The Coming of the Law

Ace had not been able to get any of his poems into the Kicker. He had submitted some of them to Potter, but the printer had assured him that he did not care to assume the responsibility of publishing them. Thereupon Ace had importuned Norton to intercede with Hollis on his behalf. On his visit this morning Norton had brought the matter to Hollis’s attention. The latter had assured the range boss that he appreciated the puncher’s interest and would be glad to go over some of his poems. Therefore Hollis was not surprised when in the afternoon he saw Ace loping his pony down the Coyote trail toward the Hazelton cabin.

Ace’s approach was diffident, though ambition urged him on. He rode up to the edge of the porch, dismounted, and greeted his boss with an earnestness that contrasted oddly with his embarrassment. He took the chair that Hollis motioned him to, sitting on the edge of it and shifting nervously under Hollis’s direct gaze.

“I reckon Norton told you about my poems,” he began. He caught Hollis’s nod and continued: “Well, I got a bunch of ’em here which I brung over to show you. Folks back home used to say that I was a genyus. But I reckon mebbe they was hittin’ her up a little bit strong,” he admitted, modestly; “folks is that way–they like to spread it on a bit. But”–and the eyes of the genius flashed proudly–“I reckon I’ve got a little talyunt, the evidence of which is right here!” With rather more composure than had marked his approach he now drew out a prodigious number of sheets of paper, which he proceeded to spread out on his knee, smoothing them lovingly.

“Mebbe I ain’t much on spellin’ an’ grammar an’ all that sort of thing,” he offered, “but there’s a heap of sense to be got out of the stuff I’ve wrote. Take this one, for instance. She’s a little oday to ‘Night,’ which I composed while the boys was poundin’ their ears one night–not bein’ affected in their feelin’s like I was. If you ain’t got no objections I’ll read her.” And then, not waiting to hear any objections, he began:

The stars are bright to-night;
They surely are a sight,
Sendin’ their flickerin’ light
From an awful, unknown height.

Why do they shine so bright?
I’m most o’ercome with fright —

“Of course I reely wasn’t scared,” he offered with a deprecatory smile, “but there wasn’t any other word that I could think of just then an’ so I shoved her in. It rhymes anyhow an’ just about says what I wanted.”

He resumed:

When I look up into the night,
An’ see their flickerin’ light.

He ceased and looked at Hollis with an abashed smile. “It don’t seem to sound so good when I’m readin’ her out loud,” he apologized. “An’ I’ve thought that mebbe I’ve worked that ‘night’ an’ ‘light’ rhyme over-time. But of course I’ve got ‘fright’ an’ ‘sight’ an’ ‘height’ in there to kind of off-set that.” He squirmed in his chair. “You take her an’ read her.” He passed the papers over to Hollis and rose from his chair. “I’ll be goin’ back to the outfit; Norton was sayin’ that he wanted me to look up some strays an’ I don’t want him to be waitin’ for me. But I’d like to have one of them pomes printed in the Kicker– just to show the folks in this here country that there’s a real pote in their midst.”

“Why – ” began Hollis, about to express his surprise over his guest’s sudden determination to depart. But he saw Nellie Hazelton standing just outside the door, and the cause of Ace’s projected departure was no longer a mystery. He had gone before Hollis could have finished his remonstrance, and was fast disappearing in a cloud of dust down the trail when Hollis turned slowly to see Nellie Hazelton smiling broadly.

“I just couldn’t resist coming out,” she said. “It rather startled me to discover that there was a real poet in the country.”

“There seems to be no doubt of it,” returned Hollis with a smile. But he immediately became serious. “Ace means well,” he added. “I imagine that it wasn’t entirely an ambition to rush into print that moved him to submit his poems; he wants to help fill up the paper.”

Miss Hazelton laughed. “I really think,” she said, looking after the departing poet, “that he might have been fibbing a little when he said that the ‘night’ had not ‘scared’ him. He ran from me,” she added, amusement shining in her eyes, “and I should not like to think that any woman could appear so forbidding and mysterious as the darkness.”

Hollis had been scanning one of the poems in his hand. He smiled whimsically at Miss Hazelton as she concluded.

“Here is Ace’s opinion on that subject,” he said. “Since you have doubted him I think it only fair that you should give him a hearing. Won’t you read it?”

She came forward and seated herself in the chair that the poet had vacated, taking the mass of paper that Hollis passed over to her.

“Shall I read it aloud?” she asked with a smile at him.

“I think you had better not,” he returned; “it might prove embarrassing.”

She blushed and gave her attention to the poem. It was entitled: “Woman,” and ran;

“Woman she dont need no tooter,
be she skule mam or biscut shooter.
she has most curyus ways about her,
which leads a man to kinda dout her.

Though lookin at her is shure a pleasur
there aint no way to get her measure
i reckon she had man on the run
a long while before the world begun.

I met a biscut shooter in the chance saloon
when i was blowin my coin in ratoon
while the coin lasted i owned her an the town
but when it was gone she throwed me down.

An so i say she dont need no tooter
be she skule mam or biscut shooter
she fooled me an my hart she stole
which has opened my eyes an hurt my sole.”

Miss Hazelton laid the manuscript in her lap and laughed heartily.

“What a harrowing experience!” she declared. Hollis was grinning at her.

“That was a bad thing to have happen to a man,” he observed; “I suppose it rather shattered Ace’s faith in woman. At least you could observe by his actions just a moment ago that he isn’t taking any more chances.”

She fixed him with a defiant eye. “But he still admits that he takes pleasure in looking at a woman!” she told him triumphantly.

“So he does. Still, that isn’t remarkable. You see, a man couldn’t help that–no matter how badly he had been treated.”

She had no reply to make to this, though she gave him a look that he could not mistake. But he laughed. “I think Ace’s effort ought to go into the Kicker” he said. “I have no doubt that many who read the poem will find in it a great deal of truth–perhaps a reflection of their own personal experiences.”

Her face clouded and she regarded him a little soberly. “Of your own, perhaps?” she suggested.

“Not guilty,” he returned laughing. “You see, I have never had any time to devote to the study of women, let alone time to allow them to fool me. Perhaps when I do have time to study them I may find some truth in Ace’s effort.”

“Then women do not interest you?” She was looking down the Coyote trail.

“Well, no,” he said, thinking of the busy days of his past, and not being aware of the furtive, significant glance she threw toward him. “You see, there have always been so many important things to engage my attention.”

“How fortunate!” she said mockingly, after a pause during which he had time to realize that he had been very ungracious. He saw Ace’s manuscript flutter toward him, saw her rise and heard the screen door slam after her. During the remainder of the afternoon he was left alone on the porch to meditate upon the evils that arise from thoughtless speech.

CHAPTER XIV

THE COALITION

Perhaps there were some persons in Union County who, acquainted with the details of the attack on Hollis, expected to read an account of it in the Kicker. If there were any such they were disappointed. There was nothing about the attack printed in the Kicker– nor did Hollis talk to any stranger concerning it.

Ace’s poem entitled “Woman” had gone into the paper, causing the poet–for many days following the appearance of his composition–to look upon his fellow punchers with a sort of condescending pity. On the second day after his discussion with Miss Hazelton over Ace’s poem Hollis returned to the Circle Bar. He had succeeded in convincing Nellie that he had answered thoughtlessly when he had informed her that he took no interest in women, and though she had defiantly assured him that she had not taken offense, there had been a light in her eyes upon his departure which revealed gratification over his repentance. She stood long on the porch after he had taken leave of her, watching him as he rode slowly down the trail and disappeared around a turn. Then she smiled regretfully, sighed, and went into the house.

Hollis’s return to the Circle Bar was unostentatious and quite in keeping with his method of doing things. Within the next few days he met several of the Circle Bar men and there were mutterings against Dunlavey, but Hollis discouraged action, assuring the mutterers that his differences with Dunlavey were entirely personal and that he intended carrying on the fight alone.

His wounds mended rapidly, and within two weeks–except for the broken wrist–he was well as ever. Meanwhile Potter had succeeded in getting the Kicker out on time, though there had been a noticeable lack of aggressiveness in the articles. Especially was this true of the articles bearing upon the situation in Union County. Hollis had dictated some of these, but even those which he had dictated had seemed to lack something.