David Lannarck, Midget

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Maddy laughed. "I've seen too much scenery already. I feel more like
resting than I do gadding. I am, however, deeply interested in your
project. If you take over that Barrow ranch and get Hulls out of the
country, I want to recommend a tenant--a companionable fellow and a
hard worker that will make a good neighbor and bring decency out of
that disgrace. It's young Goff, who saved my life. He lives over the
state line; raises sheep and cattle; has no family, and needs
expansion. He would make that Tranquil Meadow area bloom like a rose."

"Well, I'm not the buyer," cautioned Adine, "but I will certainly use
my influence. Your benefactor has already proven his worth as a
citizen, and we need that kind of folks to live down the past. I will
do my best."

Landy and Davy had parked their horses in the Carter corral to take
their place in the awaiting car. At near the noon hour they parked in
front of the National Bank in Cheyenne.

"What's your birthday?" inquired the gentlemanly cashier, as Davy made
inquiry as to the receipt of the draft.

"May thirtieth," responded Davy promptly.

The cashier laughed as he produced the expected document. "Your
sending party seems to know you very well, and know how to solve our
problem of identification. Do you want to open an account?"

"Well, I suppose that's the way it should be handled. I want to pay
the most of it to Mr. Logan, if he's prepared to accept it. I want to
pay Mr. Spencer here one hundred dollars and he wants to add that to
the account of Mrs. Gillis and I should add fully fifty dollars to
that account to keep sweet with the best cook I ever encountered.
Then, too, I should pay Mr. Finch fifty dollars. After that, if there
is any left, I hope you can keep it for me until I can add it up to a
profitable figure."

"Ah! here's Mr. Logan," interrupted the cashier. "You gentlemen just
come into the customers' room and we will work out the details."

"You are prompt. I thought I would beat you here," said Logan to Davy
and his party. "Saturday I had a deed prepared to the Barrow ranch and
had the judge approve the sale with the conditions of possession as
stated agreed. I have it here and ready for delivery."

It was Mr. Gore, the courteous cashier, who took charge of the
business. He secured the endorsement of Davy's draft, took his
verified signature, drew the required checks, saw them signed and
exchanged. The entire transaction was completed in a few minutes.

"You will see Mr. Finch before I do," said Davy to Logan. "Will you
please hand him this check for fifty which completes my obligations to
him and tell him that I am having the cattle remaining on the ranch
appraised. If the appraisal warrants, I will pay the balance of his
bill and send the remainder to Hulls Barrow."

"Appraised! Bosh!" snorted the bank receiver. "You'll not get close to
see any part of the ranch, let alone counting the scrub cattle. I've
been up against old Hulls and his gun, and I know what I'm talking
about."

"The cattle have already been counted," said Davy quietly, "and I had my
first view of the Bar-O Friday. The cattle seem in good flesh but the
general property needs a lot of repair. I was very sorry to see Mr.
Barrow leave; I could have used a man of his firm determination...."

"Leave?" demanded Logan. "Is Hulls gone?"

"Left Friday morning early, taking with him his gun, dog, chickens,
household plunder, and worst of all, Maizie. And that woman was the
exact type I needed."

"Where did they go?" questioned the astonished receiver.

"Except for the coop of chickens and the household goods, it looked
like a picnic. However, their guide, mentor, and boss had a faraway
look in his eye--seemed impatient to get going. Who was he? Well, I
don't know the folks hereabouts." Turning to Landy, Davy drawled, "Who
was that fellow that was driving?"

"Hit was Collins, Ugly Collins, en from the way he was bossin' en
pushin' along, he was tryin' to make hit to Denver by nightfall."

"Well, he certainly upset my plans," said Davy resignedly. "But that's
what one encounters in making trades, Mr. Logan. You plan out what you
are going to do, only to find out that others also make plans.

"Well, folks," said Davy, picking up the new account book and pad of
checks, "where is that famous restaurant that you've been talking
about? Landy's breakfasts have no stretch in 'em, don't last. I'm
wolfish. Well, good-by, Mister Logan, and good-by, Mister Gore. I hope
we have pleasant relations. Good-by all." And Davy ushered his party
to the street.

Seated in the Little Gem, awaiting service, it was Adine Lough that
opened the conversation. "I hardly know how I am to get home," she
said. "I don't like driving alone, but I certainly don't want to be
found in the company of two heartless comedians who seek to inject
their comedy into staid business transactions. I thought Mr. Logan's
lower jaw would drop off when you fastened the blame of the entire
move on his friend Ugly Collins. I could hardly repress my tears in
your great loss of Maizie's services. I think Mr. Logan was affected
too. Shame on both of you for being so heartless."

"Yes, Logan kinda got his fingers bruised in his own b'ar trap," said
Landy thoughtfully. "I hope his bankin' efforts won't git tangled up
in some of his deep plannin'. Logan will git his bank started all
right; but when this depression lifts en things git goin' Adot will
still need a bank; this one will turn out to be 'Logan's Tradin' Post'
er 'Logan's Deadfall.' Ye can revive a bank by man-made laws, but hit
takes more than a slicker to keep hit goin'. Have you two settled the
hay trade?"

"Yes," said Adine, "you are to have all the stacks and ricks in the
south field. I think Mr. Potter estimated it at near one hundred tons.
You can have the use of one of our trucks for hauling, but you will
probably have to hire help to move it. Our folks have never exchanged
work with the Bar-O. Our help will probably want to wait to see if the
new management is any improvement on the former control." The raillery
of the youngest and happiest of the trio was seemingly lost on the
two, now immersed in heavy responsibilities.

Davy returned to the car; Adine Lough would telephone a school friend
and window shop while Landy went to the hardware store to buy some
needed kitchen accessories as directed in a brief note that he had
crumpled in a deep pocket. Before two o'clock the party was well on
the way to Carter's.

Less than a month ago David Lannarck had traveled this same road. Then
he was amazed at the shifting changes, the glory of its loneliness,
and the utter absence of the curious and gawking. In his decade of
travel he never encountered the land of his dreams, the wide open
spaces that reached from here to the horizon and free of human beings.
His business led him to the congested spots on the earth. If and when
he traveled with a circus he spent his spare hours in the animal tent.
Here he was not taunted with verbal gibes. Maybe this was his reason
for liking animals. Always, he dreamed of the day when he could own
dogs, horses, or any living thing that didn't smirk or titter.

And now, on this fine October afternoon, all past hopes and dreams had
come true; his foot was in the doorway to an earthly heaven. He was
the owner of a ranch (maybe Ralph Gaynor would condemn the investment)
and it had length and breadth and the desirable loneliness. He was the
owner of a grand little horse (maybe Jess and the gang of the circus
would scorn his size and color). He was the sole owner of a herd of
cattle (surely the experts and maybe the general public would classify
them as scrubs and yellow-hammers) and best of all, he had acquired a
few understanding friends, true and loyal. During the time of the long
trip back to their horses he was in deep thought. His meditations did
not concern finances, nor that other pressing question: when will this
depression end? Truly he was trying to muster arguments and reasons
whereby he could persuade his mentor to move the scrub yearlings, now
quartered at the Cliffs, up to the stables and corrals with the rest
of the cattle.

For this midget, David Lannarck, was very human. Possessed of an alert
and active mind, he had, throughout adulthood, ever been classified as
a child. He would use his recent accomplishments and present status to
frustrate that persistent impression. Secretly but in all details he
planned the coup.

First, he would persuade Landy to round up those yearlings in a group
with the rest of the cattle; second, on the basis that a general
picture of the enterprise was sorely needed to bolster his financial
standing, he would have a photographer present, taking views of all
phases of the adventure; thirdly, and most important, he, Davy, would
be astride Peaches, mingling with the several cow hands against a
background of milling cattle, either in the wide open spaces or in the
corrals at the stables. Copies of these pictures he would send to all
his old associates in vaudeville or in the circus business.
Particularly, he would send several copies to Ralph Gaynor, president
of the Dollar Savings, hoping that one of them might be displayed
where the general public could see that a midget, a former resident,
was active with other adults in the most fascinating business in
America. He was not seeking to establish financial credit; that he
had, in substantial deposits and other well known securities, but he
wanted to get away from the persistent notion of classifying midgets
as children.

Meanwhile Adine and Landy, having exhausted merry quips and scornful
comparisons of the past and future management of the Bar-O, now gave
serious exchanges of opinions as to who would make a suitable tenant
for the property that was to be built up to a going concern. Landy
mentioned the names of a dozen old-time cattle men, now unemployed and
surely available. None of these suited the notions of the young lady
whose persistent idea was building up the neighborhood. She, too,
mentioned the names of many, few of them known to the old timer.
Finally the girl mentioned the name of Maddy's benefactor, young Goff,
now residing across the state line. "He's in cramped quarters over
there, I understand," said the girl casually.

"He's the best man in the deestrict," said Landy thoughtfully. "But
he's got the same problems we have. He's got critters to feed, en he
can't run two places when the snow is here. I hope, however, that
Davy here can make him a permanent offer that will move him at once.

"But we've got to git them yearlin's outa the Cliffs en up to the
stables," Landy announced emphatically. "We can't haul hay, wean
calves, en be traipsin' all over ten sections to feed a few critters.
We've got to bunch 'em en show 'em that we mean business."

"That's right, Landy," was Davy's prompt approval. "Can we get that
young Goff tomorrow? Is there a good photographer in Adot? When can we
haul the hay?"

"Thar ye go crowdin' the question chute," complained Landy as the
party arrived at the filling station. "Tomorry we've got to be in
Adot. We've got a deed to record; got to buy some ground feed, if them
calves are to be weaned; got to hire a lot of exter hay hands en
enough he'p to corral them yearlin's. En besides all that," he
cautioned, "we've got to go to the register's office en git a
substitute brand, fer old Hulls has shorely carried off the old irons
outa pure cussedness. Kin ye he'p us tomorry?" His question was
directed to Adine Lough as the two got out of the car.

"Yes, I've enlisted for the duration. I am anxious to learn if the new
management is an improvement over the old. Recent happenings have
created doubts. Come over in the morning; I want to see the finish."

17

A veteran cow hand or a frequenter of the modern rodeo would have
walked out on the roundup of the scattered kine of the Bar-O ranch on
this gray October day. There was scarcely a thrill in the entire
performance.

At Welborn's insistence, Davy invited young Byron Goff to help out in
the work to be done. "I may not be here always," explained Welborn,
"and Landy won't be here forever. Young Goff is your bet. He's a
square shooter, a good worker, and his sheep and your cattle are too
few to awaken the old-time cattle and sheep wars. Tie in with Goff."

And Goff came to look the place over and make a tentative contract. A
day or two before the general roundup Landy and Flinthead had turned
out the gentle cattle that stayed around the barns and sheds to mingle
with nervous yearlings that headquartered at the Cliffs. On the
morning of the roundup young Goff and Flinthead made a wide detour to
appear at the easternmost side. The startled kine moved west, and kept
moving west as they found scattered riders on either side. At the
gate, where trouble was expected, a few "yip-yips" and a hurried push
sent the entire herd through the gates to a safe enclosure.

To David Lannarck, this was the climax of his varied career. He had a
photographer present to take many successful shots, although the day
was raw and gray. His circus friends may not have been impressed as
they viewed the pictures but Davy spent happy hours in looking them
over, especially the one where he, mounted on Peaches, was heading off
an obstinate calf.

The hay hauling from the B-line was interrupted by a snow storm that
persisted for several days. Davy had to stay at home to train Peaches
in many fancy tricks and to keep a path open to the Gillis home.
Welborn, however, took no part in these activities. He continued his
work at the ravine and expressed joy that a heavy snow would prevent a
deep freeze of the gravel. In fact, much of his time was consumed in
insulating the pumps, the waterpipes and the area where he was to
work. He was often delayed by the severity of the weather but as the
dreary weeks passed the heap of little sacks that contained his
gleanings grew to a considerable pile.

And in these monotonous months of near-solitude Davy Lannarck found
the satisfaction and contentment of his former dreams. In five months
he saw less than a half score of people. In his waking hours his time
was spent in training Peaches and playing with the Gillis dogs. Most
of the time he kept the way open to the Gillis demesne, but on two
occasions at least, he was denied that privilege; the heavy, swirling
snows that swept over this mountain region were too much for a midget
man and a midget horse. It was Landy Spencer and the larger horses
that conquered the big drifts and made a passable thoroughfare between
the Point and the Gillis home. But spring came as is its wont; the
great snowdrifts yielded to the demands of the sun and southern winds
and the returning flights of birds heralded the change of seasons.

But the big change in conduct and occupation was in Sam Welborn. In
the short, dark, snowy days he labored in the recesses of the canyon
from early dawn to nightfall, but as the days lengthened and
brightened, he puttered about the house sorting and packing some of
his personal effects, pressing his limited supply of clothing,
constructing a strong box to contain his gleanings, and losing no
chance to learn of the conditions of the roads to Cheyenne and points
beyond. It was apparent to his few acquaintances that he was now
prepared to overcome some past adversities that had hindered his
progress in other fields.

One evening after supper at the Gillis home Welborn made a limited
disclosure of his future plans. "As soon as the roads are fit, I want
to go to the assay office in Denver and cash up on past efforts," was
his opening statement. "I hope Jim can take time out to drive me there
and bring the car back, for I want to make a trip back East to be gone
for a week or two. After I have finished up my business in that area I
want to come back here and loaf around a spell and get acquainted with
my neighbors and benefactors. As Davy has often said, 'The gold up in
the ravine will keep.' The claims are registered in our names, and we
can, from time to time, work 'em to keep 'em alive.

"At the assay office," Welborn continued, "I will cash in the little
dab that I had accumulated before Davy advanced the money to buy the
pump and accessories; the rest is partnership funds to be divided and
depos--"

"Hold on!" interrupted Davy. "You've sheltered me, fed me--"

"--with grub bought with your money," interposed Welborn. "You can't
avoid past contributions by present-day denials, Laddie. Without your
help it would have taken me ten years to do what I've now done in six
months. And speed was and is the important requirement. In addition to
all you've done in the past months I've still got another problem for
you to work on."

Welborn paused, seemingly embarrassed as to how to proceed. His little
audience waited breathlessly. "Folks, I am not a criminal!" he said
after a prolonged pause. "But I did get involved with gangsters.
Although I made a temporary clean-up on some of them, domestic affairs
and financial disasters made it impossible to stay on. It seemed
cowardly to quit but there was no other way. I had no plans, no trade,
no profession. I simply stumbled in on this method of financial
recovery, and thanks to your kindly indulgence I am prepared to go
back and make good some financial matters that were not of my making.

"But in going back," Welborn continued, "I would like to know
something about conditions there before they know who I am. There
seems to be two ways to do this. One would be to camp nearby and send
someone to investigate and report back as to conditions; the other
would be for me to disguise myself and loaf around as a laborer,
unemployed and looking for work.

"You know something about make-up and disguises, Laddie; could I be
made up as a laborer or a village loafer so I could sit around and
listen in?"

"You would have to let them shoulders down and pad a hump in your
back," replied the little man. "Appearances can be radically changed
but size is a handicap. There is a woman in Denver by the name of
Wallace that can make you up to look like either an angel or a tramp.
She used to be in vaudeville with costumes and makeup, now she's
settled down in the legit--furnishes costumes for plays, charades, and
the like. She's on one of those little side streets near the business
district. She'll clip your head, deck you out in scraggy iron-gray
hair and whiskers until a bank clerk would turn you down, even if you
were identified. She'll tell you about your clothing; that's her
specialty. Your ragged coat ought to have a hump in the back to offset
erectness and if you carry a cane, you should use it--not twirl it
like a baton.

"But there's one of your assets, or weaknesses, that she will not be
able to disguise," said Davy earnestly. "I take a chance in wrecking a
fine friendship, to tell you about it."

"Go right on, Sonny Boy," said Welborn, "you couldn't wreck our
friendship if you were to spit in my face."

"Well, we folks here know nothing about your past. We don't want to
know until you release it, but I'll bet my interest in the Bar-O
against a thin dime that you've served in the army and were a tough
old 'top-kick' at that. You want things done your way. You resist
being told. You want to correct the other fellow if he's wrong; even
if disguised, you would interrupt and correct and maybe jam the whole
works. Of course we want you to win but you've got to be careful--even
if it hurts."

Welborn's face flushed but he laughed sheepishly as he pondered the
charges made. "You've got me dead-to-rights, Laddie; I am impatient
and domineering, but I think I still have control. Just now I need
information. I want to know if I am classed as a criminal or a citizen
back in my home town. Personally, I would like to go back there, loaf
around and listen in.

"Well, it can be done," said Davy emphatically, "and I think I ought
to be an assistant. You saved my life, now I want to be a party to
saving your reputation. You are not a criminal; you couldn't be one if
you tried. Just tell me the name of your home town and I will go there
as the advance man for Lannarck's Congress of Living Wonders. I'll be
seeking a site to assemble the company and plan the rehearsals. While
there I will want the history of the town and the chamber of commerce
will give it to me. In that history, your affair in all its details
will be recited. Later on, you can stumble in as a laborer, seeking
work. I will be quartered at the leading hotel, and you at a boarding
house out by the junction. But we will meet at the picture show or at
a local poolroom and I will hire you to take care of the baggage and
the accessories as they come in. It won't take us long to get your
status, pay your fine, or get the judge to suspend your sentence.

"Let's get going, podner," said Davy, as he clambered down from his
chair. "We'll both go to Cheyenne; you go to Denver to cash up and
fade out; I'll go to your town to pay out and horn in."

Welborn smiled as he listened to Davy's enthusiasm and slang. He
drummed his fingers on the table as he considered his proposals. "I
hadn't thought of involving any of our home-folks in my troubles,"
said he thoughtfully, "but maybe your assistance and plan will be the
thing that's needed. I want information. People will stare at and talk
to a midget and they will pay little attention to the badly dressed
old gent with whom he associates. Anyhow, it won't hurt to try it
out."

Davy insisted that the party should start for Cheyenne the very next
morning. James Gillis, who was to do the driving, would wait until he
learned of road conditions. Welborn occupied much of the time in
fitting himself with old shoes, overalls, hickory shirts, and a
slouch hat. On Monday, Jim learned that the nearby trails were fit for
travel to the paved highway and on Tuesday morning the party of three
loaded the little car with boxes of metal, bundles of clothing, and
the like, and started for Cheyenne.

During the long drive, Welborn took up much of the time in instructing
Davy as to his destination and duties. "Bransford, a near suburb of
Chicago, is your destination," he explained, "and the man who insulted
the better element of the community by his insistence that the
prevailing lawlessness was wholly due to their negligence was named
Shirley Wells. And this same Wells, when he found that gangsters had
taken over the management of the old family bank and brought disrepute
to an honored name, staged a battle with these invaders that sent two
of 'em to the hospital and maybe resulted in the death of one or both.
Was he indicted? Did a mob form? He did not wait to see. With the
family estate squandered, this Wells boarded a night freight train to
avoid present responsibilities and to seek a new start in life. His
linen and underwear was marked S.W. He changed his name to Samuel
Welborn. You know the rest of the story, Davy, but there is a lost
chapter in the tale. What's the present-day status of Shirley Wells in
his home town?

"In Bransford, you will headquarter at the Grand Union Hotel.
Following your 'broadcast' about establishing a training ground for
the Kid Show, you must quietly go to the office of Fred Townsend for
information. He's a lawyer. If he's alive, I've got a chance; if he's
dead, Shirley Wells is still Sam Welborn and the Silver Falls district
must continue as his hideout.

"In your contact with Townsend, tell him that I sent you--that you are
my A.Z.--and he will understand. What you tell him is casual; your
objective is to find out all about the standing of Shirley Wells.
Shirley is surely a bankrupt, but is he a murderer? Are indictments
pending? Can he be cleared of these charges? And what about the Wells
National Bank? And where is Carson Wells? These are the things we must
know if I am to live as a citizen or a criminal.

"I will be in Denver for a few days. We surely have more than sixty
thousand dollars' worth of metal in those containers. Some of it may
be in bad shape. Some of it may have to be rectified, as they term it,
and that will cause delay. Then, too, I am not certain if your lady
friend in Denver can do her job effectively. I wouldn't want to be
caught in a disguise. At any rate, I will be in Chicago or Bransford
some day next week."

At the railway station Jim Gillis maneuvered the ancient model to
unload the metal and clothing at the Denver platform. Davy purchased a
ticket for Chicago. Welborn's read "to Denver and return."

PART TWO

18

Because of duties in maintaining peace along the uncertain boundary
lines that divided a defeated people from those who had triumphed,
Captain Shirley Wells was detained in the border lands of France and
Germany long after his badly reduced regiment had returned to their
homeland. Wells had been the first sergeant of a company that became
noted for its discipline within and its activities afield. His
promotion to a commission had been earned.

Shirley had entered the service as an enthusiastic youth. In a few
brief years he had grown to a serious-minded man. A six-footer,
deep-chested, broad of shoulders, he had the physical ability to
enforce the decrees and orders of his superiors while the general
terms of boundaries were being formulated. Patiently and firmly he
worked with the peasantry of any district where he was assigned to
gain their confidence and earn the praise of his superiors. On July
2nd, 1921, his nation and the others interested having completed the
general terms of boundaries and occupation, the service by regulatory
groups was ended. Shirley Wells had been gratified in earning a
commission, now he was happy indeed to know that he was to return to
civilian pursuits, for he might have to work out some peace terms in
his home town.

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