David Lannarck, Midget

G >> George S. Harney >> David Lannarck, Midget

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"Off hand, I'd say the racket was good for a 'grand' a week. Maizie
would get fifty, Tony and his wife a hundred smackers, another fifty
for the concession. In ten weeks, I could pay for the Bar-O and
have--" The telephone rang. "If that's for me," said the little man to
Aaron Logan, "get on that extension and listen to the story of a
misspent life, for I'll try to get him to tell it."

As the conversation was both spoken and heard, both are here given.

"Hello, hello. Yes, this is David Lannarck. Hello, Ralph. This is your
midget friend Davy. I'm in Adot--yes, that's what I said--what they
all say.... A dot on what? It's out of Cheyenne--a good ways out. But
I want to do business as of Cheyenne. I want you to send a Denver
draft to The First National Bank at Cheyenne for five thousand
dollars, to arrive there before the eighteenth of October."

The phone was working splendidly; even those without an earpiece could
hear the over-production.

"This is a fine time to separate a bank from assets. What are you
buying? Blue sky or a phony gold mine?"

"Neither one," said Davy promptly. "It's a ranch--with an old man on
it--with a gun, defying all comers."

"Why, I thought the old cattle wars were all over," came the reply. "I
suppose, on account of your size, you hope to slip through the guard
line."

"Naw," replied Davy, "it really doesn't matter whether the old man
gets off or stays on. It's ten sections. If things brighten up a bit,
it looks worth the money."

"Ten sections?" came the astonished inquiry. "How will you ever see it
all--you with short legs?"

"Why, I've got a hoss," said Davy proudly, "I've got the finest hoss
west of the Big River. He can do tricks too. By spring I can have him
doing stunts that will make Bill Reviere's act look like a practice
stunt."

"Well, God help poor sailors on a night like this, and midgets too.
But at that, I think you are in the right groove. Things will loosen
up; they've got to. Have your title examined carefully. See that your
grantor is responsible."

"I'm buying it from a bank receiver. It's a part of the frozen
assets," interrupted Davy. "The bank is to reopen when this is
settled."

"Now let me get this right. You want a Denver draft, sent to you, care
of the First National Bank in Cheyenne, Wyoming, for five thousand
dollars." The words were slowly said as if a memorandum was being
made. "All right. The item will go out this evening. Good luck and a
prosperous investment."

"Hold on, Ralph, just a minute. I'm in that bank that's to reopen. The
phone here has an extension. The fellow with whom I am dealing is on
that extension. No one out here knows me--I need an introduction. Will
you briefly tell 'em who I am?"

"Well, that's bad," came a laughing reply. "It might ruin everything.
But here goes. Mister Receiver, David Lannarck, with whom I am
talking, is a midget--nearly forty inches tall and about thirty years
of age. He was born here, inherited a comfortable estate that we
manage--collect his rents, pay his taxes and repair bills. We also pay
his generous church contributions and charity donations. He has never
drawn a cent from the accumulations. For the last decade I have seen
little of him. He travels extensively--in vaudeville, with circuses.
He comes back about once a year to deposit his earnings. These we keep
separately because that's the way he wants it. He writes no checks.
Simply tells us what to do, and we do it. Only once before this has he
called on us. That was a train wreck and an injury that interrupted
his routine. He phoned for us to pay bills and we paid 'em, as we are
paying this one.

"He's affable, charitable to those he likes, talks the jargon of the
circus people, and is, with all, a truthful, likeable chap. Is there
anything else, Mister Receiver?"

"Thank you, Ralph, and good-by," said Davy as he hung up.

Hastily Aaron Logan prepared a memo stating the terms of the sale.
Adine Lough made a copy. Both were signed by both interested parties,
then Davy paid Finch fifty dollars on his contract and the meeting
adjourned. Davy and Adine went to Jode's restaurant for a bite to eat.
Landy went in search of Ike Steele to post a deposit for a quick
getaway and, strange as it may seem, Aaron Logan sought the same
person and with a similar purpose.

13

Adine Lough had high rating in the community affairs of Adot. Her zeal
for higher education, her church work, and her general deportment gave
her contact with the better element that was trying to modernize--trying
to lift a community up and out of the rawness of frontier days. But if
the critics, the estimators of social standing, had seen her and her
associates on this fine October afternoon, they would have moved her
down several rungs on the social ladder.

She was in close conference with a midget, an ex-circus man, out of
work and advertised widely to give a talk at the warehouse Saturday
night! (They would hear this talk before making a final estimate.) And
Adine's other conferee was old Landy Spencer, a notorious resister of
progress, who spoke in the language of other days, whose
appearance--from battered hat to narrow bootheels--simply pictured the
undesirable past; his associates, when he came to town, were of the
rabble--the lower stratum. Very true, in other days, the bank had
given him a rating as not needing endorsers if he sought a loan. Very
true, Judge Sample had stated publicly that he would accept Landy
Spencer's word without the formalities of being sworn, but as a social
factor in the community, Landy didn't know where the social ladder was
located, let alone about reaching the lower rung. And all afternoon
Adine Lough was in close conference with such as these!

Landy returned to Jode's place sooner than he was expected. There was
a sheepish grin on his weathered face. "They beat me to hit," he said
in a low voice as Jode went back to the stove for his steak and
potatoes. (His companions were munching wafers and drinking chocolate
milk.) "Ike had already been en done hit."

Being served, and with Jode in the kitchen, the aged courier disclosed
the results of his mission. "Ye don't tell Ike what's on yer mind;
jist give him rope, git him started, en he'll come from under cover. I
went to his shop en he wasn't workin'. Seemed to be waitin'. I prodded
in, en he unfolded that he was waitin' for Logan. Our Logan, ye
understand. Hit whetted my int'rest; I prodded ag'in, en with results.
Ike said that Logan came to his shop Tuesday. He'd seen Ugly Collins
a-hangin' 'round Ike's place, en he wanted a quick move by Ugly. He
slipped Ike two new twenty-dollar bills en told him to loan 'em to
Ugly if he made a quick git-away. Ike did as d'rected. Ugly come en
got the wagon this atternoon. Promised that he'd load tonight en be on
the road by midnight.

"Well! That settled the coffee! I didn't keer to hang eround eny more.
But I did want a whit more information. Did Logan know that old Hulls
en Maizie were included? 'Naw,' scorned Ike, 'Logan didn't even know
that Ugly knew 'em--didn't know that Ugly had ever been at the Bar-O.
Logan didn't know about the wagon. Thought the forty was about right
for train fare. He jist wanted Ugly out of the country en I got hit
done,' says Ike.

"I didn't keer to meet Logan--then. I remembered that I had some boots
at Billy's fer half solin', en I slipped Ike a five spot with the
caution that he was to say nothin' in his report to Logan about who
was in Ugly's party. Ike wanted me to stay en listen to his ideas as
to why Logan wanted a quick move by Ugly, but I already had my notions
about that. I slipped away fast. But in comin' here I remembered that
I hadn't left eny boots with Billy."

Landy finished his steak and story about the same time.

"Well, do you think they will get away tonight?" asked Davy eagerly.
"Is there any way that we can hang around and find out? Why would
Logan want this Ugly party to get out of the country? Why can't we--"

"Thar ye go! Crowdin' the question-chute. Son, ye orta number 'em, en
I could answer by number. Anyhow, let's git goin'! Hit's a long ways
home--with a change of cars at the B-line, en the last lap ain't fit
fer night ridin'. We can talk while we ride. Out thar, Jode won't be
hangin' around, shufflin' the dishes en tryin' to get an earful. Let's
go."

On the way home, Adine Lough was the happy one of the trio. The
revealing incidents of the day had cleared away the threatening dark
financial cloud. Now if her father could only be brought home with the
assurance of his getting well, her cup of happiness would be
overflowing. Just now, she was planning an added chapter to her
thesis, "Welfare Work in Rural Communities." She would touch on the
subject of "Aid from Unexpected Sources," for she had experienced just
that! In the events of the day, it was revealed that a little, unknown
midget of a man, with a doubtful background, was indeed a man,
mentally, morally, and financially. Back of his cynicism--often
expressed in the jargon of the underworld--was an alert mind that
could lead an inquisitor into a maze of unaccomplishments.

Too, in said thesis, she would make some radical changes in the
paragraphs touching on "influences of pioneer habits and traits in
community upbuilding, etc." The recent conduct and tactful
accomplishments of Landy Spencer were the reasons for such a change.
Heretofore, she had welcomed old Landy as a visitor to the B-line for
the reason that Grandaddy liked him, wanted to confab and badger about
the old days. She had casually learned that Landy had had to work as a
boy, as a youth, and as a young man, that he had accumulated enough so
that he could now enjoy the play-days once denied him. Yes, she would
change her notes to say: "uncouth verbiage and slatternly dress are
often assets in gaining information and are no hindrance in granting
loyalty and devotion."

The journey home, despite the uncertainties pending, was a joy-ride
for the two. Landy, as was his wont, clutched the armrest of the car
and said nothing. Time was, when safe in a saddle, he had thrown reins
to the wind "en allowed that critter a spell of fancy worm-fence
buckin', but a-ridin' a auto wuz dangerous business."

Arriving at the B-line stables, the party paused for a final
conference. Tomorrow would be Friday. In the early hours Davy and
Landy would make a furtive visit to the Bar-O ranch to see if Ugly
Collins had carried out his plans to evacuate the resisters. "Maybe
they set fire to the house or poisoned the cattle," suggested Davy.
Landy poo-pooed the idea.

"They're on a slow train," he explained. "In that outfit they can't do
over six miles an hour. A fire would announce their malice, en a
sheriff would overtake 'em before they reached North Gate. They don't
know about cattle-pizen--thar's no loco weed around here."

Saturday was the date of the entertainment in Adot. Davy and Landy
would ride over to the B-line and go to town in Adine's roadster. In
Adot, Davy would again contact Logan and fix the date to meet him in
Cheyenne on Monday. "That check--the draft thing--will be there by
that time," was Davy's opinion. "I hope I can pry Welborn loose from
his digging and delving long enough to take me over that road again."

"You don't have to do that," interposed Adine. "I'll drive you to
Cheyenne. I'm as anxious as anyone to get this thing settled. This
Bar-O thing has been a neighborhood problem, an obsession, a thorn in
the flesh, ever since Grandaddy was a young man. I want to be a party
in removing the thorn. I'll have Joe and Myrah to look after
Grandaddy, and I'll have Mister Potter to look after Joe and Myrah and
everything will be all right.

"But you'll have to meet me at Carter's filling station," she
cautioned. "I'll have to drive through Adot and around that way. I
can't drive across the valleys and ridges as you horsemen ride them.
So we'll meet at the filling station at seven-thirty. We will be in
Cheyenne long before noon."

"Hi ya, Potter," called Landy as they were saddling the horses. "I
want you to order a set of shoes for this colt."

"I've got a set. I tried 'em; they fit. But he won't need shoes this
winter; he's better off without 'em. If a bunglin' mechanic over thar
will leave his feet alone he'll be all right till spring."

Landy regarded the gibe as irrelevant. The saddle invited. Once aboard
and before they reached the Ranty he was detailing answers to some of
Davy's questions.

"This Logan party ain't exactly crooked but thar's some noticeable
bends in his career. When they baptized him they ought to have given
him another dip. 'Course, he gits his money by pinchin' en scrougin'
en this Ugly Collins affair goes a leetle beyond the limit.

"This Ugly was borned here. His right name is Clarence, but early
someone branded him Ugly, en because he resented hit, the name stuck.
He wasn't so ugly--jist ornery. His daddy died; his mother lived on a
little place in town, up-crick from the bridge. Ugly wasn't a roarin'
success as a producer--jist idled and fuddled until he got to be a
man. Then he got indicted with others fer robbin' a little tannery
that was operatin' down the crick. This tannery was mostly out of
doors. They was charged with stealin' leather, but in the testimony it
showed that Ugly didn't steal leather--jist knives en other plunder.
He was flung loose. He left the country. That was twelve years ago. In
all these years, no one in Adot was compelled to look on Ugly Collins.
Not till last week did the public know he was alive. Even then thar
was no gineral rejoicin'--nobody killed a fatted calf.

"Now Ugly's mother died three years ago. A dear, uncomplainin' old
soul, the funeral was conducted by Romine, the undertaker, and was
attended by many. Of course Romine would have to be paid. He got Logan
to administer the estate. He had had Logan to do this in other cases.
They understood each other very well.

"They found but little personal property. Although Ann Griggs, a
neighbor, said the old lady Collins had been savin' funeral money fer
years--had it hidden in a fruit jar, no sich fund was found. The real
estate would have to be sold to pay the claim.

"Except fer Ugly, they was no heirs, en Ugly didn't answer roll-call.
By order of the court, Ugly was pronounced dead. Simmy Gordon, the
village cut-up, said hit was a cheap funeral fer Ugly en good
riddance. But Simmy was wrong, as usual. The home was sold--by fine
print--hit was bid in by Romine fer about the price of his bill and
the costs. Later Romine deeded hit to another, who in turn deeded hit
to Logan, who now owns hit, en the yearly income would pay a funeral
bill--with flowers.

"Ugly's return at this critical time rather upset Logan's plans. Hit
would interfere with his gittin' a bank opened and himself back on the
payroll. If Ugly had been flush with funds, had employed lawyer
Gregory to git Ugly's death-order rescinded, en pried into the details
of the old lady's estate, hit would have blowed the lid off. Hit would
have shore been bricks and cabbages fer Logan, right when he's
plannin' a posie shower.

"Forty dollars was none too big to fend off the disaster. But where
Logan missed the gap in the fence was that he didn't inquire as to
details. He knew Ugly come in by train. He thought the forty would be
expended in the same way."

The two reached the Gillis home as the lady was lighting the lamp and
setting out the evening meal. "Why, you and that girl must be
preparing a lengthy address," she said to Davy jestingly.

"That gal and I have surely had a busy day. We've certainly upset some
precedents, broken some rules, and maybe some laws. Your brother here
was a full participant, a co-conspirator, and was awarded the Medal of
Intrigue by Mister Potter, when the meeting closed. But excuse me,"
said the now jovial midget as he walked away. "I just can't look at
those baking-powder biscuits without grabbing one; I'm that wolfish."

During the meal, Davy invited Landy to tell of the day's happenings.
"Yer new boarder here bought the Bar-O ranch--trouble en all," said
Landy quietly. "En he's plannin' to promote the circus business by
raisin' a lot more lions, tigers, hyenas, en sich. He's got a good
start now, en he plans a glorious finish."

The news electrified the Gillises. It provoked much discussion and
required many explanations. It allowed Davy time to eat a hearty meal.
Finishing, he pushed back his chair to state some final conditions.

"And I'll not complete the final contract, not pay down a cent and
throw up the whole thing, unless Mister Landy Spencer, here seated,
pledges that he will join in with me in working the thing out to a
final victory. No, I don't mean that he's to pay out anything, I'll
pay all, but he's to say that he will stay with me, that he'll manage
the thing, plan production, hire the help, and get things going. And
we'll divide the profits. This depression can't last. Already the wise
ones are hearing the death rattle and last gasp. But it will take some
time to recover and we must be ready when the bulge comes. Maybe there
are some old cows over there that Landy says are dear at ten dollars a
head. There are some unweaned calves, and a few unbranded yearlings
that will just about pay the cost of their roundup. But that's the
foundation on which we are to build. What do you say, podner? Are you
with me?"

"In yer listin' of assets, ye haven't invoiced Maizie," said Landy.
"Early this afternoon, I heard ye pricin' her to Logan at a thousand
dollars a week. En ye haven't catalogued Hulls en the bulls, mebbe
they're wuth more than all the rest. Shore I'll he'p ye. Hit'll be a
pleasure to hear ye try to mesmerize Maizie like ye did Logan, tellin'
her of this Coony Island place en the fortune tellers. We'll go over
thar in the mornin' early en I'll watch ye hypnotize her en Hulls,
like ye did Logan. 'Course, if they're gone, that's our loss. We'll
invoice the remnants en leavin's, en take a fresh start."

Davy was early to bed but his rest was broken in trying to picture the
probable conduct of two persons he had never seen. In his dreams, old
Hulls and his threatening gun was a commonplace figure. But back of
him, and in command, was the garish image of a black-haired,
copper-complexioned virago, whose imperious death-dealing edicts
recalled his early readings of Sir Walter and his vivid picturings of
Helen, wife of Rob Roy, in her judgments of the fate of a common
enemy. He was glad that daylight came to dispel the mental mirage.

"I never saw Landy so interested," said Mrs. Gillis, as she placed
Davy's high chair at the table. "He was out feeding the horses long
before Jim did the milking, and that's unusual. Landy likes you--likes
to do the things you plan. Of course Landy has earned a rest, but
there's too many that rust out when they rest up. Landy is that kind.
He needs to be interested in something. He's had a lot of experience
in the cattle business, and with your energy and planning and his
experience, you ought to make a lot of money when this depression is
over."

"Well, I'm not so interested in the money-making as I am in making a
success out of this liability. Of course I want it to pay its own way,
pay for improved livestock, buildings, fencing, and the like. But I'm
not much interested in piling up useless money in a resisting bank. Of
course, when Ralph Gaynor comes out to visit us--he's the gent that
introduced me over the phone--when Ralph comes out, he'd like to see a
fat bank account and talk woozy stuff of safety margins, earned
increments and that crazy rot, but I yearn to show him a going
concern, a likeable thing, prideful of its upbuilding.

"Landy and I will get along all right. He's the only one of you that
sasses back, offers objections, overrules plans. He won't like it at
all if I'm out with the colt and a couple of beagle hounds chasing
jack rabbits when there's hay to put up, but that's the way we'll get
along.

"Landy will fuss if we can introduce electricity on the ranch, but he
will weaken a little when he finds that it grinds the feed,
refrigerates a whole beef, and cooks a meal without splitting
kindling. And if a little surplus money accumulates, he would totally
veto the plan of laying out a Spanish patio enclosing fine white
buildings with red tile roofs and fancy grilles--"

"Why, that would be fine!" exclaimed the listener. "Would you do
that?"

"Naw," said the midget, "but if the occasion arises, I will introduce
the subject just to see my old mentor paw around and fling dirt. It
will keep him from rusting out, as you call it."

"Do you plan moving over there--if you get possession?"

"No, I will live, or rather headquarter, with Welborn as long as he
lets me. Landy says that a rough, hazardous trail just back of our
house leads directly to the near corner of the property. It's the
route of the old proposed road to the Tranquil Meadows. We're to try
that trail this morning, and I will have to stop and tell Welborn what
I am doing. He will be surprised, but not interested. Welborn is
self-centered on getting some 'quick' money. When he gets that done
he's going to be busy using it, either to straighten out his own
financial affairs or to down or suppress some financier that has
busted in on his plans. In either event, we will lose him. Welborn
doesn't belong out here. He belongs in the jam, the crush, the mob,
where they strive only for personal gain--either in bulking up a lot
of money or acquiring personal rank or status. He's young, industrious
and impetuous; he might get it done. It's a great game, I'm told; it
engenders some joy and a lot of grief. Personally, I'd rather put in
the time handling a pup or growing a clutch of chickens."

Landy's appearance with the saddled horses interrupted the discussion.

14

The path over which Landy guided his little partner may have been an
animal trail before the days of the intrusion of the white men. It had
its beginnings in a little unnoticeable niche at the Welborn cabin. It
wound a narrow way along the face of the cliff and led down and around
to cross a quick-flowing brook that farther down was to take the name
"Mad Trapper's Fork." Halfway down, Landy pointed out that some
blasting here and a bridge there would make a serviceable
thoroughfare. Davy was fairly busy in retaining his saddle-seat as
Peaches followed old Frosty around the dangerous turns. At the halt,
and during Landy's remarks, he gazed at the towering peaks on the one
side and the yawning ravine on the other, and suggested that he,
Landy, could no doubt construct the proposed improvement some
afternoon when he was resting from his strenuous work in the hay
field.

The sarcasm was ignored. Landy searched out a convenient crossing of
the little stream. Once out of the stream bed the party was to
encounter a vast tableland of grazing ground that seemed bounded by
hills and peaks on all sides--the Tranquil Meadows.

It was Davy's time to halt the procession. As was his custom, he rode
Peaches in front of Frosty and stopped for an extended inspection.

"A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me, singing in the Wilderness--Oh,
Wilderness were Paradise enow!"

chanted the little man as he gazed from peak to pinnacle. "Say, Landy!
I once dreamed of this place, and I didn't leave out a detail. I was
waiting for a delayed train at Peru for a jump to Buffalo to join up a
Keith circuit. At the station there was a pestering drunk with his
'how-come' stuff and two simpering women with their 'ain't-he-cute'
rot. I was tired. I'd had a tough season. That summer, there was a big
crop of gawks and I had encountered all of 'em. I wanted to quit the
game--wanted to hide out. On the sleeper, I dreamed of this place. I
was on a horse--a big, fat ring-horse, with a pad. I rode right
through a bunch of cattle. I held on with more zeal than did old
Fisheye Gleason when he fell on the back of the hippopotamus at the
start of the Grand Entry.... Say," the midget interrupted his reverie,
"just about how far away from this Paradise Bowl is this Bar-O
hangout?"

"The Bar-O is the lid to yer Gravy Bowl," replied the Nestor. "Hit's
that line of hills to the no'th, en winds up in this crumpled mess of
hills here at the east end. This last section is called The Cliffs. If
thar's any loose yearlin's left, they'll be thar. We'll edge around
that away en then swing over to where old Matt laid out a path to the
southern settlements."

On the way to the Cliffs, Landy recounted much local history. "They
wuz wild cattle in these ravines long before the surveyors surrounded
old Matt with their lines. No one knew whar they come from nor to who
they belonged. Old Matt simply absorbed 'em, as he did anything else
that was loose. They were his foundation stock. That's why there are
so many yaller-hammers en pennariles among 'em. Once er twice old Matt
forgot to put up hay en his livestock wintered in them ravines en
pawed in the snow fer what grass they got. Hit wasn't so bad. A
cow-brute won't thrive in close quarters; they're better off with jist
a wind-break en rain-shelter. But look out when hit's calvin' time! A
cow will pick out the night of the big snow en drop her calf right in
hit. I've often wondered if the colleges that teach farmin' en sich,
ever tackled en solved that heavy problem: 'Is hit better to fret en
worry a cow by pennin' her up in a clean box-stall, er allowin' her in
cheerful contentment to go off by herse'f en have her calf in the
fringe of a mudhole at the far away corner?'"

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