CHAPTER IV
JUDGE RILEY--DRUNK AND SOBER
"Judge" Riley had once been on the bench, but for some reason hadresigned and gone back to his profession, hanging out his shingle inMowbray. There was no doubt of his natural and professional ability, butit was the inability to let liquor alone, even when business demandedattention. Hence he had little of the latter.
He was not sober when Angus entered his untidy little office. At Angus'entrance he stared up with dull eyes from beneath a thick thatch of grayhair which had fallen across his forehead like a horse's forelock. For amoment he had difficulty in identifying his visitor, but succeeded.
"Angus," he muttered, "sure, yes, Angus Mackay. Sit down, Angus. And howis your father?"
"My father is dead, Judge Riley," Angus reminded him.
"Dead!" said the judge, "dead!" His voice altered at the repetition ofthe word, and his eyes lost a little of their dullness. "Why, I knewthat," he muttered to himself, "I knew Mackay was dead. I--I beg yourpardon, Angus. Not--not exactly right just now. A little--a little touchof something. All right, presently."
"I'll come in again," Angus said. "I wanted to see you on business."
"Bus'ness?" the judge queried. "Always 'tend to bus'ness. Not so much ofit now. State your bus'ness."
Though he did not see much use in doing so in the judge's condition,Angus told him what had happened and asked what powers the executorpossessed.
"Exec'tor governed by will," the judge told him. "Never give 'pinion onwritten instrument without seeing instrument."
"You drew the will yourself, judge--at least it has your name on it."
"Good will, then," said the judge, "perfec'ly good will."
"There's nothing in it about renting the place."
"Exec'tor's powers broad," said the judge. "Gen'ral law of trustees.Governed by will, though. Princ'ples governing construction of will--"
But just then the judge was in no condition to enunciate them. His voicetrailed off into a murmur and his head dropped.
"I'll come in again," said Angus, "and pay for your advice. What do youcharge, judge?"
"Charge!" muttered the judge lifting his head. "Charge, Chester, charge!On, Stan--"
"Your fee," Angus interrupted.
"Oh, fee!" said the judge. "Yes, fee. Very proper. Fund'mental princ'pleof law, never neglect fee. Fifty dollars!"
"Fifty dollars!" Angus gasped.
"Merely nom'nal fee," the judge murmured. "Avoid lit'gation, young man,'void lit'gation!" And his head fell forward and he slept.
Disappointed in obtaining legal advice from the judge, Angus left hisoffice. He was determined, however, to know where he stood, and two daysafterward he entered the judge's office again. This time the judge wassober and busy.
"Glad to see you, Angus," he greeted cheerfully, "sit down and have achat."
Angus sat down and, taking fifty dollars in bills from his pocket,handed the money across the desk. The judge did not take it. He frownedat the tenderer.
"What is this?" he demanded.
"Your fee," Angus explained.
"For what?"
"For telling me what I want to know."
"Indeed!" rasped the judge. "And how the devil do you know that I can orwill tell you what you want to know? And who gave you the authority tofix my fee?"
"You fixed it yourself," Angus reminded him. "When I was here two daysago you told me your fee for advice was fifty dollars; and now I havebrought the money for the advice."
A dull color rose in the old lawyer's cheeks.
"You mean I was too drunk to give it," he said. "I remember that youwere here, but nothing about fifty dollars. Put it back in your pocket,and tell me what you want to know."
"But I want to pay for what I get."
"Well, you won't," the judge snapped.
"Why not?"
"Because I regulate my own charges," the judge told him. "I've enjoyedyour father's hospitality and yours, and not a cent would you Mackaysever accept for the time you lost, or for the hire of horses or theirfeed, or mine. Damned proud Highland Scotch, that must always give andnever take! Put your money in your pocket, I tell you, and let me knowwhat's worrying you."
So, seeing that he meant it, Angus put his money back and stated hiscase.
"H'm," said the judge. "So Braden wants to rent the ranch, does he, andsell some stock. Under certain circumstances that might be expedient. Anexecutor's powers are broad enough, within certain limits, which youprobably wouldn't understand. But what do you want to do yourself? Whatdo you think is the best thing for you and your sister and brother?"
"I want to stay on the ranch. I can make a living there. Jean and Turkeyare going to school now, and it will be some years before they arethrough with it. Then it will be time enough to think of anotherschool."
"How about yourself?" the judge queried. "You are at the age when youshould be laying the foundations of more education if you are to get itat all."
"I have thought of that," Angus replied, "and I do not think I have thehead for books, like Jean. I might spend years learning things thatmight be well enough to know, perhaps, but of no real use to make aliving, which is what I have to do. And meanwhile the ranch would be rundown and the ground be worked out and dirty with weeds. And then thereis my promise to my father. I am taking his place as well as I can; andthat place is on the ranch."
"I see," said the judge thoughtfully. "You may be right, my boy. Many agood rancher has been spoilt to make a poor something else. Theprofessions are crowded with failures. But let's go back to the point:Whether Braden has or has not the power to rent the ranch and sellstock, is immaterial so long as it is not done. I will see him, and Ithink I can explain the situation to him perhaps more clearly than youcan. How old are you?"
"Eighteen," Angus replied. "I wish I was older."
The judge looked at him and sighed. "Believe this," he said; "that whenyou are older--much older--you will wish much more and just as vainly tobe eighteen. It's three years before you come of age. Even then--" Hebroke off and for a moment was silent. "Angus, you are a close-mouthedboy. If in the future you have any trouble with Braden, or if he oranybody else makes you any proposition involving the ranch, will youcome to me with it?"
"I'll be very glad to," Angus told him gratefully.
"All right. And, Angus, I'm going to give you a word of advice, whichmay sound strange from me. Never drink. Never start. Not only not now,but five years hence, nor ten, nor thirty, nor forty."
"I don't intend to," Angus said, in surprise. "I don't think I'd everdrink much. There isn't anything in it, it seems to me."
"You're wrong," the judge told him gravely. "You know nothing about it.In youth there is pleasure in it, and good fellowship that warms theheart, and bright eyes and soft lips--which you know nothing aboutyet--and dreams of ambition and temporary equality with the gods; andlater in life there are the faces and voices of old friends, of men andwomen dead before their time, and the golden past and golden youth leapsand lives again, and the present is forgotten. And at last--Do you knowwhat there is at last, Angus?"
"No, sir," said the boy with equal gravity. "What is there?"
"Damnation!" the judge replied slowly. "Damnation, deep and living. Thedamnation of those who knowing the better have chosen the worse; wholiving the worse can yet see the better and the great gulf fixedbetween. The hell of the hereafter--phutt!" And the judge snapped hisfingers.
The boy stared at him wonderingly. The judge interpreted his thought.
"The gulf is fixed, because the will, which is the only thing that canbridge it, is the first thing to be destroyed. Where there is no will tofight there is no fight. And you think, too, that this advice comesstrangely from me. But who can speak with greater authority--I, or theman who never took a drink in his life?"
"You, of course," Angus admitted.
"Yes, I," said the judge. "And I tell you who are on the threshold ofmanhood to let liquor alone; not because there is nothing
in it, as yousay in your ignorance, but because there are most things--or thesemblance of most things--in it that the heart of man desires. Remembernot to prove these things. That's all I have to say on the subject. Andnow clear out, for I am busy."
But when Angus had gone the judge did not appear to be very busy. Hefilled a disreputable old pipe with a somewhat shaky hand, and lightingit passed into a period of reflection. At the end of it he put on hishat and proceeded up the street to Mr. Braden's office.
Mr. Braden, spick and span and freshly shaven, enjoying a very goodcigar, looked with surprise and some distaste at the rumpled, unpressedclothes, unshaven cheeks and untidy hair of the old lawyer. He hadlittle or no use for him.
"And what is it this morning, judge?" he asked.
"Mackay estate," said the judge.
Mr. Braden's eyes closed a little.
"Yes, I know you drew Mackay's will," he admitted, "but Crosby and Parksdo all my business, and of course--"
"Wrong foot," said the judge, "I'm not asking for any of your business,Braden. Angus Mackay tells me you were speaking of renting the ranch,and he wanted to know if you had the power to do it."
"Of course I have," Mr. Braden asserted. "The boy--"
"I told him," the judge went on, "that whether you had the power or not,it was most unlikely that you would exercise it."
"What do you know about it?" Mr. Braden demanded brusquely.
"Not a great deal just yet; but enough to tell him that."
"Well, that may be your personal opinion. I haven't made up my mind yet.But if I consider it in the interests of the estate to rent the ranch toa competent man I shall most certainly do so."
"Poole a competent man?" the judge queried.
"I believe so. What do you know about him?"
"Not a great deal--yet," the judge returned again. "What makes you thinkit would be best to rent the place--to a competent man?"
"Under the circumstances I should think it would be obvious."
"If it is obvious why isn't your mind made up?"
"Look here," Mr. Braden snapped, "you aren't cross-examining me, Riley!"
The judge smiled blandly, but somehow the smile reminded Mr. Braden ofthe engaging facial expression of a scarred old Airedale.
"Perhaps you'll explain the obvious, Braden."
"I don't know why I should explain anything to you. I don't recognizeyour right to ask me any questions whatever."
"Pshaw!" said the judge. "Think a little, Braden."
Whatever Mr. Braden thought he saw fit to adopt a different tone.
"Just look at the situation from my standpoint," he said. "By theirfather's untimely death these children are thrown on the world with noready money whatever. Their only source of income is the ranch, whichthey are too young and inexperienced to make pay. The only sensiblething to do is to put it into the hands of some competent man, so thatit will yield a steady income. Isn't that common sense?"
"As you state it--yes," the judge admitted.
"Ha, of course it is," said Mr. Braden triumphantly. "Then as to thechildren themselves, I feel my responsibility. They must not be allowedto grow up wild like--er--cayuses, as it were. They must have aneducation to fit them for the Battle of Life, and as you know they can'tget that at a country school. The rental of the ranch, plus the proceedsof a sale of some of the stock could not be better employed than insending them to some first-class institution. In these days education isthe right of every child. It is the key to Success, which, whenOpportunity knocks at the door--What the devil are you grinning at?"
"Go on."
"Well, that's all I was going to say," said Mr. Braden whose wings offancy had suddenly dragged before the old lawyer's cynical smile. "Rentthe place; get money; apply the money to educate the children. That's itin a nutshell. Any court would approve such action of an executor."
"Possibly--on an _ex parte_ application. But meantime who pays themortgage?"
"Mortgage?" said Mr. Braden.
"The mortgage Adam Mackay made to you on the ranch to obtain money toenable him to buy timber limits which were subsequently fire-swept.That's subsisting, isn't it?"
"Certainly it is." There was a shade of defiance in Mr. Braden's tone."I hope I am not a harsh creditor. The interest might run along and allthe rental go toward educating the children."
"Very creditable to your heart," said the judge. "But practically theresult would be that the interest would accumulate and compound, andthat when these young people had received the education which is the keyto Success the property would be saddled with a very heavy encumbrance,more, in fact, than they might care to assume."
"Well," snapped Mr. Braden, "what would you have me do? Insist on myinterest and rob these poor children of their chance of life?"
"Very hard situation, isn't it?" said the judge blandly. "It is just aswell to look it in the face, though. If, some years hence, the childrencouldn't pay off these mortgage arrears the property would have to besold. In fact you might be forced to buy it in to protect yourself."
"Do you suggest--"
"I don't suggest anything. Let us look at another angle of it. Supposethe place is rented and a crop or two fails and the lessee provesincompetent. Then the time comes when, to educate the children, theproperty, or some of it, must be sold. Again you might be forced to buyit in to protect yourself."
"I don't want the ranch," Mr. Braden said.
"No, of course not. But that is the situation. Now young Angus is awell-grown boy. I think he can run the ranch fairly well. The otherchildren are going to a school which is good enough for their presentneeds. Angus feels very strongly about the matter. In fact I think hewould ask me to oppose any endeavor to rent the place."
"Are you threatening me with a lawsuit?"
"Not at all. There can be no action unless there are grounds for one,and of course a wise trustee walks very carefully. That's all I have tosay. Good morning, Braden."
Mr. Braden from his window looked after the bulky, square-set figure ofthe old lawyer as he made his way down the street.
"You will, will you, you old bum!" he muttered. Then his gaze shifted toa large map of the district which hung on the wall. For some minutes hecontemplated it, and then his pudgy finger tapped the exact spot whichrepresented the Mackay ranch. Then half aloud he uttered an eternaltruth. "There's sev'ral ways," said Mr. Braden, "of skinning a cat."
The Land of Strong Men Page 4