A perfect gentleman
Date: 2025-10-28T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Short stories; Western stories; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction

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Title: A perfect gentleman

Author: Mark Price

Release date: October 28, 2025 [eBook #77137]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Street & Smith Corporation, 1929

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77137

Credits: Roger Frank and Sue Clark

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERFECT GENTLEMAN ***

A Perfect Gentleman

By Mark Price

What Is a Hard-boiled Two-gun Westerner To Do When the Girl of His Dreams Takes Him For a Perfect Gentleman?

As I rode toward Oakwood three hombres popped up from behind a rock and stuck their guns under my nose. I stopped and says: “It’s a fine day, gents.”

“Damn the weather!” answers one of them. “What we want to know is who are you?”

“Let the kid alone, Bill,” says another. “Can’t yuh see he ain’t the one? He ain’t got any down on his upper lip even, and look at those innocent blue eyes!” He grinned, and I didn’t like his remarks, but what can you do when three guns are pointin’ at you?

“Yuh see, stranger, we’re on the lookout for a hombre,” explains the third man. “His name is ‘Trigger’ Caswell, a card sharp and a gun slinger. He cleaned the boys over at Union City last week, and then shot his way out. We got word that he’s headin’ this way, and we’re goin’ to keep him out of our town. But since you look young and harmless you c’n go on.”

So I rode on in to town.

Right away I seen a girl, and I nearly fell off my bronc. She was a beauty, dark hair and brown eyes and a face like an angel. I had never looked at females before, but somehow I knew I had to get acquainted with her. I dismounted and walked past her.

“It’s a fine day, ma’am,” I says.

She went sailin’ by as if I had not spoke. I started to walk after her, but then I thought of a better way. My bronc Henry is a trick pony, and he’s got one stunt that I am particular proud of. I whisper in his ear and his front legs cave in and he drops as if he is dead. It looks awful real. So I went back and got in the saddle and trotted past the young lady, and then whispered in Henry’s ear. And the bronc went down like he had been shot, and I fell in the dust and laid there like a dead man. It is dangerous, but a sure-fire method to get acquainted.

The girl ran up and knelt down beside me, and raised my head in her arms. “Oh!” she sighs. She looked so tender and charmin’ that I couldn’t sham no longer. I sat up and says, “Thank you kindly, ma’am, but I’m not hurt much.”

“Dear me!” she says, “I thought sure you were dead.” I sighed and acted weak, so she wouldn’t go away. So she helped me up slow and easy, sayin’, “It’s a mercy you were not killed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I says. “And by the way, what is your name?”

“Carol Hoyt,” she answers. “And what is yours?”

After a pause I says, “Joe. Joe--Smith.” And we shook hands solemn.

“Mr. Smith, all the men in this town are terrible unmannerly ruffians,” she declares. “You are the first man that ever came here that didn’t try to flirt with me, and get acquainted. You seem to be a real gentleman.”

She must not of heard me when I spoke to her about the weather. I thanked my lucky stars, and changed the subject. “It’s lucky for me that I fell off my horse, or I wouldn’t of got to know you, Miss Hoyt. And also I think Carol is an awful pretty name.”

We walked along talkin’, and as we passed the gamblin’ hall a man came up. He had a fancy vest and a little mustache and a hard face, and right off I disliked him. He raised his hat with a grin, and says, “Howdy, Carol.”

Carol lifted her nose in the air and went on, like he was dirt. He flushed and gave a hard laugh, sayin’, “Still the same, ain’t you?” Then as he went by he brushed against me.

Right away he was boilin’ mad. He shoved me aside. “Get out of my way, you dumb rhinoceros!” he yells. And that got me mad, too, but also puzzled. For before I could push his face in, I had to know the meanin’ of his words. Rhinoceros, thinks I; what in blazes is a rhinoceros? And by the time I could think of it, the hombre had disappeared through the door of the gamblin’ hall.

Just as I was ready to go after him, Carol touched my arm. She looked at me admirin’. “I certainly admire you,” she says. “Most men would of started a fight with him for what he did. But instead you restrained yourself and took it quietly. You almost come up to my ideal of a perfect gentleman!”

She was givin’ credit where no credit was due, but I did not let on. “And what is your ideal of a perfect gentleman?” I asks.

“He must be mild and courteous,” she answers. “He must not flirt, or gamble, or drink, or swear. And he must not fight, whatever the circumstances might be.”

Them specifications hit me pretty hard. I could not imagine a real he-man livin’ up to them--he would have to be a kind of tailor’s dummy to meet Carol’s demands. “Aren’t you askin’ a little too much?” I asks.

“No,” she answers, her dark eyes flashin’. “I couldn’t ever have anything to do with a man who didn’t live up to that!”

That was sure a large order that she mentioned. But I looked at her and her wide eyes was beautiful, and her delicate face was beautiful, and she was the finest girl I had ever seen. No matter how tight a loop she’s spreadin’, thinks I, I got to get inside of it regardless. So I says, “Ain’t that peculiar, ma’am? You and me, we think just exactly alike on these things.”

“I’m so glad, Mr. Smith,” she says, and held my arm tighter. By this time we had come to a store, and here she stopped. “I must go back to work, now,” she tells me. “This is my store here. Good-by, Mr. Smith. I hope to see you again some time.”

“You sure will, Miss Hoyt,” I replies, as I left her. And I meant that. I put my bronc in the stable, and got a room in the hotel. I had not intended to spend much time in Oakwood, but after seein’ her I was ready to stay there forever.

After a while I went back down to the store, and there was Carol behind the counter. “A half pound of crackers, please,” I says.

After makin’ my purchase I loitered around some. Carol told me that her dad had died recent, and now she was runnin’ the store herself. It was no job fer a woman, but she seemed to handle it pretty well.

A horseman rides by down the street, and I seen that it was the same jasper who had shoved me that mornin’. “Who is he?” I asks.

“That is Hal Spencer,” she replies. “He runs the gamblin’ hall, and they say he runs a crooked game. My father used to go to his place, and now Mr. Spencer is always coming around the store. I wish he would stay away.”

“Does he bother you?” says I.

“He is a nuisance, always insistin’ that I got to marry him,” she says. “I always refuse him, but he won’t take no for an answer. He’s a gunman and a thief. I don’t want anything to do with him!” She shivered.

I was ready to tell her that I’d get rid of him for her, but then I remembered I had to be a gentleman and couldn’t fight, so I says nothin’. “I’ll see you again, Miss Hoyt,” says I.

It was evenin’ now. Walkin’ down the street I stopped in at the gamblin’ hall. There was redeye bein’ served, and my throat was dry. And there was games of poker goin’ on, and I fair itched to take a hand of stud. But I couldn’t do neither of these things, ’cause I had to be a perfect gentleman.

So I just stood and looked on. The house gamblers was shifty-eyed rats that looked like they knew all the crooked card tricks by heart. The boss, Hal Spencer himself, came in, and he gave me a sneerin’ look. He passed on, and then three hombres loungin’ at the bar started talkin’ about me.

“Who’s the strange cow-puncher?” asks one.

“That’s the coyote what took water from Hal Spencer this mornin’,” answers another.

“Ho!” laughs the third. “I guess he just wears that gun on his hip fer a ornament!”

I was beginnin’ to see red, and to avoid trouble I walked out pronto. Their mockin’ laugh rang in my ears as I left. By followin’ Carol’s ideas of a gentleman I was layin’ myself open to be called yellow, but that could not be helped. I had seen her only that day, but already I was willin’ to walk through fire for her. I had it bad. There was nothin’ else to do, so I went to the hotel and to bed, and dreamed about Carol.

Next mornin’ when I came to the store there was Hal Spencer with the town marshal beside him. Carol leaned against the counter, and her eyes was red like she had been cryin’.

“So here is the note,” says Spencer, handin’ her a paper. “And I am takin’ over the store in return fer it. Not so, marshal?”

“Exactly,” says the law.

“But you can stay on here as clerk, Carol,” continues the gambler. “I want to treat you right, because I think a lot of you.” And he grinned at her.

Carol did not answer; she stood there sort of half dazed. Spencer laughed insultin’ and looked at me, and then he and the marshal walked out. “I am leavin’ you in charge of the store, Carol,” he calls as he left.

“What is wrong?” I asks her then.

She answers that he had brought a note signed by her father for a thousand dollars, an old gamblin’ debt, and since she could not pay it he had taken the store. “It’s strange that father didn’t tell me about it,” she adds.

“Have you got anything else that your dad wrote?” I asks. She brought out a letter, and I laid the note beside it to compare with. The handwritin’ was pretty close, but it was not quite the same in the two.

“Carol----” says I.

“Please call me Miss Hoyt,” says she.

“Miss Hoyt,” says I, “you are bein’ cold-decked by this tinhorn gambler. This note was not wrote by your father. It is forged.”

“Oh!” she sighs. I was hopin’ that now she would let me go ahead and take Spencer apart, but she only shrugged her shoulders. “Well, there is nothin’ to be done. The marshal and the justice are under Spencer’s thumb, and I can’t get any help from the law here. Just have to let the store go, I guess.”

“That is too bad. And also, I don’t think much of your new boss.”

“Nor do I. But I’ll just make the best of it,” says she. And her brown eyes lit up with a smile, and she looked calm and brave in the face of her troubles.

When I came back that afternoon there was more trouble. I came in the door, and there was Spencer holdin’ Carol in his arms. He was pullin’ her close and tryin’ to kiss her. She fought him off with all her strength, silent and furious.

I seen red then, and rushed in. The tinhorn heard me come, and he pushed the girl away and stood facin’ me. And then Carol, all pale and excited, shook her head at me and held up her hand in a forbidding manner.

That stopped me like a bucket of cold water. I remembered that I had to be a gentleman, and take everything quiet. If I tie into this hombre, thinks I, it will finish me with Carol. So I stopped, and stood there.

Spencer laughed then, and waved his hand airylike. “I’ll see you again, Carol,” he says, and he went away.

“I am so glad you controlled yourself, Mr. Smith,” says Carol. “You certainly showed yourself to be a perfect gentleman.”

“Carol----” says I.

“Please call me Miss Hoyt,” says she.

“Miss Hoyt,” says I, “you need somebody to look after you. Maybe if Spencer was hit on the jaw he wouldn’t bother you any more.”

“Oh!” gasps Carol. “I couldn’t think of that! It would be terribly ungentlemanly!”

“Well, I was just thinkin’,” says I, sort of lame. “Please give me half a pound of crackers, Miss Hoyt. And if you don’t mind, I will hang around here fer a few minutes.” So I stayed there, lookin’ at Carol and talkin’ to her, fer eight hours, till she closed the store at midnight.

When I left her, I couldn’t go to the hotel to my bed. I was all restless and half crazy, like a cow what had et loco weed. I went to the stable and got my bronc Henry, and rode him tearin’ across the plain.

Carol and Spencer was on my mind. When I thought of the tinhorn gambler I saw red, and when I thought of Carol, her sweetness and charm, my heart nearly stopped beatin’. And the more I thought the more I got on the prod, like a boiler gettin’ up steam.

I laid down on the ground for a while, and in the middle of the mornin’ rode back to Oakwood, and went to the store. “Good mornin’,” says I to Carol.

“Good mornin’,” says she.

“Carol----” says I.

“Please call me Miss Hoyt,” says she.

“Miss Hoyt,” says I, “since you’ve been cheated out of your store, s’pose I go down to Spencer’s place and ask him to pay for it?”

“That would be all right,” she answers, sort of shaky. Then she tells me that Spencer had been there that mornin’. He says that he was boss in Oakwood, and she couldn’t stall him off no longer. She was goin’ to marry him that night, whether she wanted to or not. “He is a very hard and powerful man,” she says, and I could see she was afraid.

“S’pose a fellow that thought a lot of you went to help you out, and in the course of things he gambled, and had a fight or two. What then?” I asks.

“That would be terrible! A man who acted like that would be no gentleman, and I wouldn’t have anything to do with him,” answers Carol. She tossed her head, and her brown eyes shone.

“Oh,” says I, out loud. “Hell,” says I, to myself. “I’ll see you later,” says I, out loud.

I went down the street, and turned in at the gamblin’ hall. Spencer was not there, but two of his gamblers was playin’ poker with two prospectors, with a crowd around. I stood and watched, and soon saw that the two tinhorns was usin’ all the crooked card tricks there was, and that the two prospectors would soon be dry-gulched out of their gold dust.

Nobody else seemed to notice, and the game went along quiet. I went back and sat down. There was somethin’ to thresh out in my mind. Things was gettin’ me on the prod, and I could hardly keep a grip on myself any more. And also, I knew now that I was awful deep in love with Carol. But there was her words: “Any man who swears, or gambles, or fights is not a gentleman, and I won’t have anything to do with him!”

Now I was up a tree. Carol was in a fix, and if I took a hand I would have to act like no gentleman, and she wouldn’t look at me again. If I helped her out I would kill my own chances with her. But if I didn’t---- I thought for a while, and decided.

The poker game was over, and the two prospectors was cleaned. The two gamblers was lookin’ around for fresh victims, and I came up. “Here is all I got, boys,” says I with a grin, holdin’ up a twenty-dollar bill. “S’pose we play a hand.”

The two tinhorns looked at each other and winked. “Take him, Jake,” says one to the other.

Jake gave me a look like I was an easy mark. “You are too young and innocent to play this game, but come on,” he says, and gave me twenty silver dollars fer chips. I sat down and dealt.

We played. Fer a time we ran along even. Then I seen the gambler deal himself a card from the bottom of the deck. The crooked work was beginnin’. He did it slick, and I says nothin’. But thinks I, you have got to fight the devil with fire. So I paid more attention to the game, and after that begun to win steady and heavy.

After a couple of hours there was nearly a thousand dollars in cash in front of me. The gambler was peeved and worried. “You got the damnedest luck I ever seen,” says he. “The way you hold the cards you must be Trigger Caswell himself.”

“Maybe I am him, at that,” I answers, and he laughed.

The game went on, and a crowd gathered around. I went on winnin’, and the house was gettin’ worried. Jake cussed to himself, and the other gambler and the bartender closed in and stood watchin’ like hawks. “Spencer ought to be here,” mutters the bartender. “But this kid’s luck is bound to break soon.” But my winnin’ went on.

At last there was one grand pot, and I held four kings against Jake’s full house, and raked in the cash. Jake scowled and shrugged his shoulders. “That’s all there is,” he says. “The house is broke.”

So I stacked up my winnin’s and counted them, and there was two thousand and twenty-nine dollars all told. I put the money in my pocket and got up. “Much obliged, gents. I must be goin’,” I says.

Jake looked at his friends and jumped up. “Not so fast, stranger,” he snarls. “You’ll leave that money here when you go. None of that crooked gamblin’ goes here!”

“Crooked gamblin’? You never caught me at any of that. And how about your top-and-bottom dealin’, Jake?”

Jake says nothin’, only put his hand on his gun. The crowd got out of the way, and the two gamblers and bartender stood ready to battle for the house. I stood waitin’, and pretty soon Jake gritted his teeth and made a play for the holster, and the other two followed suit.

I went for my smoke wagon also, and beat them to the draw. I drilled Jake in the shoulder, and put the other gambler out of commission with a bullet through his gun arm. Then the bartender pulled down on me, but his bullet only nipped my leg. And after that I put a slug in his collar bone, and it was over with.

I put my gun away, says, “Look after these hombres,” and headed for the door. The crowd barred the way, mutterin’ and scowlin’. “If any more of you want trouble, speak up,” says I. At that they opened up and let me through.

I went down the street toward the store. Actin’ the gentleman for so long had been a big strain, but now I had blowed the lid off with a bang. I was on the prod, and lookin’ for more trouble. And I found it down at the store.

There was Spencer again, with Carol strugglin’ in his arms. Her eyes was wide, and her face was white and scared. It was just like the day before. But I was not a gentleman now, and could follow my own inclinations.

The gambler let go of Carol, but when he seen who it was he grinned mockin’. “On your way, boy,” says he. But I stepped up to him and says, “Mister, your manners are bad,” and with that I hit him on the jaw and knocked him down.

He got up, and handed me a stiff one in return. Then we went at it hammer and tongs, fightin’ up and down the store. And Carol stood by watchin’ us, her hands clenched.

Now she sees what a roughneck I really am, and will have nothin’ more to do with me, thinks I sort of bitter. And my temper was up anyway, so I took it all out on Spencer, and gave him somethin’ to remember me by.

He was game. I knocked him down against the canned goods shelf, and a dozen cans came down. He came back for more. After a while he was sent sprawlin’ against the flour barrel, and he and the flour went to the floor together. He got up, all covered with flour and half crazy, and made a lunge for the cheese knife. But I kicked it out of the way, and hit him fair on the point of the chin. He turned a somersault and went feet first through the plate-glass window. Then he lit out in the street and laid still.

I followed to the door, but there was no more fight in him. Both him and his store was wrecked. I was bleedin’ and pantin’, and half tore apart, myself.

Turnin’ around, there was Carol starin’ at me with wide eyes. I pulled out my roll. Peelin’ off twenty-nine dollars for myself, I handed the rest to her.

“Miss Hoyt, here is two thousand dollars in full payment for your store,” says I. “I was down at Spencer’s place, and his man agreed they hadn’t treated you right, so he gave me this for you.”

She took it without speakin’. I went out into the street. There was three men comin’ from the one direction, and a lone rider from the other. The three was the town marshal and two of his deputies.

The marshal looked at Spencer layin’ on the ground, and then at me. “Young fellow, you are under arrest!” he bawls.

I had fought in self-defense, and was not goin’ to be locked up by no servant of Spencer’s. “If you want me, marshal, you better come and take me,” says I, and put my hand on my gun.

The three stopped, and it looked like more war. But just then the horseman came up, and it was nobody but my old pal Bill Farrel, who I had not seen for years. When he seen me he pulled up and sings out, “Well, dog my cats if it ain’t old Trigger Caswell! What do you say, Trigger? Are you tryin’ to take this town apart, like usual?” And he jumped down and grabbed my hand.

“Glad to see you, Bill,” says I, but I was not so very pleased. At the mention of my real name everybody in hearin’ looked excited.

“Are you Trigger Caswell, the gambler and gun slinger?” asks the marshal.

“That is my name,” I admits.

The marshal rubbed his chin. “I guess we have made a mistake, Mr. Caswell. We have no charges against you. Let’s go, boys,” he says. So his men picked up Spencer, who was comin’ to now, and they went away.

I looked at Carol in the doorway, and she looked at me. After a minute Bill shook his head and says, “Oh, so that’s the way it is! So long, Trigger.” And he rode away, and left us two alone.

“Miss Hoyt, you better not stay in Oakwood after this,” I says. “I am leavin’ also, and if you like I will take you over to the county seat to the railroad.”

“All right,” she agrees, and she went and packed her bag. In a half hour we rode out of Oakwood and took the trail for the county seat. It was at sunset.

Carol was on the bronc in front of me, with my arms around her to steady her. “I’m sorry to have to hold you like this, but it can’t be helped,” I apologizes. And she says it was all right.

We rode for a long while, and the conversation was zero. At last I speaks up.

“I told you my name was Joe Smith, but it is not true. I am Joe Caswell, better known as Trigger Caswell.” And I went on and told her all about it--how between spells of cow-punchin’ I went around gamblin’, playin’ crooked if the other fellow started the dirty work, fightin’ and raisin’ hell in general. “So I am not much, you see,” I finishes. “And I’m sorry for havin’ deceived you, Miss Hoyt.”

“You’ve been wonderful to me,” she says kindly. Her face was close to mine, my arms were around her and her hair blew against my cheek. My heart pounded like a hammer, and it was all I could do to keep from pressin’ her close to me and sayin’ that I loved her. I was wild about her, I’d pulled her out of a jam, and by doin’ so had lost her for good. It was a tough break. But I kept cool as ice, and says, “I think a lot of you, Miss Hoyt. It’s too bad we won’t ever see each other any more.”

“Why not? What do you mean?” she asks, surprised.

“Why, you told me that a fellow must be a perfect gentleman, not gamble or fight or anything, or else you wouldn’t have anything to do with him. I have just got done bustin’ all the rules in your calendar, so I guess that finishes me with you.”

Carol raised her eyebrows. “Why, I never said such a thing!” she declares. “I said that I liked men who were strong and brave, who could hold their own with other men, at gambling, or fighting, or anything.”

I could hardly believe my ears. “You said that?”

“Yes,” she says calmly. “You must have misunderstood me.”

We rode on, while I tried to puzzle it out. First she said one thing and then another, and a man couldn’t tell where he was at. And, anyway, I could not call her a liar. Well, women have always been a mystery to me.

One thing was clear--even though I wasn’t a perfect gentleman by a hell of a sight, I was still in the runnin’. And Carol was lookin’ at me sidewise out of the corners of her eyes, and there was a tender look on her face, and she seemed sweeter than ever before. So after a while I took a deep breath. “Miss Hoyt----” I says.

“Please call me Carol, Joe,” says she.

“Carol,” says I, “I love you.”

For a long time she didn’t answer, and I begun to think she had not heard. Then at last she turned and faced me, smilin’, and says, “Joe, you are a big fool.”

“Why?” I asks, dumfounded.

Her warm arms went around my neck. “Can’t you see,” she says, “that I love you, too?”

“Oh,” says I. Then I drew her close in my arms, and kissed her lips. And my bronc Henry did not notice, but went ploddin’ along just like before.

Three miles more. It was twilight by now. “Carol, you can reform me partly, but I will never be a perfect gentleman,” says I.

“Let us hear no more about that,” she answers.

Another mile, and the buildin’s of the county seat came in sight. “We will go there and get married, Carol,” says I.

“Yes, Joe,” says she.

And we did.

Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the First December number of The Popular Magazine.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERFECT GENTLEMAN ***

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