyes all this strange confusion about her bed, feeling that she was surely in some way responsible for this unusual excitement. In nervous haste she passionately licked the wee babies with tender, mothering tongue, and with soft caressing murmurs as if assuring them of safety and was about to do it all over again with utmost care in hopes of being able to disperse the gloom they had evidently created when she and the kits were lifted gently into a covered basket which the men had been carefully preparing for the conveyance. They knew of a place, "the furtherest ever," a real home ranch where the house-mother would be really glad of this family. It was far enough away so that the exile could never return, and besides, what made it an absolutely safe asylum in the judgment of these men was that it was across a deep flowing river, which meant that there could be no "stampede" back. Even for the most homesick of kitties and one who "sure had spunk," it would be madness to attempt to return across that.

These big men, big physically and big in tenderness and sympathy, usually "took the bit in their mouths and got whatever they went for," and with pretty smart directness, too. But they were shy, their nerve forsaking them entirely, when it came to tackling a woman on her own stamping ground, and that woman the very capable provider of their "three square per." Why she had taken this obstinate caprice and unreasonable dislike they did not try to conjecture. It was beyond male understanding and they lovingly alluded to her as the "one and original Chinese puzzle." They said "women is queer" with that long-suffering tolerance which the male human accords the vagaries of the female.

The rangeman is nothing if he lacks that one remarkably comfortable trait of adaptability, and so, although they were not "stuck on the job" of removing the cat, they were forced by virtue of their very large necessity not to get into a "mix-up," by reason of the woman's crabbed temper and strange antagonism.

So two volunteer martyrs, boiling, seething volcanoes inside, shamedly and reluctantly took up the basket, holding it as gingerly as if it were a case of eggs instead of a case of a mother and her harvest of shame, and dismally started for the ferry. After crossing the river they "pulled their freight" on the trail a mile farther back inland, which led upwards into a wide broad meadow and to the home of a friendly ranch-boss. The buxom wife welcomed their unexpected arrival and the "family" with open arms, telling them that she had long been wanting a younger breed of cats to take the place of "old Tom," now getting lazy and "no 'count," and that she felt flattered that these faithful friends had selected this ranch as the home for their pet. The men fixed a nice warm bed in the sanctuary of a vacant manger in one of the corrals, counted out the infants and found them all O. K., and then tried to coax the cat to nestle down and mother them. But she would not, merely crouching over them instead, in an anxious sort of way with her ears perked inquiringly forward, in an attitude of miserable bewilderment.

The outcome of her "happy surprise" had been a crushing blow, but one which would wake within her such a marvelous spirit of determination and endurance as to render her distinguished among cats. The second "happy surprise" she was to unfold for their entertainment was one little anticipated and one that would take the breath from even these hardened men.

As they turned finally to leave her she gave a long agonized mew that was so like a human call of utter desolation, and which caused such queer fluttering thumps in the men's hearts, that they went back to console her, if possible, and to tuck the babies all in again, with the caution to lie still and be good.

"Now look here, Cat, y'u don't want to take it to heart like this! Y'u've been treated low down and it's a darned shame, but there's no use getting all fussed up over it. Y'u can bank on yere pards making things pretty mean and sassy for that 'old porkypine.' She's sure in fer sorrow! The rats and mice will do things, something scandalous, in that old pantry of hern. Now, go by-low, and take good care of the babies till we come again."

Waving her a sorrowful "ta-ta" with their hands, they at last left her, to return by way of the ferry, singing as they went, in their mellow cowboy cadence, an old Scotch folk-lore song which they thought quite appropriate to the occasion and soothing to the mother:

There was an old cat, and a black cat, too, That had so many children, she didn't know what to do. To save them from fighting and scratching and bawling, She pinned them all up by the ears when out calling.

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