The Kentucky Ranger

E >> Edward T. Curnick >> The Kentucky Ranger

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As for Zibe Turner, the monster dwarf, the services had no more effect
for good upon him than a strong fortress would be affected by shooting
white beans at it. When his favorite business, illicit distilling, was
denounced by Very, the dwarf's wrath grew so hot that he could not
refrain from muttering under his breath: "I wish I could drown you uns
and all yer pious hypercrits in whisky. Dat's my holt."

As the last hymn was being sung Sam Wiles left the church and walked
out into the moonlight. He was joined by Turner and a few more of the
clan. For a few minutes they held a whispered conversation, and then
separated.

When the meeting broke up a half hour later, it was found that the
girths on the horses belonging to the preachers, the Costello family
and others had been cut and destroyed. Also the traces of Judge
LeMonde's harness.

CHAPTER XII.

The Shameful Plot.

The moonlight showed a look of blank amazement and concern upon the
faces of the victims of this dastardly trick, especially the women; but
John Larkin's unfailing good temper and witty sayings relieved the
situation. "There is no use crying over spilled milk," said he, "and I
am sure, as Poor Richard remarks, 'God helps them that help
themselves.' So we must find some way to remedy this trouble, for we
cannot stand here gazing into the moon's face all night, and the
distance to our homes is too great to walk. Let us look about among the
trees, and perhaps we can find pieces of the girths and harness."

This was done, and presently several pieces were found. With these the
traces of the carriage were repaired and a number of the saddles made
fit for service. By some of the men riding double on horseback the
mischief was tolerably mended and all returned to their lodgings in
safety.

While one injury was being remedied another more serious was being
planned. When Sam Wiles and Zibe Turner had cut the saddle girths and
traces, they and three of their pals quickly mounted their horses and
rode rapidly to Wiles' house. Arriving there they found the old folks
and children in bed. Being afraid to talk over their infamous scheme in
the cabin, they betook themselves to the barn some distance away. In
this building they lighted a tallow dip and, throwing themselves down
on some hay to rest and warm their bodies, they at once began talking
of what was uppermost in their minds.

"Now fellers," said Wiles, "let us go over keerfully what we uns war
sayin' as we rode along. That cursed preacher made a last break with me
when he fit our bizness in such an all-fired strong way and throwed
insults on my family. I say he oughter be punished for his sass in the
way we spoke of."

"Sure nuff," broke in Turner, the monster dwarf, "tar and feathers and
ridin' in a rail is too good fer de likes of him. If he got his just
dues, we oughter lay for him some night and pick him off as he is
ridin' hossback."

"We must not kill him," said the more cautious leader, "for they would
'spect us at once, and we would soon be put in de jug (jail), if they
didn't make us stretch hemp without trial. But a good thick coat of tar
and feathers will become his style of beauty fust-rate; and if we uns
ride him on a rail, he will dance a jig with his feet in de air and
will look more cute than ary Injun you uns ever see daubed with his war
paint and feathers."

The five men laughed heartily at this remark, and seemed to anticipate
with delight the fulfillment of their foul plot.

"We owe him a good one fer capturin' Long Tom and makin' him pious and
an enemy of our bizness," said Bert Danks, captain of the Honey Crick
band, "and I hope you uns won't be sparin' of de tar ner easy with de
rail. Get one of them three-cornered hickory rails, and that'll do the
thing up brown."

"Whar is de best place to s'prise him?" asked Wiles.

"I'll tell yer," spoke Zibe Turner, and his monkeyish face lit up with
a smile almost diabolical and his piercing black eyes shot a keen and
excited look into the group, "I hearn that he has an appintment next
Chewsday night at de top of Bald Knob, and to go there from his home he
will have to take de Pigeon Crick road, cross de crick at Farley's and
then branch off inter de big woods before he climbs de knob. Now de
level place jest by de foot of de knob is a lonely spot, away from de
big road, de trees air mighty high and large, and few people pass that
way. I say let's strip and dress him thar."

"Agreed!" shouted the rest in concert.

"Bert," spoke Wiles, "we'll look to you to git de tar, and I'll bring a
pot from mammy's kitchen to heat it in. I'll also take without her
knowin' it some feathers from her feather bed. You, Zibe, are to
furnish de rail, and see that you git a sharp and strong one."

"'Pend on me for dat, and if he don't cry for marcy, it'll not be my
fault."

As a parting caution Wiles remarked: "All you fellers keep mum on this
subject, for we don't want to miss de fun ner be cotched in it."

Now it happened that Mose Williams, Judge LeMonde's most faithful negro
servant, was attending to an affair of his own that Sunday evening not
strictly demanded by his obligations to his master. In other words, he
was courting a sprightly and good-looking quadroon girl, by name
Euphemia Jackson ("Femy" for short). This buxom lass was a house
servant on a plantation situated about five miles from Judge LeMonde's.
What were five miles to a lusty young negro fellow who had a good pair
of legs, a bracing atmosphere and bright moonlight in which to exercise
them, and a sweetheart at the journey's end?

Mose, arrayed in his best clothes, had gone early and stayed late. He
left the plantation happy with himself and all the world. For had he
not that very night popped the all-important question and had not Femy
given an answer which warmed the very depths of his darkey heart and
made the face of nature shine with a double light? To shorten the
distance home, as the hour was late and the bright moon threw some
light even among the thick trees, he determined to take a footpath
among the hills. This course led him close to the cabin of Simon Wiles,
Sam Wiles' father. He was walking in a zigzag path, now watching the
moonlight as it lilted down through the leafy canopy, making a dim but
peaceful light around him; now listening to the sounds which exist in
Kentucky forests in winter, the flight of nocturnal birds and moving of
animals; seeing the raccoon crossing his track like a shadow in search
of food; hearing the mournful hooting of owls in various directions.

Suddenly he was startled by seeing a light shining through the chinks
of a building. At once Mose determined to discover its meaning. He had
no fine-spun theories as to the wrong of eavesdropping. Besides, there
might be robbers planning to steal neighbor Wiles' horse or produce. So
he crept up to the barn, making so little noise that neither the
watchful dogs nor the plotting men heard him.

He arrived in time to hear the conversation we have recorded. When he
had learned all, he stealthily retraced his steps to the foot-path and,
making a wide detour around the house, went on his way. While he walked
he thus soliloquized: "Ho! Ho! dat's yo' game, is it? Well, dis niggah
will try to spile yo' purty plan. But, Mose, ef yo' squeal on dem men
an' dey hears about it, dey'll give yo' wusser t'ings dan tar an'
fedders. Kain't help dat; mus' run de resk. Mas'r Very am mighty
pop'lar wid de Jedge, and I believes dat Miss Viola am lookin' on him
wid more'n common feelin's. Mose, yo's gwine to be a married man one of
dese days yo'self, an' yo' wants a little cabin of yo' own; and ef yo'
hoe dis row to de end an' circumwent dese 'spiring men, p'haps Mas'r
LeMonde gwine give yo' de cabin an' Miss Viola gwine put lots o' nice
tings in it. Dat's de proposition; an', Mose, yo' got to keep yo' wooly
head mighty cool an' calc'lating. Chewsday will soon be hyar, an' what
is done mus' be done in a hurry. It's a pity de Jedge an' Mas'r George
is gwine to start early to Lexinton tomorrer, so dey can't 'tend to de
mattah; but I'll jes inform Miss Viola of de situwation."

When the slave had reached this wise and satisfactory conclusion he had
also reached the end of his journey, and with much self-complacency
retired to his humble cot to dream of his dusky sweetheart.

Early the next morning Mose called at the mansion to see Miss Viola,
telling her that he had "sumpin' of special 'portance" to make known.
For the sake of privacy, she took him into the large drawing-room and,
seating herself in that beautiful bay window overlooking the stately
lawn and the broad cornfield now shining white under their coverlet of
snow and farther on the lovely river, she beckoned him to proceed. With
much earnestness and an air of importance he related what he had heard
at the barn the night before.

Mose was so absorbed in his recital that he did not notice the full
effects of his words on his mistress. As his story continued, a great
change came over her. Her breathing quickened until it came in short
and labored gasps. First a deeper color of red suffused her cheeks,
then a crimson overspread her face and neck, which was soon followed by
a paleness which marked her face with an ashen hue. How that poor heart
was troubled! Now its violent beatings force the hot blood to face and
hands and feet; then with the cruel news it takes into itself the
torrid currents of blood, leaving the face and extremities cold and
bloodless and a feeling of suffocation in the lungs. By a supreme
effort of will, which God has made sovereign over the emotions, she
calmed her beating heart and considered what was best to be done.

"Mose, you are quite sure you have told me all you heard?"

"Yes, Miss Viola, I is, kase de wo'ds made such a 'pression on mah mind
dat I 'members dem zackly."

"You are certain they selected Tuesday night for their wicked acts?"

"Dey spoke of Chewsday night, and tuk it bekase Mas'r Very is to go dat
way dat night."

"You can leave me now for an hour, but at eight o'clock come back and I
will send by you a message to Mr. Very."

When the negro had left, Viola LeMonde retired to her own room and
seating herself at her writing desk, wrote the following communication:

"Mount Pisgah, January 6, 181--.

The Rev. Jasper Very,

Dear Mr. Very:

Our servant, Mose Williams, has just made known to me a plot which
some base men have devised to treat you with indignity and to bring
the cause of religion into contempt. Mose was returning home late
last night from Mr. St. Claire's plantation when, seeing a light
in Simon Wiles' barn, he crept near and, looking through a chink
in the wall, saw Sam Wiles, Bert Danks, Zibe Turner, and two other
men lying on some hay. He overheard them planning to administer
to Rev. Jasper Very a coat of tar and feathers and to complete
the performance by riding him on a rail. This disgraceful act
is to take place next Tuesday night. The spot is that dark and
unfrequented place at the foot of Bald Knob through which you must
pass on the way to your preaching service.

"As 'to be forewarned is to be forearmed,' I hasten to notify you
of the plot, feeling sure you will adopt measures to thwart it.
Father and George would aid you in the matter but they went early
this morning to Lexington, and will not return till Wednesday
evening.

"I feel that I am able to do little in such an emergency as this;
but if I can be of any help, I will most gladly endeavor to
preserve the respect of our community and to assist a friend.

"No one knows of this plot except the instigators, myself, and
Mose. By him I send this note to you.

Most sincerely yours,

Viola LeMonde."

At eight o'clock Mose made his appearance, and Viola gave him the
message, telling him to ride Velox as fast as possible to Mr. Nebeker's
tavern, where Mr. Very had spent the night, and to give it to the
preacher.

Mose was doubly willing that the news should get to the parson by means
of the note; for if trouble came his way, he could swear that he did
not inform Very of the plot; and, secondly, he thought Viola would be
pleased to help the preacher.

Jasper Very was still at the home of the tavern keeper, as were also
several other preachers, including the "square man," John Larkin.
Jasper was standing on the porch, and was surprised to see the colored
man riding up fast to the house, his horse wet with sweat and steaming
in the wintry air.

Mose, dismounting, lifted his cap to those present, and said to Jasper
Very: "I has a message of 'portance to you, sir." With this he handed
him the note, and then, on request of Mr. Nebeker, put Velox in the
barn to cool off and rest.

Jasper Very took the missive to the end of the porch and, breaking the
seal, read it. When he had finished, his mobile face showed the
conflicting emotions within. A flush of anger reddened his dark
features, his lips were pressed close together, his eyes flashed with
unwonted fire, and his hands involuntarily became clenched until the
finger nails indented the palms. Soon his look softened, the fire left
his eyes, and they appeared as gentle as twin lakes in lovely
Switzerland. The proud lines in his lips gave place to a curve like a
Cupid's bow and a smile lighted up his face. Looking out over the
wintry landscape, he said to himself: "It is worth the danger of an
attack like this to receive such a note from Viola LeMonde. How kind
and thoughtful of her to warn me of the plot so quickly. I will see how
best I can circumvent this scheme." With these reflections he retraced
his steps to his friends.

In the meantime the pity which Viola LeMonde felt for the preacher did
not tend to weaken that strange sensation, born in Eden, which was
tugging at her heart.

CHAPTER XIII.

Into a Pit (or Pitch).

Jasper very addressed Costello Nebeker, the tavern keeper, thus:
"Brother Nebeker, I have a matter of importance to consider with you
and a few friends. Can you furnish us with a private room?"

"Certainly, Brother Very," replied his genial host. "You can have the
sitting-room, just back of our large reception-room." (The dance hall
had been changed into these two rooms.)

In a few minutes a select company was gathered there. It consisted of
Jasper Very, John Larkin, Ezra Thompson, the old, grizzled preacher,
Nathaniel Grimes, a smart minister who formerly had been a lawyer,
Costello Nebeker, and his wife. Jasper Very read Viola LeMonde's note
to the group, and striking was the effect it produced. One cried, "The
despicable villains!" another, "The vile sinners." a third, "Shame on
Kentucky manhood, to what depths can humanity sink!" For once John
Larkin could not find a quotation from Poor Richard or any other source
which met the case. But soon surprise and indignation gave way to a
cool consideration of the situation and the best means of circumventing
this well-laid plot and bringing its instigators to punishment.

Very was the first to offer a suggestion. "Friends," he said, "let us
call Mose into the room and hear in detail his account of what he
overheard." This was thought good advice, and accordingly Mose was
invited into the sitting-room.

At first the cautious darkey was loath to commit himself; but when he
was informed that Miss LeMonde already had told the tale in substance
and that all present, would keep secret his remarks, he repeated what
he had seen and heard with more fullness than we have written down.

After Mose had been dismissed, Nathaniel Grimes, the lawyer-preacher,
spoke in these words: "I believe I have a plan by which this plot can
be frustrated. It is this: Let Brother Very prepare for his journey
tomorrow as though nothing unusual was expected; let us notify two or
more constables to enter the woods from a different direction just
after dark tomorrow evening, and at a convenient distance from where
the plotters post themselves behind great trees. Let Friend Nebeker,
Brother Larkin, and myself steal into the woods as best we can and join
the constables in season. At the proper time let Brother Very ride
slowly along, and when he is met by the ruffians and the parley takes
place, we will suddenly rush upon the scene and capture them in their
base act."

The plan was discussed for some time and, being found simple and
practicable, was adopted. Costello Nebeker was to engage the services
of the constables. Being a layman, he could do so without exciting
suspicion.

Tuesday evening the sky was partly covered with clouds. About the time
Jasper Very started from his home the moon rose in beauty. Sometimes
she threw the full glory of her beams upon the white earth as she rode
in a clear place in the heavens; at others her light was obscured by
passing clouds which covered her fair face. We can follow the gospel
ranger as he left his humble boarding place.

Mounted on trustworthy Bob, Jasper Very started to his appointment. He
turned his horse's head toward the east and rode for half a mile along
a farm road when, coming to a gate, he opened it and came into a
broader county road. Just opposite this gate stood the immense barn on
Judge LeMonde's estate, in which was stored his hay and grain and in
which were kept his many horses. Up a gradual ascent a few hundred feet
beyond stood the Judge's mansion. The man of God gazed upon it as its
outlines were visible in the moonlight. He thought of the fair daughter
who lived there and who had taken such an interest in his welfare. Was
it fact or fancy which showed him a female figure dressed in white
standing by the west bay window? The distance was too great to see
clearly; but perhaps that intercommunication of minds which in later
times we call telepathy was the thing which caused his heart to beat
with a stronger stroke and fired his spirit with greater courage.

Yes, there was a woman's form standing at that window. Viola was
watching for Jasper to pass along. Her white face was pressed against
the window pane, and she strained her eyes to see. Her effort was
rewarded, for she could well perceive the outline of horse and man as
they went along the road. Although Jasper had sent a reply to her note
by Moses, thanking her for her interest in his welfare and telling her
of the conference at the tavern, with a woman's supersensitiveness she
was most anxious as to the result; and as she saw him ride away into
danger, she put her hand to her heart and, raising her eyes to heaven,
prayed most fervently that he might be protected from harm.

Jasper Very proceeded on his way along the country road. Soon he passed
the little schoolhouse on his right, then Bethlehem Church on his left.
Next he crossed the rude bridge spanning the brook, and rode on a half
mile farther. Leaving the large road, he turned to the left, going
northwest through the deep woods toward the base of Bald Knob.

As he neared the spot selected for the attack he heard faint whistles
on both sides of the road which were signals before agreed upon that
his aids were present. Passing along to the place where he knew the
outlaws were concealed, he began singing a camp meeting hymn.

Suddenly the ruffians sprang from the roadside, one seizing his horse's
bridle, who proved to be Bert Danks.

"Good evenin', parson, you uns seem to be in a happy frame of mind, or
air ye singin' to keep yer courage up?" The speaker was Sam Wiles, who
was holding his right boot.

"Much courage is not needed when a man is among friends or cowards, and
you must be one or the other," replied Very.

"We'll show yer what sort of friends we air," spoke up Zibe Turner; "so
jest obleege we uns by gittin' down off'n that 'er hoss, or we'll help
yer down."

"I have an engagement up the knob tonight, and I have not time to tarry
with you now," said the preacher.

"Well, parson, we uns have fixed up a leetle meetin' on our own
account, and there ain't much singin' nor prayin' in it, nuther. I
reckon we'll pay yer back for tryin' to spile our bizness and hurt our
reputations. If you won't come down far (fair), we uns must help yer
off," growled Turner.

"Men, I seem to be in your power, and surely I would rather dismount of
my own accord than be pulled off." With these words Very threw his foot
over Bob's back and lighted on the ground.

Instantly he was surrounded by Wiles, Turner, and two other ruffians.
Bert Danks still held Bob by the bit.

Very looked about him as best he could, and saw a smouldering fire
beneath a large pot. In this pot was a large quantity of tar which had
been somewhat heated to soften it, and close by lay a gunny bag
containing feathers, while still beyond was a long fence rail which had
been taken from a zigzag fence not far away.

"Now, if you'll be so kind, please take off yer preacher's coat and
shirt; and if you find de weather too cold for comfort, we uns will put
on anudder coat which will keep out de air," remarked Wiles.

"A matter of necessity need not be discussed," said the traveler, and
with this remark he pulled off his long clerical outer garment.

Very did this for a double purpose: first, to free himself from
incumbrance when he needed to use his arms; and, secondly, by removing
suspicion of resistance, to take his enemies off their guard.

No sooner had he slipped his coat off than he gave a loud whistle, and
shooting out his right fist with all his strength, struck Wiles
squarely on the jaw and sent him sprawling on the ground several feet
away. This was the beginning of a strenuous fight. The moment his chief
was knocked down Zibe Turner, the monster dwarf, sprang upon Very, and
putting one of his apelike arms around his neck, cried: "Dat's my
holt." With the other arm he began hitting the parson about the head
and body. At the same time the other men were trying to throw him off
his feet. Very, knowing help was near at hand, made almost superhuman
efforts to stand his ground, though he was half suffocated and stunned
by the dwarf's hug and blows.

Very's whistle was answered by a shout down the road, and almost
instantly the forms of five men appeared. The outlaws, though
surprised, were not panic-stricken, and they met the attack of the
constables and preachers with reckless bravery. For a quarter of an
hour things were in a strange mix-up. Wiles, rising from the ground,
was making for Very, when a burly constable hurrying up caught the
outlaw and together they fell squirming, rolling, twisting, fighting
over the ground.

Another officer made a break for Bert Danks. Letting go of Bob's
bridle, he clenched with his man, and they were fighting like two
possessed. Nathaniel Grimes, the great red-headed, raw-boned,
lawyer-preacher, was as good in a fight as in an argument and, striking
one of the ruffians, gave a good account of himself. John Larkin had to
try conclusions with another culprit, and they were at it, give and
take, like the rest. In like manner Nebeker did his part.

The officer of the law who grappled with Sam Wiles was one of the
strongest men in the county and, despite Wiles' prowess and desperate
fighting, the constable soon had him mastered and clapped handcuffs on
him.

In the meantime Jasper Very and the monster dwarf were having an
interesting combat. Turner would not relax his hold upon his adversary
in spite of all he could do. His grip on his throat was like a coil of
the cobra de capello. At first Very was at the mercy of the dwarf; and
if things had gone on this way a little longer serious consequences
would have come to the preacher. Though he was half choked by the
other's arm, Very, summoning all his strength, took hold of his
antagonists's arm and pulled it from his throat. Then, lifting his
enemy in his arms, he threw him with violence from him. Very was not
particular in which direction the ugly man should go nor the spot on
which he should alight. The fates decreed a bitter punishment, for the
dwarf came plump into the pot of warm tar which had been prepared for
the preacher. Turner was wedged in the pot, so that he could not
extricate himself, and meantime the thick fluid beneath was making a
warm acquaintance with his trousers and legs. This unlooked-for
disgrace and undoing of the two leaders brought the pitched battle to a
close. The unknown rascals, having broken away from their antagonists
and seeing the discomfiture of their chiefs, fled up the knob road,
while the three principals, Wiles, Turner, Danks, were taken into
custody.

The scene closes with John Larkin, a broad smile on his face, looking
at the disconsolate Turner and saying: "He digged a pit, and is fallen
into the ditch which he made."

CHAPTER XIV.

Returning Thanks.

The captors of these outlaws were more merciful than the rowdies, for
Nathaniel Grimes went to a farmhouse not far away and borrowed some
clothes to replace those tar-besmeared which Turner had on. When he had
changed his garments the two constables and Nebeker conducted the
prisoners on horseback to the county seat where they were locked up in
jail.

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