The Trail of the Lonesome Pine

by John Fox

  IX

  It was court day at the county seat across the Kentucky line. Halehad risen early, as everyone must if he would get his breakfast in themountains, even in the hotels in the county seats, and he sat with hisfeet on the railing of the hotel porch which fronted the main streetof the town. He had had his heart-breaking failures since the autumnbefore, but he was in good cheer now, for his feverish enthusiasm had atlast clutched a man who would take up not only his options on the greatGap beyond Black Mountain but on the cannel-coal lands of Devil JuddTolliver as well. He was riding across from the Bluegrass to meet thisman at the railroad in Virginia, nearly two hundred miles away; he hadstopped to examine some titles at the county seat and he meant to goon that day by way of Lonesome Cove. Opposite was the brick CourtHouse--every window lacking at least one pane, the steps yellow withdirt and tobacco juice, the doorway and the bricks about the upperwindows bullet-dented and eloquent with memories of the feud which hadlong embroiled the whole county. Not that everybody took part in it but,on the matter, everybody, as an old woman told him, "had feelin's."It had begun, so he learned, just after the war. Two boys were playingmarbles in the road along the Cumberland River, and one had a patch onthe seat of his trousers. The other boy made fun of it and the boy withthe patch went home and told his father. As a result there had alreadybeen thirty years of local war. In the last race for legislature,political issues were submerged and the feud was the sole issue. And aTolliver had carried that boy's trouser-patch like a flag to victory andwas sitting in the lower House at that time helping to make laws for therest of the State. Now Bad Rufe Tolliver was in the hills again andthe end was not yet. Already people were pouring in, men, women andchildren--the men slouch-hatted and stalking through the mud in therain, or filing in on horseback--riding double sometimes--two men or twowomen, or a man with his wife or daughter behind him, or a woman with ababy in her lap and two more children behind--all dressed in homespunor store-clothes, and the paint from artificial flowers on her hatstreaking the face of every girl who had unwisely scanned the heavensthat morning. Soon the square was filled with hitched horses, and anauctioneer was bidding off cattle, sheep, hogs and horses to the crowdof mountaineers about him, while the women sold eggs and butter andbought things for use at home. Now and then, an open feudsman with aWinchester passed and many a man was belted with cartridges for the bigpistol dangling at his hip. When court opened, the rain ceased, the suncame out and Hale made his way through the crowd to the battered templeof justice. On one corner of the square he could see the chief store ofthe town marked "Buck Falin--General Merchandise," and the big man inthe door with the bushy redhead, he guessed, was the leader of the Falinclan. Outside the door stood a smaller replica of the same figure, whomhe recognized as the leader of the band that had nearly ridden him downat the Gap when they were looking for young Dave Tolliver, the autumnbefore. That, doubtless, was young Buck. For a moment he stood at thedoor of the court-room. A Falin was on trial and the grizzled judge wasspeaking angrily:

  "This is the third time you've had this trial postponed because youhain't got no lawyer. I ain't goin' to put it off. Have you got you alawyer now?"

  "Yes, jedge," said the defendant.

  "Well, whar is he?"

  "Over thar on the jury."

  The judge looked at the man on the jury.

  "Well, I reckon you better leave him whar he is. He'll do you more goodthar than any whar else."

  Hale laughed aloud--the judge glared at him and he turned quicklyupstairs to his work in the deed-room. Till noon he worked and yet therewas no trouble. After dinner he went back and in two hours his work wasdone. An atmospheric difference he felt as soon as he reached the door.The crowd had melted from the square. There were no women in sight, buteight armed men were in front of the door and two of them, a red Falinand a black Tolliver--Bad Rufe it was--were quarrelling. In everydoorway stood a man cautiously looking on, and in a hotel window he sawa woman's frightened face. It was so still that it seemed impossiblethat a tragedy could be imminent, and yet, while he was trying totake the conditions in, one of the quarrelling men--Bad RufeTolliver--whipped out his revolver and before he could level it, a Falinstruck the muzzle of a pistol into his back. Another Tolliver flashedhis weapon on the Falin. This Tolliver was covered by another Falinand in so many flashes of lightning the eight men in front of him werecovering each other--every man afraid to be the first to shoot, since heknew that the flash of his own pistol meant instantaneous death for him.As Hale shrank back, he pushed against somebody who thrust him aside. Itwas the judge:

  "Why don't somebody shoot?" he asked sarcastically. "You're a purty seto' fools, ain't you? I want you all to stop this damned foolishness. Nowwhen I give the word I want you, Jim Falin and Rufe Tolliver thar, todrap yer guns."

  Already Rufe was grinning like a devil over the absurdity of thesituation.

  "Now!" said the judge, and the two guns were dropped.

  "Put 'em in yo' pockets."

  They did.

  "Drap!" All dropped and, with those two, all put up their guns--eachman, however, watching now the man who had just been covering him. Itis not wise for the stranger to show too much interest in the personalaffairs of mountain men, and Hale left the judge berating them and wentto the hotel to get ready for the Gap, little dreaming how fixed thefaces of some of those men were in his brain and how, later, they wereto rise in his memory again. His horse was lame--but he must go on:so he hired a "yaller" mule from the landlord, and when the beast wasbrought around, he overheard two men talking at the end of the porch.

  "You don't mean to say they've made peace?"

  "Yes, Rufe's going away agin and they shuk hands--all of 'em." The otherlaughed.

  "Rufe ain't gone yit!"

  The Cumberland River was rain-swollen. The home-going people werehelping each other across it and, as Hale approached the ford of a creekhalf a mile beyond the river, a black-haired girl was standing on aboulder looking helplessly at the yellow water, and two boys were on theground below her. One of them looked up at Hale:

  "I wish ye'd help this lady 'cross."

  "Certainly," said Hale, and the girl giggled when he laboriously turnedhis old mule up to the boulder. Not accustomed to have ladies ridebehind him, Hale had turned the wrong side. Again he laboriously wheeledabout and then into the yellow torrent he went with the girl behind him,the old beast stumbling over the stones, whereat the girl, unafraid,made sounds of much merriment. Across, Hale stopped and saidcourteously:

  "If you are going up this way, you are quite welcome to ride on."

  "Well, I wasn't crossin' that crick jes' exactly fer fun," said the girldemurely, and then she murmured something about her cousins and lookedback. They had gone down to a shallower ford, and when they, too, hadwaded across, they said nothing and the girl said nothing--so Halestarted on, the two boys following. The mule was slow and, being in ahurry, Hale urged him with his whip. Every time he struck, the beastwould kick up and once the girl came near going off.

  "You must watch out, when I hit him," said Hale.

  "I don't know when you're goin' to hit him," she drawled unconcernedly.

  "Well, I'll let you know," said Hale laughing. "Now!" And, as he whackedthe beast again, the girl laughed and they were better acquainted.Presently they passed two boys. Hale was wearing riding-boots and tightbreeches, and one of the boys ran his eyes up boot and leg and if theywere lifted higher, Hale could not tell.

  "Whar'd you git him?" he squeaked.

  The girl turned her head as the mule broke into a trot.

  "Ain't got time to tell. They are my cousins," explained the girl.

  "What is your name?" asked Hale.

  "Loretty Tolliver." Hale turned in his saddle.

  "Are you the daughter of Dave Tolliver?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you've got a brother named Dave?"

  "Yes." This, then, was the sister of the black-haired boy he had seen inthe Lonesome Cove.

  "Haven
't you got some kinfolks over the mountain?"

  "Yes, I got an uncle livin' over thar. Devil Judd, folks calls him,"said the girl simply. This girl was cousin to little June in LonesomeCove. Every now and then she would look behind them, and when Haleturned again inquiringly she explained:

  "I'm worried about my cousins back thar. I'm afeered somethin' moughthappen to 'em."

  "Shall we wait for them?"

  "Oh, no--I reckon not."

  Soon they overtook two men on horseback, and after they passed and werefifty yards ahead of them, one of the men lifted his voice jestingly:

  "Is that your woman, stranger, or have you just borrowed her?" Haleshouted back:

  "No, I'm sorry to say, I've just borrowed her," and he turned to see howshe would take this answering pleasantry. She was looking down shyly andshe did not seem much pleased.

  "They are kinfolks o' mine, too," she said, and whether it was inexplanation or as a rebuke, Hale could not determine.

  "You must be kin to everybody around here?"

  "Most everybody," she said simply.

  By and by they came to a creek.

  "I have to turn up here," said Hale.

  "So do I," she said, smiling now directly at him.

  "Good!" he said, and they went on--Hale asking more questions. She wasgoing to school at the county seat the coming winter and she was fifteenyears old.

  "That's right. The trouble in the mountains is that you girls marry soearly that you don't have time to get an education." She wasn't goingto marry early, she said, but Hale learned now that she had a sweetheartwho had been in town that day and apparently the two had had a quarrel.Who it was, she would not tell, and Hale would have been amazed had heknown the sweetheart was none other than young Buck Falin and that thequarrel between the lovers had sprung from the opening quarrel that daybetween the clans. Once again she came near going off the mule, and Haleobserved that she was holding to the cantel of his saddle.

  "Look here," he said suddenly, "hadn't you better catch hold of me?" Sheshook her head vigorously and made two not-to-be-rendered sounds thatmeant:

  "No, indeed."

  "Well, if this were your sweetheart you'd take hold of him, wouldn'tyou?"

  Again she gave a vigorous shake of the head.

  "Well, if he saw you riding behind me, he wouldn't like it, would he?"

  "She didn't keer," she said, but Hale did; and when he heard thegalloping of horses behind him, saw two men coming, and heard oneof them shouting--"Hyeh, you man on that yaller mule, stop thar"--heshifted his revolver, pulled in and waited with some uneasiness. Theycame up, reeling in their saddles--neither one the girl's sweetheart,as he saw at once from her face--and began to ask what the girlcharacterized afterward as "unnecessary questions": who he was, who shewas, and where they were going. Hale answered so shortly that the girlthought there was going to be a fight, and she was on the point ofslipping from the mule.

  "Sit still," said Hale, quietly. "There's not going to be a fight solong as you are here."

  "Thar hain't!" said one of the men. "Well"--then he looked sharplyat the girl and turned his horse--"Come on, Bill--that's ole DaveTolliver's gal." The girl's face was on fire.

  "Them mean Falins!" she said contemptuously, and somehow the mere factthat Hale had been even for the moment antagonistic to the otherfaction seemed to put him in the girl's mind at once on her side, andstraightway she talked freely of the feud. Devil Judd had takenno active part in it for a long time, she said, except to keep itdown--especially since he and her father had had a "fallin' out" andthe two families did not visit much--though she and her cousin Junesometimes spent the night with each other.

  "You won't be able to git over thar till long atter dark," she said, andshe caught her breath so suddenly and so sharply that Hale turned to seewhat the matter was. She searched his face with her black eyes, whichwere like June's without the depths of June's.

  "I was just a-wonderin' if mebbe you wasn't the same feller that wasover in Lonesome last fall."

  "Maybe I am--my name's Hale." The girl laughed. "Well, if this ain't thebeatenest! I've heerd June talk about you. My brother Dave don't likeyou overmuch," she added frankly. "I reckon we'll see Dave purty soon.If this ain't the beatenest!" she repeated, and she laughed again, asshe always did laugh, it seemed to Hale, when there was any prospect ofgetting him into trouble.

  "You can't git over thar till long atter dark," she said againpresently.

  "Is there any place on the way where I can get to stay all night?"

  "You can stay all night with the Red Fox on top of the mountain."

  "The Red Fox," repeated Hale.

  "Yes, he lives right on top of the mountain. You can't miss his house."

  "Oh, yes, I remember him. I saw him talking to one of the Falins in townto-day, behind the barn, when I went to get my horse."

  "You--seed--him--a-talkin'--to a Falin AFORE the trouble come up?" thegirl asked slowly and with such significance that Hale turned to lookat her. He felt straightway that he ought not to have said that, andthe day was to come when he would remember it to his cost. He knew howfoolish it was for the stranger to show sympathy with, or interestin, one faction or another in a mountain feud, but to give any kind ofinformation of one to the other--that was unwise indeed. Ahead of themnow, a little stream ran from a ravine across the road. Beyond was acabin; in the doorway were several faces, and sitting on a horse at thegate was young Dave Tolliver.

  "Well, I git down here," said the girl, and before his mule stopped sheslid from behind him and made for the gate without a word of thanks orgood-by.

  "Howdye!" said Hale, taking in the group with his glance, but leavinghis eyes on young Dave. The rest nodded, but the boy was too surprisedfor speech, and the spirit of deviltry took the girl when she saw herbrother's face, and at the gate she turned:

  "Much obleeged," she said. "Tell June I'm a-comin' over to see her nextSunday."

  "I will," said Hale, and he rode on. To his surprise, when he had gone ahundred yards, he heard the boy spurring after him and he looked aroundinquiringly as young Dave drew alongside; but the boy said nothing andHale, amused, kept still, wondering when the lad would open speech. Atthe mouth of another little creek the boy stopped his horse as thoughhe was to turn up that way. "You've come back agin," he said, searchingHale's face with his black eyes.

  "Yes," said Hale, "I've come back again."

  "You goin' over to Lonesome Cove?"

  "Yes."

  The boy hesitated, and a sudden change of mind was plain to Hale in hisface. "I wish you'd tell Uncle Judd about the trouble in town to-day,"he said, still looking fixedly at Hale.

  "Certainly."

  "Did you tell the Red Fox that day you seed him when you was goin' overto the Gap last fall that you seed me at Uncle Judd's?"

  "No," said Hale. "But how did you know that I saw the Red Fox that day?"The boy laughed unpleasantly.

  "So long," he said. "See you agin some day." The way was steep and thesun was down and darkness gathering before Hale reached the top of themountain--so he hallooed at the yard fence of the Red Fox, who peeredcautiously out of the door and asked his name before he came to thegate. And there, with a grin on his curious mismatched face, he repeatedyoung Dave's words:

  "You've come back agin." And Hale repeated his:

  "Yes, I've come back again."

  "You goin' over to Lonesome Cove?"

  "Yes," said Hale impatiently, "I'm going over to Lonesome Cove. Can Istay here all night?"

  "Shore!" said the old man hospitably. "That's a fine hoss you gotthar," he added with a chuckle. "Been swappin'?" Hale had to laugh as heclimbed down from the bony ear-flopping beast.

  "I left my horse in town--he's lame."

  "Yes, I seed you thar." Hale could not resist: "Yes, and I seed you."The old man almost turned.

  "Whar?" Again the temptation was too great.

  "Talking to the Falin who started the row." This time the Red Foxwheeled sharply and
his pale-blue eyes filled with suspicion.

  "I keeps friends with both sides," he said. "Ain't many folks can dothat."

  "I reckon not," said Hale calmly, but in the pale eyes he still sawsuspicion.

  When they entered the cabin, a little old woman in black, dumb andnoiseless, was cooking supper. The children of the two, he learned, hadscattered, and they lived there alone. On the mantel were two pistolsand in one corner was the big Winchester he remembered and behind itwas the big brass telescope. On the table was a Bible and a volume ofSwedenborg, and among the usual strings of pepper-pods and beans andtwisted long green tobacco were drying herbs and roots of all kinds, andabout the fireplace were bottles of liquids that had been stewed fromthem. The little old woman served, and opened her lips not at all.Supper was eaten with no further reference to the doings in town thatday, and no word was said about their meeting when Hale first went toLonesome Cove until they were smoking on the porch.

  "I heerd you found some mighty fine coal over in Lonesome Cove."

  "Yes."

  "Young Dave Tolliver thinks you found somethin' else thar, too,"chuckled the Red Fox.

  "I did," said Hale coolly, and the old man chuckled again.

  "She's a purty leetle gal--shore."

  "Who is?" asked Hale, looking calmly at his questioner, and the Red Foxlapsed into baffled silence.

  The moon was brilliant and the night was still. Suddenly the Red Foxcocked his ear like a hound, and without a word slipped swiftly withinthe cabin. A moment later Hale heard the galloping of a horse and fromout the dark woods loped a horseman with a Winchester across his saddlebow. He pulled in at the gate, but before he could shout "Hello" the RedFox had stepped from the porch into the moonlight and was going tomeet him. Hale had never seen a more easy, graceful, daring figure onhorseback, and in the bright light he could make out the reckless faceof the man who had been the first to flash his pistol in town thatday--Bad Rufe Tolliver. For ten minutes the two talked in whispers--Rufebent forward with one elbow on the withers of his horse but lifting hiseyes every now and then to the stranger seated in the porch--and thenthe horseman turned with an oath and galloped into the darkness whencehe came, while the Red Fox slouched back to the porch and droppedsilently into his seat.

  "Who was that?" asked Hale.

  "Bad Rufe Tolliver."

  "I've heard of him."

  "Most everybody in these mountains has. He's the feller that's alwayscausin' trouble. Him and Joe Falin agreed to go West last fall to endthe war. Joe was killed out thar, and now Rufe claims Joe don't countnow an' he's got the right to come back. Soon's he comes back, thingsgit frolicksome agin. He swore he wouldn't go back unless another Falingoes too. Wirt Falin agreed, and that's how they made peace to-day. NowRufe says he won't go at all--truce or no truce. My wife in thar isa Tolliver, but both sides comes to me and I keeps peace with both of'em."

  No doubt he did, Hale thought, keep peace or mischief with or againstanybody with that face of his. That was a common type of the bad man,that horseman who had galloped away from the gate--but this old man withhis dual face, who preached the Word on Sundays and on other days was awalking arsenal; who dreamed dreams and had visions and slipped throughthe hills in his mysterious moccasins on errands of mercy or chasing menfrom vanity, personal enmity or for fun, and still appeared so sane--hewas a type that confounded. No wonder for these reasons and as a tributeto his infernal shrewdness he was known far and wide as the Red Foxof the Mountains. But Hale was too tired for further speculation andpresently he yawned.

  "Want to lay down?" asked the old man quickly.

  "I think I do," said Hale, and they went inside. The little old womanhad her face to the wall in a bed in one corner and the Red Fox pointedto a bed in the other:

  "Thar's yo' bed." Again Hale's eyes fell on the big Winchester.

  "I reckon thar hain't more'n two others like it in all these mountains."

  "What's the calibre?"

  "Biggest made," was the answer, "a 50 x 75."

  "Centre fire?"

  "Rim," said the Red Fox.

  "Gracious," laughed Hale, "what do you want such a big one for?"

  "Man cannot live by bread alone--in these mountains," said the Red Foxgrimly.

  When Hale lay down he could hear the old man quavering out a hymn or twoon the porch outside: and when, worn out with the day, he went to sleep,the Red Fox was reading his Bible by the light of a tallow dip. It isfatefully strange when people, whose lives tragically intersect, lookback to their first meetings with one another, and Hale never forgotthat night in the cabin of the Red Fox. For had Bad Rufe Tolliver, whilehe whispered at the gate, known the part the quiet young man silentlyseated in the porch would play in his life, he would have shot him wherehe sat: and could the Red Fox have known the part his sleeping guest wasto play in his, the old man would have knifed him where he lay.