"Maizie came to the Barrows about ten years ago. Where from, nobody knew, but there were many unconfirmed rumors. It was given out that her last name was Menardi. Whether this was her family name or acquired by marriage, was not stated. Maizie took over—house, corral, and ranch. She made but few changes in the material things, but the two old bachelors and the occasional cow hands were certainly speeded up. Old Jeff Stoups, who had been a retainer since the days of old Matt, quit. 'A woman boss is bad enough, but a hellion is wu's,' was Jeff's statement.
"I have never seen Maizie in all these years. She is rarely away from the Bar-O. Her public appearances are limited to a few rare visits to the stores and a few days spent in court. Mr. Phillips, on her first visit to the drygoods store, described her as dazzling and imperious. Mrs. Phillips describes her as being near thirty years old, tall, rather graceful, regular features, a perpetual sneer, coal-black hair and a coppery skin never seen on another. Her dress was normal, with few adornments. She was bareheaded, wore mannish gloves, and sported large circlet earrings. She differed little in appearance from other women; her voice was low and deep; she could read. She bought books and magazines.
"Our Charley Case (the comedians around the stables call him Flinthead) furnished the caricature of the lady. He was coming back from Grandaddy's south pasture and rode the trail past the Bar-O to see what he could see. He pictured Maizie as wearing overalls, a man's shirt with the tail out, a big slouch hat, and buckskin gloves. She was directing Jeff Stoups about digging a post hole.
"And then came an added feature to the strange personnel. About a month after Maizie's arrival, a young man was occasionally seen around the Bar-O. He was neither cow hand nor laborer. His status was that of a constant visitor. He quartered with the family, if Hulls, Archie, and Maizie would be called a family, instead of living at the bunkhouse. Old Jeff referred to him as a dude, but the comment applied to mannerisms rather than clothes. He dressed as a townsman; he frequented the poolroom and Gatty's doggery. He announced his name as Steve Adams, said that he was Maizie's nephew. He played a fancy game of pool and drank in moderation.
"Questioned by the curious, he talked freely but always about places and conditions elsewhere. He knew nothing about local affairs. That summer he made frequent trips. On his return he would report having been to Chicago, Kansas City, Denver. A later checkup revealed that he was telling the truth. And these truthful stories were exasperating. They explained nothing. The Bar-O, with its mixed up domestic complications, was still an isolated enigma.
"That fall was the time of the great train robbery. The event occurred at the same time as the local raid on Gatty's Quart Shop. The world news was minimized by the local affair. We gave it little thought. In the week following, several cattle men headquartered here and at Grandaddy's. They inspected several herds to include the Bar-O outfit. And later still, they raided the Bar-O premises. They were railroad detectives, posing as cattle buyers. They were too late. They got nothing but some bits of evidence that the train robbers had used the Bar-O as a hangout. Maizie explained to the detectives and sheriff that the strangers represented themselves as mineral prospectors. They worked in the hills in the daytime. They left in the evening following the cattle inspection. She reported that her nephew, Steve Adams, was in Chicago, had been there for several weeks. A check up revealed that this was true.
"A further check up revealed that these strangers had stayed all night at the Unicorn Ranch near Northgate. Abel Sneed, the Unicorn boss, as a matter of precaution went through their 'war bags' while they slept. He found nothing unusual, surely no money.
"What became of this giant sum that was blasted out of the safe after wounding the messenger? Neither the detectives nor anyone else ever found a trace of it. But a further enigma was added to the mystery when a month later Archie Barrow, the younger brother, came to the Records office and made a deed of his undivided share in the Bar-O lands to his brother Hulls. Archie made the statement that he was through, was leaving for the Northwest, and that he would not return.
"Hulls Barrow surely didn't get the Express Company's money. A year or two later Maizie brought him to town to give the bank a mortgage to secure funds to defend Steve Adams, charged with murdering Allie Garrett. Maizie hired a firm of Denver lawyers and the case went through all the complications of venue, trial, and appeal.
"This trial was the community's biggest event, although it had origin in a barroom brawl. During its progress, business was suspended while the public swarmed in, hoping that the truth of the Barrow mysteries might be revealed. The public was disappointed. Steve Adams never took the witness stand, although many thought he had an even chance to convince a jury that he was not the aggressor. The prosecutor was materially aided in the case by Judge Griffith of Laramie. There was no record as to who paid Judge Griffith, but Grandaddy was highly gratified that the accused got a ten-year sentence. He was one man in the community that knew of Griffith's ability as a prosecutor.
"And now that old mortgage is being foreclosed. The Bar-O is on the market at a forced sale. If Grandaddy knew about it, he wouldn't sleep until he owned it. If he were ten years younger he would go over there and shoot it out with Hulls Barrow for the possession. And he needs more land about as badly as he needs ten thumbs on one hand. He already owns all that joins his, his holdings envelope the Bar-O on three sides. He might covet the grazing rights in the Tranquil Meadows district, but two of our winter grazing meadows will lay idle this winter and our fifty ricks of hay are about four times more than we can use.
"Really, Grandaddy doesn't want more land, wouldn't buy other adjoining land, but he would spend every available cent to get rid of the Barrows. I have two slender, lingering hopes. First, if he does find out about the sale and buys it, that there will still be money left in the keyster. And secondly, if he should buy it, I hope I can persuade him to sell it to some first class, reputable rancher. Someone with a family with whom we can be neighborly and the men folks can exchange work in the busy season."
"How much is this mortgage thing?" questioned Davy, as the lengthy story seemed near the end. "What's due the grazing master? How many cattle are they running? When is this sale? Who can I see about the details? Maybe I could find somebody to take over. And anyhow, don't you worry about expense money. Mrs. Gillis has enough cash-on-hand to take care of all of us, unless this panic grows into a financial cyclone."
"Mister Potter, out at the stables, knows most of the details. Mister Finch and a deputy sheriff were here this morning, talking it over with him. As I understand it, Mister Logan, the bank receiver, bought the land at the sale, but it seems that a bank receiver can't hold the land, he must sell it to make cash assets. Mister Logan has the bank's affairs in good shape, except for this item, and it's got him badly worried. Just now, he thinks it would have been better to have sold the note and mortgage to someone and let the buyer take the grief of getting possession. Anyhow, talk to Mister Potter, he has the answers to most of your questions. See him, by all means," urged Adine Lough as Davy prepared to join the impatient Landy standing at the door.
* * *
11ToC
"We've got a lot of work cut out for us," said Davy as he and Landy walked down the drive to the stables. "I want to talk to Potter, but I don't want to show too much interest. I want to get some information about this Barrow resistance that's got 'em all stirred up. How big is this Bar-O ranch anyhow? How much money does this receiver gent need to have to get in the clear? How much is owed on the grazing allotment? And how come that a sheriff's posse can't depose one old man?"
"Old Jim and I were jist talkin' about this same thing," said Landy as they paused at the yard gate.
"Does Mr. Lough know about it?" exclaimed the astonished midget. "Adine didn't want him to know! Who tipped it off to him?"
Landy chuckled as he fingered the gate latch. "Old Jim's been 'round a right smart time, en he don't confer with young women on business matters. He read the leetle fine print leg
al ad in the papers en he sent his handyman, Joe Craig, to Logan, the receiver gent, en got all the details."
"Does he want the ranch?" questioned Davy.
"Naw!" scorned Landy. "Old Jim says hit will be eight years before the ranchin' business can git back on hits feet, en by that time he'll be moulderin' dust en dry bones. Old Jim's still harpin' on that funeral business. Now he plans to hold a big barbecue en send out invitations. Jim's got the money all right, but he wants to spend hit on a big, spread-eagle funeral."
"Adine should know about this. It will save her a lot of worry," said Davy, and he hastened back to the house. Presently he rejoined his companion, who was watching a party of horsemen coming down the lane back of the stables.
"Looks like a retreat," was Landy's comment. "I don't see eny scalps a-hangin' on their spears."
"How big is this Bar-O affair, how many acres?" questioned the little man.
"They don't measure in acres," said Landy, still watching the approaching party. "Old Jim says hit's about eight sections, four wide and two deep."
"How big is this judgment? How much money would this receiver and grazing master have to have to get 'em in the clear? What's the friction that they can't get these resisting parties to see the inevitable?"
"Thar's Logan en Finch, with Flinthead en Hickory," exclaimed Landy, as the horsemen approached the far gate. "She's a water-haul. Old Hulls has stood 'em off ag'in. Now about yer questions. If ya would put' em through the chute, one at a time, 'stead of pushin' 'em up in droves, I could answer better. On the money question, I git this from old Jim. He gits hit from Joe Craig, en he got hit from Logan, so I guess hit's right. The original note was three thousand dollars. They overdrew en added some. The int'rest en costs runs hit to forty-two hundred. The grass bill is less'n three hundred. The whole biz is near forty-five hundred."
"Why, a little performing elephant is worth that!" scorned the midget. "The script of a good vaudeville act would sell for twice as much. What's the matter with the local moneychangers? What's the whole thing worth anyhow? Why doesn't some diplomat wheedle old Hulls off? And why—"
"How much is yer little elephant earnin' now, eatin' his head off in winter quarters?" interrupted Landy dryly. "Whar would ye show yer vaudeville act with the show places all closed? Hit's the same here en all over.
"Ef I was a young man, I'd take a fling at this thing," said Landy soberly. "She's wuth about ten times the amount asked. Alice has a leetle money, not that much maybe, en she's purty tight, yit hit might be done. Old Jim Lough is cautious and reliable, but he's set the date of the comeback too far off. Cattle is gittin' scarcer every day and people must eat. I'm too old to mess in, but a youngster could take over en double his money in five years. In ten years he'd be asking ten times the price he'd paid. But with the banks closed en investors in a financial stampede, five thousand dollars can't be picked outen the sage...."
"Why, Landy! I can have five thousand dollars here in five days," interrupted Davy. "If there was any way to move Hulls and Maizie out, I would deal with 'em before they dismounted." Davy waved his hand in the direction of the horsemen that had stopped at the farther corral to inspect the weaned calves.
"Hulls en Maizie woulda been out long ago if they'd quit snoopin' around and let Hulls peddle a few cows to git money to travel on. I've got a musty but reliable tip Hulls is itchin' to go. Hit's too long a tale to tell without stim'lants, but Archie has sent fer Hulls en Maizie, wants 'em to come en he'p him with a roomin' house down in Arizony, whar they're a-buildin' a big dam, en things are boomin'. Hulls is shore plannin' a git-away. He thinks he can drive through en take some plunder with him. He's traded off his ridin' hosses fer harness critters. He's contracted Ike Steele fer a light spring wagon. With a little money in his pocket, Hulls is ready. You buy this thing, Son! Slip Hulls a hundred en he's out en gone.
"Anyhow, let's listen to their talk. They've finished another failure en are worried. Sass 'em if ye want to, en kid 'em out of the hundred if ye can," was Landy's final caution as the party of horsemen dismounted and loitered to hear Potter and Landy's caustic comments before going to their car, parked outside the gate. Landy introduced Davy as a newcomer.
"Ye should have had my podner here with ye this mornin'," badgered Landy. "His size en power mighta skeered Hulls en made him quit."
Logan laughed as he pictured the midget in a contest with shaggy Hulls Barrow. "Maybe we could deal with Hulls," he said, "if we could get him away from the woman. If your young friend has a way with women, could lure Maizie out of hearing for a few moments, we could sure use him."
"Well, I've never won any medals in contests for women's favors," said Davy, "but I've found that a bouquet of flattery sometimes helps. Have you tried the Rose-Chrysanthemum method?"
"That's what we were trying today," said Logan resignedly, "but instead of roses and posies it turned out to be brickbats and cabbages. You see, we left the sheriff at home and took along the men from here, hoping to get past the guard line and count up what cattle is left on the place. But it was no use. The yard fence was the deadline. Maizie was right at Hull's elbow, commanding her one-man army to fire at will. Not being armed, we fell back to consolidate losses instead of gains. Have you any suggestions or plans?" Logan's reply and question was directed at Landy. Like others, in their first contact with midgets, he was giving Davy the status of a child. He could not credit him with experience or expect counsel from that source. Landy's reply was not comforting.
"Wal, hit does look like a couple o' killin's en the expense of two funerals 'fore ye can git action. Old Matt, the daddy of 'em, is reported as havin' a private graveyard, scattered eround somewhar. Hit might come in handy in this emergency. In yer gaddin' around have ye ever seen enything like hit?" concluded Landy, turning to Davy.
"I never did!" said the midget emphatically. "It's got more entanglements than the time Solly Monheim took the bankrupt law to escape bankruptcy. That's the way Solly explained it after his show went on the rocks at Lincoln. And anyhow," he added to Logan, "why don't you peddle the thing to someone else and let them take the grief and do the slaughtering?"
"There's no slaughtering, as you call it, involved," said Logan with much dignity. "It's a lawful proceeding. If anyone is killed it will be done legally and in due process of enforcing the law."
"So you left the law out of it, left the sheriff at home, and went prowling on your own. If the old belligerent had cut down on one of these cow hands this morning, everything would have been legal and orderly?"
Davy's sarcasm struck home. Logan's face flushed. He realized that he was talking to an adult, not a child. He resented the criticism. But for the fact that the little man was a friend of Landy Spencer he would have made a harsh reply or ignored him entirely.
"Well, just what is your interest in the matter?" he questioned. "I don't see your name on the list of bank stockholders. Maybe you are kin to the Barrows, sort of looking after their interests?"
"No, I am not related to the Barrows. Never had the pleasure of ever seeing one of 'em. I don't know where they live, couldn't find the place without a guide. Wouldn't know how big it was after I'd seen it. I'm just an innocent bystander with big ears and a lot of curiosity. There is a rumor abroad that the ranch is in the hands of a receiver, that it's for sale, that the receiver is having some trouble about possession. If I could get just a few facts and find this receiver, I'd make him a proposition to buy it 'as is,' as the auctioneers sometimes say."
"You have never seen the ranch?" questioned the astonished Logan. "You would bid sight-unseen for a property that you don't know where it's located—would accept a deed without possession? Young man, you need a guardian."
"I had one once," retorted the midget, "and in the eight months of his management he turned over quite a lot of money to me, enough to gamble on, to buy a block of blue sky or a pig in a poke. Maybe there's enough to make a bid on a ranch, a property with a crazy man on it, armed with a gun and threatening to sh
oot intruders. If you are the receiver, I want to make a bid for the Bar-O ranch, as it is."
"No bids are solicited," said Logan severely. "The judgment is for forty-two hundred dollars. I bid it in for that, and must account for that amount. Then there are expenses and costs being added from time to time—"
"Now you've hit center," interrupted the midget. "You've pricked the sore spot. There are costs being added, and time being frittered, and nothing accomplished. It might run on this way for months, and you hoping to have the collection cleaned up and get the bank opened soon thereafter.
"Now I'm wanting to help, wanting to get on the payroll. Here's how. Between now and next Thursday I'll pay you four thousand dollars for a deed to the Bar-O ranch. You make the consideration the full forty-two hundred and show, in your report, an expense of two hundred in getting possession. Then it's up to me to get old Shells, or Hulls, or what's his name, to move out. It might cost me the two hundred, it might cost a lot more; that's my lookout. Maybe the old guy won't move at all. But in any event, I shall not resort to law, won't call the sheriff to get killed or get action. With winter coming on and a woman mixed up in the case, it would be too bad to set 'em out in the snow without shelter or money."
Adine Lough, more deeply interested in the outcome than any other person present, had come from the house to join the little party now congregated in front of Potter's little office building. She heard Davy's final proposition. She saw tough, seasoned old Landy Spencer furtively reach down and pat the little man on the back.
"What about the cattle?" asked Finch, breaking the tension.
"Are any cattle left, and how many?" Davy countered promptly.
"I don't know," replied Finch sheepishly. "We didn't get to count 'em this morning. There's probably thirty or forty old cows with unweaned calves and a bull or two. Then there's a bunch of wild, unbranded yearlings, probably twenty or thirty, over on that pasture by the cliffs. He's got no feed, no hay put up, and has probably been selling off some of the better cows and calves."
David Lannarck-Midget Page 11