David Lannarck, Midget Part 10

"And particularly I need this 'argufyer' right out here now. I'm getting tired of having my own way. The people are too kind, too considerate, regard me as a child to be petted and pampered. There's too much mushy sentiment. A day or two ago, I told Mrs. Gillis my life history. It was mushy and without climax. She wanted to cry over it.

This morning, before you came to the Point, I gave Welborn a big going over about his working all the time. And he never sa.s.sed back. He should have kicked me out. Instead of that, he agreed with me. Him, a big, strong man that had made a gangster eat his gun and ordered the judge and sheriff what to do! The idea! Him letting a midget order him around! What we need here is a good cusser-outer."

"You're too late," said Landy dryly. "You've missed yer appointment by about forty years. We had a party up state wunst, that filled all yer requirements. Hit was a woman. She'd fuss at the sun fer comin' up, an cuss. .h.i.t fer goin' down. She buried three husbands en was deserted by several more. At her death, en in honor of the happy event, they named a little crick after her. They called hit Crazy Woman's Crick.... Hi, Potter," Landy called, as they approached the stables of the B-line ranch. "Git that gate opened and throw out yer welcome rug."

"Troubles never come single, they come in bunches," grumbled Potter as he complied. "Two hosses go lame this mornin', en Jim Finch, the grazing commissioner, comes from up on the Mad Trapper Fork a-callin'

on us fer help to round up some of old Hull Barrow's misfits of horns, hoofs, and hides, en to add further miseries, here you arrive on the scene. Why, Peaches gave out strict orders, that if old Turkeyneck came prowlin' around, to say, that she wasn't at home at all en to tell the little gent to ride right into the house."

"Who said that?" demanded Davy, with alacrity.

"Why, Peaches, Miss Adine, she said if old Landy--"

"Ye, Ho!" yelled Davy excitedly. "This colt is named. That's it!

Peaches! Why didn't we think of that before, Landy?" Davy patted the colt's neck affectionately. "That's your name, old boy, Peaches!"

Hearing the outcry, Adine Lough came out of the house, and down the graveled way. "Good morning," she called. "I was expecting you. My, but he's handsome," she exclaimed, examining the little horse that arched his neck in approval of the inspection. "You look like a gallant cavalier out of the old picture books."

"We've just named him," said Davy proudly. "We named him after you.

His name is Peaches."

"Ah, pshaw," said the girl, laughing and blushing. "That's just a nickname that these men out here call me behind my back, of course, and the poor colt deserves a better fate. But come in, both of you, I have good news." The girl led the way into the hall. "You go in and visit with grandpa, Landy, while we talk shop in the library.

"I talked with the Nazarene preacher and he's very enthusiastic over the plan and prospects," Adine explained after they were settled in the workshop. "I told him of the ad, that I was to run in the paper and he's somewhat of an artist and is putting up signs all over town.

It augurs a good crowd, the biggest ever to a.s.semble in Adot. He plays an accordion and his wife sings and they have arranged for a quartette of girls to sing a couple of numbers and then you are to talk. The meeting is to be held in Joe Burns's big warehouse and it won't hold the people. Now this is not a church meeting, it's an entertainment.

You can laugh and applaud at will. You can tell funny stories about circuses or what-have-you, it's informal, go as far as you like!"

"Well, here's how I had mapped out the talk. I'll tell 'em something about midgets," said Davy, "for midgets seem to be a forgotten subject in literature. If you will comb your college library down at Boulder, you'll not find a single book on the subject, and I am not sure that I know enough about 'em to fill out a talk on the subject."

"That's the very subject you ought to talk on. Why I can hardly wait to hear it. Who better can tell it? If you are short of facts, just romance a little, that's allowable where facts are scarce. Tell 'em personal incidents and don't make 'em too solemn or pathetic. Make 'em laugh. Personally, I'm going to get a close-up seat, for in that big barn of a place I doubt if you can reach the outer fringes."

"Well, if the preacher gent can make himself heard, I can too,"

retorted Davy. "I practiced up on that stuff, there's where I specialized. You see, Miss Adine, when I joined up with the Singer Midgets at Saint Louis, I didn't have an act, a specialty, anything to give the public. I just joined up because Baron Singer was collecting midgets, showing 'em a good time, with no thought of making a profit.

But it did make profit. The public wanted to see midgets.

"It was my first contact with my clan. I noticed that midgets didn't change their voices when they reached maturity, still spoke in childish tones. Not having much to do, I practiced voice culture, deepened and strengthened my speech. I made my voice reach to the back seats. It earned me a job. I became the announcer; made the in-front-of-the-curtain talks. In the summer, with the Big Top, I often simulated the ringmaster to make announcements from the center ring. It was a feature all right, seeing a little guy doing a big man's job.

"Oh I'll make 'em hear all right, but what they are to hear is the problem. To the midget stuff I thought I would add a few paragraphs about circus people, the different kinds and what they do. The general public never contacts the real circus people, just the ticket takers, ushers, and roustabouts. They never meet the managers and performers.

And because grafters, shilabers, and skin-game artists follow circuses, the public thinks these are a part of it. It's only fair to circus people that this connection be denied."

"Why, I didn't know that," exclaimed Adine, "I just supposed the grafters were a part of it. Here I am, learning a lot of things and school not yet started. Anyhow, I'm going to buy a ticket for Mrs.

Carmody and inveigle her to the entertainment. She said circus people ought not be allowed to partic.i.p.ate in a church benefit.

"Now you are to come over here Sat.u.r.day morning. Bring Landy with you, as we can all three ride to Adot in my roadster. There, we will lay the top back, and with you between us, sitting up on the back cushion, we'll parade the town. The door opens at seven o'clock. Performance begins at seven-thirty. Then we come back here for the night and you can ride home Sunday morning. You can talk for an hour if you want to, but you should speak for thirty minutes at least."

10

"Are you going to live here always?" asked Davy as he slid down off the dictionary and chair at the end of the conference. "What I mean is this, Adine," he added, noting the girl's questioning look. "Are you going to spend your life out here in the sticks, with cattle, horses, and a few yokels that you have to ride miles and miles, before you see two of 'em together?"

"Why, this is my home, I belong here, the same as other young people live with their folks," replied the girl, somewhat startled by the abruptness of the question. "I haven't planned to shift pastures, as grandaddy would say. Why are you asking such an abrupt, personal question?"

"Well, it is sorta personal and rather abrupt," agreed the midget in an appeasing tone. "I should have made the approach with more finesse.

Abruptness is one of my defects. But now that I've blundered in, I'd just as well finish. You don't belong out here in the wide open s.p.a.ces, in these spa.r.s.e settlements. You belong in the congested areas, where big things are being done, where there's planning, execution, accomplishment. Why, you've taken over both ends of a little hoss trade, laid out all the plans, details and ground work for a community entertainment, and did it with the ease of a big executive lighting a cigarette. You need a big job, in a big place. With your personality and head-work, you can climb up the ladder to the top rung."

"Well, of all things!" said the girl, embarra.s.sed at the unexpected drift, but laughing at the implications. "And this from a guy that has fled the mob and wants me to take his place. Now just what big job have you laid out for me? Running a circus? Managing a theater? Or maybe operating a railroad?"

"You could make a success with any or all of 'em," retorted Davy. "But none of these were in my mind. Some women want a career. Some gain it by their own efforts and some climb to success on a ladder supported by others. Then there is the big majority--many of 'em brilliant and capable--that just settle down in the doldrums of marriage and let their talents rust out in negligence and inattention."

"Then I'm not to marry?"

"You ought to. A gal as attractive, vivacious, and clever as you are, would have to marry--in self-defense, if for no other reason. Marriage need not interfere. It might help. With that hazard and gamble out of the way, it would allow you to expand your talents in planning, executing, and managing in any line you choose."

"And about when do you plan that this defense marriage--this shotgun wedding--is to take place?" questioned Adine scornfully. "And who's the victim?"

"Now that's a candle-flame that I'll keep my fingers out of," said Davy hastily. "Judge Vane told me once a person who advises or mixes in on the marriage relations of others is liable in damages. And anyhow, sane people don't run matrimonial agencies. In that debacle, you're on your own. I'm promoting talent, not running a marriage bureau. And I don't want the side show to dim the performance in the big top. You've got talent, personality, ability to influence others, and whether you are solo in the orchestra or doubling in bra.s.s in the matrimonial band makes no difference. You ought to be directing the mob instead of listening to a lone midget."

Adine Lough laughed, not at the text, but the homely comparisons of the little man that, standing hat in hand, was earnestly and seriously throwing bouquets of compliments and darts of poignant facts right in her face. And both the flowers and darts were coming from an unexpected source. With the delicate matrimonial problem swept completely aside, she felt that this new-found friend, in his nation-wide travels and a million contacts, was really sincere in some of his estimates and was trying to be helpful in his blunt, abrupt appraisals. Anyhow, she was reconciled to that view.

"Well, I never had so many compliments in all my life! I didn't know that you were a student of sociology--could estimate capabilities and get everyone in their right groove. I should have been conferring with you, for I have an unsolved problem, bigger than any you've mentioned." Adine had ceased her scorning tones; now she was asking for an answer. She motioned Davy to a footstool.

"Why, I didn't know that you had a care in the world. As Polo Garrett used to say, 'What's eatin' ya?'"

"My problem is my family. I'm the only one left that is able to do things. There is little I can do to aid the ones that are sick and I am making no progress in keeping these two big, clumsy ranches out of bankruptcy.

"Father, as you know, is in the hospital in Omaha and mother was called there three weeks ago. The trivial ulcers have developed into something worse. Daddy went to Omaha to be near the market that was tumbling, crashing, and bringing on bankruptcy to stock raisers. He hoped to find a solution, hoped to learn that the end of the disaster was in sight. He had been cutting production for four years; surely a period of scarcity was at hand, he wanted to be ready.

"Meanwhile he consulted a specialist on a matter of stomach ulcers, only to encounter a more serious condition. A dozen years ago, in one season, he had sold eighty thousand dollars worth of livestock from these two ranches. Just now, he has sold breeding stock until there's little left. Now these recent sales were made not to get money, but to reduce the supply, to meet conditions. Money needs were not serious until both banks failed two years ago, and then it became a calamity.

And now, my young counselor, adviser, flatterer, and friend, do you think I should seek a job in the congested areas?"

"Well, it does appear that you are involved in a lot of responsibility, and surely have a big problem on your hands. You speak of two ranches. Where's the other one?"

"Really, it's all one," the girl explained, "but Grandaddy keeps up the pretense of operating one of his own--wants to compete with Father in management--in livestock, in methods. It's the Old Pioneer versus the Progressive. Longhorn versus thoroughbred, and Daddy indulges and encourages him in the plan.

"You see, Grandfather had settled on Grant's Fork (that's about four miles west); he had built a cabin and stables, long before the surveyors came. 'They surveyed me in,' was his frequent statement. And there he lived and carried on until Father grew up, married, and built this home. Grandfather registered his cattle brand as the Bowline. It is a bent bow with a taut string. Father carried the same brand, but folks began calling it the B-line and both ranches go by that name.

And it's really one to the outsider. The difference in methods and in management is best ill.u.s.trated by the fact that in the fall, Grandfather takes a week to drive his finished product to the pens at the railroad siding, while Father trucks a full carload over there in the early morning.

"But in all these years there never was any distinction in ownership of property or chattels. If Grandfather wanted a stack of hay or a roll of fencing he came and got it. He would call on Daddy's men for help as freely as he would call his own. They paid each other's bills without any accounting and there was never any friction, until now.

Now, the problem of all these past years is dumped right in my lap. I don't know how to handle it. I am desperate for advice, so desperate that I now seek the counsel of the Oracle of the Footlights, the Mystic of the Sawdust Ring. Wilt thou help me, Sire?" concluded Adine, as she bowed in mock distress to the little man squirming on the footstool.

"Well, I don't see that you need help. You've done all that is needful and possible. You can't heal the sick, stop a financial depression, or r.e.t.a.r.d old age, but you've left nothing undone. Your problem is already solved."

"We haven't reached the insoluble part," said Adine gravely. "I've just given you the details leading up to it. I have shown that there were two ranches, two plans of management, an intermingling of a.s.sets, and never the least bit of friction. Yet there is one thing in which they are as far apart as the two poles: Father always banks his money, and Grandaddy never did. It doesn't seem possible for a person to live as long as Grandfather has and not use a bank. Back in the early days, he wore a money belt with gold in it. In later years he had what he calls a keyster, a metal box with lock and key where he keeps paper money. He is not a miser; he pays bills promptly and gives generously.

The keyster was never hidden. It might be left on the table or mantel or, because of its weight, it might be used as a door prop. So far as I know, no one ever cheated him, and surely no one had the nerve to try to take it by force.

"Grandmother died before I was born. After her death, and while Father was setting up business over here, the Craigs moved in with Grandaddy.

They were young people, brother and sister, Joe and Myrah, and they have been there ever since. Now just who the Craigs are I do not know.

There is an old rumor among the cow hands that Grandaddy was paying off some sort of an old romantic debt when he took them in. It must have been a far-flung romance, for the Craigs reputedly came from up in the Wind River district.