Friar Tuck

by Robert Alexander Wason

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  KIT MURRAY

  Horace had left, I felt purty lonely for a while. It's hard for me tolook back and keep things in regular order; because the differentlines cross each other and get mixed up. Always, little Barbie'saffairs came first with me; but I reckon most of you have heard herstory, so I'm keepin' shy of it this time. First of all there was myinnermost life, which would have been mostly mine no matter where I'dgone; then there was the part of my life which touched Barbie's, andthis was the best and the highest part of it; and then there was thepart which touched Friar Tuck an' a lot of others, each one of whichhelped to make me what I am; but back of it all was my work; so it'snot strange if I find it hard to stick to the trail of a story.

  Anyway, it was while I was feelin' lonesome about Horace leavin' thatthe Friar first began to use me as a trump card, and called on me forwhatever he happened to want done. I was mighty fond o' bein' with theFriar; so I lent myself to him whenever I could, and we got mightywell acquainted. He loved fun of a quiet kind; but the' was allus asadness in his eyes which toned down my natural devilment and softenedme. The' was lots o' things I used to enjoy doin', which I justcouldn't do after havin' been with the Friar a spell, until I had givemyself a good shakin', like a dog comin' up out o' water.

  For several quiet years about this time, I used to act as scout forhim, now and again, goin' ahead to round up a bunch when he had timeto give 'em a preachin'; or goin' after him when some one who couldn'tafford a doctor was took sick. We talked about purt' nigh everything,except that some way, we didn't talk much about women; so I was neverable to pump his own story out of him, though he knew exactly how Ifelt toward Barbie, long before I did myself.

  Durin' these years, the Friar tried his best to get on terms with theTy Jones crowd; but they refused to get friendly, and the more he didto make things better in the territory, the more they hated him.

  It was right after the spring round-up that I first heard the Friar'sname mixed up with a woman. This allus makes me madder 'n aboutanything else. When a man and a woman sin, why, it's bad enough, andI'm not upholdin' it; but still in a way it's natural, the same as awolf killin' a calf. It's the cow-puncher's business to kill the wolfif he can, and he ought to do it as prompt as possible. This is allright; but gossip and scandal is never all right.

  Gossip and scandal is like supposin' the wolf had only wounded thecalf a little, and a posse would gather and tie the two of 'emtogether, the wolf and the wounded calf; and take 'em into the centersquare of a town and keep 'em tied there for all to see until they hadstarved to death; and then to keep on stirrin' up the carrion dayafter day as long as a shred of it remained.

  The Friar was allus a great one to be talkin' about the power ofhabits. He said that if folks would just get into the habit of lookin'for sunshiny days, an' smilin' faces an' noble deeds, and such like,that first thing they knew they'd think the whole world had changedfor the better; but instead o' this they got into the habit of lookin'for evil, and as that was what they were on the watch for, o' coursethey found it. He said it was like a cat watchin' for a mouse. The catwould plant herself in front of the mouse hole and not do anythingelse but just watch for the mouse. While she would be on guard, a kingmight be assassinated, a city might fall in an earthquake, and aship-load o' people go down at sea; but if the mouse came out and thecat got it, she would amuse herself with it a while, eat it and thencurl up before the fire and purr about what a fine day it had been,all because she had got what she had been lookin' for; and the's a lotin this.

  Now, when I came to think it over, I hadn't heard the Friar expresshimself very free on women. I had heard him say to allus treat 'emkind an' square, the good ones and the bad; but when ya come to ponderover this, it wasn't no-wise definite. Still I couldn't believe ill ofhim; so I took a vacation an' started to hunt him up.

  The feller who had told me didn't know much about it, but the fellerwho had told him knew it all. When I found this feller, he was in thesame fix; and he sent me along to the one who had told him. They wereall a lot alike in not knowin' it all; but I finally found out who thegirl was.

  She was a girl named Kit Murray, and she allus had been a lively youngthing with a purty face, an' could ride an' shoot like a man. She hadtook part in a couple o' frontier-day exhibitions, and it had turnedher head, and she had gone out with a show. When she had come back,she had put on more airs 'n ever, and naturally the boys were somewild about her--though I hadn't seen her myself.

  News o' this kind travels fast, and I heard buzzin' about iteverywhere; but it was just like all other scandal. Most people, whenthey gossip, believe an' tell the story which comes closest to whatthey'd 'a' done if they'd had the same chance; and what I figured outto be true was, that Olaf the Swede and another Cross-brander by thename o' Bud Fisher had scrapped about the girl, Olaf near killin' thekid and the girl runnin' off to the Friar. Now, all the good deeds 'atthe Friar had done hadn't caused much talk; but this news spread likewild-fire; and a lot o' those he had helped the most turned again' himand said they wished they could find out where he was hidin'.

  I took it just the other way; I knew the Friar purty well, and what Ifeared most was, that he wasn't hidin' at all, and that Olaf wouldfind him before I could give him warnin'. It was two weeks before Ifound the Friar; but once I came upon Olaf, face to face, and we eyedeach other purty close. This was the first time I ever noticed hiseyes. They were the queerest eyes I ever saw, a sort of blue; but adeeper blue, a bluer blue 'n anything I had ever seen outside aflower. The's a flower on the benches in June just the color of hiseyes, a soft, velvety flower; but Olaf's eyes weren't soft and velvetythe day we met, and they gave me a queer, creepy feelin'. I hope Ididn't show it any; but I did feel relieved after I'd passed him.

  Finally I found the Friar, just as I might have expected--by the soundof his voice. I had got clear over into the Basin and was crossin'through Carter Pass when I heard his voice above me, singin' one ofhis marchin' songs. I was mightily rejoiced to find him; but I hadthat all out of my face by the time I had wound around up to him. Hewas totin' a log on his shoulder, and struttin' along as jaunty asthough the whole earth was simply his backyard.

  "Here," I growls to him, indignant, "what do you mean by makin' such anoise? Haven't you got a grain o' gumption!"

  He looked up at me with the surprise stickin' out from under his grin."Well, well, well!" sez he. "Who are you--the special officer for theprevention of noise?"

  "I ain't no special officer of anything," I answers; "but the's peoplelookin' for you, and you ought to have sense enough to keep quiet."

  "And I'm lookin' for people," sez he, grinnin' like a boy; "and thebest way to find 'em is by makin' a noise. The' ain't any rules again'walkin' on the grass up here, is there?"

  "Olaf the Swede is after you on account o' the gal," I blunted; "andhe ain't no bluffer. He intends to do away with you for good and all;and you'd better be makin' your plans."

  "Goin' to do away with me for good an' all," he repeats, smilin'."Well, Olaf the Swede is a gross materialist. The worst he can do willbe to tear off my wrapper and leave me free to find out a lot ofthings I'm deeply interested in. Why, Happy, you're all worked up!You've lost your philosophy, you've become a frettish old woman. Whatyou need is a right good scare to straighten you up again. This Olafthe Swede is part of Ty Jones's outfit, isn't he?"

  "He is," I replied, shakin' my head in warnin', "and the whole gang'llback him up in this."

  "Good!" sez the Friar, smackin' his hand. "I've wanted an openin'wedge into that outfit ever since I came out here. Of a truth, theLord doth move in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform."

  "Well, he certainly will have to perform some mysterious wonders toget you out of this scrape," I said. I was put out at the way he tookit.

  "Don't be irreverent, Happy," sez he, the joy-lights dancin' in hiseyes. "We are all merely instruments, and why should an instrumenttake it upon itself to question the way it is used. Where is thi
sOlaf?"

  "I met him yesterday; and for all I know, he's been followin' me."

  "Fine, fine!" sez the Friar. "Now, you go on back to the Diamond Dot,and I'll go back over your trail and save Olaf as much bother aspossible."

  "I'm goin' along with you," I sez.

  "No," sez he.

  "Yes," sez I.

  "It'll make folks think 'at I'm afraid for my skin, and have you alongfor protection," sez he, gettin' earnest.

  "If you had good judgment, you would be afraid for your skin," sez I."I tell you that Olaf is after your blood. He's one o' the worst; hekills with his bare hands when he gets the chance."

  "Fine, fine!" sez the Friar again, his eyes glowin' joyous. "I'd havea right to defend myself with my hands, Happy. I would have a right todo this, for the sake of Olaf, you see--to prevent him from riskinghis own soul by committin' murder. This is a great chance for me,Happy; now, please, please, go on back like a good fellow."

  I was secretly tickled at the argument the Friar had put up for achance at physical warfare--and a barehand fight between him and Olafwould have been worth goin' a long way to see--but I was as obstinateas either of 'em; so I just said 'at I was goin' along.

  "Well, you're not goin' with, me," sez the Friar, as pouty as aschoolboy. "I'll not speak to ya, and I'll not have a thing to do withya"; and he threw down his log and glared at me.

  I took a certain amount o' pride because the Friar lived up to his ownstandards; but I also found a certain deep-rooted amusement in havin'him slip out from under 'em for a spell and display a humandisposition which was purty much kindred to my own. "What do youpurpose doin' with that club, Friar?" I asked, pointin' to the log hehad flung down.

  He pulled in his glare and looked to be a little discomposed. "WhyI--I'm livin' in a cave I got back there."

  "Are you dead set again' havin' a little company?" sez I, slow an'insinuatin', "or are ya livin' alone?"

  First off, he was inclined to be resentful, then he grinned,shouldered his log again, and said: "Come and see."

  I follered him back into the hills until we came to a little park inwhich his ponies were grazin', and then I hobbled mine, cached my gearalongside his, and trailed after him again. His path turned a crag andthen skirted along the edge of a cliff as straight up and down as thereal truth. The path kept gettin' narrower, until every time the Friarturned a corner ahead of me, I expected to see him walkin' off in theair with the log still on his shoulder.

  Presently I turned a corner around which he had disappeared, and therewasn't a soul in sight. The ledge still led along the cliff; but ithad got thinner than a lawyer's excuse, and a worm couldn't havewalked along it without hangin' on. While I stood there puzzlin' aboutit, a hand reached out o' the side of the cliff, and the Friar's voicesaid mockingly: "Take my hand, little one; and then shut your eyes forfear you might get dizzy."

  Then I saw a jag of rock stickin' out just above my head, I grabbed itwith my left hand, and swung around into what was the mouth of a cave.It was nothin' but a crack about eighteen inches wide, and the farside was sunk in enough to keep it hid from where I was standin'. TheFriar was standin' a few feet back in the entrance with his logleanin' up again' the side. "I know not what other animals may havesought shelter here," he said, "but for the past three years this hasbeen my castle, and, Happy Hawkins,"--here the Friar bowedlow--"obstinate and unreasonable as you are, I offer you a heartywelcome."

  The Friar said this in fun, but the' was an undertone to it whichtightened the laces around my heart consid'able. Well, that cave was asure enough surprise; he had three or four pelts and a couple of Injunblankets on the floor, he had a couple o' barrels fixed to catch snowwater, he had some cookin' tools; and books! Say, he must have had asmany as a hundred books, all of 'em hard-shells, and lookin' soedicated an' officious that I had to take off my hat before I hadnerve enough to begin readin' the titles.

  After I'd taken everything in, I sat down in an easy chair he'd madeout o' saplin's and rawhide, and looked all about; but I couldn't seeany signs of their bein' any other rooms to this cave; and then Ijumped square for the mark, and sez: "Friar, the's a lot o' talk aboutyou havin' run off with Kit Murray. Now I want the straight of it."

  His face went grave and a little hurt. "It's strange," he said after atime, "how hard it is for a man to believe in his own guilt, and howeasy for him to believe in the guilt of his neighbor. Have you had anydinner?"

  "Yes," sez I. "I didn't know just where I was headin'; so I et threedifferent times this mornin' to make sure of havin' enough to run onin case of emergency."

  "It's a fine thing to be an outdoor animal," sez the Friar, smilin'."Well then, I've made up my mind to take you to see Kit Murray."

  He didn't waste any time askin' me not to talk about what was otherfolks' affairs; he just went to the door, grabbed the jag of rock,swung around to the ledge, and I follered after.

  We saddled up, rode down a windin' path 'at I'd never heard of before,and then rode up again until we came to a little clump o' swampshrubbery, backed up again' the north face o' Mount Mizner. Wefollered a twisty path through this and finally came out on an openspace in which stood a fair-sized cabin. He whistled a five-note call,and the door was opened by an old woman who was a stranger to me."Mother Shipley, this is Happy Hawkins," sez he. "How's Kit?"

  The old woman gave me a gimlet look, and then her sharp featuresexpanded to a smile, and she bobbed her head. "Kit's gettin' hard tomanage," sez she.

  We went into the cabin, and found Kit with a bandage around her ankle,sittin' in a rockin' chair, and lookin' patiently disgusted. She was afine-lookin' girl, with a fair streak of boy in her, and she had neverhad enough practice at bein' an invalid to shine at it. Her face litup at the Friar; but her gaze was mighty inquirin' when she turned itat me.

  "You know Happy Hawkins, don't ya?" sez the Friar. She nodded herhead, and he went on. "Well, he's one o' the fellers you can trust, ifyou trust him entire; but he's got such a bump of curiosity that ifyou don't tell it all to him in the first place, he can't do no otherwork until he finds it out on his own hook. He's my friend, and he'llbe your friend; so I want you to tell him just how things are, andthen he'll be under obligations to do whatever we want him to."

  So Kit cut loose and told me her story. Her father, ol' Jim Murray,had got crippled up about ten years before, and since then had becomea professional homesteader, nosin' out good places, an' then sellin'out to the big cattle outfits. He also made it his business to findways to drive off genuwine homesteaders; and in addition to this hewas a home tyrant and hard to live with. He allus had plenty o' money,but was generally dead broke when it came to pleasant words an'smiles--which was why Kit had gone off with the show.

  While she was away, she had married a low-grade cuss, who had misusedher beyond endurance; so when he had skipped with another woman, shehad come back to the old man. She didn't want folks 'at knew her tofind out how bad hit she'd been; so she had tried to bluff it out; butthe young fellers kept fallin' in love with her and wantin' to marryher. She hadn't meant no harm; but she had played one again' theother, hopin' they'd soon have their feelin's hurt and let her alone.This was a fool notion, but she had been honest in it.

  Bud Fisher, the Texas kid in the Ty Jones outfit, had got daffy abouther; and then one night at a dance she had shot some smiles into theeyes of Olaf the Swede. She said he was such a glum-lookin' cuss shehad no idee he would take it serious; but he had stood lookin' intoher eyes with his queer blue ones, until she had felt sort o' fainty;and from that on, he had declared war on all who glanced at her.

  Bud Fisher thought it a fine joke for Olaf to fall in love, and he hadteased him to the limit. This made a bad condition, and all throughthe spring round-up, each had done as much dirt as possible to theother; but Ty was mighty strict about his men fightin' each other; sothey hadn't come to a clash.

  Finally the kid brags that he is goin' to elope with Kit; and thenOlaf kicks off his hobbles an' starts to stampede. The kid
was wiseenough to vamoose; so Olaf rides down to ol' man Murray's, and readsthe riot act to him. Kit was hidin' in the back room and heard it all.He told the old man that he would slaughter any one who eloped withKit or who had a hand in it; and then he had gone back to hunt the kidagain.

  The ol' man turned in and gave Kit a complete harrowin' as soon asOlaf had left and she had told him pointedly that she'd eat dirtbefore she'd eat his food again; so she saddled her pony and startedto ride without knowin' where. Her pony had slipped on Carter Pass andshe had sprained her ankle so bad she couldn't stand. Just at thisjunction, the Friar had come along, and had put her up on his horseand held her on with one arm about her, because the pain in her anklemade her head light. On the way they came smack up again' the kid, andhe gave 'em a grin, and went out without askin' questions.

  He went straight to Olaf, and told him that Kit had eloped with theFriar. The Friar had brought her up to Shipley's, they havin' beenfriends of his in Colorado. They had a daughter livin' up in Billings,Montana; and as soon as her ankle could stand it, Kit was goin' up tolive with the daughter, she havin' three little children and arailroad husband who was away from home more 'n half the time.

  This was the whole o' the story; but you can easy see what a fineprospect it made for gossip, and also what a fine time a young implike Bud Fisher could have with a sober feller like Olaf. Olafwouldn't have just grounds for makin' away with Bud for doin' nothin'except grin, so long as the Friar remained alive with the girl in hiskeepin'. It was a neat little mess; and from what we found outafterwards, the kid was as irritatin' as a half-swallered cockle-burr.

  Big, silent fellers like Olaf are just like big, new boilers. A littleleaky boiler fizzes away all the time, but when it comes to explode,it hasn't anything on hand to explode with; while a big, tight boiler,when it does go off, generally musses up the landscape consid'able;and when Olaf started to stampede he made more noise in a week 'n BudFisher had in his whole life.

  When Kit had finished tellin' me the story, I shook hands with her,and said that while she hadn't used the best judgment the' was, shehad probably used the best she had; and that it was more the men'sfault than hers, so she could count on me as far as I could travel.Then I went outside while the Friar and ol' Mother Shipley fixed upher ankle.

  They all seemed pleased about the way it was healin', and after it wastied up, Kit stood on it and even took a few steps. It twisted herface a time or two at first; but after she'd gone across the room andback a few times, she said it felt better 'n it had for years. Thismade us all laugh, 'cause fact was, she hadn't been housed in near upto the average of a sprained ankle. The Friar allowed 'at she'd be fitto travel day after the next; so it was planned to start in theevenin', and for both of us to go with her. Then we had an earlysupper an' started home.

  On the way, I complained about the foolish way in which Kit had acted,for the sole purpose of drawin' the Friar out and gettin' his views onwomen. Nearly always when I got him started, I was able to pick upsome little sayin' which furnished me with more thought-food than hisblocked-out sermons did.

  "Of course Kit was foolish," he admitted; "but what show has she everhad? Her father never was fit to bring her up; and he didn't even dothe best he could. A woman has more vital strength than a man, becausethe future of the race depends on her; but she also has more emotions,so 'at the wear an' tear is greater. Man, on the other hand, has moremuscle 'n woman, and more brutality. Foolin' man has been the best waya woman had to fight for a good many centuries; and this was the waypoor Kit tried to fight. The plain, simple truth generally works best;but it takes wisdom to see this, and wisdom is seldom anything morethan the dregs o' folly. The' was no one to teach Kit wisdom; so shehas had to strain off her own folly; but she is a fine, brave girl,and I think she will profit by experience."

  Now this was a new thought to me, about wisdom bein' nothin' but thedregs o' folly; but it's a good tough thought, and I've had a heap o'chewin' on it since then; so I feel repaid in havin' took sides again'Kit and lurin' the Friar into heavin' it at me.

  It was dark when we reached his twistin' path along the ledge, and Istepped as cautious as a glow-worm in a powder-mill; but as soon as wehad our pipes an' the fire goin', I wouldn't have swapped seats withthe fattest king in the universe.