Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: "He was flailing right and left with a huge pine knot ineither hand."]
THE SHE BOSS
A WESTERN STORY
BY
ARTHUR PRESTON HANKINS
AUTHOR OF
THE HERITAGE OF THE HILLS, THE JUBILEE GIRL, ETC.
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS ---------- NEW YORK
Copyright, 1922
By CHELSEA HOUSE
The She Boss
(Printed In the United States of America)
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreignlanguages, including the Scandinavian.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. BEAR VALLEY'S DRONE II. OUT OF THE WOODS III. SAN FRANCISCO IV. TWITTER OR TWEET V. A RIVAL VI. THE FIRE VII. HIRAM, THE BUTTERFLY VIII. LUCY'S AMBITIONS IX. HIRAM WAKES UP X. JERKLINE JO XI. THE RETURN OF JERKLINE JO XII. SKINNERS FROM FRISCO XIII. THE START FOR JULIA XIV. A WIRE TO JULIA XV. MR. TWEET NEGOTIATES A LOAN XVI. TEHACHAPI HANK XVII. IN LETTERS OF BLACK XVIII. GREATER RAGTOWN XIX. WHAT MADE THE WILD CAT XX. DRUMMOND'S PASSENGER XXI. LUCY SEES A PROSPECT XXII. JERKLINE JO'S SURPRISE XXIII. DRUMMOND WEAVES A DREAM XXIV. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE LAKE XXV. JO LOSES HER SUPPORT XXVI. AT THE HAIRPIN CURVE XXVII. UNDER THE DRIPPING TREES XXVIII. FOUR-UP FOR HELP XXIX. THE GENTLE WILD CAT RETURNS XXX. HIRAM TAKES THE TRAIL XXXI. A TALE OF THE DESERT'S DEAD XXXII. LUCY PLANS A COUNTER-ATTACK XXXIII. POCKETED XXXIV. WHILE SPRING APPROACHED XXXV. THE WAY OF LIFE
The She Boss
CHAPTER I
BEAR VALLEY'S DRONE
Spring was manifest in the vast big-timber country of Mendocino County."Uncle" Sebastian Burris felt the moist warmth of it oozing from theslowly drying road as he trudged along. The smell of it emanated fromthe white, pale-yellow, and pink fungi that flourished on the soakedand ancient logs along the way. He heard the voice of it in the softmurmuring of the South Fork of the Eel, which went twinkling down BearValley through firs and redwoods straight as telegraph poles; in thecaress of the soft south wind soughing in the tree-tops. Chipmunks andgray squirrels darted across his path.
A quarter of a mile from Wharton Bixler's store he turned off on anarrow road which led into the deeper forest. He passed through grovesof redwoods which towered three hundred feet above him, and whose girthwas over sixty feet. A half mile more the old man trudged on sturdily,muttering occasionally to himself. Then he struck a cross trail whichparalleled Ripley Creek, and this he followed into the sunshine of anopen spot.
Across this, through thickets of whitethorn, manzanita, alder, and bayhe limped along, following deer trails. The deeper forest was leftbehind in the lowlands. A grass-grown bark road, which he eventuallyfound, followed the creek, ascending sharply through shade andsunshine, crossing and recrossing the creek on wooden bridges,twisting, always climbing.
On one of the bridges Uncle Sebastian Burris halted. A great snarl ofbleached driftwood had collected just above the bridge, and through itthe clear water roared in a dozen tiny cataracts. Beyond the driftUncle Sebastian had caught a glimpse of some living, moving object. Hewiped his watery blue eyes with a red handkerchief, looked once more,then crossed the bridge and wound through a thicket of huckleberrybushes till abreast the drift.
A little later he was peering down a steep bank into theboulder-studded bottom of Ripley Creek, where lay a fine young specimenof the genus homo idly tossing pebbles into the crystal water. A smilehalf sardonic grew in the features of Uncle Sebastian as he stoodlooking down at him.
The youth, unconscious of the presence of another, kept on idly tossingthe pebbles, recumbent on one elbow. His long sinewy legs were incasedin slick jean trousers of stovepipe lines and stiffness. He wore nocoat. A faded blue shirt covered his barrel of a body, and his slouchhat was off, exposing long, light, wiry hair and a freckled neck. Hislean jaws were covered by a two weeks' growth of beard. About himdrooped hazels and alders. From one end to the other Ripley Creek wasbeautiful; there was no lovelier spot in all of California.
"Hello, Hiram!" Sebastian Burris called at last.
The youth started perceptibly and sat up. He turned his head over hisleft shoulder. Big, bulging blue eyes laughed back at Sebastian. Thegood-naturedly twisted mouth that grinned at him was suggestive of asluggish drawl. The long legs twined themselves, and Hiram Hookerflopped over on his stomach, facing his friend.
"Why, hello, Uncle Sebastian!" he cried in a tone which bore truewelcome. "What're you doin' 'way up here? Come on down an' look atthe young trout!"
Without remark, Uncle Sebastian, grasping roots and low-hangingbranches, clambered stiffly down the bank. He sat down by the side ofHiram Hooker and glanced at three old, dirty backless magazines thatlay on the pebbles and smiled.
"Ain't seen ye down to th' store at stage time in I dunno when, Hiram,"he remarked, surveying the handsome young Hercules with admiration.
Hiram skimmed a flat piece of slate across a riffle.
"I never get any mail, Uncle Sebastian," he drawled.
"They's a heap o' us don't go to Bixler's fer th' mail, Hiram."
"Heaven knows there's nothin' else to take me there," and there wasjust a shade of bitterness in the twist of Hiram's good-natured mouth.
In place of tossing pebbles, Uncle Sebastian chose to pick up a redwoodsplinter on which to whittle. He took out a slick-handled jackknife,blew a clot of pocket lint from the springs, opened a whetted pruningblade, and began shaving the brittle wood. His watery blue eyes werefar-off and thoughtful.
"Jest come from there," he resumed. "We was talkin' about ye downthere, Hiram. Put me in mind to come up an' see ye. Hiram, ye ain'tany too popular in Bear Valley--d'ye know it?"
"You know I do," promptly replied Hiram.
"D'ye know what they're sayin' agin' ye?" Uncle Sebastian continuedafter a long pause.
"Don't know as I'm carin'."
"Yes, ye are, Hiram," said Uncle Sebastian positively. "Don't tell methat. Ye c'n tell yerself ye don't keer, Hiram, but ye're lyin' toyerself. It ain't in human nature not to keer what folks thinks abouta fella. Gosh! where'd we be if it wasn't so?"
Hiram flipped a pebble. "I reckon you're right, Uncle Sebastian, and Ireckon I know you're aimin' at somethin'. You came 'way up here tospring somethin' on me, didn't you? Well, le's have it."
"Ye're right, Hiram--I did. In the first place, then, they're sayin'ye're the laziest fella in Bear Valley."
Hiram laughed mirthlessly. "There's nothin' new in that, UncleSebastian. They've said the same since paw died. I reckon I am,maybe."
"Hiram," patiently persisted the old man, "I didn't walk 'way up hereto listen to such talk. I tell ye, ye're playin' insincere, Hiram.Down in yer heart ye know as well as anythin' it makes ye hot to betalked about an' called th' laziest man in Bear Valley. I'd druthersee ye hoppin' mad ner takin' it that a way.
"Now, Hiram, listen to me: I've known ye sence ye was knee-high to aduck, ain't I? Yer paw an' me was thicker ner molasses. Yer paw would'a' made a brilliant man, Hiram, if he'd 'a' had th' chanct. You'veinherited yer paw's brains.
"When ye was a kid ye was a little devil, I'll admit. Still, givin'myself credit fer a set o' brains a leetle above th' average o' BearValley, I made allowances. Ye was mean because yer head was full o'ideas; an' in Bear Valley they's so blamed little to use them ideas onthat ye jest naturally had to turn to meanness. Ye wasn't really bad;ye was jest alive. All yer life ye been hankerin' fer sumpin that BearValley couldn't give, but ye didn't even know what 'twas ye washankerin' fer. How coul
d ye? A man's gotta taste olives before he c'ntell if he likes 'em, ain't he? Yer paw taught ye to read." UncleSebastian glanced once more, half pityingly, half resentfully, at thebackless magazines. "Readin's put notions into yer head an' set ye tohankerin'.
"Then as ye grew up th' Valley folks begun to shun ye, didn't they?" hecontinued. "They called ye queer. Then when yer paw died they droppedye altogether. It hurt ye, an' ye jest drew aloof an' went to shakes.
"D'ye know, Hiram, sometimes I find myself not blamin' ye like Ioughta. They called ye no good before ye really was so, an'practically driv ye to it. Then ye was too proud to brace up an' give'em th' satisfaction o' thinkin' their treatment o' ye had made ye turnover a new leaf. If they'd gone on treatin' ye decent ye'd likely comeout all right o' yer own hook. Hiram, pride's put a heap o' men in th'penitentiary. Pride's stubborn, Hiram. But layin' aside th' root o'th' trouble, an' lookin' at th' matter through _their_ eyes, it'sreally a shame th' way yer paw's place has gone to ruin--th' way you'vegone th' same route. I'd druther see ye plumb bad ern so all-firedno-good all round. Ye had jobs a number o' times drivin' eight an' tenon jerkline, freightin' tanbark from Longport. Ye're a good jerklineskinner, Hiram--no better in the country--but ye won't stick no more'na month or two outa each year.
"But I'm makin' allowances fer ye--I always have--I'm th' only one thatever has. I been watchin' an' waitin' fer ye to right yerself an' getat sumpin; but this mornin', down to th' store, it come over me thatye'll never do it in Bear Valley.
"Consequently, Hiram," Uncle Sebastian resumed, "ye've gotta move."
Hiram glanced at him with wide-opened eyes. "Move! Where to?"
"Out into th' world, Hiram, to strike yer gait. Ye gotta hit th' hardplaces an' git experience. Ye gotta taste olives to see if ye c'nstummick 'em. Ye'll get an awful batterin'-up, I reckon, but ye'lllikely learn if they's anything in ye. At first ye'll probably go toth' bad an' get a heap worse ern ye was in Bear Valley. That's neitherhere ner there. Th' point is, if they's a gait in ye ye'll eventuallystrike it. If not--well, then, what's th' difference? I'm goin' topay up fer ye down to th' store an' give ye enough to land ye inFrisco. Then th' good Lord an' what He put into that head o' yers mustlook after ye. I'm gonta foreclose on ye, Hiram."
Hiram was not looking at Uncle Sebastian, but the old man saw hisslight start and the red creep down his columnar neck as the lastsentence came out. One great toe protruded from the upper of one ofHiram's shoes. Uncle Sebastian saw it twitching.
"You're foreclosin' on me?" The words came slowly and with a hollowgulp.
Uncle Sebastian's lips went straight and hard. "Unless ye'll deed th'place to me, Hiram."
Another pause, while the low wind whined in the treetops and RipleyCreek went gurgling and sucking through the latticed trunks in the pileof drift.
"What did you tell me when I gave the mortgage, Uncle Sebastian?"
The reproach in Hiram's voice did not move the arbiter. "I know what Itold ye, Hiram. I told ye, ye needn't worry--that I wouldn'tforeclose--that I wasn't speculatin' when I lent th' money on th'place. Jest th' same, Hiram, I'm foreclosin' on ye."
Uncle Sebastian eyed the young man keenly. The first shock past, Hiramseemed now to be turning the matter over with just deliberation.
"I reckon I know what you're up to, Uncle Sebastian," he said at last."We've talked the matter over too many times for me to misconstrue yourmotives. You're thinkin' that I'll amount to somethin' if I get awayfrom here."
"I reckon ye've said it, Hiram." Uncle Sebastian voiced this withgreat relief.
"And you're foreclosin' on me to force me to go."
"Eggzackly, Hiram. I'm proud that ye interpret my motive."
Hiram was silent another long minute. Then, with a hollow laugh: "Ireckon you'll be tolerably disappointed, Uncle Sebastian. There was atime when I'd 'a' looked forward to leavin' Mendocino. I've hadhankerin's, and I've got 'em yet--but I'm scared. I've never been outathe country but once. What c'n I do away from here? What d'ye expectof me, anyway?"
"Ye c'n certainly do as much out o' here as ye're doin' here, Hiram."
"I don't know about that. It don't take much to live here. I've gotabout all I want, I reckon. If I had more books to read I'd be prettynear content. There was a time, as I said, when it was different; butnow I don't reckon I care. But what particular thing d'ye expect me toexcel in, Uncle Sebastian?"
"Excel's a tol'able big word, Hiram. I can't tell ye any more. Ye'vewanted to be a poet, an' ye've wanted to be an officer in th' army, an'this an' that an' th' other--ye've wanted to be pretty near everythin'ye read about last. When ye git in touch with these things, Hiram, yemay be able to choose--though they's a heap o' 'em ain't that's inconstant touch. I know ye've got imagination. I know it's wasted herein th' backwoods; an' I know ye gotta git."
Uncle Sebastian had risen to emphasize this ultimatum. Now, standingand looking down, he finished:
"Whether ye'll bless me or curse me remains to be seen."
Hiram made no reply--he did not even look up.
"So be down to Wharton Bixler's by stage time to-morrow, Hiram, an' beready to take th' stage to Brown's Corner. I'll go with ye that far,an' ye c'n deed me th' prop'ty before a notary, so's I won't be obligedto foreclose. Then I'll come back an' pay yer bill at Bixler's, an'ye'll have one hundred dollars to take ye down to Frisco. Will ye beat th' store at half past nine?"
A wait, then a short nod.
Uncle Sebastian half turned, paused, cleared his throat, and for thefirst time lost his high-handed control of the situation.
"Hiram," he said in a lower tone, "I reckon I'm a fool, but I hope yeain't holdin' anything agin' me. So help me, boy, I believe I'm doin'ye a turn. Do--d'ye believe it or not?"
"Wait'll to-morrow, Uncle Sebastian," came Hiram's pleading voice."Le'me think it over all to-night. You've plumb knocked the props fromunder me."
Without another word, Uncle Sebastian climbed up the bank and strodeoff through the huckleberries.
The She Boss: A Western Story Page 1
