CHAPTER TWO
THE LORRIGAN TREE GROWS THRIFTILY
Young Tom Lorrigan had found his mate. Had he known more about life inthe big world beyond the Rim, he must have been amazed at his luck.Once a man dropped dead in a poker game when he had staked his lastblue chip and drawn a royal flush. In the great game of hearts Tom haddrawn a royal flush, but he did not drop dead. Instead, he went righton living, more determined than ever to own a million dollars' worthof cattle and horses before he died, considerably before he died,because he wanted to enjoy that million with Belle. And because of herhe wanted that million to be honest money.
Everything he did now, he did for Belle more than for himself. As amatter of course she became his real reason for living. She was likethe sun. He took her for granted, never questioning the blessed warmthof her presence, never stopping to wonder what life would be like ifhe lost her. She was beautiful, with a beauty that never palled andnever paled. She laughed a great deal, and he never could keeplaughter from his own lips while he listened. When she sang she putthe meadow larks to shame, and afterwards when he rode the range aloneTom would whistle strange, new melodies that the Black Rim countrynever had heard before,--melodies which Belle had taught himunconsciously with her singing. He did not know that it would haveastonished a city dweller to hear the bad man of Black Rim Countrywhistling Schubert's "Serenade" while he rode after cattle, orWagner's "Prize Song," or "Creole Sue," perhaps, since Belle, withabsolute impartiality, sang everything that she had ever heard sung.On billboards before eastern theatres Belle Delavan had been called"The Girl with a Thousand Songs." Audiences had been invited by thestage manager to name any selection they might choose, assured thatBelle would sing it from memory. No wonder that her singing never grewstale to Tom Lorrigan!
But mostly she busied herself with little domesticities that somehownever included cooking, and with driving helter-skelter over the rangewith two horses hitched to a buckboard, following Tom when he rodeafter cattle. Do you think she should logically have learned to ride?She did try it once on the gentlest horse that Tom owned, which wasnot too gentle to run away with Belle. She rode that horse just twohundred yards before she jolted so far from the saddle that she couldnot find it again until some time after, when they had caught thehorse and led him to the corral.
"Not any more for me, Tom Lorrigan!" she gasped, flapping her twopretty hands in eloquent disgust when Tom rode up to her. "I wouldn'tget on a horse's back again to star for the Queen of England! I'lltake that team of he-devils you've been breaking to drive, and I'lldrive 'em or break every bone in their bodies. I'm willing to getbehind any horse you've got; but to get on their backs--excuse me!"She limped painfully to the house with her yellow hair blowing aroundher shoulders and across her lips that would smile in spite of hermishap.
After that Belle drove the "he-devils" and others quite as devilish,and risked her bones with perfect equanimity. She drove horses thathad to be thrown before the collar could be buckled on, and"forefooted" before they would submit to the harness. Indeed, Belleseemed to prefer that kind of horses. She wanted a team that couldkeep pace with Tom,--and she had it. Her buckboard lasted a year,with luck. She strewed the Devil's Tooth range with wheels anddoubletrees and splinters and hairpins, and scattered sunshinysmiles and cuss-words and snatches of song wherever she went. Andsince she went wherever eight bronco feet could take her, BlackRim country came to know Belle Lorrigan as it knew Tom. Came to fearBelle Lorrigan's wrath, which bettered the lightning for searing,lashing sword-thrusts of venom; came to know her songs well enoughto hum snatches of them; came to laugh when she laughed,--and tohope that the next laugh would not be aimed at them; came torecognize her as a better shot than any one save Tom, who taught her.
At the country dances on the various ranches, Belle never missedquadrille, two-step, waltz or schottische, and she danced by herselfor sang songs during the intervals, while the women of the range satstiffly along the walls on benches, stared at Belle and whisperedbehind their weather-reddened hands, and tittered. She taughtbig-jointed, bashful boys how to waltz, and she slapped a half-drunkenminer who squeezed her too tightly in a square dance. Slapped Tom alsowhen he came hurrying up to kill the miner, and told him to keep tohis own quarrels and save his powder for something worth while. Shedidn't need help to step on a worm, she added, and took a youth by thearm and led him off to dance. The miner, I may say to the curious, wasnext seen in Hailey, heading south. He left a very good prospect up inthe hills and never went back to work out his assessments.
As you have probably guessed, Belle Lorrigan and the women of theBlack Rim country did not get on very well together. Black Rim womenthought that a woman who wore her hair in curls down her back--yellowhair at that!--could not be any too good if the truth were known. Theydeclared to one another that a woman who did not talk about her pastlife, who never so much as mentioned past illnesses, even, must have agreat deal to cover up. How did Tom Lorrigan get acquainted with her,anyway? Through some marriage agency, they were willing to bet. Andhow did a decent woman happen to have all the fancy clothes whichBelle Lorrigan possessed? And jewelry enough to stock a store with!Three rings on one finger at one time and the same time was going itpretty strong, in the opinion of the Black Rim ladies. They alsobelieved that she used paint and powder, which damned her beyond allhope of redemption.
Poor Belle Lorrigan (Black Rim country spoke of her always as BelleLorrigan without in the least understanding why she remained anindividual personality to them instead of becoming merely Mrs.Lorrigan--Mrs. Tom, even, since many of the Black Rim women weredesignated by the nicknames of their husbands)! She would have beenglad to be friendly, simply because friendliness was in her blood andwould out. She would have been glad to receive them at the Devil'sTooth ranch for one of those all-day visits which were the custom ofthe country. But for a long while they did not come. Sometimes shewould meet a family bundled to the eyes against the chill winds ofIdaho, bumping over the rough roads on their way to visit some nearneighbor who lived only ten or fifteen miles away. She would flashthem a smile while she pulled up her bronco team out of the trail tomake a generous room for their passing, and she would shout somethingpleasant as they went by. And after they had gone on she would shrugher fine, broad shoulders and call them cats, going out to ascratching, with all the kittens mewing along. She would flap ahand--providing the bronco team left her a hand free to flap--andshake her head, and say, "Not for mine, thank you!" And would be hurtdown deep in her heart where it did not show, because they neverstopped at her door.
But when the boys began to come, then came the neighbor women, makingformal two-hour calls upon the new mother, eager to see and to hearand to go away and compare notes afterward. They talked much of thenames that Belle Lorrigan called her children. The first one she namedfor the hero in her first play; wanting, I suppose, a souvenir of thetime when she was fifteen and had her first speaking part on thestage. She called her first-born Algernon Adelbert. Algernon AdelbertLorrigan, grandson of old Tom Lorrigan! Think of that!
But Algernon Adelbert no sooner outgrew his cradle than he was knownto all and sundry as Al Lorrigan, so that no harm was done him ingiving him such a name. He grew up lusty and arrogant, a good deal ofa bully, six feet tall, a good rider--though, not so good a rider ashis dad--a good shot, willing to help gather that million together onthe chance that he might have a share in the spending.
Al was a youth who hunted trouble for the thrill of meeting it morethan half-way, but since Tom Lorrigan happened to be his father, Alrode off the Devil's Tooth ranch before he became the rampant youngtrouble-hunter. Belle had some anxious hours during the time Al wasgone, but she never once betrayed her anxiety; which is doing prettywell for a mother.
The second was Marmaduke LeRoy, and the third and last she recklesslychristened Lancelot Montgomery. Marmaduke never learned to spell hisname correctly, and sometimes complained that Belle had gone and namedhim after a mess of preserves,--meaning marmalade, I suppose. But a
she grew older he forgot his grievance. Belle was the only person whocould remember offhand his full name, and she never called him by itexcept when she was very angry; when she usually attached so manyadjectives that Marmaduke LeRoy was quite submerged. Commonly he wascalled Duke, which did well enough.
Tom used to study Duke through half-closed lids and the smoke of acigarette, and wonder which side of the family had a yellow streak;not the Lorrigan side, so far as Tom could judge. Nor the Delavanside either, if Belle lived true to type. To be sure, Belle refused toride a horse; but then Belle was a woman and women had whims. Therewas no yellow about Belle, except her hair which was pure golden.
Duke would invariably lie to dodge punishment. According to his owntheory, Duke was always blameless, always the injured party, the boywho does right and never is given credit for his virtues. Even Belle,who would fight for her boys as a tigress fights for its young, lookedaskance at Duke while she tried, motherlike, to cover his faults fromthe keen eyes of Tom.
"I'd just like to know how you come by it," she once exclaimedexasperatedly, when Duke was ten and Lance eight. "I'd sure chop onelimb off the family tree, if I knew which one gave you the gall to lieto me and Tom. Duke, for heaven's sake take a licking just oncewithout trying to lay the blame on Al or Lance--and see how proudyou'll feel afterwards!"
"Aw--lickins hur-rt!" Duke had protested, rubbing the arm Belle hadgripped none too gently, and sidled away from her.
With her hands to her hips--gracefully posed there, as became anactress--Belle regarded him fixedly. "My Gawd!" she whispered, owningdefeat before that invulnerable selfishness of Duke's.
Her tone stung even his young crocodile-hided sensibility. "You'realways blamin' me. You'n Tom think I do everything mean on this ranch!You think Lance is an angel! He's your pet and you let him pick on mean' you never say a word. Lance can do any darn thing he pleases, an'so can Al. I'm goin' to run away, first thing you know. You can haveyour sweet little angel pet of a doggone ole cowardly-calf Lance!"Then he whined, "Aw--you lemme go! I never done it, I tell yuh! It wasLance!"
Belle gritted her teeth while she shook him. "You yellow-heartedlittle whelp. I _saw you_ chasing that colt around the corral till hebroke the fence! If Tom was to know about it he'd lick you good! Duke,why _can't_ you be a man and take the blame yourself, just once? I'dbe--I'd be so proud o' you if you only told the truth about things.Don't you know--it's only a coward that will lie to save his ownskin?"
"Lance is a bigger coward than I am, an' you never say a word to him.You think Lance is perfect."
"I guess you're hopeless all right," Belle retorted. "It's just ayellow streak in you somewhere. Living with the Lorrigans, I'm hopingyou'll outgrow it. The Lorrigans sure ain't yellow!"
"I chased Blackie some, Belle," Lance volunteered, peering down overthe stable eave at his irate mother. "Duke started in and got himgoing good, and when he come fogging over to this side I flopped myarms at him. Gee, but he did stop quick! I guess if you're going tolick Duke, you better give me about four good licks for that, Belle.And take 'em off Duke's licking. No use licking us both for the samething."
Belle tilted her yellow head and looked up at her beloved youngest,grinning down at her cheerfully from the hay roof where he sprawledhead downward, flat on his stomach.
"Well, thank the Lord one Lorrigan has got the nerve to own up to athing. Come on down and get your four licks, then. I can be as squareas the next one. But Duke's got it coming to him for lying to me. Tellme, Lance, did Duke chase Blackie through the fence?"
"Aw go on, Belle! What's matter with you, asking me what Duke done?He's the feller to ask about that. I chased Blackie about four licks'worth. Hurry up and let's get it over with. You know it ain't pleasantfor either of us!"
"Smarty!" yelled Duke, quick to read in Belle's face what softeningeffect Lance had on her temper. "Tryin' to be smart--tryin' to beGeorge Wash'nton! You little liar, you know you chased Blackie more'nwhat I done. Sneak out of it--yeah, that's you, every time. Own upjust enough to make Belle think you're an angel. Doggone the wholedoggone outfit!"
"_Now_ what?" Tom's voice broke in upon Duke's shrill tirade. Fromthe back of his horse Tom looked down quizzically upon them. "Duke,what you been up to?"
"Aw, you always think it's me! Why don't you ask Lance what he's beenup to? Why don't you lick Lance for being on the stable? If I was toget up there and tromp around in the hay and make it leak, I know what_I'd_ git!"
Tom sent a glance up to where Lance was hastily scrambling down acorner. "You'd better!" he commented sternly. Then he looked at Belle,his eyes twinkling under his scowl.
"If you can't handle these young devils, Belle, turn 'em over to me.I'll mighty quick settle their hash for 'em."
Belle gripped tighter the squirming Duke. "I'm not a cripple yet, TomLorrigan. They've both got a licking coming to 'em, and if you'llkindly walk off stage R. C. I'll go on with the scene. You weren'tcued to come on here."
"It's your show, Belle," Tom assented, and very obligingly rode tothe other side of the stable to unsaddle his horse, and grinned tohimself when the sound of wailing and pleading and promises of the"I'll-never-do-it-again" variety came to his ears. Belle's lickingswere distinguished chiefly by their uproar.
"Belle wallops 'em like brandin' calves," Tom used to chuckle. "Theybeller a plenty while it's going on, and kick up their heels when it'sall over. I wish't my dad had licked me like that when I was a kid.You can gamble, when I was thrashed, I knowed it!"
Duke grew up to be a very good cowpuncher, however. He knew every drawand dry wash, every creek bottom and every canyon on the Black Rimrange; knew almost as well as the owner how many cattle carried everybrand. In the Devil's Tooth round-ups Duke held his place alongside Alas a top hand,--disputing now and then the right of young Lance tocompete with him, but never quite daring to bring his dispute to thepoint where action would take the place of words.
"Duke's sure enough a bad man--with his face," Tom once snarled toBelle. "Make it a talking match, and Duke could lick any old woman, inthe Black Rim country."
"There's been enough fighting Lorrigans, don't you think?" Bellesmiled back at him. "Duke's dad can fight hard enough for the wholefamily. I didn't think you wanted your boys to be fighters."
"I don't. But I sure do want 'em to have the fightin' stuff in 'em,whether it ever comes out or not. Take Lance, there. Lance ain't afighter, either; but by the Lord John, it's there! Once get Lancestarted, and I'd back him against any three men in the Black Rim. It'sin him, if the play ever come up. And it's in Al. The Lorrigan isstrong in Al. But that Duke--"
"Honey, I think maybe it's the Delavan in Duke. I remember an old maidaunt of mine that used to bolt the door and quarrel with my motherthrough the keyhole. I guess maybe Duke has got a little touch of AuntJane."
"Oh, sure! First I ever heard of Aunt Jane, Belle. Takes you to thinkup a reason."
"And the Lorrigan will come out, honey. He's got the look, now andthen. It's in him, you'll see."
So that is how the Lorrigan boys grew up. They thought Belle the mostbeautiful, the most wonderful woman in the world,--though they nevercalled her mother. Belle would not have it. She refused to become amotherly, middle-aged person, and her boys were growing altogether toobig and too masterful to look upon a golden-curled, pink-cheeked,honey-throated Amazon as other Black Rim sons looked upon their faded,too often shrewish maternal parent. She was just Belle. They knew noother like her, no one with whom they might compare her. We do notcompare the sun and the moon with other suns and moons. Like Tom, theyworshipped her in their hearts, and chummed with her even before theyhad outgrown her stormy chastisements. They mended her buckboards andher harness; they galloped alongside while she drove careening acrossthe range, her hair flying in the wind, her mouth smiling and showingher white teeth. They danced with her,--and having Belle for ateacher from the time they could toddle, you may guess how theLorrigan boys could dance. They sang the songs she taught them; theytried to better her recor
d at target practice and never did it; theyquarreled with her when her temper was up and dodged her when itbecame too cyclonic.
They grew up without ever having ridden on the cars, save once ortwice to Lava. Black Rim was the rim of the world to them, and theirworld held all that they yearned for. Belle sheltered them from toomuch knowledge of that other world, which held the past she hated andtried to forget. Much she taught them of city manners and the littlecourtesies of life. She would box the ears of the boy who neglected torise and offer her a chair when she entered a room, and would smoke acigarette with him afterward. Once she whipped her six-shooter out ofits holster and shot a hole through the crown of Al's hat, as atactful reminder that gentlemen always remove their hats when theycome into a house. Al remembered, after that. At fourteen even thehardiest youth feels a slight shock when a bullet jars through his hatcrown two inches above his hair.