Heart's Desire Page 4

  CHAPTER III

  TRANSGRESSION AT HEART'S DESIRE

  _Beginning the Cause Celebre which arose from Curly's killing the Pigof the Man from Kansas_

  A great many abdomens have been injured in the pastime known as the"double roll." Especially has this been the case with persons notnative to the land of Heart's Desire or the equivalent thereof. Eventhose born to the manner, and possessed of the freedom of a vastlandscape whose every particular was devoted to the behoof of any manseized with a purpose of attaining speed and efficiency with firearms,did not always reach that smoothness and precision in the execution ofthis personal manoeuvre which alone could render it safe to themselvesor impressive to the beholder. The owner of this accomplishment wasnever apt to find himself much crowded with company, in the way eitherof participants or spectators. Yet the art was a simple and harmlessone, pertaining more especially to youth, enthusiasm, and the fresh airof high altitudes, which did ever evoke saltpetreish manifestations.

  The evolution of the "double roll" is executed by taking asix-shooter--let us hope not one of those pitiful toys of theEast--upon each forefinger, each weapon so hanging balanced on thetrigger-guard and the trigger itself that it shall be ready to turnabout the finger as upon a pivot, and shall be ready for instantdischarge, the thumb cocking the weapon as it turns; yet so that itshall none the less be discharged only when the muzzle of the weapon ispointed away from the operator's person and not toward it.

  It is best for the ambitious to begin this little sport with an emptyweapon. Thus one will readily observe that the click of the hammer isall too often heard before the whirl of the gun is fairly under way,and while the muzzle is pointed midway of the operator's person; theweight of the heavy gun being commonly sufficient to pull back thetrigger and so discharge the piece. When the ambitious soul haslearned to do this "roll" with one empty gun, he may try it with twoempty guns. If he finds it possible thus to content himself, it willperhaps be all the better for him. To stand upright, with a gun ineach hand, even an empty gun, and so revolve the same while its owncylinder is revolving, is not wholly easy, though when one has finallygotten both hemispheres of his brain into accord with his forefingers,he will ever thereafter be able to understand fully the doublerevolution of the earth upon its axis and around the sun; providedalways that he is able to perform the "double roll" without hitch orbreak, pulling right and left forefinger alternately and rapidly untilhe has heard what in his tentative case must be a series of six doubleclicks.

  This performance with an empty six-shooter is but a pale and spiritlessform of the sport of high altitudes. Instead there should be twelvereports, so closely sequent as to sound as one string of explosion.Thus executed the game is a fine one, the finer for being risky. So tostand erect, with an eight-inch Colt in either hand, each arm at fulllength, one gun shooting joyously down the centre of the street of yourchosen town, the other shooting as cheerfully up the same street--to dothis actually, with bark of powder and attending puffs of dustcut--this is indeed delightsome when the heart is full of red blood,and the chest swells with charged wine o' life, and the eyes gleam andthe muscles harden for very search of some endeavor immediate anddifficult! It is the more delightsome when this moment of man-frenzyfinds one in such a town as was this of Heart's Desire; where, indeed,a man could do precisely as he pleased; where it was not accountedwrong or ill-balanced to claim the whole street for a half moment or soof a cloudless morning, and so to ease one's self of the pressure ofthe joy of living. To own this little world, to live free of touch ortaint of control or guidance, to be brother to the mountains, cousin ofthe free sky--to live in Heart's Desire and be a man--ah! would thatwere possible for all of us to-day! Were it so, then assuredly weshould exult and take unto ourselves all the privileges of the domain,perhaps even to the extent of attempting the "double roll."

  Curly's wooing of the Littlest Girl, sped apace by his unrighteousappropriation of our can of oysters, in which he had held no feesimple, but only an individual and indeterminate interest, hadprospered beyond all just deserts of a red-headed cow puncher with asalary of forty-five dollars a month. He had already, less than twomonths after the installation of the new postmaster, announced to hisfriends his forthcoming nuptials, and ever since the setting of thehappy date had comported himself with an air of ownership of the townand a mere tolerance of its inhabitants.

  Perhaps, if we were each and every one of us a prospective bridegroom,as was Curly upon this morning in question, we should be all the morepersuaded to execute the "double roll" in mid-street, as proof to thepublic that all was well. Perhaps, also, if there should thus appearto any of us, adown street upon either hand, an object moving slowly,pausing, resuming again across the line of gun-vision its slowadvance--ah! tell me, if that slow-moving object crossing thebridegroom's joyous aim were a pig,--a grunting, fat, conceitedpig,--arrogating to itself much of that street wherefrom one'sfellow-citizens had for a moment of grave courtesy withdrawn--tell me,if you were a bridegroom, soon to be happy, and if you could do the"double roll" with loaded guns and no danger to your bowels, and ifwhile so engaged you should see within easy range this black, sleekpig, with its tail curled tightly, egotistically, contemptuously, overits back, what, as a man, would you do? What, as a man, _could_ youdo in a case like that, in a land where there was no law, where never acourt had sat, where never such a thing as a case at law had beenknown? Consider, what would be the abstract right and justice of thismatter, repeating that you were a bridegroom and twenty-three, and thatthe air was molten wine and honey mingled, and that this pig--but then,the matter is absurd! There is but one answer. It was right--indeed,it was inevitable--that Curly should shoot the pig; because in thefirst place it had intruded upon his pastime, and because in the secondplace he felt like it.

  And yet over this act, this simple, inevitable act of justice, arosethe first law case ever known in Heart's Desire, a cause which shookthat community to the centre of its being, and for a time threatenedits very continuance. Ah, well! perhaps the time had come. Perhapsthe sun was now to set over all the valleys of Heart's Desire. Perhapsthis was the beginning of the end. The law, they say, must have itscourse. It had its course in Heart's Desire.

  But not without protest, not without struggle. There were two factionsfrom the start. Strange to say, that most bitterly opposed to Curlywas headed by no less a person than his own intended father-in-law, theman from Leavenworth. It was his pig. The rest of us had lived atHeart's Desire for a considerable time, but there had hitherto seemedno need for law. Order we already had in so far as order is reallyneeded; though the importance of order, or indeed the importance oflaw, is a matter very much overrated. No man at Heart's Desire everdreamed of locking his door. His horse might doze saddled in thestreet if he liked. No man spoke in rudeness or coarseness to hisneighbor, as do men in the cities where they have law. No man didinjustice to his neighbor, for fair play and an even chance were godsin the eyes of all, eikons above each pinon-burning hearth in all thatvalley of content. The speech of man was grave and gentle, themovements of man were easy and unhurried; neither did any man work byrule, or by clock, or by order. There was no such thing as want orhunger; for did temporary poverty encompass one, was there not alwaysthe house of Uncle Jim Brothers, and could not one there hang up hisgun behind the door and so obtain credit for an indefinite length oftime, entitling him to eat at table with his peers? Had there beensuch a thing as families in Heart's Desire, be sure such a thing as awoman or child engaged in any work had been utterly unknown. It was aland of men, big, grave, sufficient men, each with a gun upon his hip,and sometimes two, guaranty of peace and calm and content. And any manwho has ever lived in a Land Before the Law knows that this is the onlyfit way of life. Alas! that this scheme, this great, happy simple,perfect scheme of society should be subverted. And, be it remembered,this was by reason of nothing more than a pig, an artless, lissom pig,it is true; an infrequent, somewhat prized, a little petted a
nd perhapsspoiled pig, it is true; yet, after all, no fit cause of elementalstrife.

  But now came this man from Leavenworth, fresh from litigious soil,bearing with him in his faded blue army overcoat germs of civilization,seeds of discontent. He wailed aloud that the pride of the community,meaning this pig, which he had brought solitary in a box at the tail ofthe wagon when he moved in, was now departed; that there was naughtleft to distinguish this community from any other camp in themountains; that the pig had been the light of his home, the apple ofhis eye, the pride of the community; that he had entertained largedesigns in connection with this pig the following fall; that its takingoff was a shame, an outrage, a disgrace, an act utterly illegal, andone for which any man in Kansas would promptly have had the law of hisneighbor.

  Hitherto the "double roll," even in connection with a curly-tailedblack pig, had not been considered actionable in Heart's Desire; butthe outcry made by this man from Leavenworth, now the postmaster of thetown and in some measure a leader in the meetings of the population,began to attract attention. It began to play upon the nicely attunedinstrument of Public Spirit. What, indeed, asked the communitygravely, was to separate Heart's Desire in the eye of Eastern Capital,from any other camp in the far Southwest? Once the town could claim apig, which no other camp of that district could do. Now it could do sono more forever. This began to put a different look upon the face ofthings.

  "It seems like the ole man took it some hard," said Curly, lighting a_cigarrillo_. "He don't seem to remember that I was due to be amember of the family right soon, same as the pig. I don't like tothink I'm shy when it comes to comparison with a shoat. Gimme time,and I reckon I could take the place of the pig in my new dad'saffections. But I say deliberate that pigs has got no call to be in acow country, not none, unless salted. Say, can't we salt this one?Then, who's the worse _off_ for it? What's all this furse about,anyway?"

  "That's right, Curly," said Dan Anderson, who stood with hands inpockets and pipe in mouth, leaning against the door-jamb in front ofhis "law office." "You have enunciated a great principle of law inthat statement. They have got to prove damages. Moreover, you havegot a counter-claim. It's laceratin' to be compared to a shoat."

  "And me just goin' to be married," said Curly.

  "Sure, it ain't right."

  "Andersen," said I, moving up to the group, "did you ever hear of suchthings as champerty and maintenance? The first thing you know, you'llget disbarred for stirring up litigation."

  "Keep away from my client," said Dan Anderson, grinning. "You'rejealous of my professional success, that's all. Neither of us has hada case yet, and now that it looks like I was going to get one, you'rejealous. Do you want to pass up the first lawsuit ever held in thecounty? Come now, I'm bored to death. Let's have some fun."

  Curly began to shift uneasily on his feet. His hat went still fartherback on his red, kinky curls.

  "Law!" said he. "Law! You don't mean--" For the first time in hislife Curly grew pale. "Why, I'll clean out the hull bunch!" he said,the red surging back in his face and his hand instinctively going tohis gun.

  "No, you won't," said Dan Anderson. "Do you want to bust up yourmarriage with the girl from Kansas?"

  "Sho'!" said Curly, and fell thoughtful. "This looks bad," said he;"mighty bad." He sat down and began to think. I do not doubt that DanAnderson at that moment was a disgrace to his profession, though laterhe honored it. He winked at me.

  "Don't you tamper with my client," said he; and then resumed to Curly;"What you need is a lawyer. You've got to have legal advice. Ithappens that the full bar of Heart's Desire is now present talking toyou. Take your pick. I've got a mighty good idea which is the bestlawyer of this bar, but I wouldn't tell you for the world that I'm theone. Take your pick. Here's the whole legal works of the town, ustwo. Try the Learned Counsel on my right."

  "Law!" said Curly. "Why--law--lawyers! Then who--say, now, I'll_pay_ for the pig. I didn't mean nothing, no way."

  Then Dan Anderson rose to certain heights. "You can't settle it thatway," said he. "That's too easy. Oh, you can pay for the _pig_ easyenough; but how about the majesty of the law? Where is the peace anddignity of the commonwealth to come in? This is criminal. Nope, youchoose. You need a lawyer."

  "You--you-all got me _locoed_," said Curly, nervously. "Law! Why, Idon't want no law. There ain't never been no co'te set here. Down tothe county-seat, over to Lincoln, that's all right; but here--why, theydon't _want_ no law here. Besides, I can't choose between you twofellers. I like you both. You're both white men. Ef you could ropeand shoot better, I could git either one of you a job cowpunchin' anyday, and that's a heap better'n practisin' law. I couldn't make nochoice between you fellers. Say, I'll have you _both_." This with asudden illumination of countenance.

  "That would be unconstitutional," said Dan Anderson, solemnly, "andagainst public policy as well. That would be cornering the whole legalsupply of the community, Curly, and it wouldn't leave anybody for theprosecution."

  "Sho'!" said Curly. Then suddenly he added: "There's the old man.Don't you never doubt he'd prosecute joyful. And there never was a manfrom Kansas didn't know some law. Why, onct, down on the Brazos--"

  "He can't act as attorney-at-law," said Anderson. "He's never beenadmitted to the bar. Say, you flip a dollar."

  The thought of chance-taking appealed to Curly. He flipped the dollar.

  "Heads, me," said Dan Anderson; and so it fell. That young man smiledblithely. "We'll skin 'em, Curly," said he. "You'll be as free as airin less'n a week."

  "Now," said Dan Anderson to me, "it's all right thus far. Next we havegot to get a Justice of the Peace, and then we've got to get theprisoner arrested."

  "'Rested!" said Curly. "Who? Me?"

  "Of course," drawled his newly constituted attorney. "Didn't you killthe pig? You just hang around for a little, for when we need you, wedon't want to have to hunt all over the country."

  "All right," said Curly, dubiously.

  "Where's Blackman?" said Dan Anderson, again addressing me. "We havegot to have a judge, or we can't have any trial. Come on and let'shunt him up. Curly, don't you run away, mind. You trust to me, andI'll get you clear, and get you married, both."

  "All right," said Curly again, "I'll just sornter down to the LoneStar, and when you-all want me I'll be in there, either takin' a drinkor playin' a few kyards."

  "Let's get Blackman now," said Curly's lawyer. Blackman was the dulyconstituted Justice of the Peace in and for Heart's Desire. Nobodyknew precisely when or how he had been elected, and perhaps indeed henever was elected at all. There must be a beginning for all things.The one thing certain as to Blackman was that he had once been aJustice of the Peace back in Kansas, which fact he had not been slow toannounce upon his arrival in Heart's Desire. Perhaps from this arosethe local custom of calling him Judge, and perhaps from his wearing thelatter title arose the supposition that he really was a judge. Therecords are quite silent as to the origin of his tenure of office. Theoffice itself, as has been intimated, had hitherto been one purelywithout care. At every little shooting scrape or other playfulness ofthe male population Blackman, Justice of the Peace, became inflatedwith importance and looked monstrous grave. But nothing ever came ofthese little alarms, so that gradually the inflations grew less andless extensive. They might perhaps have ceased altogether had it notbeen for this malignant zeal of Dan Anderson, formerly of Princeton,and now come, hit or miss, to grow up with the country.

  Blackman was ever ready enough for a lawsuit, forsooth pined for one.Yet what could he do? He could not go forth and with his own handsarrest chance persons and hale them before his own court for trial.The sheriff, when he was in town, simply laughed at him, and told hisdeputies not to mix up with anything except circuit-court matters,murders, and more especially horse stealings. Constable there wasnone; and policeman--it is to wonder just a trifle what would havehappened to any such thing as a policeman o
r town marshal in the valleyof Heart's Desire! In short, there was neither judicial nor executivearm of the law in action. One may, therefore, realize the hindranceswhich Dan Anderson met in getting up his lawsuit. Yet he went forwardin the attempt patiently, driven simply by ennui. He did not dreamthat he was doing something epochal.

  Blackman, Justice of the Peace, was sitting in the office of the_Golden Age_ when we found him, reading the exchanges and offeringgratuitous advice to the editor. He was a shortish man, thick in body,with sparse hair and hay-colored, ragged mustache. His face wasflorid, his pale eyes protruded. He was a wise-looking man,excellently well suited in appearance for the office which he filled.We explained to him our errand. Gradually, as the sense of his own newimportance dawned upon him, he began to swell, apparently until heassumed a bulk thrice that which he formerly possessed. His spinestraightened rigidly; a solemn light came into his eye; a cough thatfairly choked with wisdom echoed from his throat. It was a great dayfor Blackman, J. P.

  "Do I know this man, this cow puncher?" said he. "Of course I knowhim, damn him, and I know what he done, too. Such a high-handed actnever ought to be tolerated, sir! Destroyin' property--why,a-destroyin' of life _and_ property, for he killed the pig--and thisnew family of citizens dependin' in part on the pig fer theirsustenances this comin' season; to say nothin' of his nigh shootin' meup as I was crossin' the street from the post-office! Try him! Why,of _course_ we ought to try him. What show have we got if we go onthis lawless way? What injucement can we offer Eastern Capital tosettle in our midst if, instead of bein' quiet and law-abidin', we goon a-rarin' and a-pitchin' and a-runnin' wide open, every man forhisself? What are we here for, you, and you, and me, if it ain't toset in trile over such britches of the peace?"

  "You're in," said Dan Anderson, succinctly. "Get over to your 'dobe.We'll hold this trial right away. I reckon all the boys'll know aboutit by this time. I'll go over and get the prisoner. But, hold on! Heain't arrested yet. Who'll serve the warrant? Ben Stillson (thesheriff) is down on the Hondo, and his deputy, Poe, is out of town.There ain't a soul here to serve a paper. Looks like the court wassome rusty, don't it?"

  "Warrant!" said the Justice, "warrant! You don't need no warrant.Wasn't he seen a-doin' the act?"

  "Oh, but it wasn't a real first-class felony," demurred Dan, with someshade of conscience left.

  "Well, I'll arrest him myself," said the Justice. "He's got to bebrought to trile."

  "Well, now," I ventured to suggest, "that doesn't look exactly right,either, since you are to try the case, Judge. It's legal, but it isn'tetiquette."

  Blackman scratched his head. "Maybe that's so," said he. Then turningto me, "S'pose _you_ arrest him."

  "He can't," said Dan Anderson. "He's the prosecuting attorney--onlyother lawyer in town. It wouldn't look right for either the judge orprosecutor to make the arrest. Curly might not like it." This allseemed true enough, and we fell into a quandary.

  "I'll tell you," said Dan Anderson at length. "I'd better arrest himmyself. I'm going to defend him, so it would look more regular for meto bring him in. Looks like he wasn't afraid of the verdict. Weain't, either. I want you to remember, Judge, if you don't clear him--"

  Here counsel for the Territory interrupted, feeling that the majesty ofthe law was not fully observed by threatening the trial judge inadvance.

  "Well, come along, then," said Anderson. "Let that part of it go.Come over and let's get out the warrant."

  I was not with them when the warrant was issued, though that part ofthe proceeding might naturally have seemed rather the duty of theprosecution than of the defence. Dan Anderson afterward told me thatBlackman could not find his law book (he had only one, a copy of thestatutes of Kansas) for a long time, and then couldn't find the properplace in it. Legal blanks did not exist in Heart's Desire, and alllegal forms had departed from Blackman's mind in this time ofexcitement. Dan Anderson himself drew the warrant. As it was readlater by himself to Curly at the Lone Star, it did not lack a certaincharm. It began with "Greeting," and ended with, "Now, therefore, inthe name of God and the Continental Congress." Anderson did not cracka smile in reading it, and so far as that is concerned, the warrantworked as well as any and better than some. Curly, because he feltthat he was in the hands of his friends, made no special demurrer tothe terms of the "writ," and in a few moments the Lone Star was emptyand Blackman's adobe was packed.