The Price of the Prairie: A Story of Kansas

  CHAPTER XXV

  JUDSON SUMMONED

  Though the mills of the gods grind slowly, Yet they grind exceeding small.

  --FRIEDRICH VON LOGAN.

  Half an hour later Amos Judson was hurrying toward the courthouse with alively strut in his gait, answering a summons from Judge Baronet askinghis immediate presence in the Judge's office.

  The irony of wrong-doing lies much in the deception it practices on thewrong-doer, blunting his sense of danger while it blunts his conscience,leading him blindly to choose out for himself a way to destruction. Thelittle widower was jubilant over the summons to the courthouse.

  "Good-morning, Baronet," he cried familiarly as soon as he was insidethe door of the private office. "You sent for me, I see."

  My father returned his greeting and pointed to a chair. "Yes, I sent foryou. I told you I would when I wanted to see you," he said, sitting downacross the table from the sleek little man.

  "Yes, yes, I remember, so you did. That's it, you did. I've not beenback since, knowing you'd send for me; and then, I'm a business man andcan't be loafing. But now this means business. That's it, business; whena man like Baronet calls for a man like me, it means something. Afterall, I'm right glad that the widow did speak to you. I was a little hardon her, maybe. But, confound it, a mother-in-law's like a wife, onlyworse. Your wife's got to obey, anyhow. The preacher settles that, butyou must up and make your mother-in-law obey. Now ain't that right? Youwaited a good while; but I says, 'Let him think. Give him time.' That'sit, 'give him time.' But to tell the truth I was getting a littlenervous, because matters must be fixed up right away. I don't like toboast, but I've got the whip hand right now. Funny how a man gets to thetop in a town like this." Oh, the poor little knave! Whom the godsdestroy they first make silly, at least.

  "And by the way, did you settle it with the widow, too? I hope you did.You'd be proud of me for a son, now Phil's clear out of it. And you andMrs. Whately'd make the second handsomest couple in this town." Hegiggled at his own joke. "But say now, Baronet, it's took you an awfultime to make up your mind. What's been the matter?" His familiarity andimpudence were insufferable in themselves.

  "I hadn't all the evidence I needed," my father answered calmly.

  In spite of his gay spirits and lack of penetration that word "evidence"grated on Judson a little.

  "Don't call it 'evidence'; sounds too legal, and nobody understands thelaw, not even the lawyers." He giggled again. "Let's get to business." Aharsher tone in spite of himself was in his voice.

  "We will begin at once," my father declared. "When you were here lastSummer I was not ready to deal with you. The time has come for us tohave an understanding. Do you prefer any witness or counsel, or shall wesettle this alone?"

  Judson looked up nervously into my father's face, but he read nothingthere.

  "I--well, I don't know quite what you mean. No, I don't want nowitnesses, and I won't have 'em, confound it. This is between us as manto man; and don't you try to bring in no law on this, because you knowlaw books. This is our own business and nobody else's. I'd knock my bestfriend out of the door if he come poking into my private matters. Why,man alive! this is sacred. That's it--an affair of the heart. Now becareful." His voice was high and angry and his self-control wasslipping.

  "Amos Judson, I've listened patiently to your words. Patiently, too, Ihave watched your line of action, for three years. Ever since I camehome from the war I have followed your business methods carefully."

  The little man before him was turning yellow in spite of hisself-assurance and reliance on his twin gods, money and deception, tocarry him through any vicissitude. He made one more effort to bring thematter to his own view.

  "Now, don't be so serious, Baronet. This is a little love affair ofmine. If you're interested, all right; if not, let it go. That's it, letit go, and I'm through with you." He rose to his feet.

  "But I'm not through with you. Sit down. I sent for you because Iwanted to see you. I am not through with this interview. Whether it's tobe the last or not will depend on conditions."

  Judson was very uncomfortable and blindly angry, but he sat as directed.

  "When I came home, I found you in possession of all the funds left by myfriend, Irving Whately, to his wife and child. A friend's interest ledme to investigate the business fallen to you. Irving begged me, whenhis mortal hours were few, to befriend his loved ones. It didn't takelong to discover how matters were shaping themselves. But understandingand belief are one thing, and legal evidence is another."

  "What was it your business?" Judson stormed. My father rose and, goingto his cabinet, he took from an inner drawer a folded yellow bit ofpaper torn from a note book. Through the centre of it was a raggedlittle hole, the kind a bullet might have cut.

  "This," he said, "was in Whately's notebook. We found it in his pocket.The bullet that killed him went through it, and was deadened a trifle byit, sparing his life a little longer. These words he had written in campthe night before that battle at Missionary Ridge:

  "'If I am killed in battle I want John Baronet to take care of my wifeand child.' It was witnessed by Cris Mead and Howard Morton. Morton's inthe hospital in the East now, but Cris is down in the bank. Both oftheir signatures are here."

  Judson sat still and sullen.

  "This is why it was my business to find out, at least, if all was wellwith Mrs. Whately and her daughter. It wasn't well, and I set aboutmaking it well. I had no further personal interest than this then.Later, when my son became interested in the Whately family, I droppedthe matter--first, because I could not go on without giving a wrongimpression of my motives; and secondly, because I knew my boy could makeup to Marjie the loss of their money."

  "Phil hasn't any property," the widower broke in, the ruling passionstill controlling him.

  "None of Whately's property, no," my father replied; "but he has awage-earning capacity which is better than all the ill-begottenproperty anybody may fraudulently gather together. Anyhow, I reasonedthat if my boy and Whately's girl cared for each other, I would not beconnected with any of their property matters. I have, however, secured awidow's pension and some back-pay for Mrs. Whately, and not a minute toosoon." He smiled a little. "Oh, yes, Tell Mapleson went East on the sametrain I did in October. I just managed to outwit him in time, and allhis affidavits and other documents were useless. He would have cut offthat bit of assistance from a soldier's widow to help your cause. Itwould have added much value to your stock if Irving Whately's nameshould have been so dishonored at Washington that his wife shouldreceive no pension for his service and his last great sacrifice. But solong as Phil and Marjie were betrothed, I let your business alone."

  Judson could not suppress a grin of satisfaction.

  "Now that there is no bond other than friendship between the twofamilies, and especially since Marjie has begged me to take hold of it,I have probed this business of yours to the bottom. Don't make anymistake," he added, as Judson took on a sly look of disbelief. "You willbe safer to accept that fact now. Drop the notion that your tracks arecovered. I've waited for some time, so that one sitting would answer."

  There was a halting between cowardly cringing and defiance, overlaid allwith a perfect insanity of anger; for Judson had lost all self-control.

  "You don't know one thing about my business, and you can't prove a wordyou say, you infernal, lying, old busybody, not one thing," he fairlyhissed in his rage.

  John Baronet rose to his full height, six feet and two inches. Claspinghis hands behind his back he looked steadily down at Judson until thelittle man trembled. No bluster, nor blows, could have equalled thesupremacy of that graceful motion and that penetrating look.

  "It takes cannon for the soldier, the rope for the assassin, the fistfor the rowdy; but, by Heaven! it's a ludicrous thing to squandergunpowder when insect powder will accomplish the same results. I toldyou, I had waited until I had the evidence," he said. "Now you are goingto listen while I speak."

  It isn
't the fighter, but the man with the fighting strength, who winsthe last battle. Judson cowered down in his chair and dropped his eyes,while my father seated himself and went on.

  "Before Irving Whately went to the war he had me draw up a will. Youwitnessed it. It listed his property--the merchandise, the real estate,the bank stock, the cash deposits, and the personal effects. One half ofthis was to become Marjie's at the age of twenty (Marjie was twenty onChristmas Day), and the whole of it in the event of her mother's death.He did not contemplate his wife's second marriage, you see. That will,with other valuable papers, was put into the vault here in thecourthouse for safe keeping, and you carried the key. While most of theloyal, able-bodied men were fighting for their country's safety, youwere steadily drawing on the bank account in the pretence of using itfor the store. Nobody can find from your bookkeeping how matters were inthat business during those years.

  "On the night Springvale was to be burned, you raided the courthouse,taking these and other papers away, because you thought the courthousewas to be burned that night. Mapleson got mixed up in his instructions,you remember, and Dodd nearly lost his good name in his effort to getthese same papers out of the courthouse to burn them. You and Telldidn't 'tote fair' with him, and he thought you were here in town. Youwouldn't have treated the parson well, had your infamous schemesucceeded. But you were not in town. You left your sick baby andfaithful wife to carry that will and that property-list out to the oldstone cabin, where you hid them. You meant to go back and destroy themafter you had examined them more carefully. But you never could findthem again. They were taken from your hiding-place and put in anotherplace. You thought you were alone out there; also you thought you hadoutwitted Dodd. You could manage the Methodist Church South, but youfailed to reckon with the Roman Catholics. While you were searching thedraw to get back across the flood, Father Le Claire, wet from havingswum the Neosho up above there, stopped to rest in the gray of themorning. You didn't see him, but he saw you."

  My father paused and, turning his back on the cowardly form in thechair, walked to the window. Presently he sat down again.

  "Mrs. Whately was crushed with grief over her husband's death; she wastrustful and utterly ignorant in business matters; and in thesecircumstances you secured her signature to a deed for the delivery ofall her bank stock to you. She had no idea what all that paper meant.She only wanted to be alone with her overwhelming sorrow. I need not gothrough that whole story of how steadily, by fraud, and misuse, anddownright lie, you have eaten away her property, getting everything intoyour own name, until now you would turn the torture screw and force amarriage to secure the remnant of the Whately estate, you greedy,grasping villain!

  "But defrauding Irving Whately's heirs and getting possession of thatstore isn't the full limit of your 'business.' You and Tell Mapleson,after cutting Dodd and Conlow out of the game, using Conlow only as acat's paw, you two have been conducting a systematic commerce oncommission with one Jean Pahusca, highway robber and cut-throat, whobrings in money and small articles of value stolen in Topeka and KansasCity and even St. Louis, with the plunder that could be gathered alongthe way, all stored in the old stone cabin loft and slipped in hereafter dark by as soft-footed a scoundrel as ever wore a moccasin. Youand Tell divide the plunder and promise Jean help to do his foes todeath--fostering his savage blood-thirsty spirit."

  "You can't prove that. Jean's word's no good in law; and you never foundit out through Le Claire. He's Jean's father; Dodd says so." Judson waschoking with rage.

  "The priest can answer that charge for himself," my father said calmly."No, it was your head clerk, Thomas O'Meara, who took a ten days'vacation and stayed at night up in the old stone cabin for his health.You know he has weak lungs. He found out many things, even Jean's fearof ghosts. That's the Indian in Jean. The redskin doesn't live thatisn't afraid of a ghost, and O'mie makes a good one. This traffic hasnetted you and Mapleson shamefully large amounts.

  "Where's my evidence?" he asked, as Judson was about to speak. "Eversince O'mie went into the store, your books have been kept, andincidentally your patronage has increased. That Irishman is shrewd andto the last penny accurate. All your goods delivered by Dever's stage,or other freight, with receipts for the same are recorded. All the goodsbrought in through Jean's agency have been carefully tabulated. Thisrecord, sworn to before old Joseph Mead, Cris's father, as notary, andwitnessed by Cam Gentry, Cris Mead, and Dr. Hemingway, lies sealed andsafe in the bank vault.

  "One piece of your trickery has a double bearing; here, and in anotherline. Your books show that gold rings, a watch chain, sundry articles ofa woman's finery charged to Marjory Whately, taken from her mother'sincome, were given as presents to another girl. Among them are ahandsome fur collar which Lettie Conlow had on this very morning, andsome beautiful purple ribbon, a large bow of which fastened with avaluable pin set with brilliants I have here."

  He opened a drawer of his desk and lifted out the big bow of purpleribbon which Lettie lost on the day Marjie and I went out to the hauntedcabin. "In your stupid self-conceit you refused to grant a measure ofgood common sense and powers of observation to those about you. I haveseen your kind before; but not often, thank God!"

  My father paused, and the two sat in silence for a few moments. Judsonevidently fancied his case closed and he was beginning to hunt for a wayout, when his accuser spoke again.

  "Your business transactions, however, rank as they are, cannot equalyour graver deeds. Human nature is selfish, and a love of money hasfilled many a man's soul with moth and rust. You are not the only manwho, to get a fortune, turned the trick so often that when anopportunity came to steal, he was ready and eager for the chance. Somemen never get caught, or being known, are never brought to the bar ofaccount; but you have been found out as a thief and worse than a thief;you have tried to destroy a good man's reputation. With words that werefalse, absolutely false, you persuaded a defenceless woman that hernoble husband--wearing now the martyr's crown of victory--you persuadedher, I say, that this man had done the things you yourself have done inhis name--that he was a business failure, a trickster, and an embezzler.With Tell Mapleson and James Conlow and some of that Confederate gangfrom Fingal's Creek, swearing to false affidavits, you made Mrs. Whatelybelieve that his name was about to be dishonored for wrongs done in hisbusiness and for fraudulent dealing which you, after three years ofcareful sheltering, would no longer hide unless she gave her daughter toyou in marriage. For these days of wearing grief to Mrs. Whately you cannever atone. You and Tell, as I said a while ago, almost succeeded inyour scheme at Washington. To my view this is infinitely worse thantaking Irving Whately's property.

  "All this has been impersonal to me, except as the wrongs and sorrows ofa friend can hurt. But I come now to my own personal interest. And wherethat is concerned a man may always express himself."

  Judson broke out at this point unable to restrain himself further.

  "Baronet, you needn't mind. You and me have nothing in the world incommon."

  My father held back a smile of assent to this.

  "All I ever did was to suggest a good way for you to help Mrs. Whately,best way in the world you could help her if you really feel so bad abouther. But you wouldn't do it. I just urged it as good for all parties.That's it, just good for all of us; and it would have been, but I didn'tcommand you to it, just opened the way to help you."

  My father did not repress the smile this time, for the thought of Judsoncommanding him was too much to bear unsmilingly. The humor faded in amoment, however, and the stern man of justice went on with his charge.

  "You tried to bring dishonor upon my son by plans that almost won, didwin with some people. You adroitly set on foot a tale of disgracefulaction, and so well was your work done that only Providence preventedthe fulfilling of your plans."

  "He is a fast young man; I have the evidence," Judson cried defiantly."He's been followed and watched by them that know. I guess if you takeJean Pahusca's word about the goods you'll have to
about the doings ofPhil Baronet."

  "No doubt about Phil being followed and watched, but as to taking JeanPahusca's word, I wouldn't take it on oath about anything, not a whitmore than I would take yours. When a man stands up in my court andswears to tell the truth the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, hemust first understand what truth is before his oath is of any effect.Neither Jean nor you have that understanding. Let me tell you a story:You asked Phil to escort Lettie Conlow home one night in August. Aboutone o'clock in the morning Phil went from his home down to the edge ofthe cliff where the bushes grow thick. What took him there is his ownbusiness. It is all written in a letter that I can get possession of atany time that I need it, Lettie was there. Why, I do not know. She askedhim to go home with her, but he refused to do so."

  Judson would have spoken but my father would not permit it here.

  "She started out to that cabin at that hour of the night to meet you,started with Jean Pahusca, as you had commanded her to do, and you knowhe is a dangerous, villainous brute. He had some stolen goods at thecabin, and you wanted Lettie to see them, you said. If she could notentrap Phil that night, Jean must bring her out to this lonely hauntedhouse. You led the prayer meeting that week for Dr. Hemingway. AmosJudson, so long as such men as you live, there is still need forguardian angels. One came to this poor wilful erring girl that night inthe person of Bud Anderson, who not only made her tell where she wasgoing, but persuaded her to turn back, and he saw her safe within herown home."

  "It's Phil that's deceived her and been her downfall. I can prove it byLettie herself. She's a very warm friend and admirer of mine."

  "She told me in this room not two hours ago that Phil had never done herwrong. It was she who asked to have you summoned here this morning,although I was ready for you anyhow."

  The end of Judson's rope was in sight now. He collapsed in his chairinto a little heap of whining fear and self-abasement.

  "Your worst crime, Judson, is against this girl. You have used her foryour tool, your accomplice, and your villainously base purposes. Youbribed her, with gifts she coveted, to do your bidding. You lived adouble life, filling her ears with promises you meant only to break.Even your pretended engagement to Marjie you kept from her, and when shefound it out, you declared it was false. And more, when with her ownears she heard you assert it as a fact, you sought to pacify her withpromises of pleasures bought with sin. You are a property thief, areceiver of stolen goods, a defamer of character. Your hand was on thetorch to burn this town. You juggled with the official records in thecourthouse. You would basely deceive and marry a girl whose consentcould be given only to save her father's memory from stain, and hermother from a broken heart. And greatest and blackest of all, you wouldutterly destroy the life and degrade the soul of one whose erring feetwe owe it to ourselves to lead back to straight paths. On these chargesI have summoned you to this account. Every charge I have evidence toprove beyond any shadow of question. I could call you before the civilcourts at once. That I have not done it has not been for my son's sake,nor for Marjie's, nor her mother's, but for the sake of the one I haveno personal cause to protect, the worst one connected with this businessoutside of yourself and that scoundrel Mapleson--for the sake of awoman. It is a man's business to shield her, not to drag her down toperdition. I said I would send for you when it was time for you to comeagain, when I was ready for you. I have sent for you. Now you mustanswer me."

  Judson, sitting in a crumpled-up heap in the big armchair in JohnBaronet's private office, tried vainly for a time to collect his forces.At last he turned to the one resource we all seek in our misdoing: hetried to justify himself by blaming others.

  "Judge Baronet," his high thin voice always turned to a whine when helowered it. "Judge Baronet, I don't see why I'm the only one you call toaccount. There's Tell Mapleson and Jim Conlow and the Rev. Dodd and alot more done and planned to do what I'd never 'a dreamed of. Now, whydo I have to bear all of it?"

  "You have only your part to bear, no more; and as to Tell Mapleson, histime is coming."

  "I think I might have some help. You know all the law, and I don't knowany law." My father did not smile at the evident truth of the lastclause.

  "You can have all the law, evidence, and witnesses you choose. You maycarry your case up to the highest court. Law is my business; but I'llbe fair and say to you that a man's case is sometimes safer settled outof court, if mercy is to play any part. I've no cause to shield you, butI'm willing you should know this."

  "I don't want to go to court. Tell's told me over and over I'd neverhave a ghost of a show"--he was talking blindly now--"I want somebody toshake you loose from me. That's it, I want to get rid of you."

  "How much time will it require to get your counsel and come here again?"

  If a man sells his soul for wealth, the hardest trial of his life comeswhen he first gets face to face with the need of what money cannot buy;that is, loyalty. Such a trial came to Judson at this moment. Maplesonhad warned him about Baronet, but in his puny egotistic narrowness hethought himself the equal of the best. Now he knew that neither Maplesonnor any other of the crew with whom he had been a law-breaker wouldbefriend him.

  "They ain't one of 'em 'll stand by a fellow when he's down, not a one,"the little man declared.

  "No, they never do; remember that," John Baronet replied.

  "Well, what is it you want?" he whined.

  "What are you going to do? Settle this in court or out of it?"

  "Out of it, out of it," Judson fairly shrieked. "I'd be put out of thePresbyterian Church if this gets into the courts. I've got a bankaccount I'm not ashamed of. How much is it going to take to settle it?What's the least will satisfy you?"

  "Settle it? Satisfy me? Great heavens! Can a career like this be atonedfor with a bank check and interest at eight per cent?" My father'sdisgust knew no bounds.

  "You are going to turn over to the account of Marjory Whately an amountequal to one-half the value of Whately's estate at the time of hisdeath, with a legal rate of interest, which according to his will shewas to receive at the age of twenty. The will," my father went on, as heread a certain look in Judson's face, "is safe in the vault of thecourthouse, and there are no keys available to the box that holds it.Also, you are going to pay in money the value of all the articlescharged to Marjory Whately's account and given to other people, mostlyyoung ladies, and especially to Lettie Conlow. Your irregular businessmethods in the management of that store since O'mie began to keep yourrecords you are going to make straight and honest by giving all that isoverdue to your senior partner, Mrs. Irving Whately. Furthermore, youare going to give an account for the bank stock fraudulently secured inthe days of Mrs. Whately's deep sorrow. This much for your propertytransactions. You can give it at once or stand suit for embezzlement. Ihave the amounts all listed here. I know your bank account and propertypossession. Will you sign the papers now?"

  "But--but," Judson began. "I can't. It'll take more than half, yes, allbut two-thirds, I've got to my name. I can't do it. I'll have to hire tosomebody if I do."

  "You miserable cur, the pity is you can't make up all that you owe butthat cannot be proved by any available record. Only one thing keeps meback from demanding a full return for all your years of thievingstewardship."

  "Isn't that all?" Judson asked.

  "Not yet. You cannot make returns for some things. If it were all amoney proposition it would be simple. The other thing you are going todo, now mark me, I've left you the third of your gains for it. You aregoing to make good your promise to Lettie Conlow, and you will do itnow. You will give her your name, the title of wife. Your property underthe Kansas law becomes hers also; her children become the heirs to yourestate. These, with an honest life following, are the only conditionsthat can save you from the penitentiary, as an embezzler, a receiver ofstolen goods, a robber of county records, a defamer of innocent men, anaccomplice in helping an Indian to steal a white girl, and a libertine.

  "I shall not release the evid
ence, nor withdraw the power to bring youdown the minute you break over the restrictions. Amos Judson," (therewas a terrible sternness in my father's voice, as he stood before thewretched little man), "there is an assize at which you will be tried,there is a bar whose Judge knows the heart as well as the deed, and forboth you must answer to Him, not only for the things in which I give younow the chance to redeem yourself, but for those crimes for which thelaw may not now punish you. There is here one door open beside the oneof iron bars, and that is the door to an honest life. Redeem your pastby the future."

  For the person who could have seen John Baronet that day, who could haveheard his deep strong voice and felt the power of his magneticpersonality, who could have been lifted up by the very strength of hisnobility so as to realize what a manhood such as his can mean--for onewho could have known all this it were easy to see to how hard a task Ihave set my pen in trying to picture it here.

  "No man's life is an utter failure until he votes it so himself." Myfather did not relax his hold for a moment. "You must square yours by atruer line and lift up to your own plane the girl you have promised tomarry, and prosperity and happiness such as you could never knowotherwise will come to you. On this condition only will you escape thefull penalty of the law."

  The little widower stood up at last. It had been a terrible grilling,but his mind and body, cramped together, seemed now to expand.

  "I'll do it, Judge Baronet. Will you help me?"

  He put out his hand hesitatingly.

  My father took it in his own strong right hand. No man or woman, whetherclothed upon with virtue or steeped in vice, ever reached forth a handto John Baronet and saw in his face any shadow of hesitancy to receiveit. So supreme to him was the ultimate value of each human soul. He didnot drop the hand at once, but standing there, as father to son hespoke:

  "I have been a husband. Through all these long years I have walked aloneand lonely, yearning ever for the human presence of my loved one lyingthese many years under the churchyard grasses back at old Rockport.Judson, be good to your wife. Make her happy. You will be blessedyourself and you will make her a true good woman."

  * * * * *

  There was a quiet wedding at the Presbyterian parsonage that evening.The name of only one witness appeared on the marriage certificate, thename in a bold hand of John Baronet.