The Coming of the Law

by Charles Alden Seltzer

  Produced by Roger Frank and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  "What have you done with Hollis?" demanded Norton,thrusting his big six-shooter against Ten Spot's stomach. _Page 165__The Coming of the Law_]

  THE COMING OF THE LAW

  BY CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER

  Author of "The Range Riders," "The Two-Gun Man,""The Triangle Cupid," etc.

  With Frontispiece in Colors by R. W. AMICK

  A. L. BURT COMPANY

  Publishers--New York

  Copyright 1912, By

  OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY

  All Rights Reserved

  First Printing, August, 1912

  Second Printing, September, 1912

  CONTENTS

  I. The Arrival of the Man 9 II. The Rule of Cattle 25 III. Norton Makes a Discovery 42 IV. At the Circle Bar 53 V. The Girl of Dry Bottom 73 VI. Hollis Renews an Acquaintance 87 VII. The "Kicker" Becomes an Institution 107 VIII. Concerning the "Six O'Clock" 119 IX. How a Bad Man Left the "Kicker" Office 127 X. The Lost Trail 151 XI. Picking Up the Trail 161 XII. After the Storm 169 XIII. "Woman--She Don't Need No Tooter" 177 XIV. The Coalition 187 XV. To Support the Law 198 XVI. The Bearer of Good News 209 XVII. The Rustler 224 XVIII. The Tenth Day 238 XIX. How a Rustler Escaped 246 XX. The "Kicker's" Candidate 257 XXI. Dunlavey Plays a Card 267 XXII. Proof of Gratitude 280 XXIII. Ten Spot Uses His Eyes 289 XXIV. Campaign Guns 294 XXV. Handling the Law 314 XXVI. Autumn and the Gods 327 XXVII. The Sear and Yellow Days 336 XXVIII. In Defiance of the Law 342 XXIX. The Arm of the Law 354 XXX. Forming a Friendship 364 XXXI. Afterward 375

  THE COMING OF THE LAW

  CHAPTER I

  THE ARRIVAL OF THE MAN

  If the passengers on the west-bound train that pulled up at the littlered wooden station at Dry Bottom at the close of a June day in 18--,were interested in the young man bearing the two suit cases, they gaveno evidence of it. True, they noted his departure; with casual glancesthey watched him as he stepped down upon the platform; but immediatelythey forgot his athletic figure and his regular featured, serious faceas their thoughts returned to the heat, the dust, and the monotony oftravel.

  There was the usual bustle and activity which always follows the arrivalof a train. A mail bag was dumped out of the mail car, another thrownin; some express packages were unceremoniously deposited near the doorof the station by the agent; the conductor ran to the telegrapher'swindow to receive an order; ran back, signaling as he ran; the enginebell clanged, the drivers clanked, the wheels ground, the passengerssighed, and the train departed on its way.

  The young man who had alighted stood motionless for a moment, listeningto the clatter of the wheels over the rail-joints, watching the smokefrom the engine-stack befoul the clear blue of the sky. Then he smiledgrimly, threw a rapid glance toward a group of loungers standing at acorner of the station, and walked over to where the station agent stoodexamining some newly arrived packages.

  "Do you mind directing me to the courthouse?" said the young man.

  The agent looked up, turned, and ran a measuring, speculative eye overthe new arrival. He noted the Eastern cut of the young man's clothingand beneath the dust of travel the clear, healthy white skin of hisface. "Stranger here?" observed the agent, with a slight, humorousnarrowing of the eyes.

  "Yes."

  "No, I don't mind," resumed the agent, answering the young man'squestion. "You won't have any trouble findin' the courthouse. There'sonly one street in this town an' the courthouse is down to the other endof it--you couldn't miss it if you tried." He grinned with someamusement at the young man's back as the latter with a cordial "thankyou," returned to his suit cases, gripped them firmly by the handles,and strode down the wooden platform toward the street, ignoring thegroup of loungers at the corner of the station.

  "'Nother tenderfoot," remarked one of the loungers as the young manpassed out of hearing; "they're runnin' this country plum to hell!"

  The young man strode slowly down the board sidewalk that paralleled thebuildings on one side of the street, mentally taking in the dimensionsof the town. It was not an inviting picture. Many buildings of variousdescriptions snuggled the wide, vacant space which the station agent hadtermed a "street." Most of the buildings were unpainted and crude,composed of rough boards running perpendicularly, with narrow battensover the joints. There were several brick buildings two stories inheight, bearing the appearance of having been recently erected, andthese towered over the squat, one-story frames in seeming contemptuousdignity. There were many private dwellings, some stores, but the youngman's first impression was that there was an enormous number of saloons.

  He saw few people; those who came within range of vision were apparentlycowboys, for they were rigged in the picturesque garb that he hadstudied many times in the illustrations of Eastern magazines. He hadadmired them afar, for there was something about them, something in thefree, wild life they led, that appealed to him; something that struck atthe primitive in his heart. He had heard tales of them; travelersreturning from these regions had related sundry stories of these wildmen of the plains; stories of their hardihood, of their recklessness, oftheir absolute fearlessness--clothing them with a glamor and romancethat had deeply impressed the young man. His own life had been ratherprosaic.

  He saw some cowponies hitched to rails in front of several of thesaloons; in front of a store he observed a canvas-covered wagon which herecognized (from sketches he had seen) as a "prairie schooner"; in frontof another store he saw a spring wagon of the "buckboard" variety. Thatwas all. The aroma of sage-brush filled his nostrils; the fine,flint-like, powdered alkali dust lay thick everywhere. It wasunattractive and dismal.

  The town, as it lay before him, began in desolation and ended indesolation. Except that it was a trifle larger it differed in noimportant particular from many others that littered the face of theworld through which he had passed during the last twenty-four hours. Itwas a mere dot in the center of a flat grass country covering a vastarea. It sat, serene in its isolation, as far from civilization asGenesis from Revelation. In the stifling heat of the lazy June afternoonit drowsed, seemingly deserted except for the ponies and the two wagons,and the few incurious cowboys who had rewarded the young man with theirglances. Apparently whatever citizens were here were busy in thesaloons. As this thought flashed upon the young man his lipsstraightened grimly. But he continued slowly on his way, giving muchattention to objects that came within his range of vision. The more hesaw of the town, the less pleased he was with it.

  The suit cases were heavy; he paused in front of a building and set themdown, while with his handkerchief he mopped the dust and perspirationfrom his forehead. He saw a flaring sign on the roof of the building infront of which he had stopped and he read the leg
end with a smile ofderision: "The Fashion Saloon." Several ponies were hitched to the railin front of the building; the bridle of one was gaily decorated with abow of ribbon. Only a woman would have decorated a pony thus, the youngman decided with a smile. Yet what sort of woman would hitch her pony infront of a saloon? He looked about him for some explanation and saw avacant space beside him and beside the vacant space a store. There wasno hitching rail in front of the store, therefore here was theexplanation. He heard a sound behind him and turning he beheld thefigures of a man and a woman in the vacant space between the twobuildings.

  The woman seemed to be little more than a girl, for as the young manwatched she turned slightly toward him--though not seeing him--and hesaw youth pictured on her face, and innocence, though withal she gavethe young man an impression of sturdy self-reliance that awakenedinstant admiration for her in his mind.

  She was attired in picturesque costume, consisting of short ridingskirt, boots, felt hat, woolen blouse with a flowing tie at the throat,gloves, and spurs. It was not the sort of thing to which the young manwas accustomed, but she made an attractive picture and he took in everydetail of her appearance with eager eyes.

  It was some time before he noticed the man. The latter stood facing thegirl and he could not get a view of his face. He had a gigantic frame,with huge shoulders that loomed above the girl, dwarfing her. The youngman remained motionless, watching the two, for there was something inthe big man's attitude that held him. The man turned presently and theyoung man had a glimpse of his face. It was heavy featured, coarse, andan unmistakable brutality was betrayed in it. The young man's lipscurled. He did not like the type, and it was the girl's face that heldhim now that he had seen the man's.

  He leaned easily against the front of the building, not over fifteenfeet distant from the two, trying to appear uninterested, but notconcealing his interest. He believed the girl had not seen him, forthough she had looked in his direction he was sure that her glance hadpassed him to rest on the pony at the hitching rail. Swift as the glancehad been the young man had seen in her face an expression that causedhim to decide to remain where he was until the girl mounted her pony, nomatter how long that time might be. So he relaxed, leaning against thebuilding--attentive, listening, though apparently entirely unconcernedover their conversation.

  The girl seemed moved with some deep emotion over something the big manhad said, for her slight figure had stiffened and she stood looking athim with an angry, intense gaze. The big man had been taunting her, forhis teeth showed in a mocking grin as he hovered near her, apparentlysure of her. It was like a lion playing with a mouse. Then the young manheard the big man's voice:

  "So you don't take kindly to my courting? Don't want anything to do withme at all?" His forced laugh had a harshness in it that caused the youngman's muscles to stiffen. He took a sly glance at the girl and saw herchin uplift with disdain.

  "Do you think it necessary for me to tell you that--again?" she said.

  A strange satisfaction thrilled the young man; sympathy for her drew hismouth into a peculiarly grim smile. But he had no time to enjoy hissatisfaction for the big man spoke and this time he did not laugh.

  "Well," he said shortly, "you're going to have something to do with me.You're going to hook up with me or I'm putting that crazy brother ofyours out of business!"

  The girl was suddenly rigid and a deep red as suddenly suffused hercheeks. The young man's face paled at the threat, his teeth cametogether with a snap, and he leaned forward, wishing to hear some moreof this extraordinary conversation. More of it came quickly. The girlspoke, her voice even and well controlled, though burdened with a bitingsarcasm:

  "What a terrible man you are, to be sure, to threaten to make war upon adefenseless girl and her afflicted brother. But I'm not afraid of you!"

  She took a step toward him, standing very close to him and lookingstraight into his eyes. She was fighting bravely for her composure, butthe young man had seen that her lips had quivered pitifully during herbrief speech. He stiffened with sympathy. He could not, of course,understand this strange conversation, but he could discern its drift,and the suggestive underplay in the big man's words. But plainly he hadnot been mistaken in his estimate of the young woman--she seemedentirely able to take care of herself.

  He crowded a little closer, though he knew that this conversation wasnone of his affair further than that he was interested--as any man wouldbe interested--in seeing that the young woman received decent treatment.Certainly so far she had not received that, yet neither had the big mansaid anything to warrant interference by a stranger. Stealing anotherglance, the young man saw a heavy revolver at the man's hip, and he didnot doubt, from what he had thus far seen of him, that he would use theweapon should he turn and discover that there was a listener to hisconversation. Such an action would accord perfectly with tales that theyoung man had heard of this section of the country. But he edged closer.

  The big man's face had become poisonously bloated. The girl's defianceseemed to have enraged him.

  "Hell!" he said venomously. "You're talking damn brave!" He leanedcloser to her. "And you think you'd be disgraced if folks knowed you wasa friend of mine?" He laughed harshly. "Most folks are tickled to beknown as my friend. But I'm telling you this: If I ain't a friend I'm anenemy, and you're doing as I say or I'm making things mighty unpleasantfor you and your poor, 'afflicted' brother!"

  The young man saw the girl's hands clench, saw her face grow slowlypale. Twice now had the big man taunted her about her brother, andplainly his words had hurt her. Words trembled on her lips but refusedto come. But for an instant she forced her eyes to meet those of the manand then they suddenly filled with tears. She took a backward step, hershoulders drooping. The big man followed her, gloating over her. Againthe young man's thoughts went to the lion and the mouse.

  "Hurts, does it?" said the big man, brutally. "Well, you've brought iton yourself, being such a damn prude!"

  He reached out and grasped her by the shoulder. She shrank back,struggling with him, trying to grasp the butt of an ivory-handledrevolver that swung at her right hip. The big man pinned her arms andthe effort was futile.

  And then retribution--like an avalanche--struck the big man. He heardthe movement, sensed the danger, and flung his right hand toward hispistol butt. There was a silent struggle; a shot, one of the young man'sarms swung out--flail like--the clenched hand landing with a crash. Thebig man went down like a falling tree--prone to the ground, his revolverflying ten feet distant, a little blue-white smoke curling lazily upwardout of its muzzle. The big man was raised again--bodily--and hurled downagain. He lay face upward in the white sunlight--a mass of bruised andbleeding flesh.

  The young man's anger had come and gone. He stood over the big man,looking down at him, his white teeth gleaming through his slightlyparted lips.

  "I think that will do for you," he said in an even, passionless voice.

  For an instant there was a tense silence. The young man turned andlooked at the girl, who was regarding him with surprised and bewilderedeyes.

  The young man smiled mirthlessly. "I think I waited rather too long. Buthe won't bother you again--at least for a few minutes."

  He saw the girl's gaze directed to a point somewhere behind him and heturned to see that a door in the side of the Fashion Saloon was vomitingmen. They came rushing out, filling the space between the twobuildings--cowboys mostly, with a sprinkling of other men whoseappearance and attire proclaimed them citizens. The young man stoodsilent while the newcomers ranged themselves about him, others givingtheir attention to the big man who still lay on the ground. The girl hadnot moved; she was standing near the young man, her face pale, herslight figure rigid, her eyes wide and flashing. The young man lookedfrom her to the men who had crowded about him and he became aware thatone of the men--a slender, olive-skinned cowboy--evidently ahalf-breed--was speaking to him. He stood looking at the man, saw menacein his eyes, heard his voice, writhing in profane accusation:


  "So you've shot Beeg Beel, you tenderfoot----!" said the man. His righthand was hooked in his cartridge belt, near the butt of his six-shooter.

  The young man had been coldly scrutinizing the face of the half-breed;he had seen a sneering insolence on the thin, snarling lips, and he knewinstantly that this man was a friend of his fallen adversary. He hadsmiled grimly when the man had begun speaking, being willing to arguethe justice of his action in striking the big man, but at the man's vileinsult his white teeth gleamed again and his right arm flew out--like aflail--the fist crashing against the half-breed's jaw. Like the big manthe half-breed collapsed in a heap on the ground. There was a suddenmovement in the crowd, and pistols flashed in the sunlight. The youngman took a backward step, halted, drew himself up and faced them, hislips curling.

  "Of course you'll shoot now," he said bitterly.

  He heard a rustle beside him, and turned to see the girl standing withina foot of him, the ivory-handled pistol in hand, her eyes flashingcoldly.

  "I don't think that any of them are going to shoot," she declaredevenly, her voice resounding in the sudden silence that had fallen; "BigBill got just what he deserved, and this gentleman will not be molested.He isn't armed," she said, with a dry laugh; "shooting him would bemurder, and if he is shot I promise to avenge him immediately." Sheturned slightly, speaking to the young man while keeping her eyes on themen around her. During the pause that followed her words several of themen stealthily sheathed their weapons and stepped back.

  "I think Big Bill is able to fight his own battles," continued the girl,taking advantage of the evident reluctance of the men to force trouble.

  Her face became slightly paler as she saw the big man sit up and stareabout him. He got to his feet and stood, swaying dizzily for an instant,and then his gaze sought out the young man and was fixed on him withforeboding malignance. His right hand fell to his holster, and findingno weapon there he turned and sought it, finding it, and returning to apoint near the young man, the weapon in hand. As he halted there wasanother movement and the half-breed was on his feet and dragging at hisrevolver. The young man crouched, prepared to spring, and the big manspoke sharply to the half-breed.

  "Quit it!" he said, snarling. "Mind your own business!" Then he seemedto realize that the half-breed had been worsted also, for he looked atthe latter, saw the dust on his clothing and grinned expressively.

  "So he got you too, did he, Yuma?" His heavy features wreathed into amocking sneer as he faced the young man.

  "Knocked me down!" he said in a silky, even voice. "Knocked me cold witha punch. Knocked Yuma Ed down too!" He took another step toward theyoung man and surveyed him critically, his eyes glinting with somethingvery near amusement. Then he stepped back, laughing shortly.

  "I ain't shooting you," he said. "I've got an idea that you and me willmeet again." There was an ominous threat in his voice as he continued:"Shooting you wouldn't half pay you back. Mark that, young man--shootingyou wouldn't half pay you back."

  He stepped away from the young man, motioning the other men into thedoor through which they had emerged to come to his assistance, and theyfiled slowly in without protest. The big man paused long enough to lookagain at the young man.

  "Knocked me down!" he said as though scarcely able to realize the truth;"knocked me cold with a punch!" He laughed, his coarse features twistinginto an odd expression. "Well, I'll be damned!" He turned abruptly anddisappeared through the door through which the other men had gone.

  For an instant the young man stood, looking after him. Then he turnedand saw the young woman, standing near her pony, regarding him withgrave eyes.

  "Thank you," she said. He caught a flashing smile and then she was inthe saddle, loping her pony down the street toward the station. For amoment the young man looked after her and then with a smile he returnedto his suit cases and was off down the street toward the courthouse,which he saw in the distance.