The Coming of the Law

Hollis’s enthusiasm was infectious; a flash of spirit lighted up Potter’s eyes as he rose from his chair. “I’m going to set up the head for the first page,” he said. “Probably you’ll want a slogan; that sort of thing is the style out here.”

“We’ll have one,” returned Hollis briskly. “Set this in triple leads: ‘We Herald the Coming of the Law! The Kicker is Here to Stay!’”

“Good!” declared Potter. He went into the composing room and Hollis saw his fine old head bent over a type case. Hollis turned to his desk.

He sat there long, his tall, lithe body slack, grim, serious lines in his lean face. He had thought of his conversation with Judge Graney concerning ambition–his ambition, the picture upon which his mind had dwelt many times. A little frame printing office in the West was not one of its features. He sighed with resignation and began methodically to look over the papers in the desk, finding many things to interest him. He discovered that in spite of his father’s one great fault he had been a methodical man. He smiled regretfully, wishing that he might have been able to have seen more of him. Among the papers he hoped to find a personal note–a word–from his father. He found nothing of that character.

After a time he took up a pen and began to write. Long ago he had decided that in the first issue of the paper he would attack the Cattlemen’s Association. Judge Graney had ridden out to the Circle Bar on the previous Saturday afternoon, remaining over Sunday, and accompanying Hollis on the return trip Monday morning.

While at the ranch the Judge had spent much of his time in communicating to Hollis his views of the situation in Union County and in acquainting him with the elder Hollis’s intentions regarding the newspaper. Hollis had made some inquiries on his own account, with the result that when he reached the Kicker office this morning he felt that he had acquired a good and sufficient knowledge of the situation.

Looking over the old copy of the Kicker he studied some of the advertisements. Evidently some Dry Bottom merchants had been brave enough to antagonize Dunlavey by advertising in the Kicker. With this copy of the Kicker in hand Hollis rose from his desk, told Potter he was going out, and proceeded to visit some of the merchants whose advertisements appeared in the paper, hoping that their bravery still abided with them. He made a good solicitor. Some of the merchants flatly refused, saying they did not care to risk Dunlavey’s anger. Others demurred, confidentially announcing that they had never considered the paper seriously and that there was really no good in advertising in Dry Bottom anyway–the town wasn’t big enough. Half a dozen listened quietly while he told them that the Kicker was in Dry Bottom to stay and then smiled and told him to run their advertisements. They rather admired his “nerve” and were not afraid of Dunlavey.

At noon Hollis stepped into a restaurant called the Alhambra. While he ate he was critically inspected; the Alhambra swarmed with customers, and the proprietor quietly informed him that he was a “drawin’ card” and hoped he’d “grub” there regularly. In return for his promise to do so Hollis secured his advertisement.

Leaving the Alhambra he returned to the Kicker office, seating himself again at his desk. The sun came slantwise through the window full upon him; the heat was oppressive; the flint-like alkali dust sifted through the crevices in the building and settled over everything in the room; myriad flies droned in the white sunlight before the open door. He heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing–for his thoughts were miles away, in an upper story of a big office building in the East from whose windows he even now looked down upon a bustling city.

Life would be so different here. He heard a sound behind him and turned. Dunlavey was standing just inside the door, his great arms folded over his chest. He had been watching Hollis, his eyes narrowed with a cynically humorous expression.

Hollis knew that by this time Dunlavey must have discovered his identity. He swung slowly around in his chair, his face wearing an expression of whimsical amusement as he greeted his victim of a few days previous.

“Welcome to the Kicker office,” he said quietly.

Dunlavey did not move. Evidently he had expected another sort of greeting and was slightly puzzled over Hollis’s manner. He remained motionless and Hollis had an opportunity to study him carefully and thoroughly. His conclusions were brief and comprehensive. They were expressed tersely to himself as he waited for Dunlavey to speak: “A trickster and a cheat–dangerous.”

Dunlavey’s eyes flashed metallically for an instant, but immediately the humorous cynicism came into them again. “I don’t think you mean all of that,” he said evenly.

Hollis laughed. “I am not in the habit of saying things that I do not mean,” he said quietly. “I am here to do business and I am ready to talk to anybody who wants to do business with me.”

Dunlavey’s hands fell to his sides and were shoved into his capacious trousers’ pockets. “Right,” he said tersely: “that’s what I’m here for–to talk business.”

He pulled a chair over close to Hollis and seated himself in it, moving deliberately, a certain grim reserve in his manner. Hollis watched him, marveling at his self-control. He reflected that it required will power of a rare sort to repress or conceal the rage which he surely must feel over his humiliation of two weeks before. That Dunlavey was able to so mask his feelings convinced Hollis that he had to deal with a man of extraordinary character.

“I recollect meeting you the other day,” said Dunlavey after he had become seated. He smiled with his lips, his eyes glittering again. “I’ll say that we got acquainted then. There ain’t no need for us to shake hands now.” He showed his teeth in a mirthless grin. “I didn’t know you then, but I know you now. You’re Jim Hollis’s boy.”

Hollis nodded. Dunlavey continued evenly: “Your father and me wasn’t what you might call bosom friends. I reckon Judge Graney has told you that–if he ain’t you’ve heard it from some one else. It don’t make any difference. So there won’t be any misunderstanding I’ll tell you that I ain’t figgering on you and me hitching up to the mutual friendship wagon either. I might say that we wasn’t introduced right.” He grinned evilly. “But I ain’t letting what happened interfere with the business that’s brought me here to-day. I’ve heard that you’re intending to start the Kicker again; that you’re figgering on staying here and running the Circle Bar. What I’m here for is to buy you out. I’m offering you fifteen thousand dollars for the Circle Bar and this damn newspaper.”

Dunlavey had lost a little of the composure which had characterized his actions since entering the office and the last words of his speech had writhed venomously through his lips.

Hollis’s face betrayed absolutely no emotion. Though Dunlavey’s visit to the Kicker office had surprised him he was not surprised at his offer for the ranch and the newspaper, for according to Judge Graney he had made some such offer to the elder Hollis. Coming now, with an addition of five thousand dollars, Dunlavey’s offer seemed to advertise his reluctance to continue the war that he had waged. Hollis appreciated the situation. If Dunlavey were to buy him off now there would come an end to the warfare that had already been an expensive one for the interests represented by Dunlavey. Likewise, the acceptance of the offer would give Hollis an opportunity to withdraw gracefully. Dunlavey had placed the issue squarely before him. The young man held his future in his hands and he did not reply at once.

He sat silent for a few moments, studying the coarse, brutal face of the man seated before him, noting that his under jaw had come forward slightly, and that the cold, hard glitter had come again in his eyes. However, Hollis’s silence meant nothing beyond the fact that he was going slowly over the history of the fight between his father and the man who sat there representing the interests which had begun the war. He had no thought of surrendering–that would be dishonorable. He was merely revolving the situation in his mind, considering how best to word his refusal. He did not want to appear belligerent; he did not want to precipitate war. But he did want Dunlavey to know that he purposed to have his rights; he wanted Dunlavey to know that he could not be frightened into surrendering them. He clasped one hand over his knee and leaned back in his chair, his gaze meeting Dunlavey’s steadily.

“Dunlavey,” he said quietly, “what is the actual value of the Circle Bar ranch?”

Dunlavey smiled blandly. “You couldn’t find any man around these parts to take it at any price,” he returned.

“Why?” questioned Hollis.

Dunlavey grinned mysteriously. “I reckon you know why,” he returned; “you’re pretty much of a tenderfoot, but I reckon Judge Graney has put you wise to the situation. There ain’t nobody wants to buy the Circle Bar except me.”

“Why?” persisted Hollis.

“I reckon you know that too,” laughed Dunlavey. “It ain’t no secret. The Cattlemen’s Association is running things in this here county and it ain’t wanting anyone to buy the Circle Bar except me. And nobody is fool enough to antagonize the Association. That’s the why, if you want to know real bad.”

“You are frank about it at any rate,” conceded Hollis smiling slightly. “But that doesn’t get us anywhere. What I am trying to get at is this: what would the Circle Bar bring in cash if the Cattlemen’s Association ceased to be a factor in the county?” Dunlavey grinned broadly. “For a tenderfoot you’re real amusing,” he derided. “There ain’t nobody out here crazy enough to think that the Cattlemen’s Association will ever be put out of business!”

Hollis’s lips curled a little, but his gaze was still steady.

“That’s evasion, Dunlavey,” he said quietly. “You will remember that I asked you what the Circle Bar would bring ‘if’ the Association ceased to be a factor.”

Dunlavey favored Hollis with a perplexed grin. “I don’t know what difference that makes,” he returned. “We’re dealing with what’s before us now–we ain’t considering what might be. But if you want to know my personal opinion it’s that the Circle Bar might bring thirty thousand.”

“Thanks,” said Hollis dryly; “that’s getting somewhere. And now we’ll be able to talk business. We’ve got thirty thousand to start with. I am told that when the Association began its war against my father he was rather prosperous. Usually he rounded up about two thousand head of cattle. But we’ll call it a thousand. We’ll say that they brought about thirty dollars a head, which would make an income of thirty thousand dollars a year, gross. We’ll deduct fifty per cent for operating expenses, losses, and so on. That would leave about fifteen thousand. You’ve been fighting the Circle Bar for several years. We’ll call it five. Five times fifteen thousand is seventy-five thousand. That represents the sum which my father would have made from the Circle Bar if you had not fought him. Add to that the thirty thousand which you admit would be a fair figure for the ranch if the Association were eliminated as a factor, and we have a total of one hundred and five thousand dollars.” He smiled and leaned a little farther back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at Dunlavey. “Now we have reached a point where we can get somewhere. I’ll take one hundred thousand dollars for the Circle Bar.”

The calm announcement had no effect upon Dunlavey except to cause him to grin derisively.

“For a tenderfoot you’re pretty slick,” he allowed, his teeth showing. “You’ve figgered it out so that it sounds right reasonable. But you’ve forgot one thing. The Cattlemen’s Association ain’t eliminated. It says that the Circle Bar is worth fifteen thousand. You’ll take that or – ” He smiled grimly, holding back the threat.

“I think I know what you mean,” said Hollis quietly, without changing color. “You mean that the Cattlemen’s Association will continue its fight and eventually ruin the Circle Bar. Perhaps it will–no man can tell what lies in the future. But I can tell you this: you can’t retard progress.”

“No?” said Dunlavey with an irritating drawl.

Hollis smiled composedly. He spoke without bitterness. “Dunlavey,” he said, “I’m going to tell you something which you perhaps know but will not admit. Your Association has been successful in pulling the strings which make the politicians at Washington jump to do your bidding. I don’t accuse you of buying them, but in any event they have greased the ways over which your Association has slipped to power. And now you think that the impetus you have gained will carry you along indefinitely. It won’t. Everything in this world runs its natural course and when it does there comes an end.

“If you were endowed with the average foresight you would be able to see that things cannot always go on the way they have. The law must come. It is inevitable. Its coming will be facilitated by such organizations as the Cattlemen’s Association and by such men as you. Back in the East the forces of Good and Bad are battling. The forces of Good will be victorious. The government at Washington is familiar with the conditions that exist here and sooner or later will be compelled to act. When it does the small cattle owner will receive protection.”

“We’re holding tight till the law comes,” sneered Dunlavey; “which won’t be soon.”

“Perhaps not,” admitted Hollis dryly; “good things come slowly. Meanwhile, if you don’t care to accept my figure for the Circle Bar I shall follow your example and hold tight until the law comes.”

“Meaning that you won’t sell, I suppose?” sneered Dunlavey.

“Meaning just that,” returned Hollis quietly. “I am going to fight you. I have offered the Circle Bar at a fair figure and you have responded with threats. I wouldn’t sell to you now if you offered one hundred and fifty thousand. The Circle Bar is not for sale!”

Dunlavey had not moved. He sat quiet, leaning a little forward, his hands resting on his knees, his eyes narrowed to glittering pin-points as he watched Hollis. When the latter had concluded he leaned back, laughing hoarsely.

“What are you going to do with this damn newspaper?” he demanded.

“The newspaper will be used as a weapon against you,” returned Hollis. “It will kick loud and long against such organizations as the Cattlemen’s Association–against such men as you. Ostensibly the Kicker will be a Dry Bottom newspaper, but it will appear in every city in the East; the matter that appears in it will be reprinted in Chicago, in Washington, in New York–in fact in every city in which I have a friend engaged in the newspaper business–and I have a number. I am going to stir up sentiment against you. I am going to be the Law’s advance agent!”

Dunlavey rose, his lips curling with contempt. “You make me sick!” he sneered. He turned his back and walked to the door, returning and standing in front of Hollis, ominously cool and deliberate. “So that’s the how of it?” he said evenly. “You’ve come out here looking for fight. Well, you’ll get it–plenty of it. I owe you something – ”

“Wait, Dunlavey,” Hollis interrupted, without excitement; “I want you to understand that there isn’t anything personal in this. I am going to fight you because you are a member of the Cattlemen’s Association and not because you were my father’s enemy. I am not afraid of you. I suspect that you will try to make things decidedly interesting for me from now on and I suppose I ought to be properly troubled. But I am not. I shall not be surprised at anything you do. I think that is all. Please close the door when you go out.”

He turned to the desk, ignoring Dunlavey. Sitting there, his senses alert, he heard the door slam. From beyond it came a curse. Silence again reigned in the office; Hollis was alone with the dust and the heat–and some very original thoughts.

CHAPTER VII

THE “KICKER” BECOMES AN INSTITUTION

It was mid-July–and hot. The sun shone continually; the nights were uncomfortable, stifling. The dust was everywhere and grew deeper and lighter as the days passed. Water grew scarce; cattle suffered, lowing throughout the night, during the day searching the bogs and water holes for drops of moisture. Men looked up at the clear, cloudless sky and prayed–and cursed–for rain. The rain did not come. It was one long, continuous nightmare of heat.

The Kicker had appeared four times–on Saturdays–on time. Telegraphic communication with the outside world had been established. Potter had taken up his residence at the Circle Bar. War had been declared between the Kicker and the Lazette Eagle. Hollis had written an argumentative essay on the virtues of Dry Bottom as a town, dwelling upon its superiority over Lazette. The editor of the Eagle had replied with some bitterness, setting forth in detail why Dry Bottom did not compare with Lazette. As the editor of the Eagle mentioned population and civic spirit in his bill of particulars the war promised to be of long duration–questions of superiority between spirited persons are never settled. And Hollis had succeeded in arousing the spirit of Dry Bottom’s citizens. They began to take some interest in the Kicker. Many subscribed; all read it.

From the “local” columns of the paper one might have discovered that many public and private improvements were contemplated. Among these the following items were of the greatest interest:

Steps are being taken by the government toward the erection of a fence around the court house grounds. Judge Graney is contemplating a lawn and flowers. When these improvements are completed there will be no comparison between our court house and the dilapidated hovel which disgraces the county seat of Colfax. The Lazette Eagle please notice.

William Dunn, the proprietor of the Alhambra eating house, announces that in the near future he will erect a new sign. Thereafter the Alhambra will be known as the Alhambra Restaurant. This is a step forward. We have been informed that there is no restaurant in Lazette. Good boy, Dunn.

Chet Miller’s general merchandise store is to be repainted throughout. Chet is public spirited.

Everybody of any importance in Dry Bottom received weekly mention of some sort in the Kicker. Chet Miller was heard to say that the Kicker was a “hummer,” and no one ascribed his praise of the paper to thanks for the appearance of his name therein, for all who would have criticized were silenced by the appearance of their own names.

In the fourth issue of the paper appeared several new advertisements. Judicious personal mention and lively news locals had aroused public spirit to a point where it ignored thoughts of Dunlavey’s displeasure.

Upon the Saturday which had marked the first issue of the Kicker under Hollis’s ownership he had employed a circulation manager. That afternoon on the street near the Kicker office he had almost collided with a red haired youth of uncertain age who had bounded out through the door of a private dwelling. In order to keep from knocking the youth over Hollis was forced to seize him by the arms and literally lift him off his feet. While in the air the youth’s face was close to Hollis’s and both grinned over the occurrence. When Hollis set the youth down he stood for an instant, looking up into Hollis’s face and a grin of amusement overspread his own.

“Shucks!” he said slowly. “If it ain’t the tenderfoot editor!”

“That’s just who it is,” returned Hollis with a smile.

The youth grinned as he looked critically at Hollis. “You gittin’ out that there paper to-day, mister?” he questioned.

“Right now,” returned Hollis.

“Bully!” exclaimed the youth. He surveyed Hollis with a frank admiration. “They said you wouldn’t have the nerve to do it,” he said; “but, say! I reckon they ain’t got you sized up right!”

Hollis smiled, remembering that though the paper had been printed it was not yet distributed. He placed a hand on the youth’s shoulder.

“Have you got nerve enough to pass the Kicker around to the people of this town?” he questioned.

“I reckon,” grinned the youth. “I was comin’ down to ast you for the job when you bumped into me. I used to peddle them for your dad. My name’s Jiggs Lenehan–mebbe you’ve heard of me?”

Hollis smiled. “The question of delivering the Kicker was one of the details that I overlooked,” he said. “But fortunately it is arranged now. Henceforth, Jiggs, you are the Kicker’s official circulation manager. Likewise, if you care to add to your income, you can help Potter around the office.”

So it had been arranged, and Jiggs entered upon his duties with an energy that left little doubt in his employer’s mind that he would prove a valuable addition to the force.

In Hollis’s “Salutatory” to the people of Dry Bottom he had announced in a quiet, unostentatious paragraph that while he had not come to Dry Bottom for a free fight, he would permit no one to tread on his toes. His readers’ comprehension of the metaphor was complete–as was evidenced by the warm hand-clasps which he received from citizens who were not in sympathy with the Dunlavey regime. It surprised him to find how many such there were in town. He was convinced that all this element needed was a leader and he grimly determined to step quietly into that position himself.

The second issue of the Kicker was marked by a more aggressive spirit–a spirit engendered by the sympathetic reception of the first issue. In it he stated concisely his views of the situation in Union County, telling his readers that the best interests of the community demanded that Dunlavey’s evil influence be wiped out. This article was headed: “Dry Bottom’s Future,” and won him many friends.

The third issue contained stronger language, and the fourth was energetically aggressive. As he had decided before the first appearance of the paper, he took a certain number of copies of each issue, folded them neatly, stamped and addressed them, and mailed them to a number of newspapers throughout the country whose editors he knew. He also directed copies to a number of his friends in the East–to the president of his college, and last, to the Secretary of the Interior at Washington, who had formerly resided near him in Boston, and with whom he had a long acquaintance. There had been a change of administration the fall previous and he was certain that the new administration would not ignore the situation. To the Secretary, and also to a number of his friends, he wrote personal letters, explaining in detail the exact condition of affairs in Union County.

He had not seen Dunlavey since the day the latter had come to the Kicker office to negotiate for the purchase of the paper. On several of his rides to and from the Circle Bar ranch he had seen signs of life at the Circle Cross; once or twice he thought he saw someone watching him from a hill on the Circle Cross side of the Rabbit-Ear, but of this he was not quite certain, for the hill-top was thickly wooded and the distance great.

He had been warned by Norton not to ride too often over the same trail lest Dunlavey send someone to ambush him.

Hollis had laughed at the warning, though thanking Norton for it. He told his range boss that he did not anticipate any immediate trouble with Dunlavey.

“It all depends on how Big Bill feels,” returned Norton with a grim smile. “If you’ve got him mad there’s no telling. And there are plenty of places between here and Dry Bottom where a man might be shot from ambush. And nobody’d ever know who done it. I wouldn’t ride the Dry Bottom trail every day. There’s the old Coyote trail, that takes you past the Razor-Back and through Devil’s Hollow to Little Canyon an’ along the hills to the other side.”

He laughed. “There’s only one thing you need to be afraid of if you take the Coyote trail, an’ that’s Ed Hazelton. Ed gets spells when he’s plum crazy. He’s Nellie Hazelton’s brother–her that Dunlavey was pesterin’ when you slammed him.” He laughed again, significantly. “Though if Ed knowed you was the man who took his sister’s part you wouldn’t need to be much scared of him–I’ve heard that he’s got a pretty good memory for his friends–even when he’s off.”

Hollis had not told Norton of his experience in Devil’s Hollow, nor did he tell him now. But he followed his advice about taking the Coyote trail, and the following day when he made the trip to Dry Bottom he returned that way. About half way between Dry Bottom and the Circle Bar he came upon a little adobe cabin snuggling an arroyo through which trickled a small stream of water.