CHAPTER TEN
THE LORRIGAN WAY
The Lorrigan family was dining comfortably in the light of a huge lampwith a rose-tinted shade decorated with an extremely sinuous wreath ofmorning glories trailing around the lower rim. A clatter of pots andpans told that Riley was washing his "cookin' dishes" in the lean-tokitchen that had been added to the house as an afterthought, the fallbefore. Belle had finished her dessert of hot mince pie, and leanedback now with a freshly lighted cigarette poised in her fingers.
"What have you got up your sleeve, Tom?" she asked abruptly, handingDuke her silver matchbox in response to a gestured request for it.
"My arm," Tom responded promptly, pushing back his wristband to giveher the proof.
"Aw, cut out the comedy, Tom. You've been doing something that you'reholding out on us. I know that look in your eye; I ought, having youand Lance to watch. You're near enough to double in a lead and noteven the manager know which is who. You've been doing something, andLance knows what it is. Now, I'll get it outa you two if I have toshoot it out."
Lance, just returned from Berkeley during Easter holidays, lifted oneeyebrow at Tom, lowered one lid very slowly, and gave his mother alevel, sidelong glance.
"Your husband, my dear madame, has been engaged in a melodramatic rolecreated by himself. He is painfully undecided whether the hisses ofthe orchestra attest his success as a villian; whether the whistlingup in the gallery demands an encore, or heralds an offering ofcabbages and ripe poultry fruit. I myself did not witness theproduction, but I did chance to meet the star just as he was leavingthe stage. To me he confided the fact that he does not know whether itwas a one-act farce he put on, or a five-act tragedy playedaccidentally hind-side before, with the villian-still-pursuing-her actset first instead of fourth. I am but slightly versed in the drama asplayed in the Black Rim the past two years. Perhaps if the star wouldrepeat his lines--"
"For-the-Lord-sake, Lance! As a dramatic critic you're the punkestproposition I ever slammed my door against. Talk the way you werebrought up to talk and tell me the truth. What did Tom do, and how didhe do it?"
Lance drew his black eyebrows together, studying carefully the ethicsof the case. "Belle, you must remember that Dad is my father. Dadmust remember that you are my mother--technically speaking. By heck,if it wasn't for remembering how you used to chase me up on the barnevery day or so with your quirt, I'd swear that you grew up with meand are at this present moment at least two years younger than I am.However, they _say_ you are my mother. And--do you want to know,honestly, what dad has been doing?"
"I'm _going_ to know," Belle informed him trenchantly.
"Then let me tell you. I'll break it gently. Tom, your husband, theself-confessed father of your offspring, to-day rode to an allegedschoolhouse, threatened, ordered, and by other felonious devices hazedthree Swedes and the four Boyle kids out of the place and toward theirseveral homes and then when the schoolmarm very discreetly locked thedoor and mildly informed him that she would brain him with a twig offa sage-bush if he burst the lock, he straightway forgot that he wasold enough to have a son quite old enough to frighten, abduct andotherwise lighten the monotonous life of said schoolmarm, and became abold, bad man. He bursted that door off its hinges--"
"You're a liar. I busted the lock," Tom grunted, without removing thecigarette from his lips.
"He busted the lock of that door, madame; rushed in, wrested the sprigof sage--"
"It was a club the size of my arm."
"Wrested the club from that schoolmarm, brutally and ferociouslyforced her into her coat and hat, compelled her to mount her horse,and then deliberately drove her away from that--"
"Shut up, Lance. You remind me of one of those monstrosities theyserve in the Lava House, that they call a combination salad. It'sabout two-thirds wilted lettuce and the rest beets and carrots. Idon't ever eat them, but if I did they'd taste just like you sound."
"Oh, all right, then. With only two weeks' vacation I won't have timefor a real spree of Black Rim dialect and sober up in time for theUniversity. Let me mix it, Belle. I'll eat my own verbal combinationsalad, if anybody has to. I won't ask you."
"You'll eat 'em, all right," Tom stated briefly, lifting an eyebrow athim. "All I done, Belle, was to ride up to the Whipple shack to seewho was camped there. It was that Douglas girl and the Boyle kids andthem Swedes that live over beyond Boyle's. They was all setting therehaving school,--with their overcoats on, half froze, and the windhowling through like it was a corral fence. So when the Douglas girlgot her Scotch up and said she wouldn't turn 'em loose to go home, Iturned 'em loose myself and told 'em to beat it. And then I hazed herhome. Seems like they think that shack is good enough for women andkids; but I wouldn't keep pigs in it, myself, without doing a lot offixing on it first."
"What dad seems to overlook is the attitude Boyle and old Scotty willtake, when they hear how Tom Lorrigan broke up school for 'em.There'll be something drop, if you ask me--I hope it drops before Ihave to leave."
Belle looked at him meditatively. "And where were you, Lance? WithMary Hope?"
For answer, Lance smiled, with his mouth twisted a little to one side,which made him resemble Tom more than ever. "A fellow sure does hateto have his own father cut in--"
"So that's what ails you! Well, you may just as well know first aslast that Mary Hope hasn't spoken to one of us since the time they hadTom up in court for stealing that yearling. You know how they acted;and if you'd come home last summer instead of fooling around inCalifornia, you'd know they haven't changed a darn bit. It's a shame.I used to like Mary Hope. She always seemed kinda lonesome and halfscared--"
"She's got over it, then," Tom interrupted, chuckling. "She's gotspunk enough now for two of her size. Had that club lifted, ready tobrain me when I went in, just because I'd spoiled her rules for her.If she had as much sense as she's got nerve--"
"Why don't they build her a schoolhouse, if they want her to teach?"Belle pushed back her chair.
"Ever know the AJ to spend a cent they didn't have to?" Duke asked."Or old Scotty? The Swede ain't able. How're they paying her? Thisain't any school district."
"So much a head," Tom answered. "Not much, I reckon. The girl's gotnerve. I'll say that much for her. She was dodgin' clods of dirt fromthe roof, and shivering and teaching to beat hell when I got there."
"They're going to be awful sore at you, Tom, for this," Bellepredicted. "They're going to say you did it because you hate theDouglases, and it was Mary Hope teaching. Jim Boyle will side with oldScotty, and there'll be the devil and all to pay. Did you tell thosekids why you sent 'em home?"
"I told the girl. No, I never told the kids. The Swedes had senseenough to beat it when she let 'em out for recess. She got fighty overthat, and wouldn't let the school out and wait for good weather, so Iwent out and told the Boyle kids to hit for home. Humpin' cats,_somebody_ had to do something!
"So then the Scotch come out strong in the girl, and I made her gohome too. If I see 'em in that shack to-morrow, and the weather likeit is and like it's going to be, I'll send 'em home again. What inthunder do I care what old Scotty and Jim Boyle says about it? Ifthey want a woman to learn their kids to read, they'd oughta give hera better place than the Whipple shack to keep school in."
"They won't," said Belle. "A roof and four walls is all you can expectof them. It's a shame. I expect Mary Hope is tickled to death to beearning the money, too. She was taking music all winter in Pocatello,I heard, and she and her mother saved up the money in nickels--Lordknows how, the way old Scotty watches them!--to pay for the lessons.It's a shame."
"What do they do for water? Old Man Whipple always hauled it inbarrels when he tried to hold down the camp." Al, tilting back hischair, placidly picking his teeth, spoke for the first time.
"I didn't see no water barrel," Tom answered. "I reckon they make drycamp. They had a stove that smoked, and three benches with some kindashelf for their books, and the girl was using a strip of tar-paper fora blackboard. But
there was no water."
"Say, what sort of country is this Black Rim, anyway?" Lance studiedthe end of his cigarette, lifting his left eyebrow just as his fatherhad done five minutes before. "I hope to heck I haven't come home toremodel the morals of the country, or to strut around and playcollege-young-man like a boob; but on the square, folks, it looks tome as though the Rim needs a lesson in citizenship. It doesn't meananything in our lives, whether there is a schoolhouse in the countryor not. Belle has looked out for us boys, in the matter of learningthe rudiments and a good deal besides. Say, Belle, do you know theytook my voice and fitted a glee club to it? I was the glee. And areal, live professor told me I had technique. I told him I must havecaught it changing climates--but however, what you couldn't give uswith the books, you handed us with the quirt--and here and now I wantto say I appreciate it."
"All right, I appreciate your appreciation, and I wish to heaven youwouldn't ramble all over the range when you start to say a thing.That's one thing you learned in school that I'd like to take outa youwith a quirt."
"I was merely pointing out how we, ourselves, personally, do not needa schoolhouse. But I was also saying that the Rim ought to have alesson in real citizenship. They call the Lorrigans bad. All right;that's a fine running start. I'd say, let's give 'em a jolt. I'm gameto donate a couple of steers toward a schoolhouse--a _regular_schoolhouse, with the Stars and Stripes on the front end, and a benchbehind the door for the water bucket, and a blackboard up in front,and a woodshed behind--with a door into it so the schoolmarm needn'tput on her overshoes and mittens every time she tells one of theSwedes to put a stick of wood in the stove. I'd like to do that, andnot say a darn word until it's ready to move into. And then I'd liketo stick my hands in my pockets and watch what the Rim would do aboutit.
"I've wondered quite a lot, in the last two years, whether it's theBlack Rim or the Lorrigan outfit that's all wrong. I know all aboutgrandad and all the various and sundry uncles and forbears that earnedus the name of being bad; it makes darn interesting stuff to tell nowand then to some of the fellows who were raised in a prune orchard andwill sit and listen with watering mouths and eyes goggling. I've beena hero, months on end, just for the things that my grandad did in theseventies. Of course," he pulled his lips into their whimsical smile,"I've touched up the family biography here and there and made heroesof us all. But the fact remains there are degrees and differences inbadness. I've a notion that the Black Rim, taken by and large, is adamn sight worse than the Devil's Tooth outfit. I'd like to try theexperiment of making the AJ and old Scotty ashamed of themselves. I'dlike to try a schoolhouse on 'em, and see if they're human enough toappreciate it."
Duke, turning his head slowly, glanced at Al, and from him to Tom.Without moving a muscle of their faces the two returned his look. Alslid his cigarette stub thoughtfully into his coffee cup and let hisbreath out carefully in a long sigh that was scarcely audible. Tomtook a corner of his lower lip between his teeth, matching Lance, whohad the same trick.
"Honey, that's fine of you! There aren't many that realize what a lotof satisfaction there is in doing something big and generous andmaking the other fellow ashamed of himself. And it would be a God'smercy to Mary Hope, poor child. Leave it to the AJ and whatever otheroutfit there is to send pupils, and Mary Hope could teach in theWhipple shack till it rattled down on top of them. I know what theplace is. I put up there once in a hailstorm. It isn't fit for cattle,as Tom says, unless they've fixed it a lot. I'll donate the furniture;I'll make out the order right this evening for seats and blackboardand a globe and everything, and make it a rush order!" Belle pushedback her chair and came around to Lance, slipped her arms around hisneck and tousled his wavy mop of hair with her chin. "If the restwon't come through you and I'll do it, honey--"
"Who said we wouldn't?" Tom got up, stretching his arms high above hishead,--which was very bad manners, but showed how supple he still was,and how well-muscled. "No one ever called me a piker--and let me hearabout it. Sure, we'll build a schoolhouse for 'em, seeing they're toocussed stingy to build one themselves. There's the lumber I had hauledout for a new chicken house; to-morrow I'll have it hauled up to somegood building spot, and we'll have it done before the AJ wakes up tothe fact that anything's going on."
"I'll chip in enough to make her big enough for dances," volunteeredDuke. "Darn this riding fifteen or twenty miles to a dance!"
"I'll paint 'er, if you let me pick out the color," said Al. "Whereare you going to set 'er?"
"What's the matter with doing the thing in style, and giving ahouse-warming dance, and turning it over to the neighborhood with aspeech?" bantered Lance, as they adjourned to the big living room,taking the idea with them and letting it grow swiftly in enthusiasm."That would celebrate my visit, and I'd get a chance to size up theRim folks and see how they react to kindness. Lordy, folks, let's doit!"
"We might," Belle considered the suggestion, while she thumbed thelatest mail-order catalogue, the size of a family bible and much moreassiduously studied. "They'd come, all right!" she added, with ascornful laugh. "Even old Scotty would come, if he thought it wouldn'tcost him anything."
"Well, by heck, we won't _let_ it cost him anything!" Lance stoodleaning against the wall by the stove, his arms folded, the fingers ofhis left hand tapping his right forearm. He did not know that this wasa Lorrigan habit, born of an old necessity of having the right handconvenient to a revolver butt, and matched by the habit of carrying asix-shooter hooked inside the trousers band on the left side.
Tom, studying Lance, thought how much he resembled his grandfather onthe night Buck Sanderson was killed in a saloon in Salmon City. OldTom had leaned against the wall at the end of the bar, with his armsfolded and his fingers tapping his right forearm, just as Lance wasdoing now. He had lifted one eyebrow and pulled a corner of his lipbetween his teeth when Buck came blustering in. Just as Lance smiledat Duke's chaffing, Tom's father had smiled when Buck came swaggeringup to him with bold eyes full of fight and his right thumb hooked inhis chap belt. Old Tom had not moved; he had remained leaningnegligently against the wall with his arms folded. But the strike of asnake was not so quick as the drop of his hand to his gun.
Tom was not much given to reminiscence; but to-night, seeing Lancewith two years of man-growth and the poise of town life upon him, heslipped into a swift review of changing conditions and a vaguespeculation upon the value of environment in the shaping of character.Lance was all Lorrigan. He had turned Lorrigan in the two years of hisabsence, which had somehow painted out his resemblance to Belle. Hishair had darkened to a brown that was almost black. His eyes haddarkened, his mouth had the Lorrigan twist. He had grown taller,leaner, surer in his movements,--due to his enthusiasm for athleticsand the gym, though Tom had no means of knowing what had given himthat catlike quickness, the grace of perfect muscular coordination.Tom thought it was the Lorrigan blood building Lance true to hisforbears as he passed naturally from youth to maturity. He wondered ifLance, given the environment which had shaped his grandfather, wouldhave been a "killer," hated by many, feared by all.
Even now, if it came to the point of fighting, would not Lance fighttrue to the blood, true to that Lorrigan trick of the folded arms andthe tapping fingers? Would not Lance--? Tom pulled his thoughts awayfrom following that last conjecture to its logical end. There werematters in which it might be best not to include Lance, just as he hadbeen careful not to include Belle. For Lance might still be a gooddeal like Belle, in spite of his Lorrigan looks and mannerisms. Andthere were certain Lorrigan traits which would not bear any mixture ofBelle in the fiber.
"Well, now, that's all made out. I'll send to Salt Lake and get thestuff quicker. Wake up, Tom, and tell us how long it will take to putup the schoolhouse? Lance is going to give the dance--and there won'tbe so much as a soggy chocolate cake accepted from the Rimmers. Whatwill you do, Lance? Put up a notice in Jumpoff?"
"Surely! A mysteriously worded affair, telling little and saying much.Music and refresh--no, by heck,
that sounds too wet and not solidenough. Music and supper furnished free. Everybody welcome. Can'tRiley drive the chuck-wagon over and have the supper served by acamp-fire? Golly, but I've been hungry for that old chuck-wagon! Thatwould keep all the mess of coffee and sandwiches out of the nice, newschoolhouse."
"Who's going to hold their hat in front of the nice, new schoolhousetill it's done and ready? And how're you going to let 'em know whereto come to, without giving away the secret?" Al, the practical,stretched his long legs to the stove and thrust his hands deep intohis trousers pockets while he propounded these two conundrums. "Go on,Lance. This is yore party."
Lance unfolded his arms and disposed his big body on a bearskincovered lounge where he could take Belle's hand and pat it andplayfully pinch a finger now and then.
"To look at your hand, Belle, a fellow would swear that a blondemanicure girl comes here twice a week," he said idly. "Where is theschoolhouse going to be built? Why not put it just at the foot of theridge, at Cottonwood Spring? That's out of sight of the road, and ifthe notice said 'Cottonwood Spring', folks would know where to headfor. It's close to the line of your land, isn't it, dad? Ayard--corral-size--fenced around the place would keep the cattle offthe doorstep, and they could water there just the same. If we're goingto do it, why not do it right?"
"I guess we could get down there with a load," Tom assented easily."I'd ruther have it on my land anyways."
"Don't think, Tom Lorrigan, that we'd ever take it back from MaryHope. No matter how Scotty acts up. But if they ever gave her thedouble-cross and got some one else to teach--why it might be nice toknow it's our schoolhouse, on our land." Belle pulled her hand awayfrom Lance and went over to the piano. "It's all done but theshingling," she said cheerfully. "Come on, Lance, see if you can sing'Asleep in the Deep.' And then show me what you mean by saying you canyodel now better than when I licked you the time you and Duke chasedthe colt through the corral fence!"
"All done but the shingling--and I ain't got 'em bought yet!" grumbledTom, but was utterly disregarded in the sonorous chords of Belle'sprelude to the song.