~*~
When we met with Hank again, I was wearing my best sport-coat. Hank looked a little surprised at the way I dressed but all he said was “That's a mighty nice coat, Mr. Smith—But it ain’t hardly the kind of thing we wear out here.”
“It's the kind of thing I wear everywhere,” I snapped back at him.
Helen told Hank not to worry about me. She said I had a grudge against the whole country and thinks I can win by wearing my city clothes. Then I told him that as long as she has gone that far, she might as well tell him the whole bit.
“Tell him about the speed trap and that crooked judge,” I said.
“He thinks the whole place is responsible,” Helen explained.
“Of course they are.” I said,” If the people around here didn't approve of strangers being fleeced they'd have done something about it.”
“Sounds like you had a run-in with Justice Hatch,” Hank said.
“That's the name.” I told him. Then Hank told me that a lot of people have had trouble with Justice Hatch. When I asked him why the people didn't do something about it, he said it was probably just one or those things. “I reckon something will be done eventually,” he said. “But Justice Hatch has been around a long time—and before him his father and his father’s father and his father.”
Well, according to Hank, this Hatch person was just plainly entrenched in the local law, tight enough that the whole place would fall apart without him. Then he went on to tell me about how things were when the first Justice Hatch established law and order in the territory. Then I blew up. “Law and order,” I nearly shouted. “You call it law and order?'
“Well I reckon it kind or depends on how you look at it,” said Hank.
“I guess it must,” I said.
“But don't be too quick to think the worst” Hank went on. “You got to kind of remember that in those days there wasn't much of any law, at all. Especially out here. When Justice Hatch first hit these parts it wasn't much more than Indian Territory. He was a shady character, no doubt but this wasn't the city. The place needed some kind of law—and law wasn't easy to get out here.”
I admitted he had a point and I said, 'I suppose you have to give some credit to someone who’d would leave a law practice somewhere and come out to help settle the wilderness. He seemed to find my concession amusing. I found out why.
“Hold on,” he said. “I didn't say Hatch was a lawyer. No, he was hardly educated at all by city standards. He could read though, and that went a long way in the wilderness. No, Hatch's law wasn't hardly what you would call jurisprudence. But it was law. That's the point.
“ Even that kind of law is better than having none at all. Lots of folks probably felt like you do that they'd rather do for themselves. It's hard to say, but when everyone does for himself, some tend to do better than others. There were a lot of outlaws then and nobody was safe. Hatch did help keep them down. Of course, there were those who thought they would be safer with the outlaws than they were with Hatch. I suppose it depended on which one you got taken by.”
I didn't know quite what to say. Then Helen joined in and said to him, “You're beginning to sound like my husband.”
“No. I wouldn't say that,” Hank told her. “I'm indifferent. Not everything can be the way we'd like it to be. This was a rough and ready country and Hatch, I reckon, had the rough and ready law to match it with. He was a giant in his way. He wouldn't have been much in the city, but out here he was colorful and he helped build the country. On the other hand, he was sure in the game for himself. Like I said, he could stretch the book an awful long ways sometimes, but then there were some colorful outlaws too.”
By this time our little string of riders reached the picnic grounds or whatever the Westerners call it. Anyhow, we were going to have a barbecue. Hank was kept pretty busy with the other guests. Helen and I were just getting into a second helping of ribs, when Hank joined us again.
“You know, folks out here ain’t exactly like those back East,” he said, “back there folks are very law abiding and a criminal is almost always the villain. Out here, especially when it was still frontier, it's a lot harder to tell which is which. Sometimes the outlaw is the villain and sometimes the law. Like the story they told about the time Justice Hatch, the first one that is, was having trouble with horse thieves-- there was always trouble with horse thieves, of course, that's why they made it so hard on them when they did catch them. But the reason that these rustlers were so bad is that they were stealing Hatch's own horses.
“I tell you Hatch was mad and when he was mad he didn't think clear. And when he caught Jeb Stuart's boy with one of those horses, he threw the lad right in jail. Old Jeb had his ranch right outside of town and everybody knows that neither Jeb nor his boy would steal a thing. Hatch knew it too, but he was mad and he just had to do something, you know.
“Well, Old Jeb was just beside himself. He didn't know what to do. If anybody could stand up to Hatch it was Jeb, but there was just no getting through to Hatch. He'd been hurt where it cost him money. 'Those horses were probably taken by somebody like Richard King' Jeb told Hatch.
‘OK.' says Hatch,' you bring in King and I'll let the boy go.’
“So that's how Jeb Stuart happened to be in the next town and saved the life of a stranger. Jeb and the stranger are what this story is about—mostly.”
The Story
Hank just popped into the story like that, without even telling us that he was going to tell a story. But I was ready. I was enjoying the party despite myself, and I unconsciously loosened my tie and settled back to listen as his mellow voice droned on.
“Yup,” he said, “Old Jeb, carrying his Winchester rifle, had gone to the next town, hoping to find Richard King, the outlaw. Not that he knew what he'd do if he found King. Jeb was sitting in the saloon, probably thinking what to do when all of a sudden, a fight broke out between a rough unshaven backwoodsman and a fellow that Jeb called ‘a city slicked dude' wearing a Prince Albert coat and a new Stetson hat. Jeb figured he was a gambler. Well, Jeb didn't really care one way or the other until the backwoodsman pulled out a Bowie knife. Some instinct or reflex made Jeb shoot.
“Well, I don't have to tell you that the stranger was grateful and he just had to buy dinner for old Jeb. While they were, eating Jeb told him about how his boy was in jail and how Hatch told him to either pay a fine or bring in Richard King.
“Of course nobody would mistake old Jeb Stuart for a bounty hunter and the stranger told him that he just couldn't imagine Jeb being out after a man. “I ain't no bounty hunter.' Jeb told him, 'but I'm sort of desperate, if you know what I mean. There just ain't no reasoning with Hatch right now.'
‘This Justice Hatch sounds like a strange sort of man,’ the stranger said, 'I thought they just hung horse thieves around here?’
‘They used to,’ said Jeb. ‘They almost always did until Justice Hatch came. But he set up some regular law hereabouts. And he wouldn't ever hang a man if he could fine him. Hatch says there ain't no profit in hanging a man.’
“Well old Jeb told the stranger all about Justice Hatch, pretty much what I told you folks and Jeb just talked for hours and hours about how things was before Hatch come along. Before Hatch there was no law at all out west. Everything was chaos. People were robbed and killed every day. The strong ruled the weak and the gun was the only protection a man had. Then this short paunchy, rather funny man with a crooked stovepipe hat came along. Hatch was anything but an idealist. He saw that the law could be a lucrative business and if it helped make life out here any more pleasant, he didn't have any objections. Well, according to Jeb, at least, things did generally improve. Most of the outlaw gangs were broken up and King was about the only one left. That's what was really bothering Hatch. King was a showoff. He liked to do things in a big way and practically defied the law to do
anything about it. It was starting to hurt Hatch's reputation. If King wasn't caught, Hatch might lose some of his power.
“As it turned out, Jeb didn't know what King looked like or how he would go about finding him. The stranger offered to go back with Jeb and pay the fine. ‘After all, you did save my life Mr. Stuart. Besides, I'd like to meet this Justice Hatch.'
“Jeb Stuart was the kind of a man who had a lot of pride. Most men in the territory did. They had to in those days, so he refused to take money from the stranger.’
‘Well, why not make it a loan then' the stranger said. After a little persuasion, Jeb agreed to that.”
“You mean that the old guy was desperate enough to hunt a dangerous outlaw in order to help his son, but he had too much pride to accept the money?” I said.
“That's right,” Hank said. “Old Jeb was the kind of fellow that settled these parts. They didn't always get along other places, but out here a man needed something a bit different. With Jeb, it was pride. Maybe it's what let those people stand up with a man like Hatch or maybe it's the reason they needed Hatch, I don't know.
“Anyhow,” Hank continued, “Jeb and the stranger rode back together. Must have been about noon when they got back to the town. First thing they did was to look up Justice Hatch. They found him in his favorite place, playing poker in the saloon. Now the one thing folks didn't do was to interrupt a poker game, especially when Hatch was playing. But that stranger, just as bold as anything, walks up to Hatch and told him that he wanted to pay the fine for Jeb Stuart’s son. Well, Hatch looked a bit annoyed, but he stopped the game long enough to collect the fine and then started to deal another hand. “Don't you think, Justice, that Mr. Stuart should be given a receipt?' The stranger said. Well, you can bet that everybody was taken back by that. It was like accusing Hatch of being dishonest. But Hatch made the receipt. He grumbled and cussed some, but he gave it to Jeb, all the same. Then the stranger sat down and started playing poker with Hatch.
The Money
“Now Hatch wasn't above a bit of cheating at poker if he didn't think he'd get caught. Afterwards Jeb says that he knew Hatch was cheating and he tried to tell the stranger but he didn't pay any attention to him. And the stranger was losing and losing.
'You seem to be about cleaned out son,' said Hatch. But the stranger said that he had more money and started to pry the heel off of his boot. Sure enough, he had a real roll of money hid away in an empty space inside that heel. Hatch was delighted and they played poker and drank whiskey till late at night. Finally, Hatch had all the chips piled in front of him.
'It looks like I've got about enough money left to buy a round of drinks the stranger said, 'then I've got to get over to the next town.'
'I'm going there myself,' said Hatch. 'I always like a good loser. What say we ride together?'
“The stranger said, 'sure' so they had another drink and started on their way. ‘You don't intend to carry all of that money with you,' he asked Hatch.
'I sure enough do'
'Ain't you afraid of being robbed? I hear that there's an outlaw named Richard King that's been troubling you. Aren't you afraid he might hold you up and find all that money on you?'
'That confounded King.' Hatch replied. 'You know that blamed scoundrel. He's the only thing that keeps me from being a success around here. But don't worry son. He don't have the nerve to rob us in the open—though he is sure enough a nervy one—but he'll never find the money. You ain’t the only one with some tricks. That hiding place in your boot was pretty good, but I got a better one. Everybody thinks that this hat I wear is just a beat up old piece of trash but I got room in it to stash all kinds of money.'“
Hank stopped to get his breath. I was enjoying the story and had my collar open now, but I couldn't help making one objection. So I said, 'Now listen Hank. The way you're telling this it seems like everyone had a secret pocket to stash their money.”
“I couldn't say about that,” he told me. Of course they didn't have much in the way of banks in those days. Could have been the custom for all I know.”
“If everyone had a secret pocket,” I objected, “Then everyone else would know about it. I mean...”
Hank chuckled, “I got you Mr. Smith. It could be that everyone thought they were fooling everyone else. I kind of suspect that a bit myself. Of course there are those who tell me that Jeb Stuart saw the stranger making that hole in his boot heel before they met with Hatch.”
Hank lit a corncob pipe, which he tamped like it was a meerschaum. “Well, there isn't much left to tell. The story goes that after the stranger and Hatch rode out of town the stranger stopped his horse so that it blocked the road. 'You know, I surely do admire that hat of yours Justice,' he said. 'How would you like to trade it for a brand new Stetson?'
Of course, Hatch didn't say anything. He was too stunned. He just looked up and found himself staring down the barrel of big .44.
“I mean a man of your position, Justice, shouldn't have to wear an old beat up hat. It's downright undignified.'
For once in his life, they say, Justice Hatch had nothing to say. He started to protest but then he heard the hammer cook on that .44 he just took off his hat and gave it to the stranger.”
“So the stranger turned out to be Richard King?” I said.
“Well,” Hank drawled,” nobody was ever too certain about that. Old Hatch wouldn’t say much about it except he told Jeb that the stranger felt he’d been paid back his loan. Anyhow, Justice Hatch was never too quick after that to put local people on the spot. Say it’s getting kind of chilly. You should put your coat back on Mr. Smith.”
“No, I don’t need it now,” I said.
After the barbecue I put my jacket in the suitcase and it’s been there in the closet ever since. I told Helen that I’d like a checkered shirt like Hank wore.
“Why in the world would you want to do that?”
I’ve decided that not every westerner is so bad.” I said. “That Hank is OK.”
John dear,’ she said.
Yes,” I said.
“Hank isn’t a westerner.”
“He's not”? I didn’t know what else to say.
“No,” she said. “I saw his car while you were busy being an indignant urbanite. It has a New York license plate and a City College sticker on it.”
Well, what could I do but laugh it off?” I reckon there is more than one way to be taken in.
~*~
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