JONATHAN BLAIR BOUNTY LANDS LAWYER

-
Jonathan flairs

1 nvjver

bounty lands

NOV 1963
IAY 61964

NOR FEB21 1987

JONATHAN BLAIR:
^Bounty I^ands

Books by WILLIAM DONOHUK ELLIS

THE BOUNTY LANDS
JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty iMnds Lawyer

JONATHAN
BLAIR: Bounty Lands
Lawyer

by pyHliam Donohue Ellis

Cleveland and New Tork

THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 54-10451

FIRST EDITION

HC 854

1954 by The World Publishing Company
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
without written permission from the publisher, except for brief passages
included in a review appearing in a newspaper or magazine. Manufac
tured in the United States of America.

TO

Helen Naiden

CONTENTS

BOOK I

I. IIAHi* MONf.Y o

a. cot'Kr HAY %

3, Till- t;OM*ACr 41
, MADF IN

f r A ItARRH, 01 MLVFR 73

6. nu RIDIRS ^ ()

7. t'AYAHtJK (*N m.Nf AND 104

B. till- ftoNoKARLi: wmv 1^8

g. Till; t.ANIM AND CflATHCLS 140

to. THK vicr, 160

BOOK II

tl. Till: VARUAMKNTARtANS 189

is- rm; WOMKN sot

14, sr, <;r.R.siii>M 2557

15, THK MARKAMKN 241

16, *'i i RCK^:i'U) v VIOLENCE" $53

17, TO SATISFY THIS WARRANT $67

18, TIIK CARRIER *8l

19, REcrjvKirnin DATE 290

20, THi; TRFAF ASTERS J12

BOOK HI

f a. HUNDRED-DOLLAR LAWYER 34$

3 THE FULCRUM 355

14* THE MESOFOTAMIAN $69

5* REPUGNANT TO THE REPU0LIC 382

a6* THE COLLECTOR 39 X

27. BLAIR'S BULLION 400

8, THE ESTRAYS 41*

Sg. THE ORPHAN 45

JO. THE FORECLOSURE 437

$1. THI ATTOUENEY 44 8

This certifies that there is on deposit in the treasury of

TIIK, UNITED STATE* OF AMERICA

ONE DOLLAR
in silver payable to the bearer on demand?*

Titr, HEADER will find In his own wallet this contract between himself and hi*
government. It has liecn perhaps the most eventful contract ever written, the burden
of it iometlme falling on the party of the first part, sometimes on the party of the
iieccmd, but ultimately on Jx>th, Like any agreement which requires to be written
down, it began in disagreement Before finding its way into the reader's wallet,
this writ bgan to be conceived in many places, one of them being a frontier place
called Mesopotamia where Jonathan Blair was observing certain nervous events
which follow,

WM. D. E.

BOOK I

Chapter 1: HARD MONEY

IF IT actually happened, Blair would probably
be for the defense - * afterwards, for that was pretty much the nature
of Jonathan Blair,

But more important to the town . . * where would he stand while
it happened? For that was always the attitude of Mesopotamia.

In the next sixty seconds, it looked as though the town would finally
find out how much silver was in the barrel at the bank or else they'd
find out how much iron was in Sam Hosmer's spine*

It was typical of Jonathan Blair, that even as he watched young
Hu$song*s thumb grip the hammer of his rifle, his thoughts wandered
from the particular fact that old Sam Hosmer could be shot in the
next few seconds * . . to the generalization that if all the Joe Hussongs
in the Northwest Territory took this method of redeeming their wild
cat paper dollars in hard money* the West would go back to war,
internal

Even though there were nine persons in the store of Samuel Hosmer
in the place known as Hosmer's Village, and officially named Meso
potamia, in the Ohio part of the Northwest Territory, they stood so
still that everyone could plainly count the six clicks of the lock on the
rifle of Joe Himong as his thumb pulled back the hammer. Since the
seven men and two women all used Stikes* rifles, they knew Joe
Hussong was now at half-cock. Worse, they knew he was half-crazed,
But worse still, he had a right to be; and he said to Hosmer what the
others would say, if they dared.

"Sam, I don't want to scratch a hair of you. But stand back so the
ricochet don't get you, I'm gonna blast the lock off that iron frame.
Tin gonna open the gate and walk back in there and Tin gonna give
you one hundred paper dollars* Then I'm gonna take one hundred
silver dollars out of that barrel of yours. And I'm gonna take 'em down
and pay the ChilHcothe land office my fifth land payment. Everybody
here knows that's fair.*'

Hussong looked around for corroboration, but if any man had had
in mind to speak, which is doubtful, he was stopped dead still by the v

3

4 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

kind of answer which came back now from the storekeeper-banker
six clicks from Sam Hosmer's rifle-

Hosmer's seventy-year-old arm was not as steady as young t!us*ong*s
but he firmed it up by resting it on one oC the iron ban Ix'html which
he sat. And he rested his case, reasonable or unreasonable, on the
barrel of silver on which he sat. Old Sam Hosmer was the banker.
But since the bank had been robbed of some of its silver how much
Hosmer never said old Sam had refused to let any silver go out, even
though it said on the face of every Mesopotamia Hog fc Trust bank
note that it was redeemable in silver at the bank, This, over &tm*&
signature in the lower right-hand corner.

Because of Hosmer's stubbornness and because everyone knew that
Hosmer was holding onto the silver in the bank, Mesopotamia Hog &
Trust dollars still circulated at very close to par as far as a hundred
miles from Mesopotamia, This was an achievement, because moat of
the thirty-five other kinds of money circulating in the West wouldn't
transfer for half-value fifty miles from the issuing bank, John Piatt
bank notes in Cincinnati were perhaps best, but a John Piatt dollar
was worth only eighty cents in its own home town of Cincinnati. At
Fort Pitt, lately called Pittsburgh, a John Piatt bank-note dollar was
accepted at a rate of sixty-five cents. Farther east at Harrisfourg it
brought sixty cents. At City of New York a John Piatt dollar would
bring fifty cents. At Boston it wouldn't buy a draught of ale.

Bantk of Vincennes notes were fair- But fifty miles from Vineennei
they were only souvenirs. Same with Detroit in the Michigan Territory*
Kankakee in the Illinois Country, and notes on the Dayton Bank,

Besides that, you had to watch from day to day* Mike Stakes had
taken a fistful of Owl Creek Bank notes in payment from Amos Exeter
on Sunday. Sunday night talk got out that Owl Creek Bank dollar*
were only backed up ten to one with silver* Monday morning it was
twelve paper to one silver, and before Stikes could ride down to County
to pay his taxes, the Owl Creek notes had become rifle wadding, Stikes
threw them in the face of the county tax collector. They fell to the
floor. Nobody picked them up.

But through it all people were still accepting Mesopotamia Hog &
Trust notes without much question, down at Boxford'* Cabin, down
at County and even south of that at the Borough of Columbus* That
was because old Sam Hosmer's name was signed to them, and every
body 'knew how he was holding onto what silver was left in the bank

HARD MONEY 5

after the robbery. Only place that wouldn't accept them close to par
was the United States Land Office.

Sam Hosmer wasn't about to let that change. He had let Caleb
Wright's farm go under Emanuel Ault's auction hammer when Wright
tried to redeem his Mesopotamia notes in silver to pay the Land Office.
He had stood by while Wright loaded his family in the wagon to go
back cant.

That took either guts or cusscdncss. Hosmer had both, and when his
hammer was at half-cock he said, "Hussong, ye'll be needin* two guns.
Because after ye fire off that padlock, yell have to shoot me. I'm servin'
notice if ye open that gate, I'll fire."

"Then you better aim sharp," Hussong said. "Because I'm cominV

Hussong shoved Camelia Flannerty away from him and he lowered
his piece to rest his elbow on the counter. Everybody could see he was
lining up his front sights on the Stikes-built padlock that held the iron
grill

Jonathan Blair, the lawyer, watched. And he wished, as he had never
wished before* that he had built himself some stature in the fifteen
years he'd spent up here in the big woods, enough so that he could
step in there now and say something to stop it. Not that he knew what
to say. For Jonathan Blair's trouble now, and for the last fifteen years,
was that he could see both sides of the question. And to btnld a stand
ing in Hosmer Village or anywhere in the Northwest you took a stand
on one side or the other and then you laid everything you had on
the barrelhead* Hosmer right now put his life on a barrel of silver.
When it was over he might be dead, but by God he'd be somebody.

That's how Hosmer had got to be Hosmer. If his name was on it, his
life was on it.

Strangely enough, Blair's sudden desire for some standing in this
place was not to save the life of Hosmer or Hussong. It was because
across the store Hope Emerson was right now looking at him to stop
the fight. She had brought Blair to the store for that purpose. And the
lawyer was only due for about one more chance from Hope.

She stood nearest the padlock. Hussong said, M Blair, you better get
your future wife back from that padlock or shell be getting brass
splinters/'

But Hope only said, "Joe, that gun won't bust this lock, anyhow/*

"Yes* Jt will, Hope. Stikes made the gun."

f< Stikes made the lock, too/' Hope said.

6 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

There was something about the presence of Hope Emerson which
firmed a man in his purpose. A man tried somehow to match her. And
if Joe Hussong had any quaverings about firing, he wouldn't be apt to
back off now, after Hope heard him say he'd fire,

Hussong said, "Step to one side a little, Hope," There were four
more clicks as Hussong pulled his hammer batk to full nk.

They were answered by four more as Hosmer pulled back*

Hope said, "Joe, wait!"

Hussong raised his head from the sights* but not much.

"When I went out and brought back Blair/' Hope said, "it was tx>
cause he knows about these money things. We Imen'i had use for a
lawyer much 'round here. But now we have, and we got one. Tell
them, Jonathan."

Blair said, "Joe, if you take your full hundmt dollar* silver ma,
then everybody's entitled to full silver for their bank notes, Ham said
there isn't that much in the barrel since the robbery. Why should you
get full value?"

Hussong flared at Blair. "Because I'm the one whose payment h due
right now. Because I'm gonna lose that two hundred acres that 1 broke
my back clearin'. Or would you understand that*/ 1

"The others have payments coming due just as "

But the lawyer never finished. Hussong yelled. The explosion and die
smoke filled the store But as the smoke rolled up to the rafters ami
spread under the ceiling, it was sucked out through the bullet hole in
the roof. The crowd saw Hussong's rifle pointed to the roof, held
straight up by the corded arm of Mike Stikcs whose veins stood out as
he strained against Hussong, Gavagan grabbed Hussong from the rear.
Stikes ripped the gun from Hussong's arms and they dragged hint out
side. Hope followed them out, turning her head briefly toward Blair
in a fleeting appraisal, not freighted with admiration.

Hosmer slowly eased forward the hammer of his rifle. He unlocked
the iron grill and came out into the store. The others exhaled now and
moved around*

There were no congratulations for Hosmer, nor expressions of
relief. For each man in the room would soon fare the same dilemma as
Hussong. And they had just had a sample of what they'd have to
face to get silver out of the Mesopotamia Hog Jfc Trust in exchange for
bank notes. You didn't coddle up to a man like Hosmer, because you
might have to fight him tomorrow*

HARD MONEY ^

There was an aristocracy in Hosmer Village as blunt as the hand o
Sam Hosmcr and as Inevitable as survival.

Jonathan Blair knew this as clearly as he knew why he was at the
bottom of it. Ant! as he si tidied the brown face of old Sam Hosmer
which was myriad-wrinkled as the neck of a turtle, he knew why Sam
Hosmer was at the top of it, Hosmer had built a hierarchy of survival.
And when a man could contribute to the survival of Hosmer Village
or Mesopotamia, as Homer trice! to have it called he moved
instantly to a place in the village commensurate with his usefulness.

And law, well, they weren't using much of that in these woods.

Old Sum Hosmer had come out here two years after the Ordinance of
1787, He had found tins place, measured it off, built a cabin and then
gone back for his wife and two of the others.

Mike Stikcs, the lank, white-haired blacksmith stood next to Sam
Hosmer because for the first seventeen years of it, Michael Stikes had
kept the rifles of Mesopotamia functioning well enough so that three
cabins had grown to thirty-three despite Captain Michael's howling
Wyandots.

Scanlcy-thc-Sta*her stood next to Stikes, for he was the slasher. He
had a particular genius with an axe which had become legend and
which put him in demand all along the whole south length of the
Greenville Treaty Line. For Stanley-ihc-SIasher, by judiciously slash
ing cuts into a stand of timber, and then by selecting the key tree to
topple, could bring down an acre of timber in a single day, using
gravity as in knocking down a row of dominoes. And the genius of
$tanlcy-thc-Slahvr could in one day save the backs of ten men from
two weeks work.

Beside Slasher stood Asa Buttrick, and he stood there because in the
two winters of famine which drove half of Mesopotamia back down to
Cincinnati and back east to Fort Pitt, Asa Buttrick, the trader, had
managed to steal and deal for enough corn to get the other half through
the winter.

And next to Asa Buttrick stood young Joe Hussong. It should have
been Thomas Woodbridge, but Woodbridge had left for the Illinois
Territory shortly after the bank had been robbed. Young Joe Hussong,
though, had learned enough of hog husbandry from Woodbridge to
supply the town with pork and breeders.

The others occupied positions in proportion to their ability to sus
tain Mesopotamia- That put a lawyer pretty far down the list.

8 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

They had wondered why Blair had come in the first place with his
fluff-fronted shirt and his talk of improvements* They had wondered
then why he had stayed, frittering with an occasional case of law and
his newspaper, The Tabulator, and his trips to visit the legislature. And
then they had ceased finally to wonder about him at all Except Hope
Emerson did sometimes.

But today Sam Hosmer wrapped a piece of greased doeskin around
his rifle, swung it back on the dowels behind the counter am! turned on
Jonathan Blair.

"Damn it, Blair, if the whole of us can't make OUT land payments to
the Government Land Office, what can they do to us?**

"Foreclose."

"You sure?' 1

"Positive."

"We held off the Wyandots in 'ninety-five, ye know, and again in *o
nine and in eighteen 'leven/'

"But you can't hold off the Land Office."

"We held off the government troops out of Fort Washington when
they said we was squatters."

"Government Land Office will be different/*

"How do you know, damn ye!"

"They're already foreclosing down around Columbus, They're better
about fifth payments. But on third and fourth payments they're not
playing any more,"

"But if the whole of us stick together and plain refuse to git off the
land, what they gonna do about that?"

"They tried that down at Zanesville. Government just moved troops
right in for the auction. Transferred title right there/'

"Well, just don't stand there, Blair!** Sam Hosmer took it out on
Blair because he couldn't get a grip on anything else. Blair knew this.

When the Wyandots started raiding down across the Greenville
Line, old man Hosmer had grabbed an axe and built the blockhouse*
When the Miamis sneaked up and walked off with twenty head of
Hope Emerson's sheep, Hosmer had grabbed a rifle and fourteen men
and brought back the sheep. But when the forty different kinds of
Western currency began to go to rot, Samuel Hosmer could get no grip
on that kind of trouble with his hard, dry hands,

"Damn it, Blair, ye're no hand with an axe, but ye're $*pa$ed to know

HARD MONEY g

what to do about money and law and politics and like that. After all,
ye did set up the legal papers for our bank, and ye did make the legis
lature, even if we are mostly the only people in your district. What do
we do?**

"I told you. You've got to get to Gideon Schaacht in Chillicothe and
get a United States Bank loan for our bank/'

"We tried. Buttrick went down/*

"What did Schaacht say?"

"Wouldn't even talk to Buttrick/*

Buttrick blustered to defend his own prestige. "Well, that is, he
wouldn't talk to me about a loan.'*

"Naturally/' Blair explained, "Schaacht was sent out here to estab
lish a branch of the United States Bank to stabilize the currency of the
West, not to make small loans to settlements this size. We've got to get
somebody important to talk to Schaacht. I told you to ask General Har
rison/*

"He never answered my letter/* Hosmer said.

"Try Governor Worthington."

"Nobody here knows him/*

"Nicholas Longworth or Jacob Burnet down at Cincinnati could
talk to Schaacht/'

"Yeah/ 1 said Matt Gavagan* "But who in hell can talk to Longworth
or Burnet?**

Stikes returned to the store* Hope Emerson was with him. She
handed a letter to Sam Hosmer.

"Elizabeth sent this over. Said it was from General Harrison. Maybe
it's good/'

The crowd wished Hosmer through the motions of breaking the seal.
He held it at arm's length and read it through silently. Then he said,
"The General writes, 'Dear Mr. Hosmer, I have laid the case o a
United States Bank Loan for Mesopotamia before Gideon Schaacht
I have explained the services you performed for our army during the
war, and Gideon Schaacht has assured me that he will receive a repre
sentative from your town to discuss this possibility. Your servant, Wil
liam Henry Harrison/ "

It further advanced Hosmer's standing that he showed no surprise
or elation at receiving a letter from General Harrison, But in that same
proportion it added to his responsibility. Asa Buttrick said, "That

10 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

settles it, Sam, if you can get an answer from General Harrison, you're
the one to go see Schaacht. You can get the genera! to take you in to
Schaacht."

"No. I stay here to keep charge of the bank."

Gavagan bawled, "What's there to keep charge of? Ever since the
robbery you never said how much silver is left in that barrel ya guard
so close."

"You want to run the bank?" snapped Hosmcr.

"No. But you could tell us how much silver we got left/'

"Enough so's Mesopotamia dollars are at least better than most of
'em! It's gonna stay that way!"

Buttrick said, "Then let's send Stikcs to see Bumct. He met him
once. Get Burnet to see Nicholas Longworth. And get Longworth to
see Schaacht."

Hope Emerson didn't move, but Blair noticed that when she spoke
she became the center of the room. "Seems to me we're goin* the long
way round," she said. "We have in this room here the right person
that should go direct to this Gideon Schaacht, We have a lawyer that
knows about those papers and such. And he's a state legislator- That
ought to be good enough to talk to this Gideon Schaacht or anybody

else."
The eyes of Mesopotamia converged on Blair as if they saw him for

the first time. But Blair said, "Hope, you don't understand about this

Gideon Schaacht and "

"I understand he's only a man. Can he be so damnation fearful?'*
Buttrick spread his coat and hooked his thumbs in the pockets of

the vast waistcoat which was unveiled. "Hope/* he said, "the way it

works with sending a man like Blair to talk to a man like Schaacht

IS -- 1 -- 1

"Is like anything else, to my notion," said Hope. "When we needed
a good shot we got Slover Navarre, When we needed a trader we got
you. Now we need a man that understands money and papers, We got
Blair."

She snatched the letter from General Harrison. Hosmcr reached 10
retrieve it. But she passed it to Blair.

"You'd best have this letter with you, Jonathan. And you'd best
hurry. The Land Office won't wait much longer for our payments,
You see Schaacht . . . somehow"

Buttrick laughed. "Fat chance. Set her straight, Blair! 1 *

HARD MONEY n

But Jonathan Blair folded the letter into his pocket and for some
preposterous reason he said, "She's already straight, Buttrick. I'll get
the loan/ 1

Matt Gavagan curried Blair's bay as if Gideon Schaacht personally
might inspect it, Mike Stikes bent new iron and replaced all four shoes*
Stanley Slasher carved black-walnut buttons for Blair's faded-blue
wool army shortcoat. Hope Emerson bleached his buckskin trousers
so at a distance they looked like Cincinnati cloth pants, Blair stuck
Hosmer's letter from General Harrison in his coat pocket and headed
the bay south,

At the ford Sam Hosmer stopped him and grabbed the bridle. Blair
looked down into the watery old eyes,

"Yes, Sam?"

"Blair, bring back the loan, I can't hold out much longer."

"You can't what?"

"Just bring back the loan, understand? Bring back the damned loan."

Blair splasited across the ford and into the woods - . south.

During fifteen years in the upper woods, Jonathan Blair had forgot
ten that it could he infinitely more difficult to traverse twenty feet of
political corridor than two hundred miles of wilderness. Thus, after
riding all the way south from the Greenville Treaty Line over the old
Harrison War Road through the little clearing of Columbus and then
on down over the old Scioto Trace to Chillicothe, he finally stood
within twenty feet of the great man. Yet he might as well not have
come to the United States Bank in Chillicothe, For he was separated
from the great Gideon Schaacht by twenty feet of hallway and the
thickness of a young clerk's ego. The clerk said, "I'm sorry, sir, but
Mr, Schaacht has no record of an appointment with you. And he re
members no letter from General Harrison mentioning your bank."

The clerk sat down and resumed writing, leaving Blair standing
there with cold-reddened hands hanging out of his sleeves.

"Look, I'm all the way down from Hosmer Village. Blair's the name.
Jonathan Blair*"

The handsome young clerk stopped his writing and looked up, study
ing Blair's leather breeches with complacent interest,

"Some new settlement in the Michigan Territory?"

"No. Mesopotamia is the real name. And it's right here in the State

12 JONATHAN BLAIR; Bounty Lands Lawyer

of Ohio. I represent eighty- three people and I've got to see Gideon
Schaacht."

The young man pulled out a map of the Northwest Territory. On
it Blair could see Cincinnati, Detroit, Vincennes, Louisville, Dayton,
Columbus wasn't even on it yet. How could you explain to a fluff-
shirted young clerk who'd obviously never been north of the tame In
dian belt that there were eighty-three persons in a place called Meso
potamia and a few thousand more scattered in settlements up through
the big woods who had more right to call on the help of Gideon
Schaacht and the United States Bank than all the Ohio River mer>
chants who still thought the frontier was just north of Chillicothe and
just west of Cincinnati.

Blair pointed four and a half inches north of Chillicothe- **Up here
it is."

"Up there? That's Indian country still"

"Not legally, it isn't. The Greenville Treaty Line is a few miles north
of us. We've been there over fifteen years. If we hadn't been* you
wouldn't be here now."

The clerk smirked and rolled up the map asking, "And you're the
state legislator from there?" His eyes raked Blair's spattered boots* The
outfit which had looked ridiculously fancy up in Mesopotamia was
ridiculously crude in Chillicothe.

"That's right. I haven't sat yet/ f Blair said. * 4 But I will, next legis
lature/'

"And you're here to get a United States Bank loan, and since you
represent a town of eighty-three people, you should go right in to see
Mr, Schaacht . . ."

Blair took a step down the hall toward where he could see the great
man's boots crossed under a writing desk. But a white bar swung across
the aisle blocking him and the clerk finished his sentence.

"You should go right in, while over there, waiting, sits a man from
Dayton which already has one hundred thirty houses. Over there sits
one from Steubenville which has eleven factories* There sits one from
Vincennes which has 1,200 people and eighteen stores. And all those
others. All waiting to see Gideon Schaacht, You should go in? I'm
afraid not, Mister/'

Blair sat down under the stares of the others,

Three days he sat in that waiting room in the bank while the dis
tressed merchants from the major cities along both shores of the Ohio

HARD MONEY 13

River came by appointment only to ask loans of the fabulous Gideon
Schaacht who held the economic destiny of the West in his long-fin
gered palm, and in the thick vaults of his United States Bank.

Blair saw the great men of the West stride down that corridor con
fidently to the office of Gideon Schaacht. Then he saw many of them
slink back out, slowly, followed out the door by the all-wise eyes of the
clerk whom he now knew to be named Justin Holding.

Bezalecl Wells, who had built up Steubenville, barged in aggressively,
minced out quietly, John Piatt, who had supplied General Harrison's
armies, came begging for his struggling bank. Colonel Cook, hero of
the battle at Thames, came in with a loud patronizing greeting to
Balding, and he slunk out ignoring Holding's patronizing goodbye.

Yes, they had bought too much land. Yes, they had loaned too much
money to others who bought too much land with it. Yes, it was their
fault. But they had banked on the big immigration. That was why
these men had knocked Proctor out of the West and driven him back
into Canada, That was why they had torn the West away from Tecum-
seh and driven Rontondee and Captain Michael and Silver Pigeon up
north of the Greenville Line.

Now the wilderness was ready for the immigrants, and these fron
tiersmen had bought up huge hunks of it to sell to the horde that was
sure to come with silver in its pockets. But the horde had not come
with silver. The horde that came had been ragged, broke; and it had
not been such a horde at that.

The West was mortgaged to the United States government, now
creditor to its heroes who had created a Western paper money which
was rapidly becoming worthless. But the Congress and Mr. Monroe
had created the United States Bank to remedy this. And he had sent
out a branch of it, in the person of the brilliant Gideon Schaacht, to
save the West . . at 6 per cent.

The name of the savior rang through the big woods from Pittsburgh
to Vincennes to Louisville with various effect* Blair had heard it
rolled off the tongues of judges on the court circuit, "Gideon Schaacht/'
with a powerful tone that built some supra-judiciary deity. He had
heard it pronounced brusquely by lawyers on the circuit court, "Gideon
Schaacht/' a* a kind of threat In political discussions at Exeter's
Tavern, Blair had heard it hushed about, "Colonel Schaacht says/'
picturing some powerful chess player whose influence crossed all ap
pointments, military, postal, civil, judicial * - . federal, state and county.

14 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

But at this moment the man who paused at the clerk's desk on hi&
way out spat out that name so it shattered the afternoon.

"Schaacht! Hah!"

The speaker broke his cane over the rail in front of the desk of
Bolding, who did not give him the satisfaction of removing the broken
stick from his desk. The clerk now beckoned to Blair, who went up to
him, hat in hand.

"We still find no record of an appointment for you with Gideon
Schaacht. But go down the hall and into the room at the end." As he
walked the twenty feet into the large office, Jonathan Blair rehearsed
his speech for Gideon Schaacht. The heavy-set man at the writing table
did not look up from his writing.

He said, "Yes?" He had a stack of letters at cither elbow, Two other
quills lay on the table. The desk was as cluttered and as busy as the
man. He repeated, "Yes?"

"It's about the Bank at Hosmer's Village, sin that is, Mesopotamia,
up under the Greenville Treaty Line."

The big man looked up and appraised Blair as if he were collateral

"Do you tell me, sir, that while we are trying to pump good currency
into the West to lift the entire Mississippi Valley out of economic
crisis, you come to talk to me about a bank in a place called Hosmer's
Village or Mesopotamia?"

"I believe you had word about us in a letter from General Har
rison, one of your directors. Blair's my name/*

"I had no such word."

"But there was a letter."

"When?"

Blair suddenly remembered that Hope had given him Hosmer's let
ter from Harrison. He dropped the folded letter on the table. The big
man snapped it open, read it, spiralled it back in front of Blair,

"I see you didn't think I would really read it. Good trick, Blair* But
it didn't work."

Blair was mystified. He read the letter for the first time.

"DEAR MR. HOSMER:

/ am sorry it is necessary to advise you I have not found it po$*
sible to write to Colonel Schaacht recommending a loan far the
Mesopotamia Bank. As you know* the United States Bank's mi$*
sion is to give the West a stable and honest currency. To accom*

HARD MONEY 15

plhh this vast object* Colonel Schaacht must place his loans very
well and carefully and on large scales. He will need to concentrate
on the large centres of populace and on the large manufactories.

Your servant
WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON."

Blair looked up, surprised. The man behind the desk said, "They
have tried everything on me/'

But the fierce musk before him now about-faced to such a pleasant
expression of alertness that Blair felt the great man must sympathize
with his predicament. But the change was not for Blair.

Some presence had entered the room. From behind Blair a deep, ex
tremely relaxed and granulated voice said, "Riddle, how badly was
Pittsburgh discounting the notes of the John Piatt Bank last week, also
the Western Reserve Bank, Marietta Bank, Vincennes Bank and the
Bank of Lake Erie? And how were those notes holding up as far east as
Harrisburg?" The new speaker was an enormously tall man and as he
talked he strode to the empty table with his hands in his pockets.

The questioner obviously was not about to repeat the involved ques
tion, nor was it necessary, for the man opposite Blair had listened
with nervous attention, moving his lips to make sure he had gotten it
alt He said, "Got it right here, Gideon," and he attacked the pile o
papers on his desk-
Blair had mistaken someone else for Schaacht Riddle had looked
and acted like the legend of Schaacht It was amazing to Blair that
there could be a man on earth who could so instantly dwarf the giant
he had believed to be Schaacht. But Schaacht's presence in the room
changed Riddle to a boy. Riddle hurried over to Schaacht and ex
tended a paper. Schaacht did not take his hands from his pockets, only
turned his head to study the paper which James Riddle held steady
for him.

Schaacht *$ was a face which presumed that everything in the room
would accommodate to him . . . as in fact it did, for as Schaacht studied
the paper, his left hand groped on the desk for a pen where there was
no pen. One appeared suddenly, though, for Bolding, the alert clerk
passing by on another errand, placed a pen in front of Schaacht's grop
ing hand,

Everybody else In this building moved fast . . scurried, In fact. But
Schaacht moved slowly, He touched nothing. People came to him with

16 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

questions, followed along beside him while they received answers, and
then left him without ever changing the big man's course, nor even
causing his hands to leave his pockets.

It was distasteful to Blair that he found himself watching Schaariu
with such concentration, but he did watch. Schaaclu's head seemed
mostly cranium. The forehead was vast and bony, the eyes xvere deep-
sheltered under it in sockets of shadow. The face was wide where the
jawbones made sharp corners under the ears, bin the cavernous cheeks
then slanted in toward the nose so abruptly that the face came to a
knife edge at the nose which seemed to slash through the room and
through the West,

It was a large head, but it seemed small because of the breadth of
shoulder. The man was vital, and as he moved, the rippling folds in
the new cloth of his clothes outlined muscle. There was a vigor out
of keeping with finance, and Blair could imagine this man had sur
prised many professionals on his way up, "On his way up/' Blair
thought, because this man had obviously come from somewhere, and
was going somewhere.

Schaacht looked over at Blair, who rose from his chair. "Mr, Schaacht,
I came down from Mesopotamia to see about a loan for "

But Schaacht looked to Riddle who explained, *'Mr. Blair was just
leaving."

''But I came all the way to see Mr, Schaacht, I represent eighty-three
people who "

But Gideon Schaacht walked out of the room into the adjoining
office followed by Bolding who held out a paper.

The bay shook his neck and head in puzzled impatience at Blair's
restraining hand on the bridle as they traveled north over the Scioto
Trace toward Mesopotamia- Blair was in no hurry to return. Up until
one hour ago, Jonathan Blair, the lawyer, had had a chance to take a
place in Mesopotamia beside the slasher, the gunsmith, the hog fanner,
the hunter and the marksman, the men who had built Mesopotamia
without the help of the lawyer. When the opportunity had finally
come to show Mesopotamia and himself that the Blairs of this world
were also contributing, the lawyer had botched it

He slowed the bay to a walk and he wondered how you tell Sam
Hosmer and Asa Buttrick and Amos Exeter and Mike Stikes that you

HARD MONEY 17

didn't get a loan for the Mesopotamia Hog fc Trust Bank. How do you
explain that you didn't even get to talk to Gideon Schaacht?

Blair remembered about the letter. He boiled at Hosmer's trickery,
and he took it out on the bay's tender mouth. Hosmer had pretended
to read the letter, but obviously he had made up the words to encour
age someone to attempt the loan. Blair wanted Hope to know this.

At Czrclcville, Blair dismounted at the blacksmith shop. He said,
"Mike Stikes in my town told me to stop here. He said to get a three-
pound bar of brass from you suitable for making trigger guards and
rifle sears,"

The smith handed him the bar. Blair pulled out his paper money.
"How much?"

"Depends."

"You can see what kind I've got/' Blair said. "Here's some Zanesville
Bank notes* You know that bank/*

"Three dollars/'

Blair peeled oif three Zanesville Bank notes.

"But I see you got Mesopotamia Bank notes, too. I'd rather have one
of those titan three of the others/'

Blair looked at the smith, surprised.

"Got that old man Hosmer's signature on it, hasn't it?"

"You know Hosmer?"

'There's a story goin' round that he's got every one of the Meso
potamia Hog & Trust notes backed up with damn near a dollar's worth
of solid silver. Hell do anything to keep it that way/'

"People know that this far down?"

"And they say, too, he's got a lawyer down at Ghillicothe gettin' a
loan of good United States Bank notes from Gideon Schaacht. That'll
make Mesopotamia dollars solid as gold."

Blair continued north, but slowly. "He'll do anything to keep it that
way*" Jonathan Blair got a new picture of Samuel Hosmer.

The bay shook his head, neck and bridle and slathered sideways fifty
feet, refusing to believe Blair really meant to haw back south. Once
turned back south, Blair raked the bay's belly with his heels and closed
the distance to Chillicothe and Gideon Schaacht.

Outside the United States Bank in Chillicothe Jonathan Blair stood
watching the men come out. The ones who walked fast, he let go by.

i8 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

But the ones who walked very fast, and the ones who walked very
slow, he studied for a particular facia! expression a particular com
bination of anger and despair. He stepped in front of a short thin one.

"Blair's my name. Jonathan Blair/' The thin one looked up at Blair
and stepped around his outstretched hand. He walked to the hitching
rail and untied his lines. Blair said, "No Jack, huh?**

"How do you know?"

"They told you the United States Bank loans were only to be given
to big banks and big merchants where they could influence the whole
currency."

"Look, Mister. I was sent back here from Lebanon.** He swung into
his saddle. "I got a long way to go.*'

The thin one pulled his mount around. But before he had gone three
rods, Blair raised his voice, "What are you going to tell them back
there?"

The thin one hawed around again, looked at Blair for a moment,
then rode off, but slower.

Blair walked along the line of patient horses that were tied to the
rail. They were well groomed and harnessed for the most part. But
one large hunter had an untanned rawhide bridle, a very dusty saddle
bag with sweat stains around it, and he was splattered io the shoulders
with dried mud, Blair waited in front of that horse.

He guessed the owner as soon as he came out of the bank building.
He was perhaps the one man in Chillicothe who wore more buckskin
than Blair, and he looked even more out of place, Blair noticed that
his boots matched the mud on the hunter and the friendly arrogance
of his face matched the enormity of the horse. The leatherclad in*
dividual accepted Blair's hand with unguarded interest*

"Blair's my name, sir."

"Jackson Garth."

"From far?"

"Piqua, near the Indiana Country.** Garth rubbed the sides oC his
horse, crumbling cake mud to dust. "I should have known better'n
come here/' he continued, "But we need currency, Most of us are com
ing due for second and third land payments out there. No money.
Land Office is gettin' mean."

"Did you get a loan?" Blair asked*

"From Schaacht?" Garth spat. "Hah!"

Garth disappeared around the other side of the horse and bent to

HARD MONEY 19

dust off the shoulders and belly. His voice floated under the horse.
"They said loans to the territories and the northern parts won't help
stabilize the money. No influence on the trade."

* 4 Maybe we'd look more like an influence if he'd see us in a bunch,"
said Blair.

Garth's head appeared above the saddle. "How do you mean?"

Jonathan Blair started to propose an idea to Jackson Garth. In the
middle of it the thin one who had ridden away, came back. He dis
mounted and listened, saying nothing. As the two of them listened to
Blair, a third man came out of the bank building dressed somewhat
like Garth. Garth yelled to him. "Adonijahl Get over to the tavern
and bring back any of that Wabash crowd that was with us. Go ahead,
Mr. Blair, This is kind of int'ristinV

The thin one was some help. Not much. Jackson Garth was a big
help. He stayed with Blair outside the door for two days, talking to the
men who came out.

Garth was neither so careful nor so discerning as Blair, but more
direct and less respectful of brocaded waistcoats, Blair let one brocade
waistcoat go by. But Garth stopped him with his usual approach, "Did
that high-belted bandit give you the same runaround, sir?"

The way Garth pronounced "sir" it was no "sir" at all by eastern
manners,, It was the territorial kind o "sir" which gave the stranger
temporary benefit of any doubt, demanding the same in return. The
brocade vest returned him the Chiliicothe-Cincinnati variety, "Sir!"

"I mean, did the old " Garth looked at the lady on the arm o the

brocaded vest and he amended. "Did Schaacht give you a loan? We're
gettin* up a little meetin' over in the old statehouse there. Aim to in
vite highpockets over to explain us a few things about how this You-
nited States Bank works."

The girl disengaged from the arm of the brocaded vest and walked
briskly back toward the bank.

"Now what did I say that she left so quick?" Garth asked.

"That happens to be Virginia Schaacht, the daughter."

Blair overheard the explanation and he saw the decision in the girl's
march. He immediately walked to the door ahead of Miss Schaacht. As
he opened the door, she started to go through, but Blair preceded her,
leaving her to face closed panels and the necessity to remove her hands
from her muff to open them.

Blair stopped at the clerk's desk. But Bolding was not there. He

20 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

heard Virginia Schaacht open the door behind him and he hurried
down the hall to the big office ahead of her. He stepped into the office
and said, "Mr. Schaachtl"

But he faced the broad, tailored back of Schaacht. Schaacht was not
in the habit of turning to answer everyone who called his name, and
he continued listening to the clerk who now hurried his story. Like
many a bright young assistant, Bolding had let Blair's threat grow
into a good one before he reported it; and then he arrived complete
with a suggested solution. Blair heard him conclude.

"So they plan to invite you to address all the disappointed loan ap
plicants, Mr. Schaacht, and by weight of numbers to bring pressure.
So I suggest, sir, you send me or Mr. Riddle to handle the meeting
while you leave for the business in Cincinnati.**

Bolding was disappointed in Schaacht's reaction, mainly because
there was none. The tall man continued studying a paper*

Virginia Schaacht carne bursting past Blair and confronted Schaacht,
But apparently even the daughter was trained, for though eager to
speak, she only placed her hand on Schaacht's arm while he finished
reading.

Bolding said, "I told him, Virginia/'

Schaacht handed the paper to Bolding for disposal and when he
finally spoke, Blair experienced an admiration for him, lie said, "Very
shortsighted, Bolding. Do you think that the United States Bank is
some private secret to be kept from the best men in this territory? You
are no longer in Philadelphia. Men who are sent here to get loans of
us are leaders of their territories. Thank Mr, Blair for arranging this
opportunity to explain my ideas* Tell him to send for me when his
people are assembled and seated/'

"Yes, sir/'

As Bolding approached to tell him what he had already overheard,
Blair watched the face of Virginia Schaacht which smiled at him in
victory. Blair touched the broad brim of his flat fell hat, and he left
before Bolding repeated the message.

Blair noticed the great power of the man by the stillness of the audi
ence and by the skillfulness of Schaadu's opening remark,

"This meeting was an excellent idea- I should have thought of It
myself. It is very important to me to have this particular group under-

HARD MONEY su

stand the mission of the United States Bank, You are necessarily the
men who must explain these matters to your people." ^

There was no flattery. It was true. The men leaned forward, and
Gideon Schaacht's deep voice drained their anger and asked them for
assistance in his tremendous assignment. He explained that the United
States Bank brunch in Chillicothe and the other one in Cincinnati had
been created to abolish the forty different kinds of defective wildcat
currency that was bankrupting the entire West His mission was to
give the West a dollar bill that was worth a dollar anywhere, not just
in the town where it was issued.

The men felt the pressure which was on this man and they felt
ashamed. And Gideon Schaacht spoke the truth and nothing but the
truth* If it was not the whole truth, it sounded like it.

When he had finished explaining that he must lend United States
Bank notes where they would best stabilize Western currency, heads
were even seen to nod understandingly. Schaacht then added hope
that the United States Bank loans would gradually extend farther and
farther north and west to spread sound money up through the big
woods.

Blair stood up. "Excuse me, sir. But will not the good United States
Bank notes flow back east to pay our debts back there, leaving your
bank without notes to loan?"

44 Yes. But we will get more notes from the mother bank at Phila
delphia/'

"Then, will they not become watered down as our own wildcat
money?'* Blair asked.

"No," said Schaacht- "As we make more loans, which money may
flow back east, we will replace missing specie, of course, by mortgages
against your property. So the value still remains here. It matters not
whether a dollar bill is backed up with a chunk of silver or a mortgage
on a farm/'

"Yes, but mortgages don't circulate, do they?"

Schaacht colored some. But the men in the room were not interested
and Gideon Schaacht knew it.

"Mr, Blair, this gets a little abstruse. I'll be glad to talk in my office."

A few heads turned to Blair wishing him to sit down. But he asked,
"One other question, Mr. Schaacht You refer always to the United
States Bank as though it were an official institution of the government.

2,2 JONATHANBLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

But actually, isn't it just a private house of business in which the gov
ernment happens to hold some stock? And are you not a principal
stockholder in it?"

"Mr. Blair, I suggest we release these men and continue this discus
sion in the office." Gideon Schaacht walked out of the old State-
house a hero to the men whom he had refused, and that is power* Blair
knew it.

When Blair re-entered Schaacht 's office the third time it was upon
an entirely different footing. Riddle, the cashier, shoved a chair to
ward him. Justin Bolding paid him the honor of glaring at him
instead of grinning. Gideon Schaacht now even listened attentively,

Now an attitude of attention from Gideon Schaacht was in itself
formidable. It was not mere courtesy. It was scrutiny. Though his
long face was relaxed and his body was slouched in the chair with
arms folded, boots extended and crossed under the table, his eyes were
alert and direct. The cranium inclined toward Blair so that huge
black brows had to lift a little to let the eyes look out at the visitor,
much as Blair had seen Slover Navarre hold his eye to the sights of
his rifle for minutes on end patiently waiting for a Wyandot to crawl
to a place where he could be shot handier.

"Mesopotamia, you say, Mr. Blair?"

"Yes."

"Bolding, get the map, if you please,"

While Bolding went for the map Blair felt awkward sitting in the
silent rays of Schaacht's scrutiny, the more so because Virginia Schaacht
also sat watching, as though she were at some sporting event* In fifteen
years up in the big woods among the Faith Hawkinses and the Hope
Emersons and Elizabeth Buttricks and the Wyandot girls, Jonathan
Blair had forgotten the sounds of silk ami the smells of eastern perfume
and the transparency of the skin of a woman who stayed in the house
and didn't wear leather. But even as he remembered them now, he
still did not remember any time when these things had combined to
create such a presence in any room. Without looking directly at her,
he was overwhelmingly aware of the little rustlings m she (hanged
her position in her chair, and he was aware of an area of whiteness
.of face and throat so delicate that it should be covered against the
dust and gaze of the world.

He further felt that she must know what he was thinking. And
to break it he said, "Mr. Schaacht, the men who sent me to ask for

HARD MONEY 23

this loan have every confidence In the land. We are north and west
of the Borough of Columbus. The dirt is black eighteen to thirty
inches down. The land will repay many times the money we need
to hold this ground."

"You don't look like a man that would care about the blackness
of the dirt, Mr, Blair. In fact, you wear the clothes of a frontiersman,
but you act like an easterner. In fact, you seem out of place in either
place. I can't figure you."

"I've been up there long enough to know that those people are all
on their fourth and fifth land payments to the government," Blair
said. "And I know now that the bad money in the West is only a
symptom of something else. Your real object should be to keep that
ground in the hands of the men who have held it this long already.
If you can do that, the currency will correct itself."

"How should I do this?"

"Give a loan to Mesopotamia so that they can make their fourth and
fifth payments to the Land Office, They'll make the land pay."

"Hah!" Schaacht sat up and shoved a long skinny finger into Blair's
face. "You were making sense until you said that. But that's the
trouble. They have too much confidence in the land. That's why
they borrowed too much money to buy too much land. That's why
they contracted to buy four hundred acres of land from the government,
and now they're scratching to pay for forty/'

Blair had no answer.

"Furthermore," said Schaacht, "I am already forced to become
depository for the monies received by the United States Land Office
across the road. Every clay they bring in bales of the wild paper that
you people are paying into the Land Office. What am I supposed to
do with the stuff? Paper the walls? What would you do with it?"

"When you have stabilized the currency," said Blair, "why couldn't
you loan it back out?"

Schaacht considered the suggestion seriously.

Bolding brought in the map, and like a good aide, he had made
a mark indicating Mesopotamia. This brought more life to the face
of Gideon Schaacht than anything yet. He left Bolding holding the
map, but he tapped it with his finger.

"That's in the Indian country, BlairP

"No. Just under it."

"Draw the line in"

<> 4 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair drew in the Greenville Treaty Line, Schaacht said, "No, down
here a little more."

Blair said, "Oh? How come you know something about it?"

Schaacht snapped his head to Blair, but apparently found no danger.
He said, "Well, now that the Wyandots have ceded most of that area
under the new treaty, I'm naturally interested. Do tlw Indians seem
to be content with the treaty?"

"No/'

"No?"

"That's right," Blair said. "Is that important to you?"

"Well ... uh ... the sooner those Indians are moved off the !and f
under the terms of the treaty, the sooner those lands can go up for
sale. Sooner they go up for sale, the sooner we can get some eastern
money out here . - eastern buyers. 1 '

Schaacht studied the map slowly, not noticing that Holding's arm
was quivering from holding it up so long. In a new mild tone of voice
Schaacht said, "Blair, tell me, are you familiar with these chiefs up
here?"

"We all are. As soon as the Indians evacuate the land under the
terms of the treaty our people want to move in and stake out new
farms."

"Why?"

"Because it looks like they're going to lose the farms they now have
to the Land Office. Starting on a new piece of ground, though* they
start with new credit from the government/'

"Huh. Is there as much black walnut up there as they say?'*

"There's a lot."

"I hear there's salt, too."

"That's another thing we've got our eye on,"

Abruptly Schaacht turned back to the other subject.

"Blair, you may tell your people that . . . uh . * . perhaps we can
work out a loan for the Mesopotamia Hog & Trust Bank,'*

Blair drew his chair closer and waited for more, But there was no
more, Gideon Schaacht rose and offered his arm to his daughter.

"When, Mr. Schaacht?"

"Later. I'll send a man up to examine the properties on which such
a loan could be secured."

"When?"

But Gideon Schaacht left the room with his daughter.

HARD M0NEY 25

Blair could see Mesopotamia lose interest immediately after Sam
Hosmer asked his pointed question.

"When will he come up to look us over for the loan?"

"He didn't say/' Blair answered.

Stikes and Hussong were already turning away to leave the store.
But Hosmer dung to the last*

"But what did he do when ye asked him when he would come?"

"He walked out of the room."

The store began to empty. Hope Emerson stepped to the center of
the store. "Don't act like it wasn't better than nothing," she charged.
"Did you expect Blair would be packing the money back in his saddle
bag?"

But they turned and left. In Mesopotamia when a Wyandot had to
be shot, he had to be shot right now or sooner. When a cabin had
to be raised, it had to be done now, before snow.

They needed currency now, and Jonathan Blair had not brought it.

That's why it seemed a great day for the lawyer when a young man
from Chillicothe rode into Hosmer Village and asked for Jonathan
Blair.

The village had seen the splotch of white at the young man's throat
when he rode in. They noticed he wore a side arm instead of a rifle,
and that lie wiped his feet before he entered the store. Then they
saw Camclia Flanncrty hurry from the store over to Blair's cabin in
the center of the village. They saw Blair follow her out and head back
toward the store. And almost simultaneously that morning the settlers
of Hosmer Village remembered errands at the store.

It was easy for everybody to see they were two of a kind. The young
lad was like Blair had been fifteen years before; dressed fine and
somewhat arrogant and looking out of place like a pig in pants. But
that was all right. If Blair could understand this young whippersnapper
and get a loan out of him for the town, it didn't matter what the two
of them looked like.

The young man, whose name was Justin Bolding, was looking
around as though he wasn't used to conducting his business in front
of everybody. Blair said, "It's all right, Mr. Bolding. It's just as well
they're all assembled, These are the people whose property you'll
want to appraise for the loan to our bank. We're all stockholders in
our bank, And we're mighty glad you're here. We were beginning to
think you weren't coming."

2 6 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"You mean you were expecting me?"

"Schaacht said we'd get a United States Bank loan/'

Justin Holding looked around the store. "Oh, is that what you

think?"

"Well, you're from the bank."
"No. I'm not here for the bank."
"Not for the bank?"
"No. And I'm afraid you'd best give up that loan idea, Mr, fcchaacm

perhaps spoke too quickly/'

They stared at him. ^

Hosmer said, "If you didn't come about the loan, what then**

Bolding addressed Blair. "I came up to ask if I could read law
under you. Wondered if you'd be my preceptor,"

The crowd left the store.

In his own cabin, Blair looked across at the fancy young man. You
said you knew Judge Burnet in Cincinnati, Bolding?"

"Yes."

"And you know Governor Worthington?"

"Yes "

"And you know Corwin of Lebanon and Wells of Stcubenvillc and

Sloo in Cincinnati?"

"Yes. But what has that to do with It, Blair?"
Blair rose and walked a few paces. "If you know these, the most
prominent lawyers in the West, what do you want to read law under
me for? I've got three law books and outside of this last year I haven't
tried ten cases a year/ 1

Bolding looked with unconcealed contempt at the three rain-stained
volumes over Blair's door. "I brought my own books/ 1 he said.
"The devil with your books. Why did you pick me for preceptor?"
"I thought you knew. Your brilliant reputation, of course/*
Blair stared at the impertinent brat. He said, "Bolding, you might
be just mean enough to get along up here, I'll take you on. But you'll
find your own quarters. You'll execute all documents I ask for. Youll
furnish your own horse and found. And I still doubt like hell if I
ever recommend you for the bar/*

Bolding grinned. "I doubt if I'll need your recommendation,*
Blair said, "Get your boots off my bunk if you don't mind"

Chapter 2: COURT DAT

JONATHAN BLAIR believed that it was
patience that would save the West, patience and waiting; and he
wondered it these men would wait. While opposing counsel fanned
their anger, Jonathan Blair further wondered what he could do about
it if they did not wait.

His glance circled the courtroom while the auditors stared at the
Indian defendant in the dock. It was only the first time the old block
house in Mesopotamia had been used for a courtroom, and certainly
it would be the first time the old blockhouse had administered justice
instead of bullets to a Wyandot. That is, it would be justice if these
men would be patient.

But Blair saw no patience on the crinkled leather face of old Sam
Hosmer who sat as a matter of course in the middle of the first row
of puncheon benches, leaning forward. He strained old eyes to glare
at the Wyandot with a concentration he once saved only for the sights
of his rifle.

Hosmcr was founder, father and patron saint of Hosmer Village or
Mesopotamia, as he tried to have it called. He had no patience for
anyone who deterred settlement here. The Indian who sat in the
dock would cost the settlement a good Merino sheep farmer, and
Merino wool was beginning to look like an escape from bankruptcy.
More than that the Indian was costing them their self-respect. For
Mason Irving, the new settler, had now seen the depths of their
poverty, the height of the mortgages on their land, and the treachery
of Western money. He would report this when he went back east,
and the report would slow up immigration here, further postponing
the dream for which old Hosmer had paid a lifetime and two sons.

Blair saw no patience on the massive, jutting jaw of Brutus Christ-
offerson who sat next to Hope Emerson, hoping to comfort her with
the nearness of his muscled bulk. Blair saw no patience either on the
dark face of young Joe Hussong who looked at the Indian as though
he remembered the crimson splurting from his father's right eye
through the fingers of his hand, running down his bare forearm and

s>8 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

streaming off his elbow. Blair saw the sweat of Hussong's hand wet
the iron rifle barrel . . . though the day was cold.

There was no patience on the good blunt face of Jim Dolk who
remembered when Hosmcr Village scalps were bringing $.1.50 at the
British fort at Detroit.

Captain Michael, the ancient Wyandot in the defendant's dock,
inherited all that. But worst of all, Captain Michael inherited the
enmity of all the friends of Hope Emerson. They remembered the
singing whing of the Wyandot bullet that had widowed her. More
than anyone else she sealed the Indian's doom, for it was her brother
who had been tricked by the Indian. Her brother was the prospective
settler. His arrival had been long-awaited by the village Cor two reasons.
First, he was to bring to the village two more rams and eight more
ewes of the fabulous new Merino sheep to augment Hope's Rock.
Second, he was Hope's brother, and Hope Emerson was much loved
here. And on Hope's face, there was no sympathy for the Indian,

There was another side to the story, too, but the eloquent young
opposing counsel was not bringing that into the courtroom right now.
Stuttgart was his name, and he was good. He was up from Kentucky
to travel the Ohio court circuits, and he gave these Mc*0fx>tamians
a taste of the show and the eloquence which Kentucky attorneys had
brought up to the Western bar. Blair had lost four cases to him in four
different towns in the Western circuit this month.

Fortunately there was no jury for there were no peers here for
Captain Michael, the old Wyandot chief.

Opposing counsel half-faced to the crowd and lowered his voice to
the lush baritone, which Blair now recognised as the !>eginning of
his close. Stuttgart was laying out for the crowd the Indian's vast
treachery.

"The plaintiff . . . then breaks his way west across the Allegheny
Radges in his wagon with his family, He is looking forward 10 joining
his sister . . . your widowed Mrs. Emerson- In his pocket he has his
savings. At your borders he meets this Indian who professes to be
heading east and in need of eastern currency. The Indian persuades
Irving that he will need Western currency to make any purchases in
the West. The Indian agrees to swap his filthy Western money for
Irving's good Boston Bank notes, on seemingly attractive terms. The
unsuspecting Irving then swaps his hard-saved pocketful of money

COURT DAY 29

for two pocketfuls of the most illegitimate collection of Western wild-
cat paper that I have ever seen.

"The plaintiff, Irving, arrives at your town to find that his two
pocketfuls of paper trash will not even trade at Hosmer's store for a
one pound package of gun powder. The culprit yes, the robber
sits here in your midst and your own Mr. Blair says we cannot force
him to return the plaintiff's good money, nor even confine him. Your
Honors, we rest on your decency/'

Each man in the room leaned back as though he had spoken the
words himself.

Blair rose from the small slab table, walked slowly past Captain
Michael without looking at him, halted halfway between the two
judges and the opposing counsel He seemed to address the rifle port
over the head of Stuttgart.

"Opposing counsel's outrage at our failing Western currency is
understandable," he said quietly. The stir in the blockhouse said,
"Amen to that." They leaned forward again to see how Blair would
slip out of this one.

"But do we not forget that the so-called worthless dollars which this
Indian handed to the plaintiff from Boston are white man's dollars,
It says on the face of each 'one dollar/ The Indian did not make them
worth less than one dollar/ 1

The Kentuckian was on his feet, "Everybody knows they aren't worth
the echo off a steamboat whistle! The Indian knew it!"

"Yes," Blair waited for the stir to settle. "But we have required each
man to be his own watchdog about what kind of money he will accept.
Whenever any of us in this room can unload our bad currency on a
dowmtater, we congratulate ourselves. Should we expect more of an
Indian? 1 '

"But Irving didn't knowl Nor did he have any idea that his own
money was better than any in Ohio, or Indiana, or in the Illinois
Territoryr

Blair seized Stuttgart's statement. "The real anger in the room is
not that a man was cheated, but that the brother of Hope Emerson was
cheated . . , or seemed to be cheated/'

Brute Christofferson rose up from beside Hope Emerson, like a tidal
wave cresting, "Blair, it seemed to me you just said it. A man was
cheated. Now let's stop talkin' and start hangin'!"

3 o JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair had in his pocket a slip of paper with a list of names on it
which should by all logic shut oil all further argument on the subject.
He pulled it out and fingered it while they watched him. But studying
their faces he decided that at this heated moment a victory of logic
would bring a verdict of violence. He had asked the judge to entertain
the case in hopes a trial would break the edge of the vcngvf uincss. The
formality of the court had cooled some of them. Blair put away the
paper. He turned to Judge Pease.

"Sir, we cannot here open up the whole question of the deficiency of
our monetary system and our poor land-sale system. Defense therefore
requests dismissal of the case."

The men of Hosmcr Village looked at each other, startled Stuttgart
was quick. "On what grounds!"

"Grounds," continued Blair, "are that this court is not competent to
try a case between a citizen of the Republic of America and a member
of a foreign nation."

The judges did not look surprised. But Stuttgart was on his feet
"Foreign nation?"

Blair held up from under his arm a rolled parchment and his voice
trailed off as if it were of course the most patent and obvious of truths.
"The Wyanclots are officially a foreign nation, witness this treaty which
I have at this moment in my custody for execution between the United
States and the Wyandots and five other Northwestern tribes/'

Stuttgart melted to his bench.

Judge Pease rapped for order. The court would recess while he and
Judge Ethan Allen Brown considered the defense's last request, at
length, Blair hoped. He needed time.

The crowd rose, muttering. But it sounded to Jonathan Blair's
sensitive ear as if they would at least wait to hear the judges' decision.
That should give him an hour to find a way out.

The Indian looked a question at him, but had sense enough not to
speak.

Blair waited until the grumbling crowd began moving out the door
for the recess. Then he also moved toward the door, slowly, careful not
to rub against anybody. At the doorway his exit was blocked by the
broad back of Matt Gavagan who laughed to Joe Hussong, "It's a
mighty pity that Jonathan don't remember 'thirteen and 'fourteen and
before, when Yankee hair was bringing fancy prices in Canada, huh?
Might not be so mixed up about them red devils."

COURT DAY 3 1

Blair walked out between them. As he crossed the common toward
his cabin, he felt small groups studying him. He slowed up to let
Stikes cross to his forge well ahead of him. And he moved slowly to
his cabin.

Some in Hosmer Village thought Jonathan Blair was a "man of
good will," others thought he was a misfit. He had been a misfit, the
older settlers said, from the clay he had come out here in 1801 with
his ruffled shirts and his bright, eastern, legal reputation, and no
knack with an axe. At a time when there was no use for lawyers in the
West, Jonathan Blair had been a lawyer. But now, when it seemed
there were law matters coming up, Jonathan Blair could hardly be
called a lawyer any more, unless settling local arguments and arguing
a few dozen cases in a dozen years, out of a rain-stained copy of Wood's
Institutes, made a lawyer.

There had seldom been anything that Wood's Institutes could do for
Hosmer, the storekeeper; Slasher, the woodsman; Stikes, the black
smith; Navarre, the trapper; Woodbridge, the hog farmer, that they
couldn't do better for themselves with their own big hands and bull
heads. But now the strong men were getting themselves onto subtler
ground.

In the last six months the currency of the West had gone to water,
the pressing of Indian cessions was beginning in brutal earnest Indiana
Territory had become a state, Illinois Territory was trying for it.
Neighbors were still apt to be three stream-beds apart, but even at that
distance their rights and privileges and fence lines were getting tangled
now, and there was now law work to do.

Blair looked behind him. The crowd had not moved far from the
blockhouse*

Wood's Institutes had no instructions to offer that much helped
a frontier lawyer* The law work here required new laws and new books
and it required invention. And who was coming out to do it? A race
of hard young whippers like that Bolding who never saw how good it
was here when the West did its business without paper dollars.

Blair stepped into his cabin. He would have liked it if his student
had hopped up and asked, "Did you get the Indian free, sir?" He
remembered how he had treated his own preceptor. But Bolding
remained seated and he grinned, "Well, have the good judges dis
covered yet that they have no jurisdiction over Wyandots?"

'The good judges know well enough what they're about/' said

3 2 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair. "Have you finished making a copy of the Wyandot treaty? We'll
need it tomorrow. Chief Silver Pigeon should be here by then. And
if we haven't hanged his father, we may have a chance to get him to
comply with the treaty."

"I'm down to Article Ten/'

"Leave it for now and go over to the blockhouse to watch the
Indian."

"Why?"

"Just see that nobody grabs him. If that happens we'll never get the
treaty executed tomorrow."

"What should I do if anybody tries?"

Blair sat down at the table which served him as a desk. He rubbed
the heel of his hand up the center of his forehead*

"I don't know/* he answered. "But at least you can tell me if there's
trouble/'

But Bolding did not leave. For into Blair's cabin strode Mike Stikes.
Stikes bent his grey-spiked head to clear the cabin doorway. His leather
apron was molded to his long skinny shanks. The forge hammer hang
ing from his right claw was a natural extension of his sinewy arm.
The awkward load he carried was in his other hand. It was a piece of
paper, and he carried it with the frontiersman's hopeful respect for a
land document.

Blair found no insult in Stikes' opening statement nor in hh ex
tremely blue eyes. Stikes was just sticking to what he could afford. He
said, "Blair, they tell me the way the land titles are bcin' fouled up,
I'd ought to go down to Franklinton and hire me one of those fifty-
dollar lawyers. But I can only afford about a five-dollar lawyer. Would
that cover you?"

"Probably so, Mike/' Blair reached for the paper with a wan smile.
But it was wiped off by the big grin on young Bolding's face. Bolding
straightened his face and left for the blockhouse.

"What's your problem, Mike?"

"Put it this way r Blair. You're in charge of executin' that treaty with
the Wyandots, aren't you? The one Cass and McArthur made?"

"Yes."

"You'll be the first to know when they're finally moved off the
territory and crammed up into that one hundred fifty thousand acres at
Upper Sandusky?"

"Probably."

COURT DAY 33

"Then you'll be the first to know when that ceded land is open to
settlement by the likes of me, won't you?"

"Should be.

"Well, that's my land grant from the Governor for servin' with
Harrison. Grants me a hundred fifty acres. Soon as that ground is
open for settlement that is, soon as the Wyandots get off it I want
you to cash in that warrant and get me title to a hundred fifty acres up
there. I got it picked out . . . the ground I want/'

"I'll handle it, Mike, But why you going to move up there?"

"Because I'm going to lose my land down here, same as most of us
will. Man can't get hold of a dollar that the government'!! accept. I
still owe fourth and fifth payments on my place, same as most of 'em.
I've got money. But Land Office says it ain't money. It's only paper."

"The new United States Bank is supposed to fix all that, Mike."

Stikes waved his bony claw in dismissal of the United States Bank.
"Blair, we're countin' on you executin' that treaty and gettin' them
red devils moved outa here so's we can move in ... on ground that's
free and clear. That's what the big meetings about isn't it, that you're
havin' with the Wyandots tomorrow?"

"Yes, Mike. But what we do to Captain Michael over there today
will have a lot to do with whether Silver Pigeon will cede the ground
tomorrow, and how soon you can get your land/'

"The treaty's signed. You got the government money to pay 'em.
They got to get out."

"What's to make them get out?"

"You/'

"All I've got to work with is words, Mike."

Mike looked at the hammer in his hand.

"You picked your own kind of work tools, Blair. If you don't know
how to use *em, you got a lot of us in trouble/'

Stikes left.

Blair stepped to the doorway,

"Mike, what keeps you from the court today?"

Stikes turned to face Blair. "Some of them are havin' me to do a
little work on their rifles all of a sudden."

"That's what I was afraid of."

Jonathan Blair glanced at the crowd which was already drifting back
toward the blockhouse. He noticed the smoke of new logs coming out
of the blockhouse chimney and it seemed a devil of a time for the

34 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

judges to 'be warming themselves. It would be hot enough without
a fire before long no doubt.

Blair placed Stikes' land grant in a stiff leather pouch. He opened
the waterstained client book on his table and turned past many blank
pages to the page marked, "December, 1817**, where there were three
other entries. Under these he wrote:

Mike Stikes , . . convert land grant to title, 150 acres.
Just above that entry was the notation;

Treaty 1817. Principals for U.S., Gen'ls. Cass, McArthur.

Principals for Wyandots, Captain Michael, Silver

Pigeon.

Cession of northwest Ohio, parts of Indiana and

Michigan Territory. Execute,

How do you execute a treaty with an Indian who is on trial by your
own people? He remembered the day he had got that assignment-
Major John Armstrong had walked into Blair's cabin, spread the
seven-page parchment out on Blair's table and slapped his gloves on
top of it to keep it from rolling up. *

"It's yours to execute, Blair. I don't envy you.*"

"Mine?"

"That's right McArthur and Cass got the Indian signatures . * *
whatever they're worth." He laughed. "Now all you got to do is see
they get off the land like they said they would* I'm to swear you in/*

"Swear me in? As what?"

"Sub-Indian agent to the Wyandots*'*

"I don't want it*"

"There's twelve hundred dollars a year in it for you, Blair."

Blair sat down and read the treaty carefully, skipping only the long
list of special payments to privileged individual Indian chiefs and the
long lists of meaningless Indian signatures. Then he asked Armstrong
about the details of the appointment Armstrong explained; and Blair
said, "I don't want it"

Armstrong rolled up the treaty and stuck it in his breast pocket "I
warned the Old Man you wouldn't take it Damn few would.'*

Blair said, "Why did they pick me?"

COURT DAY 35

"Well, they picked you because Silver Pigeon and Captain Michael
specifically requested you."

"Requested me??"

"That's right. And we're in a 'concessionary phase' now ... the way
they put it. Grant any reasonable request they make, and drive 'em
out as fast as possible. The official phrase is, 'Gain concessions with all
possible haste and/or methods short of bloodshed/ "

"Silver Pigeon requested me?"

"That's right. In writing. And he can write better English than I
can."

Blair sat thinking. Armstrong started to leave* Blair asked, "Who'll
get the job if I refuse?"

"I don't want it," Armstrong said. "But I guess I'll get it if you re
fuse. Johnson's already been assigned to work on the Miamis over in
Indiana and Michigan Territory. Huh, and I won't even get the twelve
hundred dollars, bein* on army pay already. I won't fool with 'em. I'll
just pay 'em and move 'em/'

Blair said, "Armstrong, I'll take the job."

"Huh? By God, you're a funny one, Blair/'

That's how it had happened. When the money came to finalize the
treaty, Blair chose to hold the meeting of the Wyandot, Shawanee, and
Ottawa sachems and chiefs in Hosmer Village. When Hosmer Village
found out about that they were mad. Hosmer had asked, "Why, here,
Blair?"

"You want the treaty executed, don't you, Hosmer?"

"Yes, and fast. But why here?'

"Because when you do business with an Indian in his own surround
ings, he's hard to deal with. But they're not so tall when they step
out of their own Indian towns. In fact I want to hold the meeting right
in the blockhouse so they'll be reminded of the ... of what went on
there."

"Makes sense," Hosmer had snorted, "But you're askin' for trouble.
There's been too many bush fights lately, and they'll find the air around
here awful thick/'

"That's all I've got for a lever," Blair said.

And so he had sent word up to Upper Sandusky for Captain Michael
to round up the sachems and signers and bring them down to Meso
potamia. He had been careful to address the message to Captain Mi
chael, but it would be his son. Silver Pigeon who would handle it

3 6 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Old Captain Michael had arrived eight days ago, and each day there
after there had straggled in chiefs from the Ottawas, Potawatomjes,
Shawanees, Miamis. That meant that Silver Pigeon was out riding
through the big woods, sending them in.

Everything had been going along fine until Hope Emerson's brother
had arrived in Mesopotamia and spotted Captain Michael as one of
the Indians who had bilked him of his good Boston money and loaded
him up with good-for-nothing Western wildcat paper, That's what
sent the guns over to Stikes' forge for new frizzcm and borings.

Blair closed the client book.

Through his doorway he could see that the little groups of men had
not tired of waiting, as he'd hoped they would, Their interest, in fact,
had heightened because Blair could see their glances converge on a
lone figure which strode toward Blair's cabin. If Blair was on the wrong
side of the argument before, the presence of Major John Armstrong in
his cabin made it official.

Armstrong gave his boots two perfunctory passes on the footscraper
and stepped in.

"I heard you might need help, Blair. Came up. Six men coming be-
hind me."

"I sent word for you not to come/' said Blair* "You won*t have
enough troops to do any good. Just enough to make everybody sore/'

"Sore?"

"Look behind you."

Armstrong turned to look at the men across the common who had
assembled around Armstrong's horse and were now gating at the Blair
cabin.

"Never mind that," Armstrong chuckled. "If they hang the Indian
you'll never get tl!e treaty executed/'

"If they decide to hang the Indian, six men won't stop them. Go
back and stop your men."

Armstrong shrugged agreement. "But just remember I tried to help
you. And there's no excuses bein' accepted by the War Department for
sub-agents that can't execute their treaties/'

"War Department is the least of my concerns, Armstrong/*

Armstrong chuckled, "Y'know Blair, I really believe you accepted
this job just to see the Wyandots get fair contract/'

Blair thought about this, asking himself why he had taken the job.

"And i you got any ideas about bein' an Indian lover/ 1 Armstrong

COURT DAY 37

added, "I'd better give you the details on why Silver Pigeon requested
you for sub-agent/"

''Why did he?

Armstrong seemed to enjoy answering,

"We gave him his choice for sub-agent. Colonel Johnson or me. He
didn't want Johnson because Johnson is too honorable. Indians like
him. Gets concessions too easily. Silver Pigeon knows that if Johnson
is sub-agent lie can't keep his hold over the Weas, Senecas, Delawares,
Chippewas and Shawanccs. Johnson could work on them separately.
And The Pigeon is another confederation builder. Thinks he's a sec
ond Tecumseh."

"Why didn't he want you?"

Armstrong laughed. "I'm too mean. I hate 'em and The Pigeon
knows it. He asked for you."

Blair's laugh was dry. Armstrong had just held up a brutal mirror
that reflected a Blair who was just man enough to sign the papers, not
man enough to cause Silver Pigeon any trouble.

He looked beyond Armstrong to the men across the common who
were drifting closer to the blockhouse door, and he wondered what he
could do,

Armstrong laughed* "J ust thought I ought to let you know who
you're up against, Blair. He's a cute one. Awful cute!"

Young Bolding stepped through the cabin door. "Judge Pease says he
can't recess any longer, Mr. Blair. The men all decided the judges had
enough time to make up their minds."

Blair sighed. He reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a scrap
of paper containing four names. He handed it to Bolding. "Take a
quick look around the settlement, Bolding. Any cabins that have new
thin-scraped buckskin windows, mark the names here and bring the
list to me in the blockhouse*"

"Just what legal instruction should I draw from this, Mr. Blair?"

"More than you think. Just get the list. And hurry!"

Blair walked across to the blockhouse.

Armstrong said, "Good luck. Don't forget I tried to help."

From the doorway of the blockhouse men watched the law man
come. Blair saw the strong, braided, leather thong that looped down
from Amos Exeter's hand. They gave way enough to let the lawyer in.
It was hot inside. He wondered why the judges had such a big fire.

Stuttgart fell in alongside him as he walked up to front the judges.

58 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Blair," he said softly, "I never would have got 'em so curled up if
I'd known how hot they was on the subject up here/'

Blair nodded.

Judge Pease looked at Blair, giving him all the time he wanted.

Blair planted himself sideways between Captain Michael and the
rows of seats. He stood so he could see both the judges and the crowd,
his feet broad-based. He could not tell whether Captain Michael was
nervous.

He nodded to the judge.

Judge Pease wrapped gently with the gavel. Blair felt the men lean
forward for the judges' decision. He also detected a surprising change
in the judge's delivery. Calvin Pease usually bit off his words briskly
and loud. But now, though his eyes were alert, playing back and forth
across the people, his voice seemed deliberately languid and monot
onous as he very slowly discussed the issues influencing his and Judge
Brown's decision. It seemed he was forever leading up to the decision,
which must surely come in the next phrase, but didn't.

Bolding returned with the list of new buckskin windows in the vil
lage. He handed it to Blair while Calvin Pease was stii! warming up
to his decision.

In preface to his decision Judge Pease found it pertinent to explain
the structure of the newly formed judicial system of Ohio. That the
Supreme Court consisted of four judges who split into two teams, two
judges traveling over each circuit

Brute Christofferson who had been hunched forward with his el
bows on his knees now leaned back against the back walL

In monotonous monotone Calvin Pease explained that when Ohio
needed a Supreme Court the two circuits joined together and the
four circuit judges then became a Supreme Court, sitting in bane.

Brute Christofferson's head sagged forward in the stuffy room made
hot by the fire and dry by the judge's talk.

Calvin Pease, with voluminous parenthetical explanations, devia
tions and ramifications, defined the limits of common-pleas jurisdic
tion.

Sam Hosmer leaned heavily on his rifle.

Asa Buttrick's head nodded in the hot room, then recovered.

Calvin Pease explained the status of the specific Indian tribes in the
Northwest Territory as foreign powers.

COURT DAY g

Asa Buttrick's head dropped to his chest and stayed.

Quietly, -without change o pace or inflection, Calvin Pease an
nounced that the case was dismissed.

There were a few moments of quiet. Nodding heads snapped alert.
The Kentucky counsel remained quiet during the puzzled silence.

Just us Blair was privately congratulating the judge for diluting the
wrath of a township beyond the action point, he saw Hope Emerson
rise from her bench halfway back in the blockhouse.

"It's plain to see, sir, that you know the law extra fine. That's what
we need, sir. But does that all add up to: my brother doesn't get his
money back and that red devil gets to keep it?"

Calvin Pease nodded*

Brute Christoffcrson yelled from the back, "Beg your pardon, sir,
but no he don't. Not in this town!" Christofferson surged forward
toward the dock. Amos Exeter fell in beside him with the leather
thong and there was a general rising in the back of the room.

Jonathan Blair reached in his pocket and pulled out his scrap of
paper. He nodded to Judge Pease who now rapped sharply on the
bench, arresting the movement*

Blair grabbed that instant of silence and yelled, "Hope, the money
system is all wrong. But it's no worse for your brother than for Cap
tain Michael*

**I don't take you, Jonathan/' she said evenly. "The Indian knew
what he was doing/*

Blair clamped his lips and brought the paper up to the level of his
eyes. "I mean, Hope, that I have here the list of men who gave Cap
tain Michael those wildcat dollars which he gave your brother. They
were given to Captain Michael in payment for the last twenty pack-
boards of thin-scraped buckskins he brought down here, the buckskins
which are now the windows in your cabins. Shall I read the list of
names, Hope?"

Exeter scratched his chin and glanced down at his buck shirt. Stan
ley Slasher looked down at his buckskin leggins. The others just looked
down, Hope Emerson looked around at the men, finding no eyes to
meet hers as they shifted and hawed.

"No, Jonathan/' The spark went out of her, "I reckon that won't
help/*

Hope Emerson turned to the door of the blockhouse and her shoul-

4 o JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

ders sagged as she walked out, as did those of most men who had just
seen it proved that even the law was no escape from a money system
which was daily turning men's life-work savings into piles of laughing
colored paper.

Blair forced himself to join the perimeter of the crowd in front of
Hosmer's store. He felt it was his place, though no one apparently
thought so. He did not look at Hope Emerson.

In addition to the feeling of duty, though, he had a yearning ad
miration for the young man whom they all watched* Blair raised to
his tiptoes to see the young Irving face over the crowd as he climbed
to the seat of his wagon and took the reins from his wife. Hope Emer
son's brother was like Hope herself. He did not discuss a given project
and confer and plan and compare alternatives. He just commenced.

He had no money now to take land of his own here, nor to raise his
Merinos with Hope's flock. And since he refused to go shares with any
man, they directed him west to a certain Slovcr Navarre who had on
occasion been of service to those who needed land and had no money.
Navarre had become legendary among the squatters in a vast triangle
from Pittsburgh to Louisville to Vinccnncs to Detroit.

Irving's matched pair leaned into their collars.

Gavagan's big voice yelled, "Thore may be more Indians out there,
Irving! But anyways there'll be a clang sight less lawyers!"

The crowd laughed. Some glanced for Blair's reaction. The laugh
swelled way beyond the due of Gavagan's joke as Mesopotamia re
leased the strength they'd saved up for a hanging,

Hope Emerson's brother pushed west by south for the Illinois Ter
ritory. As the crowd splintered into small groups to watch the reced
ing wagon, Blair found himself alone. Hope Emerson walked toward
him, but when she noticed it she deflected her course. Blair walked
toward his cabin. He forced himself to walk slowly under the gaze of
Hosmer Village or Mesopotamia, as it was now officially listed on the
Western circuit of the court.

There was one in the crowd, Emanuel Auk by name, who leaned
dose to Justin Bolding and said, "Don't smile, Sonny, He can still
teach you a lot."

"Huh?"

"He bought that Indian's life for the price of that laugh/'

THE CONTRACT 41

"Was that such a bargain?" Bolding smiled. "It's the going price,
isn't it?"

"You fool," said Ault, "A hung Indian today would have cost us
three million acres tomorrow at Blair's treaty meetin'. May anyhow.
Even unhung."

Chapter 3: THE CONTRACT

WHEN THE lights in Hosmer Village went
out, one yet burned in the cabin of Jonathan Blair. His head, bent over
the table, was silhouetted and framed in the small greased buckskin
window, a target for whatever any man felt about Jonathan Blair.

Blair himself was reading one of the pages of the treaty. On the
bunk young Justin Bolding sat copying another page. To his pre
ceptor's back he said, "If I were you, after what happened today and
what's likely to happen tomorrow, I wouldn't sit with my head in that
window, Blair."

Blair stiffened at the bald use of his last name by his pupil. A pre
ceptor was due some respect from his student. Blair let it pass, and
regretted it immediately because Bolding said, "I'll turn in now, and
copy the rest of this treaty tomorrow.'*

"It's got to be finished tonight, Bolding."

"The idea of my coming up here was to read law under you, not to
practice penmanship and to be your clerk."

"The idea? Whose idea?"

"Mine," Bolding said. "Whose else?"

"Well, I happen to need a copy of the treaty. But it's as good a way
as any to teach you the language and content of a treaty. You wouldn't
have learned that under your eastern preceptors."

Bolding grinned at Blair's back. "As a lawyer, how many treaties
will I be called upon to write?"

Blair turned abruptly to erase Bolding's grin. "All right; Mr. Bold
ing, repeat to me the content and purpose of Article Six."

Bolding was bright and he grinned smugly, "Article Six. In addition

42 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

to the 150,000 acres reserved for the use of the Wyandots, the United
States are to grant in fee simple 640 acres each to Doanquod, Ron-
tondee, Tauyau, Honornu, Captain Michael, Anthony Shane, and
about ten others as a reward for well, anyhow, it's a bribe to a few
special Indians and half-whites to make the treaty go smooth."

"It's payment for services," corrected Blair, "with General garrison
in the war."

"Maybe, but that isn't what Major Armstrong and Sch&acht said the
night they planned this treaty at Schaacht's house in Cincinnati/*

Blair burned under the fact that his student knew more of affairs
at first hand than he knew himself.

"Never mind that," he said. "What's Article Fourteen?

"The United States reserves the right/* Holding answered with ir
ritating promptness, "to build roads even through the part they leave
to the Indians/'

"Article Eighteen?" snapped Blair.

"The Delawares also cede all their lands in the Western Reserve and
between Cincinnati and Vincennes."

"Article Ten?"

"The United States agrees to build a sawmill and a gristmill for
the Wyandots and to furnish and maintain two white blacksmiths,
one for the Wyandots and one for the Senecas."

"Article Nineteen?"

"Treaty becomes effective and binding on both parties when ratified
by the great white Congress," said Bolding, "And it's your job to make
it stick and I don't envy you/'

"Well, finish copying it, because you're going to help me make it
stick, and when we meet the Indians, you'd better know it by heart*
They will."

Bolding finished copying it and suddenly he was on his feet, reach
ing for his pistol, for the door began to open slowly. But he relaxed
when he saw Hope Emerson's short rifle open the door* And he sat
down as she stepped into the cabin, Jonathan Blair stood up.

And in the sitting down of Bolding and the standing up of Blair
was the story o Hope Emerson. When you had not known her long
you would sit down, and when you had known her long you stood up*

She leaned her rifle against the wall, ran her small brown hand
through her light, swept-back hair and sat down,

From her breast pocket she drew two pieces of paper covered with

THE CONTRACT 43

leather against the weather. Without referring to the events of this
afternoon she said, "Jonathan, I need you to write me two letters/'

She handed him the paper. "Don't make any mistakes. I bought
only two sheets of paper from Mr. Hosmer."

Blair sat down and took the quill and the ink from Bolding.

"First one is to Mr, Thomas Rotch. Write on the envelope that he
lives on Big Sippo Creek, a mile east of Tuscarawas River somewheres
in Stark County. Write 'Dear Mr. Rotch: On the two pairs of imported
Merino white sheep you agreed to sell to me for my brother, we have
run into financial trouble/ "

Blair said, "Hope, I feel that I "

" 'He has lost his money/ " continued Hope. " 'However, I wish
you to hold them for me, as I have some money owing to me from the
Wyandots at Upper Sandusky. This money will be in good currency
and will make a good down payment. I will then get a loan from the
Mesopotamia Hog & Trust for the balance. This part will be in
Mesopotamia Hog & Trust notes which, though not so good as the
United States Bank notes or Piatt Bank notes, are in very fair ac
ceptance most places north of Columbus/ "

There were some other details about the transfer of the rare Merino
sheep. Blair had Hope make a mark for a signature and he folded the
paper so that it became its own envelope. He waxed it*

He took the other sheet of paper and Hope said, "On this one you
won't have to write so small. It's short, Mark it for Reverend Seth
Gershom, Indian Mission, Upper Sandusky, and make it say, 'Dear
Reverend Gershom: You had agreed to make a special trip down to
Hosmer's Village to publish the last of the three banns of marriage
between myself and Jonathan Blair. This is to tell you it will not be
needed* " Blair stopped writing. But Hope continued " 'and save
you a trip during the time when the trails will be bad. Hope Emer
son/ "

Blair rose, "Hopel"

Hope's placid brown eyes were neither kind nor mean.

"No talk to be done, Jonathan, and no bad feelings/'

"Hope, what I did about your brother I did because "

"I understand about that part, I guess. But lately there's no way of
knowin' what side you're on, Jonathan. I don't mind a man bein'
against me or for me, just so I can tell which. But the way things are
shaping up about the Indian lands and about the money, looks like

44 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

you'll likely be somewhere's in between all the time. Thai's all right for
a smart man and a law man like you* But Tel not be able to hop about
so light-footed with you, Jonathan."

"Hope!"

'There's changes here, anybody can see. Isn't like when we first
came out here. 'Twas plain what a man had to do ... or a woman. Cut
the trees. Get seed in. Keep a clean rifle against the red devils. Dif
ferent now. Instead of shootin' Indians we treaty with 'cm and go to
law with them. And instead of trustin' a man for sheep, now you got
to look at the color of his money and who signed it. It's time now for
somebody like you that works with writs and wrilin* and words. But
I got to stay with the old kind, Jonathan. I belong with the Hosmcrs,
the Stikes, the Hawkinses and . . . like that. Good night, Jonathan/*

When she left there was a hole in the room* Blair looked over at
Bolding. But Holding got busy copying, his head down, Blair found
himself noticing that she had not said she belonged with Chriscofferson.
She had named Hosmer, Stikes, Hawkins.

When Jonathan Blair stepped into the blockhouse on the lath day
of December 18 and 17, it was quickly apparent to him that the block*
house had become the center of two concentric circles*

Scattered over the common in apparently casual groups were the
Indian delegates who were not to be actually inside the treaty room,
To Holding's glance they were just isolated groups of two's and three's*
But Blair saw that the little groups formed a rough circle around the
blockhouse.

Inside this vague circle, lounging around the outside of the block
house on all sides in casual attitudes was a ring of Hosmer Village
settlers. They leaned against the walls, idly talking and cleaning their
rifles.

Inside the blockhouse Jonathan Blair sat opposite old Captain
Michael. Behind Captain Michael on the puncheon tenches sat the
sachems of the Weas, Chippewas, Ottawas, Delaware^, Shawanees and
Silver Pigeon, the Wyandot Behind Blair sat Bolding, impressed for
once.

Blair's remarks had to be addressed to Old Captain Michael, nominal
chief of the Wyandots. But they had to be especially designed for the
ears of the much younger man who sat behind Captain Michael, his
son, Silver Pigeon, one of the smartest men in the Northwest, bar
none . . white, red or half-breed.

THE CONTRACT 45

At a time when every town in the Northwest considered its many
eighth and quarterbloods to be white men, Silver Pigeon, with more
white blood than red, called himself Indian.

When the long introductions demanded by the older Indians were
complete, Jonathan Blair smiled, "Captain Michael, I have good news
for you. The United States Congress has ratified this treaty exactly as
you made it with Generals Cass and McArthur. They have not changed
a single word."

Captain Michael did not raise his eyes from the parchment in front
of Blair. "You have brought the treaty money?" he asked.

"Yes, Captain Michael. I have the annuity money."

"Good, Mr, Blair/'

Blair looked up, for this last comment carne not from Captain Mi
chael but from Silver Pigeon who continued whittling a point onto a
maple shoot with his long knife,

"We are glad you have brought the money, Mr. Blair, It is a sign
of good faith. However, I have some bad news for you. You tell us that
your Congress has ratified the treaty. Unfortunately, however, my Con
gress has not ratified the treaty/ 1

"Your Congress?"

"Yes. These." Silver Pigeon rotated his knife around to include the
half-circle of Indians, who grinned. "Black Hoof, the Shawanee, has
pointed out to me that while your Congress has been ratifying the
treaty, we have been joined by fifty-seven wandering Mohawks and we
have had more children, and the white men have become even more
anxious to move into our lands. It means we must have more than
the 150,000 acres you assigned us and we must have larger payments.
Also, the damages your government agreed to pay for burning our
huts in 1815 are too small."

Silver Pigeon shoved a piece of paper onto the table and resumed
whittling. "We will need this in addition to what the present treaty
allows."

It was in the handwriting of Reverend Seth Gershom of the Indian
mission. No wonder Armstrong thought Pigeon could write. Blair
read it:

100,000 acres

1500 more in annual annuities to the Wyandots above the present

$4,000.

46 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands

"You would have me ask for this much more, having no idea if you
would then obey the terms of the treaty?" Blair asked.

"I have already done more to obey the treaty than you. We have al
ready withdrawn most of our people up to Upper Sandusky, as we
agreed."

"But we see your men occupying the same ground as before the treaty,
every day."

"That does not violate the treaty. Read again Article Twelve which
I insisted upon."

Bolding handed Blair the treaty.

"Article Twelve: The Wyandots shall be permitted to hunt upon the
lands herein ceded even though it becomes the property of the United
States."

Silver Pigeon grinned. "They are hunting/' he said,

"But there are not just a few," Blair protested. "There are several
bands of twenty-five and thirty men."

"They are hunting,"

"But they put up huts and they occupy every bit as much ground as
before the treaty."

"Hunting," said Silver Pigeon.

"But they have their women with them, and their dogs and children
and ponies."

"Hunting equipment."

The English-speaking Indians in the room suddenly wore broad,
wary grins.

The vibration of Mike Stikes* grumbling voice came through the
blockhouse walls to Blair's ears.

"How long will they hunt?" asked Blair.

"Until we see some acts of yours to keep the treaty, such as money.
Since there is not trust, Mr. Blair, the treaty must be gradual. You pay
part. We withdraw some. You pay more, we withdraw more. Until we
can trust . , . which I doubt,"

"If we pay part of the annuities, then will the so-called hunting
stop?"

"Not so many will hunt."

"Well, how can I be sure that you **

It was a different Silver Pigeon who looked up this time. He stalked
to the table, stabbed his knife into the treaty. Bolding jumped,

"How can you be sure? Yes! That is my question! Can / be sure?

THE CONTRACT 47

Seventeen ninety-five it was the Greenville Line . . . forever! No more
cessions. But in 1805 ... it was 'just a little piece more off the east
and . . . and that's all forever!* Eighteen seven you push us out of the
Miami Valley . . , but no more cessions you say 'that's all, . . . for
ever!' Eighteen nine and 1810 . . . you treaty with the Miamis when
we Wyandots are not looking. You treaty with the Delawares. You sign
treaties with little chiefs I never heard of. Then you say 'that's all ...
forever'! Forever is always only two years with you! Now my people
have their backs to Lake Erie. On two sides of us already, white men.
My people look to me and they ask. They ask. They ask. And I cannot
help. I cannot stop the 'forever' treatying. Always smaller ground, and
I cannot help. God damn you, Blair, have you ever been in such a
place * . . where you cannot help your own people! That is the day you
will know something, Blair . . . when you cannot help your ownl That
is when I want to see you!"

He spit on the treaty.

"Yes, Mr, Blair, there will be hunting,"

Blair reached under the table. He brought up his leather pouch.

"Silver Pigeon, I will see about the extra land and I will see about
the increased damages money. These appraisals on your burned cabins
were too low in my opinion."

Blair opened the pouch.

"Article Four. The United States agrees to pay to the Wyandot na
tion annually and forever the sum of four thousand dollars."

Blair spread out the four thousand dollars in good United States
Bank notes.

"I want you to see that I really have the money, Silver Pigeon. I
will pay you half of it right now . . . two thousand dollars. Then we
will watch the hunting for a month. If you have withdrawn all your
people to your seven and one-half townships, then we will pay the
other half Jn installments."

Blair stood up and stretched out one hand with the pen, the other
for a handshake.

Silver Pigeon declined the shake, but he took the pen. He quickly
scratched his eaglelike pigeon to the Wyandot receipt, threw down
the quill and motioned Captain Michael to put the money in the deer
skin sack. He wouldn't touch it himself.

"Mr. Blair, I do not rush to take the handshake, I think you try.
But I need to know first if you can keep your word."

48 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"If I can keep it?"

"Yes. Can you keep your people off our reserve? Already I see white
surveyors up there. Can you keep your Congress and your Governor
from asking more and more?*'

"This treaty is now the law of the land/* said Blair*

Pigeon looked old. "Yes. Yes. The law. We will sec, Mr, Blair.**

From behind Blair's back, Bolding stared at the great Indian,

Silver Pigeon motioned to the Indians who now slung their rifles
and followed The Pigeon to the door. The young thief reached for
the door handle. Suddenly he yelled in pain. The door smashed open
against his fingers and into his face.

The blockhouse was quickly full of Mesopotamians who leveled rifles
at the crowd. Silver Pigeon looked at Blair for an explanation. The
injury on his face reduced Blair to a traitor, joe Hussong yelled,
"Stand still!"

When the commotion settled, Sam Hosmer walked in slowly, un
armed. He held a list in his hand.

Mike Stikes walked to each Indian and removed the rifles gently
from clinging hands. The Indian faces recovered from astonishment to
hatred.

Sam Hosmer spoke quietly, "Can't any of us figure the way ye Ixren
doin' us lately, Blair. But somehow your law talk works us around in
the wrong. But ye'II understand how we can't stand by and see them
red skonks take good money off a settler and get away unhurt* So yt**II
please to have Captain Michael throw that bag of money on the table
there so's I can reach it."

Blair looked at Hosmer, astonished.

"Sam, I didn't expect you'd go to robbery."

"Not robbery, Blair. Collectin* a debt, call it. Have Captain Michael
throw the money on the table."

"Sam, that money is owed them by the Republic. I'm commissioned
sub-Indian agent for Wyandots, responsible for their welfare. You
touch that money, I got to take you t$> law."

"We'll only take what's comin' to us/' **-

"Coming to you?"

"Yeah." Hosmer threw down his piece of paper in front of Blair.
"Seems to me Article Twenty-two in that treaty says upon execution
of the contract all Indian debts to white settlers will be paid/*

Blair looked at the paper:

THE CONTRACT 49

Owing to Michael Stikes for shoeing horses of the
people of Chiefs Doanquod, Howoner, Rontondee, Mon-
Qcue, Silver Pigeon, Captain Michael, Anthony Shane,
Tauyaudautauson, Cherokee Boy, John Van Meter .... $200

Owing to Samuel Hosmer for gray wool blankets ...... $160

Owing to PI ope Emerson for sheep ......... . ......... $200

Owing to Amos Exeter for 8 tierces whisky , 336 gallons

@ 36^ .................................... > ....... $120.96

The list went on, totaling $1400. Justin Holding opened up the
treaty to Article Twenty-two. Blair wrinkled up Sam's list and threw
it down.

"Sam, you can't do this. These prices were figured on ordinary paper
dollars. This money here is in good United States Bank notes."

Hosrner picked up the list.

"Like you said yesterday, Blair, A dollar is a dollar. Isn't our fault
what kind of dollars they got."

"Sam, you'll defear the treaty. You want them off the land, don't
you? Then let them take their money and get out of here/'

Joe Hussong walked over and put his hand on Captain Michael's
buckskin money bag. Captain Michael backed off. Hussong moved
after him. Michael twisted the bag away from Hussong and then
brought it back so that it reported against Hussong's face and turned
his nose and chin red. Hussong grabbed the old Indian by his leather
shirt.

But he let go suddenly as the iron fingers of Mike Stikes dug into
the muscle behind his collarbone.

Through the open door Blair could see the other Wyandots ap
proaching the blockhouse swiftly.

Stikes snatched the bag from Michael and threw it on the table.
Sam Hosmer grabbed it, Blair reached to take it from Hosmer. But
before he touched the bag he was restrained by the long arm of Silver
Pigeon.

This was still a different Silver Pigeon now. The wrath was gone
from his face, or seemed to be. His voice was deep and controlled,
almost pleasant, "No, Mr. Blair. Mr. Hosmer is right. We will pay
the money . , . give it to me. 1 *

Blair was amazed. "Don't use that money to pay with!" he warned.

But Pigeon took the bag from an astonished Hosmer, and then he

50 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

continued with smooth, rich tones. "We pay. But we ask one favor,"
Pigeon tucked the bag securely under his arm. "Each man comes to
our town above the Greenville Line at Upper Sandu&ky, and collect
his money in person. Would that be too much for you to do for us?"

A Wyandot from outside stepped into the blockhouse and the white
men came on guard. But Pigeon waved the Indian off, The men with
Hosmer relaxed. Hussong set the butt of his rifle on the floor.

Hosmer asked, "Why should we trek all the way up the trace just to
collect what's clue us! And maybe lose our hair doin' it?"

Pigeon's face, dark for a white man, light for an Indian, was a bland
mask* "Would you not give me the chance to let my people actually
see the money, to show that your Congress has kept its word? It will
be easier to get them to obey the treaty. Also, it will teach my people
thrift, that they must pay for what they buy/'

"1 can see that," said Hosmer, "But suppose you run off with the
purse?"

"You can send guards with me to watch the money. Is that not good?*'

Hosmer pondered Pigeon's speech. Stikes lowered his rifle* Flannerty
said, "Hell, he's right! And little enough to ask . . . for honest to God
United States Bank notes!"

Stanley-the-Slasher said, "Besides, if them red devils don't actually
see the money, they'll never believe they got paid. Then we 1 !! have the
bastards on us again/'

Jonathan Blair noticed the breadth of Silver Pigeon's back blot out
the light as he went through the door with the money. The lawyer
had the strong feeling that he and Mesopotamia had just lost out to
one of the cleverest men in the Northwest.

Well north of the old Greenville Indian boundary at the place once
called Fort Ferree and now more often called Upper Sandusky, the
Reverend Seth Gershom strode back and forth across the front room
of his hut, trying to make his answer come out civil, befitting the
White Father.

The man who sat opposite him calmly whittling a point onto a
hickory stick was his match in every way. Silver Pigeon was as tall and
lanky as the reverend. And at least in this argument he was somewhat
ahead In strategy.

Gershom's rage was the greater because Silver Pigeon's obvious dis-

THE CONTRACT 51

belief that the Maker could have sent such a one as Gershom was the
very same disbelief which kept haunting Gershom himself. Apparently
it was also the same one which prompted the Methodist-Episcopal
conference to pass over him eight times for appointment to a regular

eastern church, and relief from this Godforsak from thi$ s miserable

mission a hundred miles north of mankind.

But Gershom finally stopped his pacing in front of Silver Pigeon
and he said, "No! You shall not use the mission tent for that purpose
... or for any other purpose until you join the mission and bring in
the rest of the Wyandots!"

"I only want a place big enough for all my people to watch while
we pay our debts to your white brothers/' Pigeon's shavings landed
on the reverend's new black bombazine pants. "The council house is
not big enough. That is part of your teaching, Reverend, to pay our
debts."

Gershom brushed off the shavings. "But your purpose is to stir them
up. Haven't we had enough bush fighting?"

"But I will use your mission tent for the Christian purpose of paying
our debts/'

"Then if you have Christian purposes, why will you not join my
mission and bring in your anti-Christian party?"

"You know better, Reverend If this Great White Spirit of yours
meant it to be for all men, why did he not appear among us Wyandots?
Why did he not cause that Book to be written in Wyandot language?"

"He did. What do you think I axn doing up here? Look!" Gershom
held up four sheets of parchment on which he was laboriously translat
ing the Bible into Wyandot.

Pigeon pointed to him with the knife, "He sent your

Gershom sucked air over parted teeth. But he held his tongue, for at
that instant Fawn came in from one of the two back rooms of the hut
bringing Gershom 's supper. Those who loved him saw him only as he
wished to be seen*

She put the trencher down and left.

"Your sister, Fawn, has joined the church," said Gershom.

"Fawn wants to believe something is good, Reverend, It is hard for
an Indian to believe anything is."

Pigeon resumed his carving.

"I was prepared to help you, Reverend." Pigeon always said "Rever-

5 2 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

end/' It made Gershom uneasy the way he said it. Yet he was glad
the Indian chief used the title in front of the other Indians, for what
ever reason.

"I am adding a few more requests to the treaty," Pigeon interrupted
his whittling to hand the Ottawa copy to Gershom. "1 was going
to ask you to read Article Sixteen and write out one like that for us
Wyandots/'
Gershom read: "ARTICLE SIXTEEN:

Some Ottawas, Chippewas, Potowatomies, being attached to the
Catholic religion and wanting their children educated, the United
States does grant the rector of St. Ann's at the place called Detroit
three sections of land for the financing of a school**

The Indian detected the concentration and envy on the reverend's
face and pushed his advantage. "When you write it," said Pigeon, "do
not ask for land. Ask for money for the support of yotir mission. Make
it a reasonable annual sum. Mr. Blair is a reasonable man ... to a
fault/'

Pigeon recovered the treaty from the lax claw of Seth Gershom.

"I suppose you won't mind now if I happen to be the tomahawk
for getting your mission, since you say your While Spirit 'works in
wond'rous ways/ And it will be all right now if I use your mission
tent to pay our debts to the settlers of Mesopotamia when they arrive?"

Silver Pigeon was out the door.

Seth Gershom sat to his supper, eating slowly, and very little.

On the day of the paying of the debts of the clans of the Wyandots
to the men of Mesopotamia at the place called Upper Sandusky, a great
and fearful respect came to the white men for the mentality of the
Indian, Silver Pigeon.

And as Sam Hosmer walked to the table to receive his money from
the hand of Captain Michael, he was made to feel small by the austere
height of Silver Pigeon who stood behind Captain Michael.

Silver Pigeon stayed Captain Michael's hand so he would count
the money out slowly and with more show.

As Hosmer walked away from the table with his money there was a
stirring and a mumbling among the Indians who sat in the mission
tent watching. After Hosmer came Hope Emerson ami then Stikes and
Exeter and the others and with each the murmur grew louder.

THE CONTRACT 53

Blair moved toward the open end of the tent where the other
settlers stood. They might want to be leaving in a great hurry.

Silver Pigeon would have to do no talking to his people after today.
With their own eyes they saw the white men come and they saw the
white man take away. And to them there was no difference between the
Great White President of the United States and Sam Hosmer of
Hosmcr's Village.

Even Joe Hussong knew that the white men had lost something here
today. But he had no idea how much.

When all the debts were paid Silver Pigeon turned to Blair. His
voice was gentle, for he could afford it. "Mr. Blair, this leaves us very
little as you can see. Would you change our remaining money into
smaller bills? You can see to stretch this money over all these people,
we would need very small bills."

Blair looked at the money in Hosmer's hands. He said, "Silver
Pigeon there are no small bills in these United States Bank notes.
Only small bills we would have with us would be Mesopotamia Hog &
Trust notes. And we're frank to say they're not as good."

To Blair's surprise, Silver Pigeon said, "That will be all right, Mr.
Blair, We will accept them. And perhaps you could compensate us for
the difference in exchange by giving us more of your Hog & Trust
notes. 1 '

With the extra willingness of the guilty, Hosmer Village emptied
its pockets and pooled its common currency to change the Indians'
money. There was still not enough. Hosmer wrote out a draft to be
presented to the Mesopotamia Bank for the balance.

Captain Michael reached for the small bills from Silver Pigeon, to
pass them out to the Wyandots. But Silver Pigeon did not yield them
up, He sorted them slowly and stuffed them into a snakeskin case.

"No, Captain Michael. We have other uses for these. They would
not be much good to our people anyway,"

He nodded. And Mesopotamia felt itself dismissed. They were glad
to leave the silent tent.

Many now knew what Jonathan Blair had felt from the first, that
the sudden and purposeful courtesy of Chief Silver Pigeon would
somehow cost them*

Chapter 4: MADE IN

PITTSBURGH

JONATHAN BLAIR slashed lines through the
columns of figures and threw down the pen. Three times he got three
different totals for the cost estimate of supplies called for under the
Wyandot Treaty, each higher than the amount the government had
furnished*

Blair could not concentrate, and as he looked out through his
glass window, he knew why. It was so quiet,

The stultifying silence which had hushed the big woods all the way
from the blockhouse in Mesopotamia down through the settlement at
Boxford's Cabin . * . on down the river to the Borough of Columbus
and south through Chillicothe to Cincinnati and the Ohio River
waterfront * . . was epitomized right now by the abysmal absence of
sound that arched across the common from Stikes' forge.

The quietness was in Amos Exeter's tavern which could not even
draw customers for three-cent whisky. The quietness was at Hosmcr's
store where the usual crowd was diminished by the number of Sam
Hosmer*s ashamed debtors. Hussong f s herd of hogs didn't thunder in
over the west road for the droving south twice a month.

But when the clangor of iron ceased from Mike Stikes* forge* then
the silence became deafening*

Blair watched the lanky Stikes pace around in his shop, wiping off
the foot treadle to the giant bellows, greasing the rust off idle chisels.
But there was no one to wipe the rust off Stikes, who now idled against
the triple-width doorway to his forge, staring across toward the Blair
cabin.

Lately Mesopotamia's idle stares all converged on the Blair cabin,
Blair moved out of his window.

Stikes, who lived by bending iron, could not understand how a man
like Blair lived by sitting on a stool, scrivening upon parchments. In
fact, few settlers in Hosmer Village had ever understood this.

As Blair watched, Stikes moved. Without dropping the small iron

54

MADE IN PITTSBURGH 55

rasp which hung from his right hand, he strode now toward the
Blair cabin.

When he pulled Blair's door to behind him, he raised and lowered
the iron latch several times, listening critically to the way it seated.
Absently, he twisted it onto its side and pulled it out through the
hole in the door.

He dropped onto the edge of Blair's bunk and began filing a small
indentation in the latch at the point where it contacted the latch bar.
Without looking up he said, "Blair, it's two months now since I gave
you my land grant."

"Haven't got the Indians out yet, Mike/*

'Don't look like you will either. Slasher was out marking black-
walnut timbers. Said them red devils are still all over the land."
"He's right/'

Stikes replaced the latch in the door, worked it twice, removed it,
continued filing.

"You law fellows don't have to work to very close measurements, do
you?"

"Don't get you, Mike."

"The treaty says the Indians are supposed to be out of there. You're
the one supposed to see to it. But for all those papers and talking
and all, the Indians are still there. I got a paper says I can have a
piece of that land. But I can't get it till you get the Indians out. But I
guess law don't measure so close as iron work and the like."
Stikes stopped filing.

"Blair, will you give me back my land grant and I'll go down to
County and try one of those fifty-dollar lawyers."

Blair reached in his leather pouch and tossed Stikes' land grant over
onto the bunk*

"Sure, MJke, But nobody can get your land for you until I get the
Indians off/'

Stikes pocketed his land grant and fit the latch back into the door.
He worked it up and down.

"I see," he said, "Blair, I can get a loan for part of my next payment

from the bank. But I doubt the government'!! accept a part payment

only* I was bankin' on you gettin' my new land for me by the time I

get kicked off this place here/'

Stikes walked out. The repaired latch slid noiselessly into place

5 g JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

behind him. Things were dead wrong when a man with Stikes' genius
for iron couldn't make out.

Blair opened the door. "Mike, come here."

When Stikcs was reseated and cleaning the filings out of his file
with his fingernail, Blair explained how Article Twenty-three of the
Wyandots' treaty bound the United States to deliver a list of haul
goods which were catalogued:

823 saws 10 draw knives

3,292 horseshoes, assorted 825 axes W/ji/ foot helves
* 3 bbls. iron nails 24 scythes

20 hammers 5 Crows

50 bbls. salt per year 5 grubbing hoes

50 gimlets 2< sets of horse gears

50 augurs 200 yards Russian lent sheeting

"You mean in addition to the money we got to give them reel devils
all that stuff!" Stikes asked.

"It might solve your problem, Mike. A contract must be let to fur
nish these items to the Wyandots.'*

"Some Pittsburgh iron monger will get a nice job of work,"

"Why Pittsburgh?"

"Be the natural place for them high gover'niim men to buy any kind
of iron work."

"The sub-agent buys the supplies called for in this treaty."

"You?" Stikcs looked surprised.

"Point is, why couldn't ymt make some of this stuff, Mike?* 4

Stikes snatched the treaty and ran his blue-black fingernail down the

list.

"The horseshoes, I could make. And the nails. Couldn't make the
gimlets, nor the augurs. But axes! if Yellow Creek Fiirnutc* 'ml give
me credit on black plate iron I can make axes better than Pittsburgh!"

Stikes' long bony chw stung Blair's shoulder and he headed for the
door.

"But wait, Mike. There's a problem/*

Stikcs turned back.

"1 want to get one contractor to supply the whole list railed for in
the treaty. So it'll he Butfrick you'll be dcaiiii' with, not me. And who
ever takes on the whole contract will have to gtiatantet* all

MADE IN PITTSBURGH 57

Stikes' blue eyes searched Blair. "Could you speak plainer, Blair?
What you sayin'?"

"I mean the government won't replace anything. The contractor
will have to replace any defectives the Indians complain of. So hell
look them over close."

Stikes was wounded.

"Mike, I only meant it should have that 'store' look to it ... like
Pittsburgh/'

"Blair, these'll be axes like . . . never bit timber this side of the
Allegheny Ridges."

Blair was gone from Mesopotamia the better part of four weeks. He
caught up with the circuit court and tried a case on Big Darby Creek.
Then he traveled to negotiate with a small group of Delawares and
Shawances at Wapahkonctta, and he rode to Piqua to appraise the
value of Shawance, Delaware and Seneca improvements at that place,
for they now insisted on the same compensation for their improve
ments as Silver Pigeon's Wyandots.

When he rode back into Mesopotamia late at night the place was
silent except for a wonderful clangor that came from Stikes' forge. The
settlement was dark except for a garish orange from Stikes' place. The
glow reflected wet and shiny from the sweaty back of Stikes whose
long, corded ami swung the hammer down against an orange fragment
of plate iron. Orange sparks splayed off the anvil, bounced off Stikes'
leather apron onto the floor, framing Stikes in a flickering ring of
sparkles.

The sight of Stikes caused Blair to ride over to the big double cabin
of Asa Buttrick, Buttrick had clear Pittsburgh glass in his windows
and through the front one Blair could see the agent-trader sitting at
the table with a ledger in front of him.

When they sat down at the table Blair shoved the last page of the
treaty in front of Buttrick.

Buttrick leaned back, read the list of hard goods to be furnished to
the Wyandots.

There were few things Buttrick, the trader, understood, but he knew,
everything there was to know about a trade. He threw the treaty back
on the table and hooked his thumbs over his straining belt

"Yes, Jonathan?"

"I'm offering you a chance to bid on supplying this treaty, Asa."

58 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Laiuyer

Buttrick's head snapped forward so that his jowls bulged his ears
out from his head. "Jonathan, do you think I'd touch this contract?"

"Why not? It's business, and there's mighty little of that around."

"Think a minute, Jonathan/'

"Of what?"

"Where do you suppose I get my loans for trade goods?"

"Gideon Schaacht."

"That's right, Jonathan."

"What's he have to do with your bidding on this contract?"

"Think it out yourself, Jonathan. Don't you suppose every dock
agent and merchant down on the Cincinnati wharf read that treaty in
the Scioto Gazette? Don't you know times are so bad a man would ride
five hundred miles to get an order like this? Didn't you ever wonder
why nobody came to ask you for the trade? A firm named Fleming
handles all Indian cesvsion contracts,"

"Yes?"

"And Schaacht handles Fleming."

Blair left But trick's door open behind him. He led his bay slowly
across the common toward the orange glow of Stakes' forge. Stopping
just outside the circle of light from Stikes* open-sided shop, Bluir
wrapped the bay's bridle around a hitch post, and framed his speech
to Stikes,

Stikes shoved the long tongs into the forge and pulled out a chunk
of incandescence which he plunged into a tub of water, ducking back
from the steam which leaped to the loft.

Blair's eyes probed the corner of the shop* In the shadows there, he
saw Stanley-the-Slasher polishing an axe helve vigorously with a
leather strop.

Blair stepped into the light. Stikes looked up. Sweat streamed down
his neck onto his bare red chest, but exhilaration was in his voice.

"Blairl"

Stikes' arm dived into the tub of water for a blue-black hunk of
hammered iron which he shoved into Blair's hand.

"How do you like that?"

Stikes snatched the blanked-out axe-head back out of Blair's hands
and replaced it with another which was filed smooth and had a hole
in it for the helve.

"Notice? Hole tapers to the inside. When them red dogs swing, it'll
only drive the head on tighter/'

MADE IN PITTSBURGH 59

Stikes snatched that one away and replaced it with another, which
was by comparison a polished jewel. He dropped the narrow end of
one of slasher's polished helves through the hole in the shining axe
head, and handed it to Blair.

"Six-pound head. Yankee pattern. Single-bitted," he bragged.

The shaft felt like velvet in Blair's hand, the head gleamed black.
With one hand Stikes trailed a horse tail hair across the blade. Half
of it drifted to the floor.

"Too good for them red devils," Stikes claimed, "but you said
quality."

Blair put the axe down. "Mike, I don't think we . . ."

"Oh, don't worry about quantity either. We got sixteen already,"
Stikes said.

"Yes, but it looks like we might not ... that is, I didn't think you'd
get started so fast," Blair said. "There may be a change in . . ."

"Hah! We're ahead of ya on that, too, Jonathan," said Stikes. "We
didn't think them three-and-a-half-foot axe handles would swing right.
Slasher's makin 1 'em all four foot Heft this one."

Blair swung the axe up onto the anvil and left it there.

"Mike, I'm worried about the contract that I said . . ."

Stikes damped a bony claw on Blair's shoulder.

"Jonathan/* he promised earnestly, "don't you worry. After what
you're doin' T we'll stand behind every damned axe, even if we got to
make 'em all twice. You go get some sleep."

But Jonathan Blair could not sleep against the ringing of Mike
Stikes' anvil through the big woods all night.

The only fact Blair had to go on was one: Asa Buttrick was afraid to
bid on the Wyandot contract. Why?

But the ceaseless pounding of Mike Stikes' hammer left no time
for thinking. And Blair did know one other fact about Asa Buttrick.
Buttrick had for twenty years jealously fought off all competitors. He
procured better prices on the Cinci wharf for the produce of the big
woods than any other agent. And he supplied the settlers with cheaper
imports than any other agent.

Between Buttrick's fear of the Wyandot contract . . . and his long
record of combative competitiveness, Blair decided to bank on the
latter. He went over to Hosmer's store and asked for the names of
some other agents besides Buttrick.

60 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Hosmcr answered the questions and then squinted Blair into sharp
focus.

"Ye're not bargaining to cut Buttrick out of the contract are ye,

Blair?"

"Buttrick doesn't want it/'

Blair left Sam pulling his right ear and he vein back to his own
cabin. He began filling four separate sheets oi paper with numbers
which struck close to the estimates Sam HOSIIUT had given him. He
varied the handwriting so that each sheet looked diilm?nt.

Blair rose as Hope Emerson entered his cabin. Her entering ad
mitted the pounding from Siikcs" forge, but it also brought with it a
quiet that drifted into the room with her pine soap fragrance.

The time between the end of chores and the sunset was always a
time when Hope Emerson seemed different to Blair. You could see
the comb marks in her light hair, pulling it back to uncover in the
evenings a halolike outline of untanned skin around her forehead and
face. In the evenings, too, Hope's face relaxed from its squinting
against the sun's reflection of! the backs of her flock, and the twinkle
lines off the corners of her eyes were white and untanned giving a
transluccnce to her face that encouraged Blair to think this was not
a work visit.

But her voice was business.

"Jonathan, I got an answer from Rotch. Will you read it to me? 11

Thomas Rotch wrote that so many fanners had found that pure
white Merino wool was the only hard money crop in the West that
he was pressed to fill the demand. His price for a pair of pure Merinos
remained $1,500. He would guarantee them for eight months of good
health after inspecting the adequacy of her shelters and her pasturage.
Payment must be in notes which were in good standing as far east as
Steubenville and Pittsburgh.

Hope said, "Before I buy I got to decide if Government Land Office
will take a partial payment on my land. If not, Fd be better off to
keep my common sheep and me my money to buy a new piece tip where
you're clearing out the Indians. Be no use to have a new pair of Merinos
if I lose my land here. How soon you going to get the Indians out,
Jonathan?"

"Not until I deliver the bill of hard goods the treaty guarantees to

them/'

MADE IN PITTSBURGH 61

"What's holding that up?"

"Buttrick won't bid on the contract."

"Looks like you got other bids there, Jonathan.

Although perhaps absurd, Blair was not the only one who attributed
an all-knowingness to the quiet grey eyes of Hope Emerson. So he
explained Buttrick's fear that Schaacht wanted no bidders, and that
these were decoy bids for Buttrick's benefit.

Hope rose. "You'll likely outscheme yourself, Jonathan. Seems awful
roundabout/'

Blair didn't answer. He stared at the bids.

"Also," said Hope, "you'll feel pretty darnation small in the sight of
Asa Buttrick."

"I'll feel worse in the sight of Mike Stikes. Listen."

Hope listened to the hammering from Stikes 1 forge.

Blair paced back and forth. "Day and night he T s been goin' like
that. Makin' axes for the Wyandot contract. My doing. I got him
started.'*

"I see."

Blair paced.

"Still 'n all/' said Hope, "you're not goin' at it right."

"How then?"

"Why not butt right into it?"

"Butt right into Gideon Schaacht?" Blair smiled and sat down.
"How?"

" Tears to me you got to sometime. Put a notice in that Scioto
Gazette for bids. Then let him do whatever he's going to do. Then
you'll know. This way you're fightin' what you can't even see."

Blair smiled at Hope's beautiful naivety.

"Trouble with you, Jonathan, you've not found out yet, that's what
we've all been doin' out here all along. When old man Hosmer first
moved in here, he butted right away against Rontondee and Captain
Michael"

"But Rontondee drove him out twice. And I can't afford to lose this

one, Hope."

"You got to be willin' to lose. If you don't dare lose, then you always
got to settle for half or less/ 1

"You don't understand, Hope, Gideon Schaacht is the only man in

62 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

the West who can help anybody. He has the power to lend. And that
is also the power to take away."

"Then it seems to me you may be the one man he can't beat."

"How do you mean?"

Hope looked around at the nearly empty cabin. Then she looked at
Jonathan's worn boots and followed up his iinsey trousers to his soiled
white shirt. She looked up at the empty loft. There was not insult, just
a question of fact.

"What could he take away from you?" she asked. Hope left,

Blair looked across the common toward the orange glow of Stikes'
forge. The clanging of Stikes' hammer drummed out Hope's last ques
tion, "What could he take away from you . . . that would be worth
anything?"

Blair sat to his table. He wrote:

"Bids are now accepted at the cabin of Indian Sub-agent Jonathan
Blair in the town of Mesopotamia* known as Hosmer Village
north and west of the Towne of Columbus on the old Harrison
War Road, for a bill of materials in satisfaction of the Wyandot
Indian Treaty as follows:

823 AXES

etc."

In eight days the advertisement brought results. From the front of
Hosmer's store Mesopotamia watched the Blair cabin with a new
found awe and respect

Outside the Blair cabin was an enormous black stallion with a light
tan saddle. It was flanked by two smaller ones. Matt Gavagan said,
"Maybe you'll have a new look at Mr. Blair now ya see the kind of
visitors he's got."

Hosmer said, "But are ye sure, Gavagan? Can't figure him comin*
t'see Blair in person,"

Gavagan bawled out, "Guess there'd be a lot of crow eat around here
if it turned out Blair got Schaacht to come up and loaji good United
States Bank notes to our bank."

They all looked at Sam Hosmer who in turn studied the black stal
lion* "I'm hungry to eat it," the old man said. "Raw and unsalted,
feathers included."

The knock on Blair's door demanded answering, but gave no time to
answer. A tall man bent his head and shoved into the cabin.

MADE IN PITTSBURGH 63

"Hello, Blair. Gideon Schaacht."

He did not wait for acknowledgment nor introduce the two men
who entered with him.

"Sorry I forgot to tell you the procedure on these Indian cession
contracts," said Schaacht. "I saw your advertisement.'*

The back of Schaacht's big hand waggled toward Blair's table. In
instant response the short heavy-set assistant plunked the Scioto Ga
zette on the table where Schaacht indicated.

"I brought up the contractor who handles all these. Meet Fleming.
Cincinnati/'

Blair looked at Fleming, but he was obviously not the one to talk to,

"Mr. Fleming is free to bid on the contract/' said Blair.

Schaacht brushed this aside.

"Blair, Fleming handles all these contracts. We can't take any chance
on poor goods or comebacks from the Indians. Got to be a supplier
that can stand back of his goods. Government can't guarantee the
stuff/'

"I'll see that my contractor backs his goods," Blair said.

"Blair, I didn't come up here for discussion. Fleming handles the
bill of materials. We put you in as Indian sub-agent to dispatch this
matter* Not to delay it/ 1

Blair looked surprised.

'Tow put me in?"

"Does that surprise you? Cass and McArthur and I decided on you.
You're supposed to be an attorney and you know Silver Pigeon and
that preacher up there, Gershom." Schaacht's eyes fixed on the lawyer,
"What are you grinning at, Blair?"

"At myself/' said Blair as he sat down. "I'm appointed sub-agent and
then I find out it's because Silver Pigeon wants me. After that I find
out Hosmer Village people want me for sub-agent. They figure it will
advantage them in getting Indian lands after the removals. Now I
find out I'm Indian agent because you want me to be. What do you
want out of it?"

The two assistants were obviously nervous for Blair. Schaacht's voice
stabbed, "Blair, it is not too late to make new appointments. Colonel
Armstrong is still available."

"That still doesn't explain your concern over Indian affairs, Mr.
Schaacht/'

"My concern and my authority seem natural enough since my assign-

64 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

mcnt from Mr. Monroe and the Treasurer is to stabilize Western fiscal
affairs. I would be seriously remiss to let one sub-agent interfere/'

Blair sat slack at his table.

Schaacht said, "Well?"

Blair reached for the Wyandot Treaty. With a carefulness exasperat
ing to Schaacht, Blair rolled it up and tied a leather thong around it.

He held it out to Schaacht. Schaacht did not move to touch it. And
In that instant Jonathan Blair experienced something of the power of
a man who can decline a job, a man who can afford to lose.

"Blair, the War Department expects sub-agents to execute their
duties."

Blair continued to proffer the treaty.

"And for gross negligence or dilatory execution there are material
disciplinary measures."

Blair straightened his elbow pushing the treaty closer to Schaacht's
massive, brass belt buckle. He looked around his own cabin. Schaacht's
eyes followed Blair's in an inspection of the worthless contents of the
cabin. He looked back at the treaty which Blair held out to him,
Gideon Schaacht, for the first time in his economic-political career, was
looking at an opponent who had nothing to lose,

Schaacht turned to his two assistants, "Step out and find water for
the horses."

He sat down across the table from the lawyer. "All right, Blair* just
what is your interest in placing the contract for tins treaty?"

The ringing of Mike Stikes' anvil penetrated the walls of the lawyer's
cabin, and Jonathan Blair drove a hard bargain thin day on the con*
tract-letting prerogatives of the Indian sub-agent for Wyandots above
the old Greenville Line north and west of Hosmcr Village.

It must be said for the bigness of Gideon Schaacht that when he
lost the main point he had no desire to salvage the niggardly scraps
often reserved for the loser. He gave it all. A great grin broke over
the long sharp face. He slapped the table and rose, relaxed.

"Very well, Blair. My only interest is in seeing the contract respon
sibly placed. You can give out the contract. But get the Indians out of
there and quick!"

Schaacht walked to the door and reached for tine handle.

Blair could see how men became devoted to the giant. His manner
now attracted one's good wishes. Blair wished to talk no more business.
But the ringing of Stikes' hammer was still in his ears and he said.

MADE IN PITTSBURGH 65

"One more thing, Mr. Schaacht. You say you're extremely interested
in hastening the removal of the Indians, though I don't see its con
nection with the United States Bank."

"With the Indians gone, Blair, we open up that whole rich forest to
settlement. Eastern settlers bring in good eastern money."

"Don't know as it'll work out that way. But assume you're right.
The quickest way to get the Indian cession executed is for us whites
up here to treat the Wyandots decent."

"Sure. You've got to get your people to stop annoying them."

"You've got to do that/' said Blair.

"Me?"

"You."

"How?"

"By relieving the financial pressure that makes the whites around
here keep pushing Silver Pigeon."

Schaacht relinquished the door handle and his geniality. Blair felt
Schaacht's mind snap closed, but he also heard Stikes' hammer and he
said, "You've got to give Sam Hosmcr's bank here, a United States Bank
loan."

Schaacht looked shocked. "You've had more than one man's share of
telling me what I've got to do today, Mr. Blair."

Schaacht turned and opened the door. But as he did so, he stepped
right into the inquisitive and admiring face of Mesopotamia. The
crowd had moved over from Hosmer's store to look at the extra-large
black stallion and to admire the light tan saddle and to ask Schaacht's
two assistants about the status of the dollar down in Chillicothe and
Cincinnati.

Schaacht closed the cloor and turned to Blair in annoyance.

But Blair said, "As long as most of them are assembled, Mr. Schaacht,
I'd like you to tell them what you decided about the contract.
Strengthen my effectiveness if it looks like you're on my side."

Schaacht studied Blair a moment. "Very shrewd, Blair. And a good
idea."

As Schaacht spoke to the men of Mesopotamia from the stoop in
front of the lawyer's cabin, Jonathan Blair knew that he was watching
an extremely capable man at work. A less perceptive man might have
affected plainness of speech "suitable" for a group of settlers this far
north who still wore leather and no chest linen. Schaacht made no
such error.

66 J o N A T a A N B L A i R : Bounty Lands Lawyer

He spoke of the overall economic welfare of the entire territory.
And to men who were starved for a confident giant to take a firm grip
on the miserable Western wildcat currency, Gideon Schaacht looked
extremely adequate.

He did more than that. The tools o Gideon Schaacht were men,
and he knew enough to keep his tools sharpened. He placed a hand
on Blair's shoulder in closing and he said, "Jonathan and I feel that
in this instance it would be best for him to place the Wyandot contract
where he sees fit. This is not usual but Jonathan pointed out to me the
advantages of doing it this way . . . this time."

Blair could see Sam Hosmer reappraising him as he stood there
obviously in the confidence of the great man. And despite himself
Blair felt his own face flush with a pleasure which made his intentions
seem traitorous. But he could also hear Mike f s sledge ringing im
periously.

Schaacht stepped down to his stallion, but he never got his foot to
the stirrup. Jonathan Blair chose that instant to address the crowd.

"You remember they told us the United States Bank was only worry
ing about Cincinnati and Chillicothe and Vincenncs and didn't have
sense to know the north counties need decent currency, too?"

The crowd inched closer and nodded. Schaacht whirled on Blair*
Blair didn't meet his eyes. Stikes' hammer was loud in his can. "Well,
Mr. Schaacht has come up to make an appraisal of our properties to
see if it's feasible to make a United States Bank loan to the Mesopo
tamia Hog & Trust Company/'

A commotion broke out in the crowd. Matt Gavagan yelled, "By
God! Let's give a whoop for Mr. Schaacht and for Blair!"

Blair saw the shock on the faces of the two assistants of Gideon
Schaacht and as he turned away from the crowd he could feel Schaadu's
eyes boring through his back. The lawyer did not know how he would
pay for this.

But the appraisals began on Monday.

Asa Buttrick could smell the balance of a trade.

The instant he stepped into Hosmer's store on the fifteenth of July
he knew that he was unusually welcome. And this despite the fact
that Sam Hosmer was long practiced in the art of the frontier dicker,

Blair noticed that Buttrick armored himself behind a vast, sluggish

MADE IN PITTSBURGH 67

lethargy of his great body. Blair had seen Buttrick when every ounce o
his two hundred odd pounds was alive and vibrant, like the time he
had brought in the first small load of Pittsburgh window glass for
sale on the frontier. But today he was a sleepy-eyed hulk, civil enough,
but wearing the reserved tolerance of a man who thinks he is being
imposed upon.

While Sam Hosmer pointed out to him the keenness of the blade
of a grey-iron axe which he dandled temptingly, Buttrick refused to
reach for it. Instead he picked up a roll of harness leather and studied
it indifferently.

Blair noticed with alarm that the axe Hosmer was handling was
not one of the Stikes axes, but an axe which had been in his store with
out takers for several months, Blair privately damned an old man's
carelessness.

Buttrick said, "Sam, after all these years you wouldn't try to unload
back inventory on me, just because it's a government contract."

"Only reason this lot of axes has been here so long, Asa, as ye know
well enough, is nobody is buying much these days. I can give ye a price
on them ... so ye can make a profit,"

Buttrick absently unrolled the harness leather. Indifferently he said,
"Yeah, Sam, but I need eight hundred twenty-three of them. How
many can you furnish?"

"Got twenty-five in the store, but I can get more. The firm closed
down, but they got more in stock."

Buttrick sunk a thumbnail into the leather harness, "If the firm's
out of business I can't use 'em. You know how the government holds
you to a contract. I got to have somebody to go back to in case of
faulty issue, If these axes hone down to nothing, who would I go to?"

Blair wished old Sam were a match for Buttrick.

Buttrick expected an answer. The absence of an answer from old
man Hosmer forced Buttrick's head up to attention. And when he
looked up this time Hosmer was not standing there with the grey-iron
axe. Instead he had eased back two steps, and in place of the grey-
iron axe he held this time across his two palms a sparkling jointure of
black iron and gleaming yellow hickory. Hosmer let it lie lightly on
his two wrinkled palms in a way that changed the axe into a necklace
on a purple velvet pillow. The sun flashed off the black iron and
Buttrick involuntarily grabbed the axe.

68 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Quickly he turned it on each side, then he tossed it, caught it,
swung it down to his side. He hoisted it up, ran his thumb over the
cutting edge.

"Where did you get those I"

He looked up for an answer. But Hosmer had moved away. He
was rewinding the harness leather with great concentration.

Blair mentally apologized to Hosmer; and suddenly he felt a little
sorry for Buttrick.

"Where'd you get 'em?" Buttrick asked.

Hosmer hung the coil of harness on a twelve-inch peg and bound
the coil with a thong. Buttrick said, "Where'd you . /'

But Hosmer had moved back farther in the store. He was rearranging
the harness stock, looking up only often enough to catch Buttrick in
deep absorption over the axe. Buttrick hoisted it up to look at the
butt of the helve. He ripped off a corner of the Scioto Gazette and
sliced it neatly without even holding the paper taut,

Hosmer strolled back.

"Six pound head/' he said slowly. "Yankee pattern. Single bit/'

"I can see that. Bxit who made it?"

"Helve is polished hickory. It'll wear out ten Wyandots/*

"How many can you get?"

"Might be able to get enough to fill your order/'

"Who makes f em? There's no mark."

Hosmer's wrinkles realigned themselves into a grin,

"Asa, when I told you who made the rope you went and bought it
direct. Didn't give me the trade."

Buttrick brought the axe to his nose and smelled it.

"You're in the right, Sam. Every man's privileged to keep his own
source, I like the axe. Can I come back on you for defections?"

"Yeah."

"But can you go back on the maker?"

"That's not your problem. I'll stand back of it/*

'Trice?"

"What kind of money?"

"Say John Piatt Bank notes,"

"Four dollars a piece."

"How about if my money was Bank of Chillicothe notes?"

"Three dollars, seventy-five cents."

"How about Mechanics Bank of Cincinnati notes?" Buttrick kept

MADE IN PITTSBURGH 69

his head bent to the axe, but he raised his eyes to search Hosme*.
Hosmcr reached for a copy of the Scioto Gazette, studied it a moment,
made a few calculations with a charcoal stick and he said, "Three
dollars even, I guess/'

Buttrick grinned. "You know your paper pretty good, Sam. How
about if it was Mesopotamia Hog 8c Trust notes?"

Hosmcr was torn between good business and good faith to Meso
potamia. He said, "Two ninety-five."

Buttrick smiled. "You got more guts than sense, Sam; but it's still
too high. How about if I paid in United States Bank notes?"

"One dollar apiece if you pay in United States Bank notes, Asa."

"And how about if I pay in silver?"

Hosmcr slipped a little in his eagerness. "Fifty cents a piece," he
snapped, "for silver."

Buttrick caught Hosmer's hand before he could withdraw. "I'll take
half at fifty cents each in silver. Half at one dollar each in United
States Bank notes ... if I can get 'em."

The two men exhaled like tired fighters. Hosmer sat down. Buttrick
opened his coat. Blair moved about freely. Buttrick swung the axe
about, twirling it so it sparkled in the sun.

"Just one more thing, Sam," he said, relaxed. "I'm not going to get
stuck to the government on this contract. I'll buy from you. But I
got to be satisfied who makes 'cm."

"Best iron mongery in the trade."

"Who's that?"

Hosmer hesitated. "Mike Stikes," he said.

Buttrick dropped the axe.

"Who?"

"Mike Stikes."

Buttrick stood there a moment staring at Hosmer then he buttoned
his coat with finality and started for the door. He laughed. "Hosmerl
Are you crazy? Mike StikesI" He laughed. "No contract, Sam."

Hosmer was up. "You can't buy an axe that good."

Buttrick laughed. "But you said 'an established mongery/ "

"What's wrong with Stikes? Everybody here knows his work. That
makes him established."

"Mike is fine. None better. But . . . but he's just old Mike. Heck,
everybody knows good old Mike. Fine man. But he's just good old
Mike, that's all"

70 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Laivyer

"What difference so long as he makes good axes?"

"Well, I know, but . . . but he can't be the best in the . . . why
Mike Stikes is just one o us. We all know Mike/'

But trick laughed; and he left.

Hosmer sat dejected, but not surprised. Blair, however, was still
stupefied when he heard footsteps from the rear of the store, A voice
approaching from behind the harnesses said, "I saw him come in, Sam.
Couldn't wait. I came over to listen,"

"Mike!"

"Yeah, I heard what he said/*

Hosmer looked at the hanging arms of his friend Stikes.

"Then ye heard how it is, Mike* Home folks just aren't experts, it
seems. They're just people you know all your life."

"I'll take the axes back," said Stikes. "Won't have you stuck with
'em."

"No, ye don't Mike. I was gonna take a profit The losses go with
the profits."

"No, Sam." Stikes hauled the axes out from under the counter
and piled them up carefully.

"Put 'em back," said Hosmer.

"No* You'll never unload all these."

"Put 'cm back."

"Can't have you stuck, Sam . * f or a bunch of red bastards any
ways/'

"I won't be stuck," said Hosmer. "There ain't axes like them this side
of the Alleghenies ... in fact this side of England/*

"I know it," said Stikes as he hoisted them* "But that don't count/'

But Hosmer shoved them back to the floor.

"Yes it does. I'll sell 'em. Take a long time. But when this fouled up
currency of ours is settled, there'll be settlers coming in again , * . in
bunches. There'll be somebody along from out of town/*

Stikes' claw stroked his chin. "From out of town/' he repeated re
flectively. "Somebody from out of town/'

Mike dived for the axes* "Sanil You just now put me back in busi
ness. I'll be back." Stikes swung the axes up to his shoulder and strode
out the front door, leaving Hosmer and Blair uninformed*

Throughout the next week Blair wondered at the hammering that
went on at the Stikes* forge. He couldn't see what Stikes was doing
because he had closed the big sliding door that usually left the whole

MADE IN PITTSBURGH 71

of the shop open to view. Slasher kept going in and out of the forge,
too.

Blair joined the circuit court again when it got up as far as the town
of Columbus. He tried a case of escapement of apprentice against
Stuttgart, a case of bank-note forgery against Wembly, and a case of
assault against Stuttgart on behalf of a quarter-breed Shawanee living
in the town of Columbus. He won both actions against Stuttgart, lost
against Wembly.

The Shawanee quarterblood asked Blair how the Wyandot treaty
was coming along and mentioned that he had seen Silver Pigeon in the
town of Columbus a week before. This disturbed Blair for two reasons.
When Silver Pigeon was not with his Wyandots at Upper Sandusky,
discipline disintegrated. Captain Michael could not control the tribe.
Gershom could control the Christians, but they were outnumbered
two to one by the others who in Silver Pigeon's absence looked to
Rontondee. Rontondee's leadership usually meant sporadic bush fight
ing and various murders, both white and Indian.

The second of Blair's misgivings was that Silver Pigeon had only one
reason for living , . . that was the Wyandots. When he was with them
he was laboring for the Wyandots. When he was away from them he
was still laboring for the Wyandots.

Further, Silver Pigeon had long since given up the physical resistance.
Resistance in Silver Pigeon had gone under the skin . . . into a smold
ering, scheming obstructionist policy which could not be combated on
one front. It pervaded every phase of relationship. Defeated on one
encounter, it diverted to another effort.

It would seem that Silver Pigeon had been defeated in the payment
of the debts to white settlers, and so Jonathan Blair wondered earnestly
where he was and what he was planning.

Blair had ridden back north to within ten miles of Hosmer Village
when he saw ahead of him the wagon of Matt Gavagan. It was unusual
for Gavagan to have the canvas up. It indicated a weather-damage
able cargo, like flour. It was still more unusual to be able to overtake
Gavagan's wagon, for Gavagan drove with a flair. But Blair soon
saw that the wagon was stopped. Blair dismounted.
. "Trouble, Matt?"

"No, Blair. But how far behind you is Buttrick?"

"Didn't know he was behind."

"Yeah. S'posed to be comin' up today. I want him to overtake me."

72 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Why?"

"He always snoops around to see what I got on. Today 1 want him to
see."

"Why?"

"I promised Hosmer to keep it secret. Be best if you weren't standin*
here when Buttrick comes.'*

When Gavagan's wagon pulled into Hosmer Village, Blair started
over to the store. Buttrick splashed 1m mount across the ford and tied
up behind Gavagan's wagon. Hosmer came out,

"Get everything, Gavagan?"

"Yeah."

Gavagan leaped down from the seat and pulled off his gloves with
a little more of a flourish than usual because there was a little more
of a crowd than usual It was a rare thing now when a new cargo
came into Hosmer Village, and Gavagan pulled the tail-gate pin with a
jerk that banged the gate down loud against the htxly. The axes
were tied in bundles and he handed the first to Hosmer and the rest
to bystanders to carry into the store.

Blair moved inside.

Hosmer knifed the rope on his bundle and absently handed one axe
to Buttrick. Then he went out for more,

When Hosmer returned Buttrick was examining the blade six inches
from his eyes. Then he swung it alternately in each hand. He grabbed
it just under the head, swung it out in an arc letting the helve slip
through his hand until the butt ridge stopped against the heel of his
hand.

The onlookers also grabbed axes and fondled them. Hosmer yelled
from across the store, "What you think of 'cm, Asa? They got some of
the features you admired on the others/*

"Don't see much difference/* said Buttrick.

"Isn't much. Oh, there's a little ring carved around the butt of the
helve on each one, and a hole punched in for runnin' a thong through
. so y'can hang it on a wagon. 'Bout the same/*

"Who makes f em?"

"Turn it over. It's chisel-stamped on the head/*

Buttrick turned it over, carried it closer to the window. "H-m-m," he
read. "Pittsburgh Small Iron Works," Buttrick held the axe off a ways.
"Hah! Now t-k**-t-'s an axel"

Hosmer remained busy storing the other bundles of axes. The others

A BARREL OF SILVER 73

in the store stopped handling the axes and watched Buttrick. The
older settlers looked away from him, though, and some of them
grinned.

Buttrick walked away from the crowd, back to where Hosmer
worked. He lowered his voice some. "What's the price of this axe?" he
asked, ". . . to me. Same quantity as before?"

A mask of vast indifference faded over Hosmer's face. "Well, this
one'll cost you a little more. Seventy-five cents each in silver or a dollar
and a half in United States Bank notes/'

"That's all right. 'Long as I know there's a good name back of it, it's
worth it, right, Sam?" Buttrick chuckled and inspected the axe head
again. "Pittsburgh Small Iron Works. Hahl Good house, Sam?"

Hosmer scribbled in his credit book. "Yeah, the best," he said. "Sign
here, Asa."

Buttrick signed the book and Sam Hosmer yelled up to the front
of the store, "Gavagan! Don't bring any more in! Take 'em all over
to Buttrick's place 1"

It was late that night when Mike Stikes shoved open Blair's cabin
door. He laid his land grant on the edge of Blair's table and he said,
"Jonathan, wouldn't surprise me if you was too busy to handle it."
He nudged the land grant closer to Blair. "But if you thought you'd
have time, I'd take it as a favor if you'd handle the grant for me."

These were the events which taught Jonathan Blair, among others,
that an expert is a man from another town, and these were the events
which explained how the Pittsburgh Iron Works came to be located
in the Ohio Country.

Chapter 5: A BARREL OF
SILVER

MATT GAVAGAN remained seated on the
high box of his wagon where he could look down on the excited
Wyandots who swarmed around his team.

But his disgust was not so much for the Indians as for Jonathan

74 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair. Gavagan had slurriecl the wagon into the center of the Indian
town of Upper Sandusky with an ostentatious dust-churning worthy
of the Trans-Allegheny stage dowmtatc. It brought the red men out,
running. Gavagan had set the stage for Blair to deliver the axes with
an impressive flourish.

But instead the lawyer was down there unloading the axes with his
own hands, brushing the trail dust off the heads, laying them on the
ground, making sure all the blades faced the same way so that they
made a gleaming display. If you didn't know that Blair couldn't even
shoe a horse without pounding his thumb, you'd think he had made
the axes himself.

Justin Bolding watched also. With his arms folded, the young man
reflected that his preceptor was losing the show. Instead of sending for
Silver Pigeon and turning over the supplies with an upper hand, he
was losing the occasion to Silver Pigeon, and perhaps a few million
acres of the Northwest as well.

Silver Pigeon arrived last, tall and austere. Blair held up one of
the axes for him to feel, like a merchant trying for a sale* The Pigeon
ran a finger over the edge and nodded. He said, "And how have you
succeeded about getting the damages- money for our improvements?*'

"War Department has disallowed the amount as too high."

"Then how about the money for the church mission? 1 ' Pigeon per
sisted.

"What do you care about the mission?"

"Not much, but the Great White Spirit keeps order in my town.
So I want it"

"I think we may get that. Five hundred dollars. But it takes time/*

James Pointer and a few of the English-speaking Christian Wyandots
alerted at this good news and started to ask Blair questions alx>ut the
mission. But Silver Pigeon had learned to belittle each favor or con
cession with another and larger demand* He had learned it from
General Duncan McArthur and Major Armstrong and Cass and Worth-
ington. He cut off his people's enthusiasm with a question, "Then
what about the additional fifty thousand acres I asked for the reserve
here in Upper Sandusky?*'

"We'll talk more about that when your men stop hunting on that
land. For now, notice, we're doing well holding up our end of the
treaty/'

A BARREL OF SILVER 75

"For such a treaty you should."

Pigeon turned and walked away, and the question of when and if
the whites would be able to occupy the reaches north and west of the
Greenville Line was still very vague.

Blair went over to see Reverend Gershom and Fawn, the sister of
Silver Pigeon. Fie took her a three-inch-square mirror which he had
bought at Columbus. He stopped to say hello to Mudeater. And then
he went back to Matt's wagon.

Returning south to Mesopotamia, Blair sat on the box with Gava-
gan. Bolcling stood in the wagon bed behind them and between them.
He said, "If you'll excuse the observation, Blair, you're letting that
Indian fly too high. They're going to go one way or another, sooner
or later. Nobody's going to thank Jonathan Blair if he makes it
easier on them/*

Blair studied the ears of Gavagan's team.

Later he said, "Bolding, I'm going down to circuit court. While I'm
gone, see to renewing Exeter's ferry license, make out a voucher for
Buttrick's payment from the War Department and read Wood's
Institutes through covenants, damages, detinue and dower."

'I'm already up to that."

"Then read through executors, extortion and felony," snapped
Blair.

"Yes, sir" said Bolding. "And when do I get bar membership?"

"When I say you're ready."

"My God, are you trying to get me ready for the Philadelphia
courts?"

"You're ready for them now. But out here you've got to know some
thing."

"That explains your outstanding success no doubt, Blair."

"And you'll do me the courtesy to call me Mr. Blair."

"Courtesy is important out here?"

"More than in Philadelphia. Out here it keeps you alive."

At the store the conversation stopped when Blair entered. Stikes
and Hussong and Hope Emerson and Exeter and a few others were
there*

Hosmer asked, "Well, Blair, them red devils agree to stay on the
reserve when ye delivered the stuff?"

"Not yet. But they will."

76 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"When?"

"Soon as I can get the damages money for them. And the extra
acreage. And the mission they want/'

"Hunh. Ye sure got the patience of a saint, Blair, when ye're dcalin'
with our enemies/'

"They're entitled to the damages money*"

"What proof they'll move if ye get it for 'em?"

"No proof. But I think they will/'

"Hunh. Think! You better knowl Looks like we're gonna need that
land ourselves when we get kicked oil here." HOMIUT put his hand
on a large leather bag. "Riddle was up here/* he said.

"Riddlcl Then we got the loan?'*

"We got a loan."

"Then we can make the land payments/' said Blair with pleasure.
"Let's see the money/'

Hosmcr spilled the bills out onto the counter, Blair looked at
them. "Where are the United States Bank notes? 1 *

"They ain't," said Hosmer.

Hosmer let Blair stare at the pile of regular Western paper dollars.
There were Zanesville Bank notes, Owl Creek Bank notes, Cincinnati
Farmers & Mechanics notes, a few Detroit notes, some on the Bank of
Vmcennes, Louisville and Muskingum Bank. It was a collection of the
regular Western wildcat hank notes.

"New policy," Hosmer said. "Riddle told us 'It's money/ Now that
the United States Bank is backing it up, it'll circulate* he said/*

"Like hell it will/' said Gavagan* "I turned down that Muskingum
paper from old man Boxford just yesterday/*

Hosmer explained "Riddle says it'll be different now * . . with the
United States Bank here. He says the United States Bank accepted this
stuff on deposit from the United States Land Office* No reason it
shouldn't be used just like any other monies on deposit at the United
States Bank/'

Hosmer stuffed the money back in the bag as if he were sweeping
up sawdust. He looked at Blair,

"So what's it gonna be, Blair? Ye gonna get them Indians off that
ground so we can get on it? Or are ye gonna go see this Schaacht and
get him to loan us some decent money? It's your turn/ 1

Blair started to object. How in God's name did they call one man
to account for the failure of all Western currency! But he remembered

A BARREL OF SILVER 77

Hosmer had not asked how one man was to lick the Wyandots;
he had built a blockhouse. Buttrick had not asked how one man was
to feed a village during the famine; he had gone out and brought back
corn.

"I'll go see Schaacht," Blair said.

On the way to Chillicothe, Blair stopped a week at the Borough
of Columbus for the sittings of the circuit court in that town. On the
last clay of the sittings he had only one case. And, like every law
case these days, it was about money. Since the legislature was not
sitting, and since there were a lot of auditors, Calvin Pease and Judge
Brown were holding the court in the incompleted Hall of Representa
tives on the first floor.

The important thing about the trial was that among the auditors
Blair was disconcerted to see the face of Silver Pigeon. He was curious
and concerned. The Pigeon never ventured south of the Greenville
Line without a purpose. The purpose was never trivial.

But Blair had to concentrate for the moment on defending Jarvis
Pike against "Citizens of Columbus/' Stuttgart was making the most
of the pride of the citizens in the new statehouse and their jealousy of
the contractor, Jarvis Pike. Blair heard him telling the judges, "Jarvis
Pike seems to feel that because he constructed the statehouse he owns
it. Look out the side windows of this Hall of Representatives toward
Broad Street right now. What do you see? You see Jarvis Pike's corn
growing on the statehouse grounds. Look out the back door into the
wood yard, what do you see? Jarvis Pike's four cowsl Look beyond the
wood yard. Jarvis Pike's wheatl And by what right? As you know, sir,
Mr. Monroe promised to visit the Ohio Legislature this summer. At
that time our Governor and our legislature plans to ask his considera
tion for more generous loans from the United States Bank. When he
sees Jarvis Pike's steers in the statehouse wood yard ... is he going
to think we are running this state in a businesslike manner? Should
Jarvis Pike's cows decide the credit rating of the West?"

Stuttgart sat down.

Pike reared up* "I got the cows in the backl Not the front!"

Blair pulled Pike's sleeve. The contractor sat

Blair addressed Stuttgart first, "I assure you, Mr. Stuttgart, I am
extremely concerned with Western credit, and any possible help from
President Monroe." Then he addressed the bench, "But Mr. Stuttgart
asked by what right does Mr. Pike use the statehouse lots for his

78 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

cattle and com and wheat? I am about to show you. Judge Brown
and Judge Pease, will you notice that Jarvis Pike honored his contract?
The statehouse is a full seventy-five feet long and full fifty feet wide
according to contract. Notice that though the contract calls for com
mon plain brick around the foundation, Pike used smooth-faced brick
for which he paid in good United States specie. Notice he used black-
walnut shingles on the roof for which he paid in good Virginia pounds
one year ago."

Judge Pease looked annoyed. "Mr. Blair, the question of Mr. Pike's
execution of contract is not in suit. Is this pertinent?"

"It will be, sir."

Blair concentrated on Judge Brown.

"Notice in the halls, Pike has put wooden columns for which he
paid in New Jersey silver pounds."

Pease's fingers began to tap the bench impatiently.

Blair came to the point quicker than he had planned. "All these
bills Jarvis Pike paid in good currency twelve months ago. But when
the state of Ohio came to pay Jarvis Pike for his good work, they
paid him in the currency of the Cincinnati Farmers fe Mechanics
Bank, the Zanesville Bank and the Bank of Muskinguiu. And because
of the current rate of distrust now discounted against this paper*
Jarvis Pike's pay amounts in reality to only 56 per cent of his con
tract price. Would you then prevent him from attempting to recover
something from the statehouse property by planting a little corn?**

Pease did not raise his head or his voice. Smoothing his rough thumb
nail with a small knife he monotoned, 4 *Mr. Blair, are you saying
that any o us who receive shaved money should plant corn on the
statehouse lands? Or on the lands of the payer?"

There had been scant legal case to start with. But the judge's incise
question shattered it.

Blair looked out the window to measure the height of Jarvis Pike's
corn. It looked a little better than knee high and this was the fifteenth
of July. Blair asked, "Sirs, when do you sit en bane as Supreme Court?
That is, an appeal filed today would come up about when?"

A tired-looking Judge Pease now turned his grey head to the win
dow to examine Jarvis Pike's corn critically. He pursed his lower lip*

Blair said, "It's Kentucky White, sir-"

"Means about a hundred-twenty-day growing season,*' the judge re
flected aloud. "Yes. You'd get it harvested all right/*

A BARREL OF SILVER 79

Blair said, "The defense rests/'

The crowd laughed. But the laugh was quenched by the unlaughing
face of Judge Calvin Pease.

As he walked with the crowd toward the tavern across High Street,
Blair heard a deep voice say, "Now if you can get some more time
for us, like you did for Pike, it will be good."

Blair turned to look into the grin of Silver Pigeon.

"What are you doing here?"

"You judge Silver Pigeon by yourself. Always you have a reason to be
some place. Come. We will eat."

"Your men stop hunting yet since we delivered the treaty goods?"

"We will eat and talk. Come."

Blair noticed several strange things about Silver Pigeon's actions.
The Pigeon said they would talk. But he insisted on sitting at one
of the four large common boards where private talk was impossible.
Pigeon hated whites, but he was winningly polite at table. His presence
there caused much interest among the others, not only because of his
commanding appearance, but because it was known that he led the
Wyandots and that Blair was in charge of removing the Wyandots
to a small reserve.

Pigeon customarily refused to adopt the clown role which was
forced upon any Indian who mixed his company, yet today he grinned
and ate his food with his hands.

Pigeon could speak English nearly as well as any at the table. Yet
today Blair noticed that he spoke Indian English, which is the way
settlers liked their Indians.

The men gave Silver Pigeon a long irregular Conestoga cigar and
enjoyed his wonderment at it and his difficulty at sucking on it.
The more they laughed, the more Pigeon played up his difficulties.
More whisky was called over. The lawyer observed that Silver Pigeon
was becoming the center of the group, and apparently on purpose.

The cigar went out many times, and the relighting of it each time
drew gales of guffaws.

However, the time when Pigeon called loudest for a light, it seemed
to Blair the cigar was not extinguished. But a long burning stick
from the hearth was proffered from the far and opposite end of the
table. Pigeon leaned laboriously to touch his cigar to the coal. It was
especially comical as he did not support the cigar with his hands, and
it jutted from his mouth like some misshapen drum stick. The Indian

8o JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

waggled his head in dissatisfaction with the coal and then he made a
small motion which Blair suddenly knew had been planned weeks.

Silver Pigeon reached into his leather breeches and pulled out a
dollar bill. He held it against the coal until it flashed into Hume. With
this he lighted his cigar. There were some chuckles.

Apparently he did not get a good light, lie pulled out another dollar
and lighted it also, applying it to his cigar. This also failed. The Indian
reached still another bill toward the coal for ignition.

But this time the coal was withdrawn. Silence sobered the table.
Pigeon, with his mouth full of cigar, beckoned impatiently for the
ember to come back to his outstretched dollar bill. But there was no
response this time.

A few benches scraped back from the table* A few men rose slowly.

A harsh voice cut the silence.

"What's a damned Indian doin' with so much money he lights cigars
with itl"

Pigeon looked bewildered, but to Blair he didn't look bewildered
enough.

A big fist snatched the bill out of Pigeon's hand and examined it.

"Are you crazy, Indian?*'

Pigeon looked wounded. He reached quickly into his pocket now and
brought out a handful of the bills, "Why cra/.y?" He shrugged and
slathered them the length of the table. "No good. No good wampum.
No buy nothing. Cigar light only/'

He picked up two bills, tore them in half and shrugged innocently
to the crowd. "This kind no good/'

"What currency is that, Indian?"

Silver Pigeon raised and lowered his shoulders and turned up his
palms.

Blair reached slowly for one of the bills. He found himself staring
at the signature of Samuel Hosmer under the words;

ONE DOLLAR

Redeemable in specie,

Mesopotamia Hog & Trust Company

The gruff-voiced one at the end of the table snatched a leather folder
from his own pocket and examined his own money. He rushed out of
the tavern. Another did likewise.

A BARREL OF SILVER 81

Blair yelled, "Come back! This money is good!"

But in seconds the table was empty as men scrambled out to divest
themselves of Mesopotamia Hog 8c Trust notes, to go home to examine
their money for Mespo notes and to warn friends of this latest failure
in the dwindling number of respectable banks.

Across an empty table Jonathan Blair now looked over expecting a
clowning leer on the face of Silver Pigeon. But instead he looked into
a suddenly resolute, sober, smooth-skinned mask. This was no fumbling
clown. This was Silver Pigeon, son of Captain Michael, grim and in
genious chief of the Wyanclots and leader of the six major tribes . . .
capable, formidable . . . brilliant. Blair remembered now the day
Hosmer Village had collected its debt from the Wyandots and he knew
how long was the memory of the Pigeon, and how patient.

The Indian's voice was vindicative. "And I am only begun, Blair.
Only begun."

"Pigeon! For God's sake do you know what you have done!"

"Yes. And you could have stopped it!' 1

"How?"

"Get us that other fifty thousand acres and the damages money, and
the mission."

"I can't work any faster!"

"You better learn how."

Blair grabbed his hat. "I may be able to stop your damage though."
He started for the door.

"You're too late, Blair!"

Blair turned. "What do you mean? This is the first place you've
done this, isn't it?"

Pigeon shook his head. "The last place. I started in Piqua. Worked
north."

Blair bolted out of the tavern.

Blair raked the bay's belly with his heels, and headed north up the
old Harrison War Road. But he knew he was racing against the fastest
runner in the West ... a bank rumor.

At Roxford's Cabin he dismounted. The bay was steaming. Blair
watered and rationed his mount and himself, and when he handed his
dollar to old man Boxford he knew he had lost the race this far. Box-
ford did not reach for the bill.

"I tell you it's a lie!" Blair yelled. "The money is as good as ever!
It's a deliberate attempt to . . ."

82 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

But Boxford only spread his fingers and rotated them famvise in
front of Blair. "Whatever you say, Mister. But have ya got any silver?"

Blair laid a silver dollar on the block. Boxford placed the chisel on
it twice and hammered t\vice, neatly excising a pie-shaped tenth of a
dollar. He handed the nine tenths of a disk hack to Blair.

Blair rode north at a gallop despite the darkness and the water
sloshing in the bay's belly.

He was glad that he was approaching the settlement at night. They
wouldn't gather round to get the news as they always did when any
one came up from the south and civilization, lie would be able to
work quietly without getting everyone excited.

First thing to do would be to get a list of all the Land Office pay
ments due from each settler. Then he'd get Sam to sub-loan the United
States Bank loan money to the settlers. He'd collect the money from
each of them, borrow a new horse, get Bolding and a couple others
to ride with him as guards for the money. If they rode day and night
for the Land Office at Chillkothe they might get the payments across
the counter and receipts in hand before Silver Pigeon's rumor reached
the Land Office and caused them to reject Mesopotamia notes.

It must have been midnight when he reached Mesopotamia* So he
was surprised to see by the mounts at the rail and the silhouettes
against the skin window that Hosmer's store was crowded with settlers.
He wrapped the bay's lines loosely around the rail and entered.

A few heads turned to Blair; but most of them continued to stare
at the slouching figure of Joe Hussong seated on the bench under the
harness rack. His usually dark face was drained pale. Camelia Flannerty
wrapped a long oelt of white Hnsey around his upper arm, but every
time she brought it around it turned red at the back of Hussong's
arm.

Some of the settlers stared where Hussong stared, at the shrunken
frame of Samuel Hosmer who stood between the stocks of two rifles
which lay across the counter, pointing toward the crowd. Wisps of
smoke still drained out the muzzle of tine one on the left* The one
on the right had the flint pulled back to half-cock. Hosmcr's left
hand was only an instant away from it He said, "It'll kill me to do
it, Joe. But I'll fire again if I have to* I told ye the silver stays in the
barrel"

Amos Exeter said, "But, Sam, Joe's right. They're saying Meso
potamia notes aren't worth , . /'

A BARREL OF SILVER 83

"I don't care what the babblemongers are sayln! It'll pass. The notes
are as good as everl Don't let them ruin us with talk like they did
the Shawaneetown Bank. Don't ye know it's only the damn barrel of
silver that's kept ye're money good as it is. Don't ye know if I was to
pass that silver out t'night a lot of ye will be holdin' waste paper by
mornin'I"

Flannerty said, "Sure, Sam. But it's our land payments we got to
make. Redeem at least part of our notes in silver and let us go pay
the . . ."

"I'll protect ye're damn money despite ye if I have tol I didn't hang
onto this silver this long to have ye panic now and give it all out,
and leave us with nothin'."

For the first time Blair noticed that Hosmer's big-knuckled hands
shook as an old man's hands shake. "Ye're arm pain ye, Joe?" His eyes
were lonesome and disappointed as an old man is disappointed in his
children. But his mouth was straight across and he said, "Blair, it's
good ye're back. We got work to do, quick. I loaned out that hodge
podge of currency Gideon Schaacht sent up as a loan. But it didn't go
round . . . not enough to each man to make his land payments . . .
not the way they'll discount that stuff at Land Office. We'll make up
the difference to each man in Mesopotamia Hog & Trust notes/'

"Make it up in silver, Sam!" Exeter pleaded. Hosmer ignored him.

"We don't have enough Mespo notes, but we'll write 'em out now.
Schaacht promised he'd hold up the value of Mespo notes by publish
ing *ern at the top of the list in the Scioto Gazette . . . that's how guilty
he felt about not sendin' us United States Bank not^s for this loan."

Hosmer pulled a sheet of printed but unsigned Mesopotamia Hog &
Trust dollar certificates from a pigeon hole. He kept his left hand
near the stock of the left rifle. With his right he began signing the
notes. Elizabeth Hosmer held the money from twisting under Hosmer's
quill. As he signed them, Elizabeth tore them off.

Blair said, "Sam, you can't just sign more notes unless they're
backed up."

"I still got the barrel, remember, Blair." Hosmer continued signing.
"Anyways, we only need a few more. Ain't like the Owl Creek Bank
where they got a paper circulation of near ten thousand, and I know
he ain't holdin 1 enough bullion to back a third of it."

For the next hour Jonathan Blair was busy amid a sullenness
brought about by the presence of a barrel of silver in the midst of

84 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

men who thirsted for silver. But no one else moved toward the barrel,
a gentlcmanlincss insured by the two rifles within six inches of
Sain Hosmer's hands.

Mesopotamia watched the lawyer at work in silence. If was a strange
sight to see Blair work at something with such surew-ss. Blair set
Holding to computing the difference which each man had to make up
in Mesopotamia notes. He and Bolding then took the^ Mesopotamia
notes as Hosmer signed them, and distributed them in the proper
amounts to each man so that each could cover his Land Office pay
ment.

Blair guided Hank Flanncrty's hand in signing his name to a promis
sory note to Hosmer's Bank. "Don't press down so hard on the quill,
Hank."

He told Mrs, Shane to sign both her first and last names.

He sent Brute Christofferson to borrow horses and relief horses for
the ride to Chillicothc.

Blair worked fast because he knew that while they worked here in
the store, Silver Pigeon's rumor would be traveling by word of mouth
through the taverns along the road toward the Land Office. Men
would be paying for their whisky and saying, "By the way, don't get
caught with any Mespo dollars. They're lightin* cigars with 'em."

Blair showed Denaro how to fill in the phrase "lands and chattels
shall be forfeited." That meant he had to answer Dniaro's question.

"That's right, Denaro. Means that if you can'* pay back the loan
the bank takes your acreage."

And as Denaro's brown eyes turned full on hint, Blair understood
as never before the full weight of the burden which had btrn carried
these last twenty years by Sam Hosmer. For Denaro askt*c!, "Blair, it's
gonna be all right, yes? The Land Oifice gonna take this paper and
give the receipt, yes?"

"If we hurry, Denaro!"

"But I got now the new grapes on this land."

"If you lose the land you lose the grapes, too."

"But you gonna fix it all right, yes? That's why you do this."

Blair -was impatient, for in the time it took Denaro to trace the
letters of his name, a bank rumor could travel five miles even through
solid forest.

Blair saw Bolding holding the corner of Hope Emerson's note,
waiting Impatiently for her to sign it, and Hope sitting there studying

A BARREL OF SILVER 85

it before she signed, as if she could read it. Blair said, "I'll get hers,
Holding."

Blair read it to her quietly, gently.

"Sounds like I'm signing away my life, Jonathan, but if you say it's
proper . . ." She made her mark. "You figure it's going to be all right,
don't you, Jonathan?"

Brute ChristofTerson loomed through the door to report that the
horses were ready. Blair was stuffing bills into his leather saddle bag.
Each group of bills was tied with a leather thong, and a piece of paper
on each told whose money it was and against which piece of ground it
was to be applied at the Land Office.

But Blair suddenly stopped filling his bag. A deep familiar voice
outside the door said, "Thank you for guiding us up here. We won't
need you now."

Another familiar voice answered. A voice which could speak better
English than it did, "Not go yet. You said show Indian how comes
silver for these paper notes."

"Oh, yes - . . come in. Well get that handled."

The door scraped open harshly and Gideon Schaacht stood in the
opening, whipping the rain water off his hat. Behind him stood Silver
Pigeon. Behind Silver Pigeon stood two soldiers. Their faded blue
uniforms were dark blue on the shoulders from rain. Dark blue under
the arms, from hot riding.

Schaacht walked to the counter where Blair was packing his saddle
bag. He picked up one of the bundles, inspected it. Then he picked
up several others, read the names, put them down.

"Land Office payments?"

"Yeah."

Schaacht circled over in front of the iron grill. He seemed to ignore
Hosmer, but he looked in at the cask.

"Silver's still there," he observed.

He continued his circle of the store by walking over to where Joe
Hussong sat. He stuck out a long finger and touched the red on
Hussong's bandage. He examined the end of his wet finger and turned
his head back to Hosmer. Then his eyes lowered to the rifles lying on
the counter on each side of Hosmer. He wiped his finger on a handker
chief and walked back to the doorway where he stood facing Sam
Hosmer.

"Hosmer, we hear a rumor that Mesopotamia notes are . . /'

86 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"It's a damned liel" snapped Hosmer, too quickly.

Blair saw Bolding look quickly at Schaacht expecting some severe
reaction. But admirably Gideon Schaacht softened a fraction even as
Hosmer continued.

"There's the barr'l of silver that backs up them notes and it's still
sittin' there. And what's more it's gonna keep on sittin' there ... as
every cuss in this room now understands, I hope*"

Hosmer looked over at Hussong.

Schaacht said, "Good. I'm glad to hear it's only a rumor,"

He turned to the men in the room. "You'll all do well to follow the
advice of your Mr. Hosmer, Rumors are sometimes deliberately started
by inferior banks who want to buy up good currency cheap to stabilize
their own position. Happened just two weeks ago over in Vincennes
and also in Dayton. Don't rush to believe the worst."

This man Schaacht was a leader. The men in the room grew strong
under his voice. And his faith in Hosmer reinstated their own faith
in the founder of Mesopotamia. It was pitiful to see the relief on the
old warrior when for once he had a little sup{x>rt on his side,

Schaacht said, "But Mr. Hosmer, before this rumor spreads, it is
necessary to fight it. It is important to redeem a few Mesopotamia notes
in silver, so that the word gets around that you're sound."

The old man snapped back on guard.

"I have come up to count your gold and silver/* continued Schaacht.

"Now wait a minute, Mr. Banker/' said Hosmer, warily. **Ye talked
yer way right back around to the other side. The silver's there. You
can see it fine from just where ye're standin*. None goes out/ 1

Schaacht held his hand out to Silver Pigeon, Pigeon placed in it a
handful of Mesopotamia notes*

Schaacht walked over to within ten feet of Hosmer and threw a few
on the counter. "Hosmer, we've got to redeem a few of these to show
the territory that you're redeeming in silver like it says on the face of
these notes, 'payable in silver on demand/ **

Hosmer picked up the notes and counted them. Twenty dollars
worth. "If ye set such a store by appearances/* he grudged, *Tll
redeem this money. No more/*

Hosmer placed his left hand on his rifle and kept his eye on Schaacht,
With his right he handed the key to Elizabeth Hosmer, She opened
the grill and went to the barrel. She counted twenty silver dollars

A BARREL OF SILVER 87

out of it and handed them to Hosmer who stacked them in front of
Schaacht.

Schaacht counted out the rest of the bills.

"A few more, Hosmer."

Hosmer counted the dollar bills. Twenty-two. He handed the key to
Elizabeth, who brought out twenty-two more.

"That satisfy you?" Hosmer challenged, pocketing the key.

"That'll help some," said Schaacht. "I don't ask you to distribute
any more. But I do insist on personally counting the rest of the silver
and gold in your cask. That's my right as principal creditor of your
bank and my duty as the United States Bank."

"Your right?"

"If your notes are good I'll see they're accepted at the United States
Land Office. If they're bad it's my duty to protect the government."

It was unfair for an old man like Hosmer to have to argue with a
giant to whom the President of the United States of America was
only "Mr. Monroe." But Sam Hosmer had never been in a fair fight.
He pulled from his pocket the only watch north of the town of
Columbus.

"It's after two o'clock in the morning, Mr. Schaacht. You can count
the specie in this bank, but not until banking hours. That's tomorrow.
I never open before end of morning chores."

Schaacht smiled and beckoned to one of the soldiers. The crowd
noticed for the first time now that one of them was Major Armstrong.
He walked over to the counter and placed a paper in front of Hosmer.
Hosmer read it, not all of it, but enough.

"Huh. Ye went to some trouble I see. A warrant. Blairl You're our
law man. Read this and come out with some law talk that proves he
can't come in here and count silver in the middle of the night."

Blair studied the warrant.

"Hell, tell him!"

Blair reread the warrant.

"Well, what you waitin' on, lawyer?"

"The warrant is drawn right, Sam," Blair said reluctantly. "He can
count our silver now. No use to try to stop him."

He handed it back, but Hope Emerson snatched it and returned it
to Blair. "Read it again, Jonathan," she said, "And find somethin'
wrong with it. If Sam Hosmer don't want the silver counted tonight it's
for good reason."

88 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair said, "Hope, the instrument is sound. There's no harm to let
him count it."

Schaacht said, "Major Armstrong, shoot off the lock/'

Armstrong backed up to the door and poured priming powder in
the channel of his sidearm. He raised it shoulder high and pulled back
die flint.

Sam Hosmer shoved his wife out of the way and stepped sideways
to stand in front of the lock.

Blair looked at Hope. But Hope looked at Brute Christofferson. She
.-said, "Brute!"

And Brute Christofferson walked over and stood beside Hosmer. See
ing Hosmer and Christofferson standing there in front of the lock,
Mike Stikes also walked oven as did Hope Emerson. Mesopotamia
closed ranks against an outsider,

Blair looked at Schaacht. And he walked over to stand by Hope
Emerson. Schaacht said, "Blair, you should be proud of the people you
represent. But I have a job to do."

Schaacht turned to Armstrong and snapped, "Major, the barrel,"

Armstrong traversed his aim from the shielded lock to the barrel of
silver*

The explosion dinned in the store and the smoke hung in the moist
air. The ball from Armstrong's gun did not even completely smash
one of the staves in the barrel. But it was enough to snap the rawhide
hoop and separate the bottoms of the staves from each other and from
the bottom barrel head* The ban-el remained upright, though slant
ing.

The crowd surged close to the counter. The silver dollars from the
*op of the barrel had jumped onto the floor and some were stiU
rolling. But through the gap between the staves and the bottom of the
barrel there spewed out onto the floor in front of the settlers, not
silver nor bullion, but a cask full of half-penny horseshoe nails*

With his back to the iron grill Sam Hosmer spread himself between
the settlers and the cask, his hands clinging to the iron grill behind him,
But their faces told him they had already seen*

The left side of Hosmer's face contorted in rage. But the fight side
of his face was ghastly with lack of expression. His right hand grip
fell limp from the iron and the arm swung down in front of him. His
Jbtead dropped on his chest and his body swayed forward yanking loose
JErom the rough iron grill his left hand which scraped off some rust

THE RIDERS 89

and left a red stain on the grill. Hosmer's body sagged down and his
forehead thumped the floor.

Speechless, the settlers watched one of the silver dollars roll out
under the iron grill. It dropped off the slight elevation and rolled
over to the iron-grey head of Samuel Hosmer where it circled onto
its side, spun, shimmered violently against the floor, and was stilL

Chapter 6: THE RIDERS

JONATHAN BLAIR learned in a matter of
seconds what a formidable force is the life-time reputation of a good
man. And at this moment the good name of Samuel Hosmer worked
against Mesopotamia as powerfully as it had ever worked for it.

In the presence of the crumpled grey-haired frame on the floor the
settlers forgot what had caused it to crumple. They forgot that the
lands and chatties of Mesopotamia depended upon the acceptability in
the Chillicothe Land Office of the paper dollars signed by Samuel
Hosmer, which dollars Blair was now stuffing into his saddle bag.
They forgot that this acceptability depended up until a moment ago
upon the weight of silver in Sam Hosmer's barrel. The silver had
suddenly turned to rusting iron. And as soon as that word traveled
through two hundred trail miles of woods to the Land Office in Chilli
cothe, the Mesopotamia Hog & Trust notes would become rifle
wadding.

Dazed, they forgot also that Gideon Schaacht was standing in the
store; that it would be his first interest to get this word to the Land
Office. Because if the money once went into the United States Land
Office, it would next be deposited in the United States Bank which
was the federal depository. Schaacht's bank could refuse to accept it,
but Mr. Monroe would not be pleased about that. He might not
even allow it.

Blair saw Schaacht move for the door. Although Schaacht's head
turned to stare at the crumpled man on the floor, his right hand held
the tunic of Major Armstrong, and his left forefinger stabbed at the

go JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

chest of Silver Pigeon. Both listened intently, Schaatht's lips were mov
ing rapidly. Over the mounting confusion Blair caught a few phrases
from Schaacht's instructions.

"Horses ready ... no stops except water and food , . . utmost
importance."

The crowd's confusion drowned out Srhaacht's next few words, but
Blair then heard a snatch . . . "Old Harrison War Road to Chilli-

cothe/'

Blair heard Silver Pigeon say, "No, too long. Shorter way. Shawanee
Trace."

"You know the way?" asked Schaacht.

"Day or night," said Pigeon. "Shorter."

Blair threw a thong around the bulging saddle bag and yanked it
tight. He noticed Justin Holding walk over to Sthaacht to say some
thing. Then he saw Schaacht shake his head imperatively negative
and push Bolding away. Blair could not listen any longer for Hope
Emerson tugged at his arm.

"Jonathan! Help lift Sam into Gavagan's wagon! lie's still breath
ing!"

Blair shook his head and knotted the thong around the money.
"Get somebody else!" Hope seemed not to believe him.

"You got to go with the wagon, Jonathan, up to that doctor at
Fort Tawal You know him. Nobody else knows him. You got to see
to it he fixes Sam I"

"Hope! Somebody else! I've got to get to Chillicothe * . * now!"

"Jonathan!"

"I've got to, Hope! Everybody's land payments! Matter of hours.
Schaacht will . . ."

But she wasn't listening. Her hand caught hold of one of the wooden
buttons at her breast and she backed away from him, with amazed
distaste.

"Hope, don't you see?"

Her voice was hate. "I see Sam Hosmer lying on the floor/' she said.
"I see you leaving. That's all 1 need to see, Jonathan/'

Without taking her eyes off Blair she called, "Brute!"

Her voice was not loud, but Brutus Christofferson was beside her
in an instant She continued staring at Blair, but she said, "Brute, put
Sam in Gavagan's wagon. Get to Fort Tawa as soon as you can. See the
doctor docs right/'

THE RIDERS 91

Blair grabbed Christofferson's wrist.

"Brute, you're goin' with me\ You got the horses ready? Well need
Tyng, tool"

Christofferson shook his arm, snapping Blair's grip so that a bow
string twanged up the inside of the lawyer's forearm.

"Hope, for God's sake, can't you seel" Blair pleaded.

"I already said I see, Jonathan," she said. "You'd better go."

Blair noticed that most of those not directly helping to lift Sam
Hosmer were watching him. He looked around the store, meeting the
cold face of Mesopotamia. Each face reminded him who had been the
one to sanction the opening of Sam Hosmer's barrel of silver. Each
face indicted him.

One face, however, seemed only to be amused. Justin Bolding stood
contemplating him with academic interest which infuriated the lawyer
and he said, "Come on, Bolding. It's you and I, I guess."

The doorway was blocked by Major Armstrong who kept his eyes
on Blair while handing his discharged pistol to the sergeant to be
cleaned. He lifted the other from his belt. Armstrong pulled back
the flint and shook the weapon to level the powder train. He looked
to Schaacht for instructions. Schaacht said, "Leave your sergeant here
to hold Blair and Bolding while we get down to Chillicothe."

The sergeant unslung his own rifle and stepped over behind Blair
and Bolding. Blair said, "Schaacht, you make a mistake if you spread
this word to the Land Office."

"Hard to see how that would be a mistake, Blair."

"This was one of the good local banks. Destroy this one and you'll
find out how hollow the others are. But if you let it ride along on faith
awhile, the banks can all get back on their feet. You should be trying
to hold them up ... like Hosmer did ... with his bare hands and
a barrel of nails."

"Just how, pray, can I put horseshoe-nail banks on their feet?"

"Help the men get title to their land."

"How does this save the bank, Blair?"

"If they could be sure of title they'll some day fill that Scioto
with barges of Slasher's black-walnut shakes, Hussong's pork, Hope
Emerson's Merino wool, rifles, whisky, flax. That's the same as money."

"I'd have trouble explaining that to Mr. Monroe, Blair. You and I
have a different understanding of money, Mr. Blair. Hold him here,
Sergeant."

92 JON AT HAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Schaacht surged for the door, but he stopped when Silver Pigeon
said, "Wait!"

Schaacht turned impatiently on the Indian. The Indian said calmly,
"Better the sergeant comes with us. Need men to make bridge at stream,
Nobody catches us the way we go/'

Pigeon looked over at Blair and Bolding* "Besides," he grinned,
"the law man does not ride the horse very good." The Indian sobered.
"And also the law man is smart in the head. Soon your sergeant will
be the prisoner of Blair."

Schaacht snorted. "When the sergeant has a gun?"

"I have had more advantage over Blair before than a gun and lost
it, I had 1,500 guns. I do not wish to lose this one. Come."

Schaacht looked at Bolding. "All right," he said,

Which is how the race began that night*

By the time Blair had gotten his rifle and rations, by the time he had
wiped the grit and dust out from under his saddle and padded a couple
o raw spots on the bay's flanks, Schaacht's party was a quarter of an
hour south.

Blair and Bolding plunged south over the old 1 larrison War Road,
single file, Blair in the lead* The wind whipping his eyes reminded
Blair now how tired he was. The bay's gait was labored and his great
chest dinned with the metallic breathing of fatigue*

Yet Blair rode with a leaning-forward impatience that matched the
churning in his stomach. The picture of Hosmer, limp on the floor,
rode with him* Also, the open-eyed reproach of Hope Emerson- It
became necessary for Jonathan Blair to lay at her feet the signed re
ceipts for the land payments of Hosmer Village, and to say, "There,
Hope, Now do you see? Do you understand now, Hope?** Blair's heels
gouged the bay.

One thing else disturbed and puzzled Blair. Pigeon had remarked,
'the law man does not ride the hone very good/ Blair had always
been a good rider, but in following the circuit court these last few years
he had become a superior rider, and he believed Silver Pigeon knew
this. And the Pigeon usually put thought behind every sentence. Blair
could find no reason for this statement* Further, Blair knew that the
old Shawanee Trail pretty much paralleled the Harrison War Road.
It was straighter, of course, because the Harrison Road followed the
curves of the Scioto* But at night it would seem to Blair to be slower,
especially for a party of four. Pigeon's choice puzzled Blair, And to be

THE RIDERS gg

ignorant of what Pigeon was thinking was to be caught with wet gun
powder.

Coming out o the tunnel of oak at the Boxford Clearing the horses
left the moist forest footing to clatter across the hard-packed opening,
and Blair slowed slightly in surprise at the sight of light in Box-
ford's cabin, Boxford's stocky shadow suddenly stood in the patch of
light and called, "Heyl How's the old man?"

Blair pulled up. "How'd you know anything was wrong?"

"They just went through. Schaacht and the Indian and them two
soldiers."

"How long ago?"

"Quarter to half an hour. Said the old man was dyin'. How is he?"

"Don't know for sure," said Blair. "What else did they tell you?"

"They said he got an awful shock."

"They say from what?"

"Said it turned out he had just had a little coverin 1 of silver over
that barrel. Rest of it was nothin' but nails. Said it liked to kill the
old man when everybody saw."

Bolding was catching up from behind, with the spare mount in tow.
Blair leaned down to Boxford. "That's a lie, Boxford. You understand?
Anybody asks you, it's a liel"

Boxford was amazed at the strength in the fingers of the lawyer which
now clutched the muscle behind his collar bone.

"You understand that, Boxford?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Blair. Least I can do. Far as I know the barrel was
full of silver."

Bolding pulled up in time to hear that Boxford asked, "Did he die?"

"Not yet," said Bolding. "But most likely will."

They resumed south. The trail remained wide and Bolding pulled
up abreast of Blair. Over the breathing and thumping of the horses
he called, "You mean to perpetuate that lie, Mr. Blair?"

"That's right,"

"Do a lot of harm. Think of the people who can get cheated."

"You think of them* I'm thinking of these." Blair slapped his
saddle bag containing the land payments of the Hosmer Village
settlers.

"They didn't seem to be thankin' you any for worryin' about them
last I saw."

"They will."

94 JONATHANBLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"They think you ran out on Hosmer when he needed you, 'Fact they
think you killed him."

Blair didn't answer.

44 'Fact you did/'

Blair grazed the bay's flank with his heel, but Holding kept up.
"Being a lawyer, Mr. Blair, you're fostering this lie with full knowl
edge and aforethought/'

"You just ride/' Blair yelled-

"And even if you get receipts before the Iancl Office finds out that
money's no good, I wouldn't want to defend your part in court/'

"I'll worry about the law, Mr. Bolding. You ride/ 1

The trail narrowed and Blair pulled ahead. But the back of his
neck burned as he could feel the younger lawyer studying his hack
in the dark. Blair turned in his saddle.

"Your horse is fresher! Ride ahead and wake up the ferryman at
Shawanee Crossing!'*

The relief which the lawyer felt when his apprentice was in front
of him instead of behind him was a chilling revelation to Blair, He
went back over the conversation he'd just had with Bolding* He re
membered now that glancing instant in the store when he had seen
Bolding go over to talk to Schaacht. He remembered Schaadn shak
ing his head. He had not heard Schaacht's words. But it seemed now to
Blair that he could imagine the words that should have accompanied
that shaking of the head and the way Schaatht had pushed Bolding
away* "Stay with Blair/ 1 the gestures seemed to say.

And now as Blair squinted ahead on the dark trail he seemed
occasionally to see a faint blur of white u!x>ve the rumps of Holding's
two horses, as though Bolding were turning his face to look back
ward frequently. Blair wondered if Bolding were also uncomfortable
riding in front.

When Blair pulled up at Shawanee Crossing Balding was dis
mounted, talking to the ferryman. Ferryman stood shivering in the cold
morning darkness. He wore a leather shirt, the bottom half of which
was wet. His legs were naked and his leather trousers were hanging
over a small spit, dripping water into the small fire below which
sputtered, as did the ferryman*

"What in damnation is all the commotion tonight! They paid me
at the other side of the creek and then that big major cut the rope
so's I couldn't pull the ferry back, I started to pole her back and

THE RIDERS 95

that big giant with the eagle beak had 'em hitch their horses to my
ferry and pull her up on the south shore. I had to wade back. So you're
out of luck."

Blair snapped, "How long ago they go through, Ferryman?"

"A half hour. Say, what about that old man, Sam Hosmer? He die?

"Will the Shawanee Trace branch off to the west of the Harrison
Road just across this creek?" asked Blair.

"Always has. What about that old man? I always set a store by that
cussed old buzzard/'

Blair turned the bay down the bank toward the creek. "Keep your
rifle high, Bolding. We'll ford it. Go ahead."

Blair gestured to the path, giving Bolding the right of way.

It could have been Bolding's nervous horse. But Blair noticed it
when Bolding's horse skittered sideways, making it logical for Blair
to go down first.

The noise of the horses floated out in the still air over the water with
eerie crispness, At the water's edge, Blair said, "Bolding."

He looked up and down the creek and across it.

"What?"

"We make a mistake to cross here."

"Why?"

The short syllables reverberated clearly over the water.

"Armstrong never leaves a trailblock without leaving it covered. He
learned that from Navarre."

"Schaacht will be running that party, not Armstrong."

"Maybe."

"And the Indian said they'd want all their men with them."

"Nevertheless."

Blair looked downstream, examining the crossing possibilities below.

"You're slowing us up, Mr. Blair."

"I thought / was the one that was in a hurry. Are you in a hurry,
too, Bolding? Why?"

"Seems to me you're getting awful cunning in the last few hours,
Mr. Blair- You never were so careful before."

"Never had so much reason."

Blair swung downstream along the shore. But he turned back when
he heard the splashing as Bolding rode impatiently across the stream.
In Blair's distraught frame of mind it seemed that Bolding was try
ing to get a lead, to get ahead of him.

g6 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair brought the bay around and crossed behind Holding. The
water came over the bay's shoulders. The saddle bag got wet. Rolding's
mount strained up the opposite bank and was silhouetted a moment
against the sky. Suddenly Blair yelled, "Boldingl"

But by the time Blair had seen the Hash at the top of the bank
the explosion was echoing up and down the creek, and Holding's horse
had doubled and was sliding back down into the creek.

They left Bolding's horse lying half in the creek, half out; and
they came up the bank downstream aways.

Back on the Harrison trail Bolding was shaken. He rode the spare
and he said, "Thanks for yelling."

"It's all right. Hurry up/'

"We going to take the Shawanee Trace or the old Harrison Road?"
asked Bolding.

"Which do you think could be better, Bolding?"

*Td say the Shawanee Trace, judging by the Indian's talk,"

"Then, well stick to the Harrison Road/' Blair said*

When dawn broke they could tell that Schaacht'* party had definitely
not taken the Harrison Road, They went through the Columbus settle
ment when the sun was nearly straight overhead. Bolding wanted to
stop to eat But Blair allowed only time to water the horses.

"First you say I'm too fast,*' said Holding, "Then, too slow/"

The horses were knock-kneed with fatigue and they did not make
good time throughout the day* Evening brought them into the settle
ment of Circleville on the east bank of the Scioio, They were only
twenty-five trail miles from Chillicothe, Bolding urged that they put up
there for half the night. They were at the moment outside the black
smith shop,

"No. We'll get to within a mile or two of the Land Office before we
rest," Blair said. "When it opens in the morning we'll be first inside/*

"Then I can do better than that for you/ 1 Bolding offered* "I know
where the land agent's cabin is* We could go right to his house before
he goes to the Land Office, Beat everybody/'

Blair thought about this, "No/* He wondered why the all-fired rush.
"I'll be satisfied to be first in line/'

"Then we'd be better off to get a ew hours sleep here and rest the
horses/* Bolding said.

Blair thought a minute while he uncinched his saddle and then he

THE RIDERS 97

said, "All right. You get half a night's sleep. Might be a good idea.
I'll push on closer to Chillicothe. Meet you there."

Bolding removed his own saddle and leveled a pair of red-rimmed
eyes at his preceptor. "No, Mr. Blair, I couldn't let you do that. With
all that money in your saddlebag you might run into trouble. Well
both go."

"Sure worry about me, don't you, Mr. Bolding?"

They studied each other for a moment, causing a slight grin to flicker
around Bolding's mouth. The smith examined the animals' hooves.

Pointedly Blair paid the smith with a Mesopotamia dollar note. He
watched the smith's face intently.

Bolding also watched. The smith examined the note very carefully
and then accepted it without challenge. He gave change. Blair said
triumphantly, "It looks as if we're ahead of Schaacht this far anyway.
Mount up, Mr. Boldingl"

To Jonathan Blair, waiting in Chillicothe, it seemed to take hours
for the town to wake up. The sun already had a little warmth to it,
but it did not reach down into the damp defile beside the road from
where Blair stood watching the front door of the United States Land
Office an eighth of a mile down the road. He hoped the land agent ap
peared before Schaacht's party. Or maybe they were already too late.

Bolding sprawled asleep on the ground. The two horses stood
drowsily. Blair took off his leather shirt. Before he broke the surface
of the sluggish brook, it reflected to him his thick beard, reminding
him how long since he'd washed, slept or shaved. Reminded him, too,
that in the Land Office that face must not reflect panic or anxiety. He
must lay the money on the counter and ask for receipts in a routine
manner. The beard would help him conceal his apprehension. He
would keep his hands below the counter while the agent made out
the receipts. Keep the voice low and steady, relaxed.

The agent would ask how the money got so wet. Blair would say the
ferry at Shawanee Crossing was washed downstream. No. That would
cause the agent to ask, "How come?" there being no rain lately. Blair
would have to think of something better. But he distrusted his tired
brain.

Blair picked up his fringed buckskin shirt and brushed it with his
hand. The dust and grass and debris remained, so he raised it overhead
and snapped it like a blanket. The report brought Bolding to his feet
grabbing for his bridle leather.

9 8 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands lawyer

"It's all right/' Blair grinned. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

Holding looked sheepish.

"Go back to sleep* No need both of us watching/*

'Tou go to sleep/' said Holding, *T11 watch/'

Both stayed awake.

They saw a rider dismount in front oC the Land Office and sit on the
steps. He did not go in. They did not recogni/e him.

''Just a man waiting for it to open/ 1 said Blair, "I don't want to wait
too long right outside the office/'

"Chances for too many questions?" asked Holding.

"That's right/' The lawyer studied his student, "Don't forget, Hold
ing, I haven't signed your certificate to practice law/ 1

"I could go up and watch for the land agent/' Holding suggested

Hlair thought this over a moment, Hut he said, "We'll just stay to
gether/'

Several other men arrived and sat on the steps beside the first man.
A small knot of horses and wagons were now tied to the rai! in front
of the closed Land Office.

From the depths of his concentration Blair asked slowly, "Holding,
when you were down here with the bank was it usually like this?"

"Like what?"*

"A crowd outside the Land Office so early in the morning/*

"Sometimes/'

"Such as when?"

"Such as four or five days before and after a payment comes due on
a large area which was sold pretty much all at once. Or if a new area
is being opened up for purchase, after cession of Indian lands/'

Blair continued to study the crowd, somewhat relieved.

The bay, who had been nuzzling the leather oats bag, suddenly lifted
his big head in a high arc and flicked his ears, Blair whirled to find
himself looking into the muzzle of a short rifle, It was hip high in the
brown hands of Silver Pigeon.

The Indian was calm. He said, "You start for the Land Office now,
you arrive just ahead of the agent who just now leaves his cabin. Could
go to head o the line without much notice/'

"Pigeon!"

The Pigeon smiled and lowered his rifle, Bolding got up from the
ground slowly and with amazement*

"How did you know we were here?" he asked*

THE RIDERS 99

"I have known since daylight. Pigeon did not wish the lawyer sleep
through the opening. Go now."

Blair reached for his hat, but he hesitated. "That means we'll walk
into Schaacht and Armstrong?"

Pigeon smiled. "No."

"If you are here, they are."

"No."

"Why?" asked Blair.

"Pigeon leaves them at crossing southwest of here and directs them
west. One crossing of trails looks much like another in moonlight."

"What is this change of heart?" asked Blair. "Remorse?"

"No."

"You break the bank of Mesopotamia and now you want to fix it?"

"No."

"What then?"

"Blair, my people always make this mistake. Wyandots and Dela
ware raid one of your settlements. While we do this, your other towns
rise up and circle us. We fight always your little finger, never do we
cut off the head. But this Schaacht shows the Pigeon a chance to cut
off the head."

"H* told you?"

"In the store, remember?" The Pigeon shrugged. "This Schaacht said
he comes to protect the big bank from your bad dollars. So I send him
for long horseback ride. Better to poison the stream at the spring with
bad money."

Young Bolding's jaw hinged open, hearing this from an Indian.
Blair said, "Y'see, Bolding, how you could learn a thing or two from
studying an Indian treaty?" And the lawyer added, "Pigeon, you are
smarter than Satan."

"No. Indians are not smart. Would we have signed this treaty, and
the one before that, and the one before that if we were smart?"

The Indian nodded toward the Land Office. "You better finish your
business."

"My business or yours?"

"Ours," the Pigeon grinned.

Blair tried to look as if he were sauntering up the steps to the Land
Office, while taking them two at a time. Part of the crowd surged in
the door ahead of him, but Blair worked himself toward the head of
the line. He recognized two men from Columbus in the middle of the

ioo JONATHAN BLAIR; Bounty Lands Lawyer

line- He knew they might ask him questions about what happened in
the tavern in Columbus, or perhaps somehow they had heard about
Samuel Hosmer's barrel of silver.

"Jonathan!*'

Blair shouldered through the door.

Justin Bolding crowded through behind him and grabbed him by the
arm, "Stuttgart's calling you, Blair."

"Never mind that. You stand here by die door. 1C Schaacht or Arm
strong or that sergeant should by any chance come up those steps, you
do anything to keep them from getting in. Anything. Understand? Re
member your law certificate."

"Jonathan!"

"He's still calling you/*

"Never mind. Get by the door/ 1

Bolding let go. Blair was fifth in line at the land agent's counter.
The first two men were making simple second payments. The agent
examined their money, checked their acreage in the Doomsday book,
accepted the money and gave them receipts.

The third man Blair recognized as the Pkjua settler who had helped
him before in Chillicothe, The settler stepped briskly up to the agent,
placed a list of names on the counter.

"Garth/' he said, "I'm payin' for this list of freeholders. You'll find
'em all in the fourth range, fourth and fifth townships, Delaware In
dian Cession Tract/'

While the agent ran his quill over the map onto the Delaware Ces
sion and down the fourth range line, Garth studied him. And Blair
studied Garth,

The lawyer felt that Garth was not so much at peace with the world
as he looked.

The agent checked off the names against die map and he said, "Uhm-
hmmm, Yes, sir* And you brought their payments? 1 '

The agent held out his hand to receive. But Garth said, "They asked
you'd be sure to mark them paid on the map/'

"Uhm-hmmm. We'll take care of that in due time* The money?"

"I was to watch with my own eyes while you marked the map/'

"Um-hmm," the agent bristled like clerks the world over. "You shall
watch * . as soon as we count the money/ 1

"All right/' Garth plunked down a leather bag carelessly enough so

THE RIDERS 101

the agent could see money was no problem, but carefully enough so
he could hear some hard money ring against the counter. He half-
turned away, taking out his pipe. "You'll find it all there."

The agent began counting. The specie was only a small pile com
pared to the paper money.

With the air of a man whose business is done, Garth said, "Hope the
rain holds off till I get back."

The agent's only reply was his thumb slicking across his tongue and
thumping against the counter with each bill. Blair noticed the agent
counted the paper money into two piles. The large pile he pushed
forward toward Garth. Garth ignored it, scraping out his pipe,

"Mr. Garth."

Garth examined the inside of his pipe closely.

"Mr. Garth."

Garth knocked his pipe against his boot heel. The agent reached
across the counter and tapped him on the shoulder. Garth looked up,
as if surprised.

"Mr. Garth, I'm sorry, But these bills on Bank of Urbana are no good
here."

The clerk was already looking up at the fourth man in the line, but
Garth did not move away from the counter. He looked incredulous.

"WhatI"

"I'm sorry," the agent said.

"But we're tradin' in these notes every day of our lives," Garth pro
tested.

"If you'd been a week earlier, I could have taken them. But not
now."

The agent held out a list for Garth to examine. "See. They were
crossed off the acceptable list just a week ago. Overissue," Blair craned
at the list, but couldn't read it

"Aw, now. What do you mean overissue?" asked Garth.

The agent fingered the bills, bending them so they crackled. "Come,
Mr. Garth. Everyone of these bills is cracking brand new. Be honest.
These bills haven't traded hands once. They came fresh out of the
Urbana Bank, signed just special so you could bring them here."

Blair hoped the Mesopotamia notes in his saddle bag were soaked
enough to give them a circulated look.

Garth gathered up his money and left the counter in quick admis-

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

sion. There was no apology on his face, just concession. 1 Ic stood fac
ing the line, He grinned, wishing them better luck than lie had had.
Three others fell out of the line behind Blair when they saw what hap
pened to Garth. They obviously held I'rbana Bank notes also. The
three joined Garth.

Garth spied Blair. His face lighted with pleasure and he advanced
with outstretched hand.

"Blair! Were you able to get holt of some good * . ." But Garth took
a quick look at the agent and curbed his question. "See you outside
later, Blair."

The fourth man in the line stepped up to the agent and placed his
money on the counter. Blair craned his neck to see what kind of money
the fourth man held. He saw some Bank of Lancaster notes, some Vir
ginia pounds, some Muskingum Bank notes ami there were some
strange brown ones. Before Blair could make them out he responded
to a tug on his sleeve. It was Stuttgart.

Stuttgart was the most objective lawyer Blair had ever met on the
Western court circuit. Though they opposed each other violently at
every step of the traveling court between the Scioto and the Miami
Rivers, Stuttgart greeted him with genuine Kentucky cordiality.

"Thought I saw yuh, Blair. But that beard threw me oiL What hap*
pened afta that day in the tavern with that Indian and all? And you
dashin" off north like a scalded gobbler?**

"Nothing. The Indian was drunk."

"But I heard that the bank notes he was , . ."

"What brings you down here, Stuttgart? Blair asked quickly, glanc
ing at the agent.

*Tm payin' some land payments for a group of di'nts north of Cin
cinnati. But what's this we been hcarin' about HosnuT and . . /'

Stuttgart found himself being abruptly ushered toward the door by
Blair who held him just above the elbow in the friendly manner of
colleagues, but with such amazing pressure upon the Inme of the upper
arm that Stuttgart sucked air. Blair wore a fiercely broad smile on his
face. But through grim, smiling lips that hardly moved lie said quietly,
"Stuttgart, get back in the line. Stay there. And don't talk to me until 1
get out of here."

Blair retrieved his place in line. The man ahead of him completed
his transaction and Blair stepped to the counter. He said as little as
possible. But the ink had run on some of the slips which told which

THE RIDERS 103

packets of money belonged to which settler. It was necessary to name
these men for the agent.

The small bundles of money were lined up neatly in front of the
agent. Each bundle had on the outside of it a few bills of either the
strong Marietta Bank or the respected Cincinnati Bank, which may
have been the reason the agent immediately got out the receipts and
filled in the men's names on the receipts. There was a receipt in front
of each bundle of money. The agent was a methodical man.

"Now, then, how did it get so wet, sir?"

"Wading through a stream," said Blair.

"Um-hmm," with a vapid upswing on the second syllable just as
though everything in this life was just fine.

Methodically the agent counted the first bundle.

"I see you figured the Dayton Bank notes at fifteen per cent under
face value. Just right."

The agent counted the next three bundles and signed the receipts
with an upflourish of the wrist and the voice.

"Um-hm."

Blair reached for the receipts. But the agent said, "Wait'll I sign 'em
all. Then I'll double check and we'll be all set. Um-hm."

Blair's fingers yearned for the receipts, but he rested them on the
counter. The agent untied and counted the next three bundles and
signed the next three receipts; eight or ten inches from Blair's hands
they were.

"Um-hm."

Blair pressed his hands hard against the counter to hold them still.
The agent counted the next three bundles and signed three more re
ceipts.

"Those *wcre correct. Unusual. Um-hm."

The clerk untied the next three bundles. The veins in the backs of
Blair's hands stood out from the pressure against the counter. Blair
put them in his pockets. The agent counted all the bundles, carefully,
skillfully, quickly; but it seemed forever. He was meticulous about
flourishes in his signature. He spoiled one and made it over, just as if
his name were important. Blair burned, because it was important.
This man's signature changed debtors to owners, it separated peace
from frustration, pride from shame. The agent collected the receipts,
"Um-hm," and he presented them towards Blair whose hands flashed
out of his pockets.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

But suddenly, almost as if Blair's quick motion had scared him, the
agent withdrew the receipts,

A voice behind Blair said, "Hold these receipts! I represent Gideon
Schaacht. Mesopotamia Hog & Trust notes are no longer acceptable at
the United States Bank."

A cold shiver raced under Jonathan Blair's scalp tingling the base of
every hair on his head. He snatched for the receipts which withdrew
just enough to let his hand bang the counter. In a rage he snatched
again, leaping half over the counter. But the agent stepped back still
more. Blair turned to the voice behind him.

"Boldingl You bastardl" he said.

Chapter 7: PAY ABLE ON
DEMAND

THE TURNKEY looked at Blair with some ad
miration.

'They said you was a gentle one where you come from/* he said*
"Huh! I'm glad I'm not from there. How's your hands today? Pain
yet?"

Blair looked down at the bundles of blue limey which contained
his throbbing hands* He twisted his body painfully on the bunk to
look out through the bars at the grinning jailkccpcr.

'They say that young Bolding looks a sight* Say it took five of them
to stop yah. At least there's five assault charges on yuh. You was like a
blooming wildcat they said. Fists was flying like the 8fx>kcs on the
Cincinnati stage they said* How's your nose? Tell if it's broke yet?"

Blair rose painfully and rolled his shoulders back to shrug off the
coat The sun was up long enough to warm the jail*

"Come over by the bars and I'll help yuh.*'

The jailkeep pulled the coat sleeves off over the Ia*$e bundles ol
hands. Blair winced.

PAYABLE ON DEMAND 105

"They was some said you was losin' your mind. Then there was one
said you was just findin' it."

Blair lay back slowly on the bunk, testing each move for new pain.
He closed blue-black lids down against the shiny blue and yellow puff
which swelled under his eyes. Never before had Blair thrown every
muscle of his body blindly at other men with the enraged prayerful
intention of hurting. Even during the late English war against Tecum-
seh and Proctor he'd not experienced the armored immunity of a wrath
which felt no pain until later. That insane red instant in the Land
Office had been his first such experience. And now that the anesthetic
anger had gone, pain came.

"Here comes the young buck now/' the jailer said.

Blair let his eyes idle up a solid pair of new black boots, on up a
pair of rich white wool breeches that covered straight young legs to a
white ruffled shirt that showed between the lapels of fine-weave fork-
tail coat. Only the face was familiar. For Justin Bolding had changed
his clothes.

He was also well barbered, except for a little patch of whiskers at
the corner of his mouth where the lip was split and too tender to shave.

He obviously expected Blair to begin. But Blair left the burden of
speech on Bolding.

"Blair, I'm not interested in your opinion of me. I just point out
your self-righteousness is somewhat ridiculous. What you jumped me
for was protecting the system against a bagful of worthless dollars. Is
this a bad thing to do?"

Blair gave no defense.

"What you jumped me for was for doing a job for my employer."

"Your employerl" Blair raised his head until the pain stopped him.

"Yes. Schaacht sent me up to read law under you."

Blair rolled his head to look up at the roof rafters.

"What do you want here?" Blair asked.

Bolding reached in his breeches pocket and pulled out folded money.
In the manner of capable young men handling large money carelessly
to bristle their elders, Bolding counted five wrinkled United States
twenties into the jailer's palm.

"Let Mr. Blair out," he s^id. "I believe bail is set at one hundred."

"I don't come out on your money, Bolding."

"Very well/' Bolding pocketed the bills without arranging them.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands

From his coat pocket he took a paper. "Then you can sign it in here."
The jailer unlocked the gate and brought the paper in.

"7, Jonathan Blair, having been preceptor to Justin Balding, do
hereby affirm that said student has completed a course of study
under my direction which has given him a sound grasp of legal
practice, fitting him for membership at the bar in any mnrt in the
states and territories North and West of the Ohio River.

SlCNKIK *'

Blair did not take the paper from the jailer.

"You don't need my signature. Holding. Go get some of your Jacob
Burnets or your Longworths or your Worthingtons or Ewings or Chases
to sign it for you."

"1 studied your damned out-of-date hooks. I listened to your wood-
smoke version of the law. 1 kept your damned briefs* You'll sign it."

"You're not qualified."

"Not qualified! You say I'm not qualified.}"

"That's right."

"Examine me/'

Blair thought a minute.

"All right. What is a dollar? Legally speaking, of course/'

"Why, a dollar is a piece of paper which is backed up with 37 \ grains
of silver or 25 grains of bullion/'

"There isn't a dollar in the territory backed up with that much
metal. So who says when a piece of paper becomes a dollar?"

"Why, the . . /' Holding fingered a bill from his pocket. "Why, the
. now wait a minute, Blair!"

"Are you the one that says what is a dollar and what is not?**

"Of course not, but . /'

"Well you said it in the land Office the other morning* All by your
self, you decided/* Blair tapped his saddle bag. "You changed these
from dollars to paper. Are you the one that says. Holding?* 1

"That question has no bearing on my law certificate, Blair/*

"It will, Holding. When you get the answer I'll sign your certificate*
What is a dollar?"

Holding stomped out of the jail.

A sudden quiet in the jail was pronounced enough to cause Blair to
look up* It heralded the commanding arrival of Gideon Schaacht who

PAYABLE ON DEMAND 107

stepped between his two aides, Riddle and Fleming, to approach
Blair's cell.

"Blair."

Blair caught himself rising at the imperative address o the banker.
But he saw that the pause was expressly for this purpose and he lay
back against his rolled up shortcoat.

"Blair, you were right."

Blair folded his arms over his chest.

"I perhaps have made a mistake," said Schaacht. "Perhaps I should
have listened to you."

Blair sat up.

"At least Mesopotamia has opened my eyes. When I saw how hollow
the Mesopotamia Bank was, I made a few other examinations. Sent
men to nearby banks to count the specie in their vaults. My findings
are beyond belief. Or rather, what I am not finding. It will be neces
sary for me to check every debtor bank in the territory/'

Blair stood up.

"I told you so, Schaacht. You should have let well enough alone until
they could get on their feet!"

"Never mind that, Blair. We have work to do."

Schaacht handed some bills to the jailer who unlocked the gate.
"Come on out of here. We've got to get you some clothes and get

busy."

Schaacht was three steps toward the outside door before he felt
that Blair was not following. He turned back.

"Come on, Blair. This is serious. Well get you some decent clothes."

"What for?"

"You'll hear all about it."

Blair closed the cell gate against his own exit.

"What for?" he asked.

"Because you're going to work for me. For the bank. Salary will be
eighteen hundred dollars a year in United States Bank stock."

"Eighteen hundred a year for what?"

"All right, Blair. Make it two thousand, but hurry."

"Two thousand a year for what?"

"You're a lawyer, aren't you? I need a lawyer and I need a good one.
I happen to know your ability."

"You know my ability!" Blair laughed.

Schaacht never took his eyes off Blair as he reached behind him to-

io8 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

ward Riddle. "I also knew you r d not believe that I know, Blair, Let me
show you something,"

Riddle placed a folded paper in Schaacht's hand. Schaacht consulted
it

"Last spring you argued Woodbridge vs. Boxford, Gardner vs.
Wright, Irving vs. Captain Michael, Mesopotamia vs. County, and
some others I have listed here/ 1

Blair rose to the unmistakable compliment of Schaacht's thorough
investigation. But then he caught himself. "Then you must also have
noticed how many I lost."

"I did. I also observed how impossible were the propositions you
defended, and how remote were your chances in the cases you won,"

Despite reason Blair warmed to this detailed study of his work.

"Furthermore," continued Schaacht, "you are just right for what I
need done. You retain enough polish to have the respect of bankers,
Yet you've become crusted enough with territorial woods smoke so
you'll smell good to the local judges. You've got enough age on you for
the gravity of what we must do, yet you're young enough to stand the
pace/'

"What pace?"

"Four out of the six banks that we've hastily examined are practically
without silver. Some have assets to back one-sixth of their printed
money. I expect that proportion pertains throughout the Territory. I
will have to demand payment of all United States Bank loans in specie
immediately. And in order to get it* I shall use the courts. You'll need
stamina/*

"Schaacht, you're a fool!" Blair laughed. "Do you think you can sue
banks that are broke!"

Schaacht had worked at being patient. The effort wore out, "I've
been called a fool by many smart men, Blair. But I've always reversed
the greeting in the end* Are you coming?"

The jailer opened the gate again-

"You walk out that gate and you'll have a future, Blair, Stay inside
it, you'll see what you'll have/ 1

For answer, Blair swung the gate. The pulled jailkeep pulled his
hand out of the way. The latch tongue scranched over the rusty riser
and clanked into the slot with finality. The director of the United
States Bank stomped out, followed by Riddle and Fleming who each by

PAYABLE ON DEMAND 109

turns stole glances back at the man who had thus spoken to Gideon
Schaacht Blair found himself being studied by the open-mouthed jail-
keep. Jonathan Blair was just beginning to know what he had chosen.

As the dusk thickened Blair became aware of a cessation of footsteps
outside his window ... a small, light pair of boots, they sounded like,
and for a moment he had a sensation of being watched. He rose to the
window, but he could see nothing in the gloom.

The footsteps turned around and receded. And then shortly they
were coming down the center aisle of the jail. The jailer brought a
candle and handed it to the visitor, who then proceeded towards Blair.
The candle reflected a billowing expanse of gold-threaded white, a
skirt

She stood looking at Blair, Gideon Schaacht's daughter. And she
was unreal. Blair was accustomed to women who wore their address,
history, and number of children on their person. Faith Hawkins had a
wedge of bright new cloth that expanded the waist of her faded linen
church dress, marking the day she changed from a bride to a mother.
Hope had soft, smooth hands from the yolk of the sheep. But this
woman had no marks . . . unless it would be care like Gavagan gave
his team before a trip to Cincinnati. But she looked as though she'd be
the same even if she were born into any other house*

They studied each other like a swan in the water meeting a dog on
the shore. She had the advantage, though, because Blair couldn't look
direct for long before he began to feel like the dog on the shore.

She handed in a long thin cigar. Blair took it between his linsey
mitts. She held in the candle. Blair worked a thumb loose and lit the
cigar.

"Well, have you seen enough?" he asked.

"Enough to know you won't do it"

"What?"

"Sign Bolding's certificate."

"Huh. That's important to you?"

"Well . . . yes."

"You look like you could have a hundred others. Is he so great?"

"No. But I've had a hand in the making of him."

"Then if it's a comfort to you, your Papa Schaacht will have no
trouble getting half a dozen better lawyers than me to sign his certifi
cate. They'll examine him. But he would pass. He can get it signed,"

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"I know. And he probably will. But I thought If he did something

on his own, it would be , . I guess It doesn't matter who signs it."

She was cold as ice, but something in Blair wanted to follow her out.

In thc*middle of the night Silver Pigeon spoke softly so as not to
wake the jailkeep who slept slouched on a bench in the aisle of the
loduip.

"Hurry up, Blairl"

Blair sat up sleepily. "Why do you want me out m bad?"

"You got work to finish." Silver Pigeon stood outside the cell and
spoke through the bars, "The damages money and the mission money
and annuity. And most of all the fifty thousand acres you promised so
long to get for us."

"Hull, You said I was too slow/'

"You are. But there is nobody else/'

"That's a tough order, Pigeon. It'll be a man-si/cd job,"

"Yah, But you gonna be a man yet."

Blair's head snapped up. But the Indian had grin dents in his
cheeks. He said, "Come, Blair."

Blair watched in surprise as the Indian put the key to the lock and
opened it. He watched him lift the gate a half-inch, rub a piece of
candle wax under the hinges and swing the gate silently open. The
lawyer grinned, but did not move.

"Can't come that way, Pigeon. Put the keys back in the constable's
pocket."

Silver Pigeon looked puzzled,

"If I broke jail now," Blair explained, "they could arrest me/*

"Arrest?"

"Hold me until court sits. Put the keys back."

Pigeon shrugged. He walked over and kicked the jailkccp's out
stretched boots.

The jailer scrambled awake. By reflex lie grabbed his pocket for the
keys. Pigeon dangled the keys toward him. The jailer snatched them.

"What are you doing here?"

Pigeon took a roll of bank notes from his pocket He counted ten
bills into the jailer's lap,

"Let the lawyer out," he said before the Jailer was oriented.

"I can't do anything until I talk to the judge or Mr. Schaacht"

"Let him out now/* the Indian said.

PAYABLE ON DEM AND in

"I can't do anything."

"You don't need to."

Silver Pigeon looked at Blair who walked out of the unlocked cell.
The jailer stared at the gate, then at the keys, then at the Indian and
Blair. But not for long, for they were gone.

Blair entered Mesopotamia at night in the rain. There was a light
in Hosmer's store, and he headed the bay there. That is, he intended
to go to the store, but his hand apparently compelled the rein more
northerly. He arrived at the burying yard.

Squinting into the dark Blair brought the grave markers into focus.
He was relieved to see no fresh-cut headstone shining out newer than
the others.

But as he remounted Jonathan Blair's left boot did not slide easily
into the stirrup. Fresh turned earth on his boot sole clogged it. He
dismounted.

The mound of mud was six inches high. The stone was dark-colored,
but newly chipped flecks of mica caught the moon. Blair put his face
within five inches of the stone. A silver dollar shone back at him, re
cessed in the rock, sealed in apparently with melted glass. Blair's squint
could not bring out the chiseled letters below. But his fingers had no
trouble, for they already knew what shapes they would trace.

SAMUEL HOSMER

1737 1817

A MAN., BY GOD

Blair led the bay to the hitching rail outside the store. With his hand
on the door he paused. Though the wind played a great 'Amen 7
through the high tops of the giant oaks, the voices of arguing men
came from the store in Mesopotamia. Blair expected Mesopotamia
would look and sound different if Sam Hosmer ever went. It was a
shock to hear Joe Hussong's voice inside the store, sounding as it had
always sounded, like a rain barrel on a hog caller's porch.

"All right then! The rest of ya can do as ya pleasel But I know my
mind! When they come to take my place they're gonna walk out dead,
because I'm gonna shoot. And Adams and Mitchell agreed to do the
same. And what about you, Gavagan?"

Blair heard no answer. It must have been a nod of the head.

H2 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"And you, Denaro?"

There must have been another nod.

"That's five of us. And 1 can get more, too. Navarre was through here
again this week. He's just in from the Illinois Territory and the Indiana
Country, and he says there's plenty more gonna do the same. And I
mean I'm gonna shoot even if it's yon come up my path, Ault, So when
you come to my place, state your business quick enough so's you don't
catch your death of lead."

There was a silence against which Hussong defended himself.

"All right, look at me if y* wantl But the most of ya know well
enough that's just what the Old Man would say, too . . . if he was still
around to say. If your Indian-lovin* law man hadn't as much as kilt
him,"

"Yes! I said 'kilt/ And for what! Now we find out Blair didn't even
make it to Chillicothe in time anyhow. He let the word get out. United
States Bank won't accept our notes from the Land Office so the Land
Office won't accept 'em from us. Now Ault tells us we still owe for our
land. On top of that we owe Ault the money we borrowed from Hosmer
that Blair's got somewhcrcs/'

Blair heard Stikes' voice say, "Hussong, you forgettin* you're the one
started agitatin* to open that barrel of nails? Besides, we don't know for
sure that our money is no good!"

"Ault says it ain't"

"Ault's word's never been law here before/* said Stikes.

"Is now," said Hussong* "He's the new president of your bank. I
don't get how the United States Bank can appoint him president of our
bank just because we owe them money. But you let 'em do it. And
Ault says our money's no good/*

"That doesn't make me believe it/' said Stikes,

"All right, Mr* Stikes/' Hussong said slowly. "Let's just see what you
do believe. Here's the thirty-two dollars I owe ya for my rifle and my
wagon wheels. Will you take it?"

The dead silence told Blair how they all waited to see if Stikes would
pick up the Mesopotamia dollars. Blair listened to hear what Stikes
would do. The whole West seemed to listen*

. "Ha! That's what I thought!'* It was Hussong. **You know well as 1
do what these are good for. ThisI"

Blair could hear footsteps approaching the door, He stepped aside as
the door opened* A fistful of paper dollars plummeted out the door

PAYABLE ON DEMAND 113

and fluttered to the wet ground. Some went aloft in the wind. The
door slammed shut.

Blair was reaching for the door latch but he stopped because there
now drifted out to him the voice of Hope Emerson.

"Not like us to be doin' like this till we hear from Jonathan. Sam
would say wait for Jonathan. He set out to make our land payments.
So it's likely he did."

"Huh."

"Are you forgettin', Joe, that Blair's the one fixed it so the Indian
contract money came to Mesopotamia? You forgetting Blair's the one
got Schaacht to come up here and give us a loan? If Blair said he'd
make our payments he likely did. And if our money has gone as bad as
everyone says, we'd have heard it from Jonathan first off."

"Hope, you just talking?" asked Hussong. "Or are you sure that's
right?"

"Sure enough that I'll go get those bills you just threw out, and you
can consider you paid me thirty-two dollars on account for the lambs."

Blair heard Hope's small boots approach the door. By the light from
the door which opened suddenly, Mesopotamia found Blair stooping to
gather up the bills which had not blown away.

He straightened up and stepped inside the store slowly. Hope gave
way before him.

Blair looked at the circle of faces around the inside of the store and
he saw that the pinched, anxious face of Mesopotamia was like all the
faces he'd seen on the way up the Scioto. Their question was in their
eyes as they stared at the bills in Blair's right hand. It was soon
answered,

Hope stepped forward and grasped the wet bills that Blair held. But
he did not let go. He looked around behind him until he found Joe
Hussong. The lawyer silently handed the bills to the hog farmer.

Hussong crushed the bills and flung them to the floor.

"That's what I thought," he said.

Only Joe Hussong paid Blair the compliment of hating him. The
others merely insulted him with well-meaning forgiveness, admitting
the money trouble was too big for a woods lawyer.

In Stikes' forge Blair cried out against their ignorance.

"Don't you see, Stikesl Nobody could have done anything!"

Stikes finished screwing a brass shoulder-plate on the stock of a rifle

U4 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

which he lined up with three others. He stroked the barrels of the
rifles. "Don't you worry, Blair. We'll take care of it." He hoisted one
of the rifles and squinted critically down the sights. "Like we always
did before," he added. "Old Sam would have said to do it this way if
we could get no other help/'

At the mention of Sam Hosmer there was no more talk for a moment
until Stikes said, "Oh, you're not to feel bad about Old Sam. They
would have found out Sam's barrel was empty sometime anyhow.
Same thing would have happened. You just chanced to be the one that
. . " Stikes laid a piece of rifle iron, orange from the forge, on the
anvil and hammered it harder than necessary. "Sure could use him
around here now, though/' he said,

Stikes began to beat an octagonal shape into the bar of iron. Then
he said, "Hope wants you to come out to her place about somcthin'."

Blair found Hope in back of the shed. She was standing by while
Brute Christofferson shoveled the last of the dirt on top of a dead lamb,
From her hand old Aaron, sire of most of her flock, nibbled at the
clover she held for him. Blair pointed to the dead one, "What killed
it?"

"We did/' Hope said,

"You?"

"Got the tremors. We can't get any tonic. Had to kill it before the
others get it/'

Blair looked back at Christofferson who was smoothing off the mound
of earth*

"Why no tonic?"

"Money/" Hope said. "Nobody's giving out sheep tonic except for
silver or gold." She patted the head of old Aaron who nibbled at the
clover. "That's the way it is, Jonathan, you got to kill a few to save the
rest. Can't be friends to all of them. A softhearted shepherd can be the
meanest. Got to set yourself for it/'

She faced him to see if he heard.

"Old Aaron here goes next/* she said. "He doesn't know it."

Christofferson came over to Hope, Giving his back to Blair he
reached down to take hold of Aaron, "You better go in the cabin,
Miss Hope, while I . . uh . . * take care of this one/'

"No. He started the whole flock. Least 1 can do is be here with him
In the end. Go ahead. Brute/' But Christofferson straightened up and
looked beyond her to the trail. Hope looked where Brute looked,

PAYABLE ON DEMAND 115

and suddenly she put her hand on Brute Christofferson's bare arm,
"No, Brute! You'll only make it worse. You go up and see to the
flock."

Hope's small hands quickly pivoted Christofferson and pushed him
away. Old Aaron sulked at being deprived of the clover.

Blair looked toward the trail and the source of the trouble. Emanuel
Ault approached.

"That's what I called you for, Jonathan," Hope said. "He came out
here writing down things in that book of his. Brute threw him off the
place. But he's back, like he said. Can he do that?"

Emanuel Ault had a formidable kind of courage. He could forego
the good wishes of men. Nor was it any detraction from his physical
strength or courage that Christofferson had thrown him off Hope
Emerson's farm, for there were few men walking in the world who
could match Brutus Christofferson's strength. But here was Ault back
again.

Ault was not a farmer settler. He had been a surveyor in the West
for Shuldane. He had a contempt for the land as anything but a
product to be measured, bought and sold. Unerringly, Schaacht had
picked this man to head the Mesopotamia Bank during the foreclosures.

There was a certain honesty in Emanuel Ault. His hair was hacked
short and it jutted forward. There was no attempt to comb it.

Observant, too, he looked Blair over and he said, "Blair, you're
leaner."

Blair said, "What brings you out here?"

"And your nose is broken," Ault noticed. "And your hands are
scarred up. Beginning to look like you belong here." He grinned.

"What's your purpose, Ault?"

Ault brought out his small black book and a charcoal pencil.

"Tabulating property. Miss Hope, there's four improvements on your
property, counting the shed, right? And there's a spring and a hundred
acres, right? Now, how many animals have you got?"

Hope turned to Blair. "Jonathan, can he come on my place and
count things and give a list to Schaacht?"

In the argument which followed, Blair said, "Ault, you don't actually
believe Schaacht can go through with closures against all banks which
owe the United States Bank? Do you know how many there will be?"

"I'm concerned with only one, Blair, this one."

"Schaacht is too smart to attempt such a thing."

n6 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"How many sheep, Mrs. Emerson?"

Blair said, "Look, Ault. Hold off on this survey. I will go to Schaacht
and explain to him that i he will hold off until after harvest, the people
might have a chance to make a payment. He will understand that."

"All right," said Ault. "You just do that. How many sheep, Mrs.
Emerson?"

On Thursday, Blair bent to lift Aaron into Gavagan's wagon, but
before he had caught hold of the ram, Brute Christoffcrson possessively
scooped the ram up in his arms. He hoisted him easily and jealously,
and Blair had the irrelevant vision of Christoffcrson lifting Hope just
as easily. Brute set the animal on the bed of Gavagan's wagon and
closed the tailgate.

Hope said, "Just as soon as you get the tonic, Jonathan, give it to
him. And whenever his head hangs down, give him some more."

Blair tied his bay to the tailgate of the wagon and he started to
climb up to the seat beside Gavagan. That's when Hope said to Christ-
offerson, "Did you give him the shirt, Brute?"

Brute colored and stood mute.

"Did you give it to him, Brute?"

Christofferson gestured a huge hand toward Blair, "The rest of him
Is all dirt and woodsmoke, Miss Hope. It ain't gonna make him more
impressive to this banker if he had only a clean shirt and the rest of
him is all . . . well, look at him."

"Give it to him, Brute/'

Christofferson reached inside his shirt and pulled out a package
wrapped in the Scioto Gazette. He handed the package to Blair. But
before he let go he said, "This here's a shirt Miss Hope says you're
to wear while you're talkin' to this bank man/'

Blair took the package and Brute added, "But you're to take it off
right after. Bring it back to Miss Hope when you're done with the
banker. She has it for a purpose. 1 '

Gavagan slapped the lines and they rolled south,

At Columbus Blair inquired who had sheep tonic In The Swan
tavern Jarvis Pike told him to see R* Taskin,

As Blair was leaving, taverner Pike stopped him, "Blair, you remem
ber that Indian that was in here with you? He really started something."

PAYABLE ON DEMAND

Blair knew this, of course, but he wondered why Pike should remark
on it.

*Tm thinkin' that red skunk isn't so dumb as he acts." He pointed
to the corner o the tap room where he kept all the newspapers that
drifted into Columbus in the pockets of travelers.

Gavagan went to see R. Taskin about tonic. Blair went for the
newspapers. He devoured them hungrily, going through each in a
matter of seconds, picking up a new one before he'd finished the first,
impatient that his eyes could not absorb the type as fast as his mind
could take in the unbelievable catastrophe he read there.

Gideon Schaacht had acted swiftly, and with incredible fierceness
and presumption.

The Scioto Gazette said: "Colonel Gideon Schaacht has announced
that the United States Branch Bank at Chillicothe is immediately
calling for the balance due it from all the independent banks at a rate
of 20 per cent per month. He has said that payments must be in specie,
that is gold, silver or United States Bank notes. Only six banks are
excepted from this rule, being those whose currency is still respected
and which pay specie regularly upon demand."

The Cincinnati Liberty Hall said: "Cincinnati banks are attempting
to contract their own debts to pay the severe demand of the United
States Bank. But borrowers have neither specie nor United States notes
nor notes of the six acceptable banks. In attempts to satisfy the local
banks property is thrown on the market here in the most reckless
manner. Good eastern horses are for sale at five dollars gold."

The Indiana Herald printed: "The United States Bank has now un
believably demanded that payment be made in silver or gold coin or
bullion, none of which has been seen in this country for three months
in any quantity. Petition is now open for signing in this office by all
subscribers who wish President Monroe's notice called to the fact that
the bank he sent out here to save our currency now intends to go into
our vaults and rob our last gold pistareen, leaving our worthless paper
more worthless than before."

The Vincennes Western Sun shouted: "It has long been predicted
that the Republic of the United States would divide at the Alleghenies,
forming two separate countries. That hour has now arrived. Colonel
Gideon Schaacht, director of United States Bank at Chillicothe, has
bankrupted the West. Exchange papers here show that thirteen banks

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

in Ohio have closed, six in the Indiana Country. The Illinois Terri
torial Bank at Shawaneetown has reported that compliance with the
United vStates Bank order is impossible. They await United States
Bank action."

There were more papers, more figures. But it added up to the fact
that almost every citizen in the West was now ultimately the debtor
of the United States Bank. Schaacht must be crazy to expect payment.

Gavagan came back to say that R. Taskin was selling no tonic except
for gold or silver. They pushed south toward Chillicothe.

At Cirdevillc, Blair made for the tavern and the newspapers. The
unbelievable act of Gideon Schaacht was written into all of the papers
there, too.

Gavagan could not understand how a newspaper could swell the
veins in Blair's temple, "The thing's too big to get mad about, Blair.
Your bank man demands gold. There is no gold. So he won't get gold.
He's too crazy to worry about."

Blair rolled the Lebanon Western Star into a club. "That's the
trouble, Gavagan. He's not crazy. He is smarter than the devil himself.
He's got a box seat at hell's peek hole/*

Gavagan shrugged.

Blair said, "Let's try to get the tonic for the ram here."

But they could not get it for paper money.

As Gavagan's wagon approached ChHlicothe, Blair carefully re
moved the newspaper wrapping from the shirt Hope had sent with
him. As the wagon rolled along Blair removed his own shirt which
was ripped in several vertical slits up the front from the fight in the
Land Office.

Gavagan watched idly, his elbows on hh knees. He said, "Darnation,
Blair. You're down to muscle. Not eatin* reg'lar or what?" But there
was some admiration and surprise in Gavagan's voice* For in truth
Blair's recent months of activity arid anxiety and haphazard eating and
sleeping had leaned him down to a hard statue of muscle and nerves.
His face was thinner and changed some in appearance because of the
broken nose. And actually Blair was finding this not to his disadvan
tage in moving through the big woods- His more rugged appearance,
coupled with a certain recent impatience of manner brought him
quicker answers from tavern keepers and stable boys. He caught people
studying him, but they paid attention to his business.

Blair unrolled the shirt Hope had sent* The whiteness of it showed

PAYABLE ON DEMAND 119

him how dirty his hands were. It was made from Tyng's flax, and
though it didn't have the bone buttons of a Cincinnati shirt, it had
scams as straight as the Philadelphia shirts of Justin Bolding. The
ruffles on the chest of it were a bit too large, but it was a work of
patience that surprised Blair coming from Hope Emerson. He won
dered why she had made it.

Gavagan's laugh surprised the team into a jog. "Darnation, Blairl
Two of you could get in it!"

It was true. The shoulders of the shirt overlapped Blair's own ex
cellent shoulders by two inches.

Blair took it off in bewilderment. He folded it up.

"Was Hope's late husband a big man, Gavagan?"

"Hell, nol Well, he was big, yes, but not that big. Besides that shirt
is new. Nobody's wore it yet."

"Couldn't be for her brother/' Blair thought out loud. "We saw
him."

"Blair, it looks like Hope's set her cap for a big . . ." He let it hang
there because both of them had the same thought.

"Aw, it couldn't be," Gavagan said. "First place Christofferson never
wears a white shirt."

But as Blair wrapped the shirt up in the newspaper, he said, "Every
body wears a white shirt at his own wedding."

Inside the front part of the United States Sank at Chillicothe Justin
Bolding stared at the soiled and shredded shirt of Jonathan Blair with
appraisal so candid that it caused Blair to wear it like a flag.

Blair had come direct to the bank. Gavagan had gone for the sheep
tonic.

"I want to see Schaacht."

"He's talking to a couple of men. Be free in a minute."

Bolding reached under some papers and shoved his legal preceptor
certificate in front of Blair. He also handed him the quill. Blair shook
his head.

"Why not, Blair? I did the work. I know the law. I know it as well as
you. More, in fact."

"Get one of Schaacht's friends to sign it for you. A man who can
break every bank in Ohio wouldn't have any trouble getting a little
certificate signed."

"I know that," bristled Bolding. "But you're the one should sign it."

"You find out what a dollar is yet?"

120 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Holding took Blair down the hall and up the stairs to Schaacht's
office.

There were two men seated in the office and Gideon Schaacht stood
looking out the window. He turned only long enough to see that it was
Blair and that he was sweating in the face and hotter still inside.
Gideon Schaacht was wise enough in the ways of arguments to know
the advantage held by a hot, sweaty man,

"Schaacht I"

But the banker also knew how to drain the momentum out of angry
men; and he left Blair only his broad back, an unsatisfactory target for
wrath.

"Schaacht!"

The two men in the room looked at Blair quizzically,

"Schaacht, turn around and listen to me!"

But when Schaacht did turn around he had organized himself to
steal the heat from Blair's argument. He said patiently, "Why should
I listen, Blair? First, you're going to say, 'Are you crazy!* Then you'll
say, 'Can you demand gold from banks that have so little of it that it's
buried in the ground?' "

"Well, can you?"

"I not only can, but I have. There is the machinery for due process
of law here, you know, even if it is crude/'

"Do you mean , /'

"I mean I am putting in suit next week every debtor bank and in
dividual in the West. And I will recover the balances due here/* He
stabbed a long skinny Finger at the ledger in front of him,

"You're crazier than I thought, Schaacht/*

"You've lost the right to call me craxy, Blair. I asked for your help
and you refused. I've had to go and get my own, Mr, Culler here is
from the mother hank at Philadelphia and Mr. Strock is here repre
senting a group of eastern land investors. There are more coming to
my house this evening/'

As Schaacht talked, a righteous indignation grew in his voice which
turned Blair's anger some by its logic*

"You stand there and criticize mel" Schaacht continued, "But if you
know a better way, you can sit in this chair- You want it?' 1

Schaacht stood up and waved an open palm to his chair. "Well, do
you have a better way or don't you?"

"Yes/' Blair said. "Give us until after the harvest* Some might be

PAYABLE ON DEMAND

able to pay. If not, at least you'll foreclose on corn that's in the barns.
What good is it to you standing in the field?"

Schaacht's fist hit the table. "No! After this harvest you'd say, 'wait
till next harvest/ If it's going to work, it's going to work now."

"Then it isn't going to work, Schaacht. You don't seem to understand
the money trouble is really land trouble. Suppose the bank ends up
owning half of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois Territory and Michigan Terri
tory. You still won't have your money."

But even as he said it Blair had already begun to see and, in truth,
to admire Schaacht's solution. He half-turned to look at the Mr. Strock.
And he knew he was looking at Schaacht's answer.

"You're mistaken," said Schaacht. "This can be the beginning of the
real growth for the West, You men came in and knocked down the
trees. Now there are men in the East willing to come in and buy your
improvements and advance from there. The bank will recoup."

"What about the original settlers?"

"There are more trees to the west to knock down," Schaacht offered.

"And more Indians."

Blair was speechless as he visualized thousands of settlers . . . not
young ones . . . moving west now to more misery, to wear out thou
sands more axe handles, to wear out more wives.

"Don't look at me, Blair. I didn't make the situations."

And Blair had to admit this. He turned and walked down the stairs
and out onto the hot dusty road that came from somewhere in the
east and went to somewhere west of Shawaneetown, Illinois. And he
wondered what was out there. And by the three shiny black carriages
tied to the rail in front of the bank he realized that already the West
no longer belonged to the Sam Hosmers nor to the Joe Hussongs . . .
nor the Jonathan Blairs. But then it never had belonged to Blair.

Blair had been waiting in the Cross Keys tavern for Gavagan two
hours. When the first lamp was lit, Blair asked the keeper, "You seen
a teamster, name of Gavagan? Drives a hundred-hundred with a new
slat in the tailgate?"

"The one with that pure-bred Merino in the back?"

"That's the one."

"Yeah, he left a message for a man named Blair. That you?"

"Yes. What?"

"Said to tell you he couldn't get tonic at the first place. But he heard

122 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

of two more sheep farmers. He was going to see them. Said the 'Rino
was gettin* awful feeble."

A customer sitting one bench over from Blair came over, a fairly
well-dressed man. He said to Blair, "Pardon me, did I hear you say
you owned that Merino that was in the wagon?"

"No," Blair said. "I brought it down for a irk'iid."

"To sell?"

Blair studied the stranger. He had money, Blair noticed, because
he was drinking the sour-mash whisky in the small mugs instead of
the corn in the big tankards. He might be one of Schaarht's eastern in
vestors. He talked like Bostoncrs. The stranger gestured to his two
friends who came over.

"To sell?" he repeated.

"Not exactly," said Blair.

When the two men came over they asked what ram was sire and
who was dam for this Merino. The sharp interest of these men made
Blair think how wonderful it would be to take back hard money to
Hope in exchange for a ram she expected to lone to the tremors. To
cover his ignorance, Blair shortened his answers*

"He's registered out of Adam Rotch's flock," he said.

"You positive about that?"

"Positive/'

"You got a letter or anything from Rotch that says so?"

"No. But this one is Number $,j by Rotch's first rain,"

"You interested in selling? Or is your friend?"

"We were just going to look around. Not in any hurry."

"Are there more? Does your friend have more?"

"Yes."

"How old is this ram?"

Others in the tavern hearing the magic word "Merino" came over
to listen to the dicker* The tavern keeper hovered near, interested*
Blair said the ram was four.

The stranger said, "If you'll let me examine that ram, I'm prepared
to make you an offer if he's the pure white fleece."

"My friend is interested only in metal money-"

"If you can prove sire and dam, I'll offer two hundred, gold."

Blair didn't know Merino prices. But he had watched Hosmer and
Buttrick. He said, "We'd need three hundred twenty-five in silver or
three hundred in gold."

PAYABLE ON DEMAND 123

The stranger said, "How's his health?"

"Good."

The interested barkeep almost dropped the tankards -which he now
waved toward Blair, "But you said you brought that ram down here
to get him some . . ."

"Another whisky!" said Blair, loud.

"You ain't finished what you got," the keeper protested.

"Fill it up any way I" Blair said.

The stranger said, "If the animal looks sound, and if you can name
the sire and dam, I'll offer two hundred seventy-five gold, cash."

The barkeep clanked the whisky reproachfully in front of Blair so
it sloshed out. The tavern door opened. Matt Gavagan's square sil
houette filled the doorway and started toward Blair.

"Blair, this is the damnedest town of Shylocks I ever been in. It's
no wonder they moved the state capital out of here. The money
pinchin' sons-of "

"Glad you're back, Matt," said Blair loudly, rising.

"You won't be when you see the "

"Did you get it?"

"Naw, they got some but they won't part with it for nothin' short of
blood . . . silver."

"Well, he's had good rations. A few days on common clover won't
hurt him," Blair said.

"Who's talking about clover, I'm talkin' about "

"Oh, alfalfa? Well, that's all right, too."

"Alfalfa? Who said anything about "

"Matt, these gentlemen have made us an offer for the ram. If you
think $275 will be satisfactory to Emerson, perhaps we'll sell him right
now."

Gavagan's laugh filled the tavern.

"Two seventy-fivel For thatl"

"What's funny?" There was a flatness in Blair's voice which jolted
Gavagan's quick Irish wit.

"Funny? Why . . . why, the idea of two seventy-five is funny. You
know Emerson would expect four hundred for Aaron."

The stranger snapped at the name.

"Did you say Aaron?"

"I did," said Gavagan.

"Is that the Aaron out of Rotch's flock?"

124 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"How many Aaron's could there be?" asked Blair. And they went
out to the wagon.

They stood the ram in the dirt road in front of the tavern in Chilli-
cothc* Gavagan's big hand held Aaron's chin aloft so that his wet,
orange nose quivered. His other hand held up Aaron's haunches in a
haughty stance.

The stranger said, "Let go of him a minute/'

Gavagan ignored that and pointed out the length of the fleece.
One of the men brought a lantern from the tavern. The stranger ran
a thumb under Aaron's gums and lifted the black-orange lips. He
pulled down the wool away from the eye,

"Eyes, a little cloudy," he complained.

"That's because of the lantern light," Gavagan explained,

"Let go of him/* said the stranger,

"Notice the thickness of the wool on the chest/' Gavagan said, "His
offspring'll shear about twenty to twenty-five pounds and only 30 per
cent shrinkage at the mill/'

"Let go," the stranger repeated,

Blair said, "Let go, Matt, so he can look/'

"Look how far down the wool comes on the shank/' Matt said, still
holding the raw.

But the stranger brushed away Gavagan's hands, When he did so
Aaron's head drooped. The stranger watched this critically. But as he
watched, the ram's forelegs buckled and dropped his chest to the dirt.
The rear legs remained firm, but the haunch wavered and then flopped
onto the right flank. Aaron's tongue came out of his mouth.

The stranger rose and slowly wiped his hands, not in self-congratu
lation, but in genuine disappointment.

"I'm sorry," he said. "A shame. He was prime. Had style, too/'

Gavagan rose and flattened his lips, unsurprised.

Blair dropped to his knees. His hand went to the animal's chest.
Then quickly he rolled Aaron over and put his ear to die chest. He
heard neither heart nor breath,

"You're sorry/' Blair said from his knees, "You're sorry! 1 *

Matt Gavagan had never seen wet rage and disap{>ointrnent on the
surface of Blair's eyes, like he now saw reflected from the lantern light.
Nor had he ever seen such swift motion on Blair's part, like suddenly
the gentility was gone from the lawyer. Strength was there too, for he
lifted the large ram as though it were a rag and draped it around his

PAYABLE ON DEMAND 125

neck. He pushed himself to his feet and walked across the road toward
the United States Bank. Gavagan followed in wonderment.

Virginia Schaacht walked down the steps of the bank on the arm of
Justin Bolding. They stopped and stared at Blair. The girl's hand
went to her mouth. Bolding said, "Blair, what's that?"

Blair pushed past them, walking east, rapidly. Gavagan stretched
his pace to match Blair's.

"Blair, what you doing?"

Blair walked east past five houses.

"Blair, listen. What the hell you gonna do with a dead . . . ?"

Blair turned the corner and walked up a short lane. In the lane were
five carriages tied to posts in front of a house with glass windows as
tall as a man. Blair turned up the walk.

"Blairl You can't go in there with thatl"

The double door was a massive barricade. Where the latch should
have been there were two iron rings. The ram's front and rear legs
crossed over Blair's chest. With one hand Blair held all four shanks
while his other reached for one of the iron rings. Gavagan grabbed the
lawyer's wrist. He was surprised at the strength with which Blair shook
him off. Blair banged the ring up and down viciously.

"Blairi"

But Blair continued to hammer. A colored man in white stockings
and shiny low black shoes opened the door, but stood blocking it.
There was braid on his chest that reminded Gavagan of the time he'd
seen General Harrison close-up at Fort Washington in 18 and 14.
Gavagan backed off. He could see Bolding and Virginia Schaacht com
ing up the walk behind them. But he was surprised to see Blair move
into the doorway. The door opener stood fast until he got a mouthful
of wool as Blair hunched forward and pushed right through. The
houseman grabbed at Blair's back, but the material ripped leaving
him with a handful of shirt which he examined in amazed disdain. He
started after Blair who receded inside the house. Gavagan followed
cautiously with open mouth.

Blair marched straight on down the hall ahead of the white-stock
inged braid. He stepped down two steps into a sunken dining room.

He was a stark figure standing there under a dazzling candelabra
staring at the diners, who likewise stared back. Gavagan's amazement
at Blair turned to amusement. He followed. He noticed the food was
gone from the table. There was a small glass of something in front of

126 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

each of the dozen well-dressed male diners who stared back at Blair,
speechless. Gavagan noticed the cigars were .straight ones, no twists.
The braided colored man stood behind Blair and in front of Gavagan,
absently holding more of these cigars. Gavagan took one out of his
hand and passed it under his nose.

In the center of the gleaming table was a map. Gideon Schaacht, at
the head of the table, was arrested with his arm and linger outstretched,
pointing to a place on the map.

Blair walked to the head of the table.

"Present for you, Schaaclui"

He hoisted the ram up over his head and dropped it in front of
Gideon Schaacht, splashing his brandy, and his cigar onto the white
cloth and pinning his arm to the table.

Slowly Schaacht shook his stupefaction. He withdrew his arm from
under the ram and brushed his sleeve. He motioned the colored man
to pick his brandy-soaked cigar off the tablecloth and he rose to his
towering height to look down on Blair,

"What, may I ask, Blair?'*

"A present for you/* Blair said. "As dead as the Northwest. It's dead
for lack of two dollars gold. See if you can sue the life back into it. Get
a judge to order it to breathe* Take it to court!**

Schaacht threw his napkin on the table and readied for a new cigar.
"All right, Blair. I intend to. You think I won't, But 1 will. These men
are here to revive the West. You'll see the economy spring to life with
money they bring. I'll foreclose against indebted property and they
will buy it,"

Blair stared around the room at the twelve men, who were silent with
surprise.

Schaacht said, "And further, Blair, I will begin with Mesopotamia,
for a good reason now. You have twice made that plaur the leader
against the bank. And I don't underrate you. You for<e me to demon
strate my intentions there first. The others will sec, and that way we
won't have any rebellion on our hands." Schaacht leaned towards Blair,
"Oh, yes, you see I'm well aware of that threat/ 1

Schaacht turned his cigar to the candle held by the servant, Then he
pointed to the sheep. "And thanks, Blair. You have just shown me
the way. Sheep it shall be. It's one of the few things of immediate cash
value up there, I noticed these Merinos listed as loan security. And
Mr. Bolding has explained to me about * . , uh * * * about your con-

PAYABLE ON DEMAND 127

cern for Mrs. Emerson. You have thrown her sheep on my table and
challenged me to turn it to gold. I will."

Schaacht raised his glance to Bolding who stood behind Blair on
the steps. "Bolding, tomorrow kindly advise these gentlemen of the
recent excellent market in Merino wool. Give them the prices. I'm sure
several of them will find Merinos an exciting investment. Our Mr.
Ault will receive proposals concerning Mrs. Emerson's Merinos."

Blair's cheeks quivered with rage and it must be admitted, with fear;
for he understood the new pointedness of the contest.

Schaacht put his hand on the ram. His voice was gentle. "Jonathan,
I asked you to join me in my mission which is important. I thought
you were big enough to see it as a national effort. You refused me."
Schaacht's eyes burned into Blair. "So I will do you the honor of
directing my poor abilities against you personally. You left me no
choice."

Blair went cold in the knees and hot in the face. "Schaacht, you
won't get the chance because I will drive you and your damned
United States Bank out of the Northwest"

Schaacht's head went back, and his mouth opened in a silent laugh.
The men around the room smiled with him.

"Not that important you aren't, Blairl Don't take me wrong."

The volume in Blair's answer wavered the cigar smoke in the room.
"Don't take me wrong, Schaacht. Every day and every night that I have
left will be spent to drive your damned government bank out. And I
will do it! By God, 1 will do it!"

Jonathan Blair shoved the dead ram of Hope Emerson of Mesopo
tamia into the face of Gideon Schaacht and pushed the ram and the
banker to the chair so that the chair skidded backwards over the stone
floor with a screech which might echo all the way east to Philadelphia
and west to Shawaneetown, Illinois.

Chapter 8: THE HONORABLE
BODY

4< HE CAN'T do it, Gavagan. Can't."

Gavagan drove the team silently with new respect for the law man
who rode ixside him.

"Can't do it/' Blair repeated, "And even i he could, he won't get
the chance. I'll run that bank out o this state. And I'll start right now,
while he still doesn't believe me. Before he expect* it, Understand that,
Gavagan?"

Gavagan noticed Blair trying to lean the wagon forward faster, and
he Clicked the lead rein,

"My plan is clear," Blair said, "Straight forward and simple. Nothing
he can do to stop it. And he won't expect it so soon* Understand,
Gavagan? 1 *

"Yeah/*

"What do you understand?"

"You've just been telling me you're scair't stiff/*

**No! I've been telling you . . * yeah . . - scared stiff/*

After a half mile of jogging over the dark trail Gavagan said with
some disappointment, "But you don't act any more like the man that
just threw a dead ram in Scltaacht's fact* and told him off. What in
tarnation you so worried about? 1 don't see what you got to lose/*

"You don't?"

"No."

"Then if you were me where would you stand when they take
Hope's sheep away?"

They jogged a few hundred yards in silence,, "Yeah/' Gavagan said.
"I see what ya mean- And the rent of them, ux/*

Gavagan unconsciously moved over a little from Blair am! dropped
into a silence, giving Blair a foretaste of the reaction he could expect
from all his neighbors from now on.

Later Blair said, *TH unhitch my bay from the back at Columbus
and you go on back to Mesopotamia alone/*

128

THE HONORABLE BODY

"What'Il I tell Hope? About the ram, I mean?"

After a half-mile Blair said, "With Hope you tell the truth."

"Yeah."

Jonathan Blair walked through the muddy roads of the newly
styled Borough of Columbus, looking at the taverns. He was not ex
amining the kind of accommodations. He was looking for the best
place to stand from which to fight the first man he had ever truly hated
and feared.

In front of the Red Lion, Blair recognized the horses of Judge Calvin
Pease and Judge Ethan Allen Brown. He went in and found Calvin
Pease eating, surrounded by the lawyers who had cases coming up in
his court. The judge was one to finish his discourse or finish his chew
ing before he acknowledged any remark sent to him. But the ripped
shirt and the new-found directness and impatience of Blair's address
stopped a bite of pork halfway to the best judicial maw in the West.

"Judge Pease, I want to get a law passed this session. Where do the
representatives put up usually?"

Pease lowered the pork.

"Wouldn't it be better to sit still your first session and listen, Blair?
Get the hang of the assembly?"

"Don't have time, Judge."

"I see. Then put up at The Swan. That's where most of them stay.
Both the House and the Senate. You know anybody?"

"No."

"Then The Swan is especially good for you. Jarvis Pike is proprietor.
He knows all the assembly men. He ought to be especially obliging
to you, after your brilliant defense of his corn in the statehouse yard."

The lawyers around the table laughed. The judge ate. Blair left.

At The Swan, Jarvis Pike said, "Yeah, Blair. I'll give you the front
corner on the second floor. That way you can watch the street and see
who's going to caucus with who, and who's coalitioning with who else.
Usually save that room for Duncan McArthur; but he's a director of
that United States Bank and he's leadin' that all-righteous Chillicothe
Cabal, so to hell with him."

Blair was glad Pike was against the bank. Pike took him to the
entrance of the common room where men were eating.

"Now here's some you'd oughta know," Pike said. "There's Micajah
Williams out of Hamilton County. He's pluggin' for a road bill. That

130 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

ugly lookin' one is Bela Halt out of Coshocton County. Good man.
And he's from far enough north to be on your side* There's William
Moore, Muskingiun County/'

Jams Pike named a lot of them. Many of the names were somewhat
familiar to Blair. "For the most part/' Pike explained, "them fancy
lookin* ones with the chest linen that ask for shavin* water every day
are from down around the Cincinnati counties. Them wooly lookin'
ones are from up in the woods, the woolier the norther. And they
don't carry much weight in this assembly/'

Blair looked down at his own doeskin trousers and he put on his
buckskin jacket to cover the tattered shirt*

"You want anything/' Pike said, "you see me."

For the next two clays Blair attendee! every minute of every session.

None of the legislation was of much interest or pertinence to Hosmer
Village. But it gave him a measure of the men* He was able to ob
serve that the massive Bela Halt from Coshmton County concerned
himself with the important bills: an act reorgani/ing the militia, an
act creating a northwest road, Blair also noticed wilh relief that the
handsome impressive representative named Tremaine from (town in
Washington County was actually a lightweight who was backing a
wide program of such matters as an act to buy a bell for the cupola
of the statehou.se, an act to designate the north boundary of Ohio
which couldn't be more theoretical since Silver Pigeon was very ef
festively determining the actual north boundary of while territory*

Blair was delighted to see that he did know a few. One was Jacksor
Garth who was here from near the Indiana Country, He was concerned
with a couple of Indian matters and a law on the handling of estrays
And his very presence gave Blair confidence, for Garth was not a com
plot individual* He approached the crude god* of this assembly witl
his hat on, spoke loud, matter-of-fact and with an unabashed courage
His obvious ignorance of procedure and party and coalition lines dk
not reflect badly on him, but rather belittled the artificial boundaric
which he crossed and recrmsed as though they did not exist, You migh
chuckle at his ingenuous trampling upon the alliance* and traditions
but you wouldn't point them out to him. Every line in his square-cu
body and face naively wished all men well, and presumed a like re
turn, Without belligerence he tolerated no infringement on his owi
rights or dignity. Blair marked him for a friend,

Blair noticed also that this was an extremely young assembly, Wit!

THE HONORABLE BODY 131

the exception of a few like Garth and Bela Hult and Duncan McAr-
thur, who was acting speaker of the house, the members seemed to be
about twenty-six years old. Competent, confident and aggressive young
men. They made Blair see how much he had paid for his isolation up
on the frontier these past many years. He felt backward, sluggish,
ignorant. But he kept in front of him the vision of Gideon Schaacht
and Hope Emerson's sheep.

And each night in his room at The Swan he worked on framing the
law which had begun in anger and refined in determination, aimed
at the head of Gideon Schaacht. On the sixth night he copied it onto
clean parchment.

PREAMBLE:

Whereas the president and directors of the Bank of the United
States have established two offices of discount and deposit in this
territory at which they transact banking business by loaning money
and issuing bills in violation of the laws of this state and by trad
ing notes and bill:
Therefore,

Sec. i Be it enacted by the general assembly, That if after the
first day of September next, the United States Bank shall
continue to transact business within this state, it shall be
subject to a tax of $100,000 per annum.

Sec. 2 Be it further enacted, That the auditor of state shall make
out his warrant under his seal of office directed to any per
son whom he shall appoint, commanding him to collect the
amount of tax in said warrant from the Bank of the United
States.

Sec. 3 Be it further enacted, That the person so appointed shall
enter the Bank of the United States and demand payment
of the amount; and if payment be not made such person
shall forcibly levy upon any money, bank notes, or other
goods and chattels the property of the bank.
Sec. 4 Be it further enacted, That the person entering the bank,
after demand and refusal of the payment of the tax afore
said, if he cannot find in the banking room any money or
goods, chattels, etc., it shall be lawful and it is hereby made
his duty to go into each and any other room or vault and
every closet, chest, box, drawer to open and search and

132 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Laioyer

seize any money, bank notes, etc. or so much as will satisfy
the aforesaid tax.

Sec. 5 The person appointed to execute the auditor's warrant
shall, when the money is paid or sci/ed receive for his com
pensation 2 per cent upon the amount paid or seized.

The tax Blair proposed was ruinous, prohibitive and confiscatory,
which it was meant to be.

Blair folded the parchment carefully and carried it up to the Red
Lion where he laid it in front of Judge Pease who sat late before the
fire instructing the lawyers clustered about him. The judge read Blair's
proposed law through twice. He rose and walked ba<k and forth in
front of the Reel Lion hearth as Blair had seen him do at the bench,
He had the parchment rolled in his fist behind his back. The sur
rounding lawyers were obviously interested in the judge's interest,
Stuttgart said, "Has Mistah Blayah discovud a new way to make
dollahs, Judge?"

Judge Pease stopped pacing: "Blair! Are you suddenly trying to
attract a lot of attention to yourself?'*

"No, sir/'

"Are you trying to split this country in half at Pittsburgh? Undei
some provincial delusion or other?"

"No, sir. But I might hold it together."

"That what you think you're doing . . * all by yourself?*'

"I didn't say that, sir."

"Then just what are you trying to do, Blair?"

The judge's questions keened the lounging group of lawyer's curios
ity about Blair's bill* They waited for Blair's answer*

"Let's say I'm just trying to save a woman's sheep for her," Blaii
said*

"Huh- Long way around to fix a simple chattel mortgage*"

"I want it fixed for good."

"Huhl" The judge slapped the rolled parchment against his palm
"You just might fix the whole territory while you're at it But don*
you find it just a mite presumptuous, Mr. Blair* for a lawyer front
Hosmer Village to take upon himself the economics of the Territory?"

The circuit lawyers laughed. But the judge whirled at Stuttgart
"What are you laughing at? Why don't you get presumptuous once?"

The judge turned back to Blair and looked him up and down a

THE HONORABLE BODY 133

though he wished he saw a better man but would have to make do
with this one. "You know it's unconstitutional, of course, Blair."

"I do not, sir."

"You know at least then I trust that old John Marshall ... uh ...
the Chief Justice of this Republic has spent the last ten years of his
life trying to make the general government supreme over the states . . .
that he has it by now well established that the states do not tell the
Federal Government what to do ... or tax it."

"But the Federalist party is nearly dead, sir."

"John Marshall, you'll find, is far from dead, sir."

Blair said, "Judge, I don't come to argue the Constitution. I come to
drive a sheep plague out of the West."

"How long can you stay this mad?" asked the judge.

"Long as it takes."

The judge started toward the writing table in the Red Lion. "Then
you've got to get a lot smarter in a big hurry. Come here."

The group of lawyers watched Blair follow the judge to the writing
table where the two wore out three quills and many sheets of foolscap.

The judge added ten sections to Blair's law.

When the clerk of the house started the first reading of the bill,
Blair was disappointed to see the members of the House of Represen
tatives were mostly looking up at the newly plastered ceiling, many of
them seeing real ceiling plaster for the first time since they had left
the East, and the younger ones, for the first time in their lives. This
plaster did more to prove that the Ohio Country had really become a
state than did the pompous presence of Duncan McArthur in the
Speaker's chair.

But by the time the clerk had read down to the second section of
Blair's bill, there was not a single eye on the ceiling. The honorable
representatives bolted upright in their chairs. They looked at each
other to see if they heard right. They looked at Blair to see what kind
of man would write such a bill; and then they looked at McArthur to
see him choke. Grins flickered here and there in the chamber. The
clerk, obviously enjoying the shock power of what he was reading,
enunciated and paused and inflected, abandoning the usual singsong.

Jackson Garth slapped the flat of his hand on his table and he
bawled out, "By God, that's tellin' theml Let's get to the votin'I"

Duncan McArthur rapped the unpainted gavel on the unpainted
rostrum, "Out of order, Mr. Garth."

134 JON AT HAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

McArthur did a noticeable thing then. lie assigned the bill to a
committee for study and he said, "Gentlemen, I must leave the chair
immediately on a matter of urgency. Will Thomas Kirker please take
the gavel?'*

Kirker gavel led the house to order, as some of the house members
craned their necks to watch the exit of Duncan McArthur, those who
knew that General Duncan McArthur was a member of the Board of
Directors of the Bank of the United States.

Jonathan Blair rose and followed McArthur out. He followed him
at some distance to The Swan, But McArthur did not enter the build
ing. The general went directly to the barn behind the inn. When he
came out Blair watched an odd sight from a distance of fifty yards*
The general was accustomed to having the horsekeepers help him to
his saddle* But this time the general was helping the horsekeeper.
There were a few emphatic instructions from the general.

The commotion brought Jarvis Pike out the front door of The
Swan in time to see his horsekeeper southbound like a Kentucky
cavalryman. Pike remonstrated with the general, but McArthur walked
back to the statehouse.

Blair let enough time pass and then he walked into The Swan and
asked Pike, "Could I get the keeper to shoe my bay?"

"You could if I had a keeper/*

"There was one here last night/*

"Yeah, but that highhanded McArthur went in and sent my keeper
on an errand/'

"Oh? Be gone long?"

"Don't know. He sent him to Chillicothc."

The Borough of Columbus stayed up late that night. The place
had a mischievous relaxation like on the night General Harrison sent
the British prisoners of war back here in 1813, Knots of men talked in
The Swan and The Red Lion with shriller voices and easier laughs,
Both places sold more whisky that night, Blair's proposed law seemed
to remove a kind of film from the eyes of other representatives whc
now thought they saw an obvious way out of their troubles,

Young representatives looked up at Blair when he walked throng*
The Swan, and when he had passed, they renewed their tonvcrsatior
with increased vigor. These glances had in them a certain respect, bus
no envy. They were glad someone had done it. They seemed to b<

THE HONORABLE BODY 135

appraising him to see if he would go through with it, reserving judg
ment.

The position was uncomfortable for Blair who was not accustomed
to being the cause of men looking up from their whisky. As he was
mounting the steps he overheard Jarvis Pike remonstrating in the
hall around the corner with Duncan McArthur.

Pike said, "There was no call for a gallery to be built in the repre
sentatives chamber. I lost money as it is."

"We'll pay extra for it, Pike."

"Well, there's no room for a gallery. Besides anybody wants to watch
they can just walk in the door. Who's comin' that we got to have a
gallery?"

"Build it over the doorway."

"Well, I'll put up four uprights, six by sixes, and I'll take and run a
little platform, say four by twelve. That's all. And a ladder to get up
to it with."

McArthur said, "uh . . . better make it a closed stairway."

"A closed stairway 1"

"Yes ... uh ... might be ... uh ... a lady want to watch."

"A lady I"

So it was no surprise to Blair that the second reading of his bill
was accompanied by the pounding of Jarvis Pike's axes.

Nor was it a surprise on the third reading of his bill to see the
representatives craning their necks to the back of the room. The plat
form filled the room with the smell of new-hewn oak. But from the
same direction also came the faintest trace of perfume, which increased
the turning of the heads of the members.

However, what filled the room more than anything else, inspiring
new pomposity in the Speaker and new decorum in the room, was the
commanding presence on the rear platform of ... Gideon Schaacht.

To many he had been only a legend, and they stole quick glances at
him, and longer ones at his daughter. Quick, because it was the peculiar
ability of the banker that even in a large crowd he could make each
man feel that the sharp eyes of Gideon Schaacht were upon him in
particular. Even Blair now felt most uncomfortable in the overlarge
shirt that Hope had sent and which he had to wear, his other being
unpresentable. So strong was the aura of Schaacht that it seemed to
turn the room around. What was formerly the back felt as if it should

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

be the front, and it was as if there were two Speaker's rostrums in the

chamber . . . one where McArthur sat, the other where Schaacht sat.

The session adjourned for eating and resumed in the afternoon.

Blair noticed a lot of fresh shaves in the chamber for the afternoon

session.

Blair thanked the world for creating Jackson Garth. He was on his
feet early and he said, "Seems to me we took a little jog m the road
here somewhcns. Wo were doing fine with the bank-tax hill. Now
suddenly we're slowed up. The bill is out of committee. Let's put the
ayes and nays on it right now." (-

"The phrase," said McArthur, from the Speaker's rostrum, is I call
for the question.' "

"Well, whatever it is, I do it," Garth challenged.

But before Blair could second the motion McArthur said. "There
being no proper motion before the house, it has been recommended to
the chair that this bill go back into committee in fairness to the bank
to let the director ... uh ... fill in the other side of the question."

Bela Huh labored his hulk to his feet on the floor. He half-turned
to face Gideon Schaacht, but he spoke to McArthur, "Mr. Speaker, one
hearing by the committee has been adequate on all previous bills m
the session. I see no reason for exception."

McArthur said, "Since we've moved the statehouse way up here m
the woods we will frequently have to depart from procedure to give
fair representation to the bulk of the populace which remains down
along the river and at Cincinnati."

And with great swiftness matters moved from that point to the place
where the brocaded Trematne was on his feet with a motion to put
Blair's bill back in committee.

Bela Hull heaved himself up then and said if it was die desire of
this honorable body to put the bill back in committee, he favored
enlarging the committee and he personally would like a place on the

committee. ,

Blair thanked the world also for creating the massive Bela llult.

But at the same moment he witnessed another demonstration of the

power of Gideon Schaacht who rose now to thank Mr. Hult.
Schaacht wore such great ease and authority that it would have

marked a man as very small indeed to point out that Schaacht had no

right to speak in this meeting.
His great height coupled with his deep voice shrank the room from

THE HONORABLE BODY 137

the chamber of the House of Representatives to just a group of men
conferring in a hallway. And he took the group into his confidence so
much that they were honored. He said, "So the larger the committee
the better I would like it, as I think that when you have a look at the
monetary problems of our Western states and territories, you will be
able to help us solve them. I would appreciate any attention you could
give us/'

Having invited them in, Schaacht then proceeded to drop in enough
technical money talk to shut them back out. Obviously this was a
matter for experts, not for muddy-booted circuit lawyers out of places
like Hosmer Village. When he was finished he did not sit down, but
instead assisted his daughter down the stairway and out the door in an
exit which adjourned the meeting more effectively than the Speaker's
anticlimactic gavel.

Gideon Schaacht was formidable.

Jonathan Blair was about to find out exactly how formidable. When
he left the assembly this time he was not surrounded by a group of
representatives all asking questions and slapping his back. Jackson
Garth was on his right. Bela Hult hulked along on his left. The others
as they left the two-story statehouse skirted wide to the left and right
of the trio.

Hult said, "Let's see what intelligence is being nailed up on The Red
Lion over there."

They walked across the ruts to The Red Lion, but the crowd around
the sign was thick and Garth said, "There's another one going up
over there on the tree, Blair. And isn't that that satin-pan tsed bank
clerk that kept us waiting in the hall at Chillicothe?"

Blair turned to see Justin Bolding leaving the tree with a hammer
in his hand. The sign he had tacked up said:

AUCTION

Fine Herd of

MERINOS

Quarter Bloods

Rams Ewes Wethers

at the place called

MESOPOTAMIA

(Foreclosure)

138 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

At the bottom it told which trail to take and the average travel time.

Garth said, "Why that son of a bitchl"

Bela Hult said, "He's going to fight from the flanks, Blair. And
rough."

"If you only knew how rough, Mr. Hult.'*

"Why? They your sheep?"

"No. Uh ... a friend of mine/'

"O-o-o-h."

Blair was not on the committee to consider the bill, but he could
tell by the attitudes of the men who came out of the meetings that
Gideon Schaacht was not wasting time- Bela Hult was on the com
mittee and he was gradually emerging as the bulwark for Blair's bill.
He had a great bull-like voice and courage to match, as well as wit. He
had the further advantage that he had been a colonel of militia under
Harrison during the late war, and having recruited two battalions he
had a wide acquaintanceship in the northern areas. It also gave him
leave to exchange insults with Duncan McArthur on a more or less
even rank.

But among the smoother skinned members Schaacht's velvet talk and
his rock-hard fist were telling. None missed the big club implicit in the
auction advertisement whereby Blair's township was to suffer.

On the evening of his tenth day in Columbus Blair walked slowly
back to The Swan. The loungers there seemed to be taking a greater
than usual interest in him, which he understood when he felt the light
touch on his sleeve. Virginia Schaacht, like her father, had that quality
of being extremely present. She could never hide in a crowd. Waves
of aliveness seemed to radiate from her so that even at a distance of
three feet she seemed surroundingly close to a man. Life in her was
so close to the surface that Blair could see the pulse throbbing in her
white throat. And everything about her was so washed or brushed or
burnished that as she moved or turned or breathed, twilight caught
part of her and sparkled off with refreshing newness that a man never
saw in Mesopotamia except in some new piece of iron work off Stikes'
forge, which would glitter only until the air and the rain and mud got
to it.

"Jonathan."

His first name coming out of a throat and lips like hers was as if
she had stooped to wash his old socks, and he said, "Yes, Miss Schaacht/'

"I wondered if you would sign this."

THE HONORABLE BODY 139

He stared at the certificate. It was Bolding's law certificate, but he
did not take it. Instead he stared at the blue-veined hands which held
it so surely, and he wondered how Bolding held such devotion from
such a lovely creature.

"No," he said.

She didn't fold it up, but continued to hold it out.

"No?"

"No."

"It would be only a matter of signing your name," she urged. "Only
take a moment."

The gold choker seemed too heavy a thing to press down on such a
throat and it twinkled as she faced slightly away from Blair.

"I thought your idea was for him to do it himself," Blair said. "Looks
like you're trying to do it for him."

It was apparently a new experience for Miss Schaacht to beg, but
she smiled doggedly. "I was prepared to offer a bargain, Mr. Blair,"
she said.

"A bargain?"

"Meaning no offense, and thinking it could be very important to
you in the assembly, I thought if you'd sign this I could get that shirt
cut down to fit you right."

Blair looked down at the shirt which furled too loose above his
wrists. He reefed the billowing waist under his belt. And as he looked
down to see how much he had soiled the borrowed shirt lent to him by
Hope Emerson, the full extent of his desecration came to him, for in
the dust of the road under the fine-booted toe of Virginia Schaacht
was a fragment of an advertisement for the Merino auction in
Mesopotamia. The lawyer knew that he must go there in a hurry.

"The sides could be taken in," Miss Schaacht said. "And the sleeves
shortened."

"No thanks," Blair said. "Ill grow up to it."

He left her standing between the ruts which were called High Street.

Chapter 9: THE LANDS AND

CHATTELS

BELA HULT barged Into The Red Lion

common room with his loosely braided grey queue flopping nearly in
the face of Jackson Garth who followed.

Bolding and Virginia Schaacht saw him stop in front of Calvin Pease.

"He's gone, isn't he? Just when the attack gets hot?"

"Use your head, Bela," Pease said. "Where will it be tougher for him
to be, here In the assembly? Or up watchin' 'em foreclose the sheep of
his neighbors?" Pease addressed Hult, but he looked at Bolding. "Be
mighty damned lonesome up there for Jonathan Blair."

"Oh, y-e-s," Hult remembered. "A woman's sheep, aren't they?"

The drums beat again in the old colonel from Coshocton County.
He shoved a .60 caliber forefinger in the smooth-shaved face of Justin
Bolding. "Then by God well hold his lines for him while he's gone.
And you can report that upstairs to your fancy banker friend, Mn
Boldingl"

"Yes, sirl" Bolding threw a mock salute. But his grin clouded
upon the approach of Gideon Schaacht who stood erect with his arms
hanging down to his sides. Schaacht said, "Mr. Bolding, I presume
it was in good nature, but I suggest you don't use the military salute
in such a flip manner to a veteran of two wars, particularly one of
Colonel Hult's stature. Hult raised a pair of battalions for Harrison
from Coshocton County and West."

"But he just said . . ."

"The more he's to be respected for the honorable opposition he is
giving us in the general assembly. But I came to tell you to go up to
Mesopotamia to give service and counsel to our guest investors who are
attending that auction. And I want you to take a message to Emanuel
Ault."

"You said Riddle was going to Mesopotamia."

"You'll have to go instead. Major Armstrong is already up there."

"But I know those people. Riddle could be more ... uh ... effective
up there," Bolding said.

140

THE LANDS AND CHATTELS 141

"Riddle is leaving in another direction on other business of the
same kind."

"Where?"

Schaacht did not look at Bela Hult, whom he knew to be listening
closely anyway.

"Coshocton County/' he said.

Bela Hult's massive bull neck swelled even more, pumping blood
into his brown ears, turning them dark red.

Up north of the Borough of Columbus on the fringe of white settle
ment in the place called Hosmer Village, shock and disbelief con
verged on the porch of Hosmer's store.

Beyond the unbelievable fact that the auction had actually begun,
the shock was compounded for these people by the fact that Major
Armstrong had actually given the order to fire, and his sergeant had
actually discharged his rifle, even though a wild shot. It was further
compounded by the realization of each settler in the crowd that he
was actually standing there looking on without interfering while Hope
Emerson's prime breeding rams were led onto the porch of Hosmer's
store for the appraisal of a group of strange easterners.

Emanuel Ault stood on the porch with his black ledger on a flour
keg. Hope Emerson sat beside him. Her arms were folded in her lap,
except when she would raise them to signal the dog, Boss. There was
a sag to her shoulders which no settler had ever seen before.

She spared the settlers by not looking directly at them. She looked
at the strangers who stood in a half-circle, close around Ault. But
when her eyes would chance to the outer rim of settlers, Mike Stikes
would look down at the ground. Amos Exeter would bend down to
brush off his pants. William Tyng would look away.

Brutus Christofferson turned his head to Jonathan Blair and he
said, "You fixed it good, Blair."

Joe Hussong added, "Yeah, real good, Blair. You like it?"

Hope Emerson had to handle the rams as Ault called their names
out because Christofferson refused. In this work she did not have to
move around much because the dog, Boss, was long accustomed to
cutting a particular sheep from the pack and nudging him into posi
tion for shearing or bleeding or breeding.

That it should be a woman whose property went under the hammer
was the more degrading to Hosmer Village.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

In a settlement more southerly and easterly than this the auction
might have been impossible. The tempers of the settlers might have
overpowered the platoon of Federals under Major Armstrong. But
these men had lived on the red-white fringe through the Wayne cam
paigns, through the late English War and through the Indian bush
fights which continued still. They were more familiar than most men,
and more recently, with the shiny red underside of human flesh and
the bright whiteness of fractured bone. And they were also familiar
with the blind depth of Major John Armstrong's ambition. They knew
he had ordered a set of silver shoulder oak leaves out of Philadelphia
three years ago, and they knew his contempt for the militia veterans
and their everlasting pension claims.

He bawled out, "I'm not up here to kill any man. But you may as
well know I haven't got thirty-four years in this consarned army to
blow it up now over a damned platoon of sheep. Go ahead, Ault/'

Ault continued, "And this ram here, gentlemen, is Galahad out of
Adam Rotch's flock sired by Aaron."

Galahad walked on the porch like a stage. He headed for Hope, but
he was nudged back by Boss. His hooves stabbed the planks in a tattoo
as he tried to skirt Boss. His curled horns tipped and scraped at Boss
and then he saw the unfamiliar crowd and turned an aristocratic
orange-black nose to beat at the buyers from above a chestful of the
most expensive wool in the country.

One of the easterners bid $125 gold. The ram bleated.

Gavagan laughed.

The easterner who was called Ruoff, and who was obviously some
experienced in stock, said, "One-fifty."

Another bid $155, and Ruoff said, "Turn the ram around so we can
see the chest."

He looked at the three great folds of chest wool, then he asked,
"How many hanks to the fleece?"

Ault turned to Hope. Hope said, "Forty to sixty depending if you
shear once or twice a year."

Ruoff nodded and bid $200. Another buyer bid $225. Then in quick
succession Ruoff asked, "How old? How many ewes has he served? Let
me see a hank of the britch wool."

Hope cut off a hank from the inside thigh. Ruoff fingered it and bid
$250.

Christofferson cussed loud enough for Blair to hear it. Ault started

THE LANDS AND CHATTELS 143

to knock the ram down for $250 gold when an accented voice from the
back of the crowd called, "Please do not be so foolish!"

Hope Emerson's face lighted as she saw the newcomer shoulder
through the buyers to the porch of the store. It was Adam Rotch,
plainly dressed but well, except for trail-spattered boots. He carried a
fork-tailed coat over his arm. He bowed slightly to Hope.

"Mrs. Emerson, I heard about this, and I came. I cannot claim that
I came to help. I cannot buy your sheep and give them back to you.
But some facts to these gentlemen I can explain."

The Dutchman turned to the crowd of buyers.

"Gentlemen, you are very foolish. Fine Merino wool-breeding lambs
you bid on like mutton sheep. Twenty men in this territory only can
raise the Merino. Mrs. Emerson is one of them."

Rotch ignored the smiles. "You are bidding your gold on animals
you know nothing about. One man only here I heard who talks fa
miliar with them. And to bid so low he knows better. I helped bring
this strain into this territory. I do not intend it should fall into the
hands of cattle and hog farmers. Do you know about the tremors? Do
you know in four days you can lose a whole flock you were two years
building? Do you know how to breed them and raise them so the wool
comes not cotted and kempy and chaffy? Do you know how to breed
for clothing wool instead of combing wool?" He looked over the crowd.
"Therefore, I say you, if you wish the investment, invest your money
in the wool mill, or buy Mrs. Emerson's fleeces after shearing; these
things will not die or change. But a Merino you cannot raise like a
milk cow."

Hope watched the faces of the crowd. Some of them were affected by
Rotch's speech. But Ruoff snapped, "Very well, Mister. But if we can
buy the sheep we can also buy the shepherds. My bid stands."

"Then I add only this, sir, that Adam Rotch can let no Merino ram
which was born of Adam Rotch's flock go for $250. For the ram on the
stand now I bid $350."

The crowd swallowed breath.

Then Ruoff said, "Three hundred and seventy-five dollars, gold."

And the bidding blossomed.

When dusk set in, Ruoff said he refused to bid on any more sheep
in the poor light, and bidding was postponed until the following day.
As the crowd broke up Hope said, "Brute, would you tag the ones
that are sold?"

144 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

That's when the crowd turned back to face the porch for they heard
Christofferson rumble out distinctly, "No, Ma'am!"

Hope looked surprised. The crowd looked at Christofferson.

"But 111 see that somebody does tag 'em," he added.

Blair's left shoulder sagged under the massive grip of Christofferson.

"Blair, you . . . you lawyer! You'll tag 'eml It's your handiwork!"

Before Blair could catch his breath Christofferson was yanking at
his shirt front, stripping off the garment. "And before you start you'll
take off this shirt you were told not to wear!"

Boss drove the Merinos back out the east road through the dusk.
Blair followed. Christofferson followed Blair. Blair noticed that the
dog carried himself with the self-possession of those who know their
work well and the importance of it. Though the sheep were many and
the dog was a single being, he moved so strategically that he seemed
to be numerous. When Galahad approached the Emerson farm and
headed for the range, Boss leaped up on top of the flock and ran
lightly over their backs to the head of the column in time to deflect
Galahad into the shed runway. Not satisfied, the dog looked back
toward town and then turned into a rippling, furry mass, as he flew
after a yearling which was then disappearing into the undergrowth.

Blair turned to watch. But Christofferson prodded, "Don't worry.
He'll do his job. Come on."

The lawyer trudged through the gate.

In the shed Hope stood beside Christofferson who held the lantern,
throwing his own huge shadow against the wall, so that it bent at the
roof line and projected his torso against the ceiling.

Blair bent his bare back to the sheep work. The tagging of the sheep
was simple, but he performed it with the immense and ridiculous care
of a man trying to atone for the unatonable,

As he moved from one animal to another he did not look up. But
even as carefully as he worked, his inexperienced handling of the ani
mals burned Christofferson. And the lawyer's humility robbed Christof
ferson of satisfaction.

"It's no good!" he roared as he brushed Blair aside and grabbed the
sheep. "Get out! Get out! You can't help . . . even at this!"

But the big man straightened up obediently as Hope touched his
arm.

"No use to blame Blair, Brute," she said.

"A~a-h! If he hadn't trifled with the damned bank!"

THE LANDS AND CHATTELS 145

"If he only trifled with it, he wouldn't have caused all this. And if
he more than trifled with it, then he must know more about it than
we do. Best go bring in the common sheep off the range, Brute, while
we all cool down."

Christofferson handed Hope the lantern and left with Boss running
ahead of him.

The door swung shut leaving the widow and the lawyer as strangers
inside the shed.

She came closer and lowered the lantern so he could see his work.
Without looking up he tagged two ewes and moved to another. He did
not look up, but he was aware of her soft, doeskin skirt flowing over
to bring the light to him. In mute and desperate apology Blair bent
closer to his work.

Even above the peevish complaints of the old ewe, Guinevere, Blair
thought he could hear Hope breathing, and he wondered what expres
sion she wore on her face; what he would find there if he stood up.

With his eyes on the toes of her small boots which showed beneath
the fringe of her skirt he began to straighten up. The boots did not
move away and he looked into her face, his hands out to his sides,
palms up.

"Hope, I ..."

She was Hope. She was young, she was old. The unflinching eyes made
her your daughter. The relaxed squint lines made her your great-
grandmother. The full mouth and bosom made her your woman. But
you had to decide which you deserved, and prove it.

She stood slightly shorter than Blair, straight, but without effort.
The lantern lighted the bottom of her chin which lifted slightly as she
returned his gaze, and it lighted the underside of her light hair which
was swept back from her ears and throat.

"Hope, I . . ."

"If you'd do the same again, Jonathan, don't apologize."

He squinted through the gloom to see what she meant.

"And if you wouldn't do the same again," she charged "don't re
lieve your mind on those that paid for it."

He reached for the lantern and held it up so that he could see her
face better.

He hung the lantern on a peg overhead and he put his arm around
her waist and pulled her linen blouse against him. She was soft against
his chest and under his mouth. But then she stiffened in his arm.

146 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"No, Jonathan. I'm traveling Hosmer's road. You're going some
other way where I'm not . . . not at comfort/'

"Hope, you're the only . . . the only . . ."

She pushed away from him and the shed door opened. Christofferson
stepped in. He looked at Hope's blouse where the moisture of Blair's
chest had darkened it.

"Blair, I'll mark the rest of the sheep I"

On the second day of the auction of the chattels of Hope Emerson
under the contract with the Mesopotamia Hog & Trust and the latter's
contract with the Bank of the United States, Justin Bolding arrived.
His arrival was of some assistance to Major John Armstrong because
it diluted the hatred with surprise; not only surprise and expectancy
that Justin Bolding should dare to step into this place, but wonder at
the beauty of the woman who came with him . . . Virginia Schaacht.

Her velvet and broadcloth presence was first a thrill and second a
wound. First, it gloriously reminded the linsey and leather-clad women
settlers what a wonderful thing a woman was. Second, it sent their
hands flying to tuck under frayed cuffs and loose curls, and their
glances to reprimand men who had brought them to these log walls
and full cradles . . . and the full burying yard.

From the pulled-back corners of deerskin windows they devoured
the dove grey skirt that moved in long soft folds and the blue-black
velvet bodice that changed hue with the light. The women speculated
on what silks and lace might be underneath. The men just speculated.

They wondered where such a person would sleep in such a place as
this, and what would she eat, and where would she hang up those
clothes in this town while she slept.

Faith Hawkins, to the embarrassment of her husband, offered Miss
Schaacht to stay at their cabin. They had moved out to the old Wood-
bridge place which had the only rain gutters north of Columbus.

To Miss Schaacht, Faith Hawkins explained, "This does us nicely
until we can build another."

To the townswomen, Faith overexplained, "Well, the girl must sleep
somewhere, and since we have the room . . and besides, maybe she'll
get Gideon Schaacht to ... anyway, it's not her doing."

Virginia Schaacht had the wisdom not to attend the auction. The
bidding remained firm even though the sheep offered this second day
were poorer. None of the ewes sold had any record of producing twins

THE LANDS AND CHATTELS 147

or triplets. And a few culls were rejected by the buyers, A black ram
and two black ewes found no takers and reverted to Hope Emerson.

Blair did notice a strange thing when the black ewes were displayed.
Brute Christofferson suddenly walked over to take Asa Buttrick by the
elbow and the two walked quickly toward the back of the store.

Major Armstrong noticed this, too, and he came over to Blair, ac
companied by his sergeant. "What's fixin', Blair?"

"What do you mean? Looks quiet to me."

"Too quiet/'

Armstrong looked over the crowd. "Your people are too easy in the
face," he said. "Not mad, like yesterday."

Blair now observed for himself.

Joe Hussong was cheerfully cutting his fingernails with an eight-inch
blade. Amos Exeter stood with his arms folded, his tobacco in his
cheek and his head cocked with interest toward the lambs on sale.
Blair knew enough of his people to know that he was on the outside
of something. But he said, "They can't fight your guns, Armstrong."

"No, but they're not even sulkin'. Sergeant, walk over to the tavern
and then to the blockhouse. Look around."

At the end, Ruoff said, "Mrs. Emerson, could we leave the sheep in
your shed overnight and pay you for feed?" Hope was about answering
when Major Armstrong cut in, "Like helll You'll get those sheep out
of this town tonight or I'll not answer for you gettin' 'em at all."

"Sir?"

"I said take 'em out tonightl You think you can come into a town
like this and foreclose the only money crop in it and them not figure a
way to get it back? I only got twelve men here, y'know."

Ruoff turned to Gavagan and said, "Then can we contract with you
to haul them out tonight?"

"No, sir. Not in my wagon tonight or any night."

"Why not?"

"You got yourself in here," Gavagan looked over at Hope proudly.
"Now get yourself out."

But Hope said, "They'll just get somebody else to haul 'em, Matt.
You might as well have the drayage money."

Christofferson had returned. He said, "And better put up the canvas
on your wagon, Matt. Looks like rain."

"You mean you actually want me to haul for these . . ."

148 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Gavagan turned the wagon toward the forge. Christofferson pulled a
rag from his pocket to wipe some flour meal off his hands. He said,
"111 go round up the sheep and get them loaded, Miss Hope, and -I'll
put up a barrel of feed to send along."

Blair was surprised at Christofferson's cooperation. Apparently Ann-
strong was, too, because Blair heard him turn to his sergeant and
order, "Two of our men instead of one go with that wagon. Have 'em
well mounted and carry sidearms. Put Corporal Mulvane in charge,
and tell him his stripes are ridin' on those sheep."

Ruoff made his arrangements, too; he sent two of the eastern buyers
along with the wagon when it pulled out.

Amos Exeter had taken over the old Shuldane house on the common
and made it into a tavern. The easterners stayed in the upstairs. How
ever, on this night they sat late in the taproom downstairs congratulat
ing themselves on their purchases and drinking Exeter's corn whisky,
joking about the way it scorched the throat.

The inside of Blair's cabin was dust-laden from his long absence, but
he did not clean it up. It was rfSIdewed, too. Blair also went to Exeter's
tavern. He sat alone, which was not a new experience for him.

He noticed William Tyng and Stikes watching him from another
table, also Exeter from behind his tapboard. Then he saw it was because
Major Armstrong was approaching his table. In Mesopotamia men
walked to Exeter's tap, paid for their whisky and then carried it to
the table, if they wished to sit. The major, though, made no stop at
the tap. He pulled out a bench and sat to Blair's table, freeing his
sidearm from the bench and looking around. "Why don't they go to
bed, Blair?"

"Be natural for them to stay up ... considering what happened.
Considering also there's the most strangers in the place at one time
since Harrison's troops went through."

Hussong walked into the tavern. Tonight the dark-skinned, thick-
necked young hog farmer was quigt, friendly. He joined in easily with
Stikes and Dolk who accepted this junior on their own level by now.
But it made Armstrong sit up.

"What's he doin' in here?"

"Came in for drink and talk," said Blair. "Why?"

"He's too relaxed. That one I expected somethin' cussed from.
Didn't expect him to take it sittin'."

THE LANDS AND CHATTELS 149

"What can he do?"

Armstrong's sergeant came in. But before he could ask his question,
Armstrong said, "Any activity on the east road, Sergeant?"

"No, sir."

"West road?"

"Nope. Cabins dark."

"Keep the men walking around the town."

"Yes, sir."

"And especially around the Emerson place."

"Yes, sir."

"And what arrangements have you made to watch out for these
buyers?" Armstrong gestured to the smooth-cloth backs of the east
erners. "And their horses?"

"Well have adequate guard, sir, if the major would advise them
not to go walking around, but stay close to their quarters."

"They've been told."

"Very good, sir."

The sergeant turned. Armstrong called him back with an after
thought. "What'd you want to see me about, sergeant?"

"The major has covered everything, sir." The leather-faced soldier
backed one step before turning, shutting the major out with that
elaborate observance of military form with which old and competent
sergeants reprimand heavy-handed officers.

It left the' major more unsettled and he said, "Blair, look here!
What's going on?"

"Don't know, Armstrong."

"You know your people well enough to know something is itchin'
this town tonight."

"Yes. But I don't know where to scratch it. They don't tell me every
thing."

"No, but they're watching you."

"That's because you're with me, Major."

"Look here, Blair. Before you get through with the Wyandot business
you're going to be needin* me. I don't envy you the job and I'm not
goin' out of my way to make it tougher than it is. But there's one thing
you better understand. Keepin' the peace up here during this auction
business happens to be v-e-r-y important to me, and if you don't help
me, I'll sink you lower than the bottom of Schaacht's boots."

"Peace in Mesopotamia is that important to you?"

150 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"I don't give a damn about Mesopotamia. But Schaacht is gonna do
this same thing in maybe fifty towns before he's through. If Mespo acts
up they'll all act up. If Mespo takes it quiet, they'll all take it quiet.
I only got half of a half-strength battalion and that's spread from
Coshocton County to Shawaneetown in the Illinois Country. What the
hell could they do if the whole West starts actin' up?"

"Nothing. So why don't you relax?"

Armstrong shoved a hungry face close to Blair. "Because when they
pick the commander for the new western regiment, I don't want
Schaacht saying to Monroe that I couldn't keep order. That job's
going to be mine. That cleat*?"

Blair wiped the whisky from his mouth, but he couldn't wipe the
grin. "Very clear," he said. "But I can't help you."

"But the Emerson woman would tell you what's up. This is her
fight mostly."

"Yes, but she didn't ask me to help."

Armstrong smiled. "And that kind of stabs you, don't it? Especially
with that big galoot sleepin' so handy in her shed."

"What do you mean, Armstrong!"

Armstrong was on his feet. As he rose his sergeant came back in.

"Sergeant, check the Emerson farm. See what Christofferson is doing."

Armstrong noticed the heads in the tavern snap around when he
mentioned Christofferson. Some half-rose from their scats. The sergeant
said, "That's what I started to tell you, sir. He's gone."

"Gone where?"

"Don't know, sir."

Armstrong exploded. "Mount up three men. Hurry up!"

In the back of the canvas-covered wagon of Matt Gavagan, Brutus
Christofferson's huge, cramped body worked fast in the darkness. Only
three of his large fingers would squeeze through the handle loops of
the big shears, and it was hard to get enough pressure with three fingers
to trim the wool quickly. He tried to get four fingers through the
shear grip by removing the ring on his little finger, but the finger
was too big; the ring would not come off.

With great effort and speed he snipped at the fleece, changing the
shape of Galahad. He cut about two inches of wool off the great rolls
of wool on Galahad's triple chest, so that the front was no longer rolled,

THE LANDS AND CHATTELS 151

but flat. He trimmed the dock and the pasterns, so the dew claw
showed, as on common sheep. He took a half-inch off the withers and
crooped both flanks lightly. He ran his big hands lightly all over the
animal and decided that he had sculptured Galahad successfully into
an ordinary ram, except for the horns.

He felt along the dark wagon-bed for the saw and he pulled Gala
had's large magnificent curly horn down on his knee, sawing just short
of the curl. Galahad bayed and bleated and bucked up with such
surprising force that Christofferson landed on his back on top of the
nervous ewes who pranced around so much that Gavagan shoved his
head back through the canvas.

"Quiet, Christofferson! That corporal's no more'n twenty-five yards
ahead of us. And the one in back has been riding closer, too."

A voice from way ahead called back, "Anything wrong, Gavagan?"

"Naw," answered Gavagan. "Talkin' to the bosses."

Christofferson decided the horns would have to stay.

He said softly to Boss, "Guinevere next"

Boss crawled over the sheep and dropped down between two of
them that were next the tailgate. Christofferson wedged his way on
his hands and knees through the sheep to Boss. Boss had Guinevere
located, Christofferson trimmed her majestic wool down as he had done
with Galahad.

Quickly he worked the shears over all the sheep. Fibers of wool
floated around inside the wagon irritating Christofferson 's sweaty face
and tickling his mouth and the inside of his nose. He sneezed. The
front canvas opened.

"For God's sakel" hissed Gavagan, "Quiet! How near you done?"

Christofferson edged up close to Gavagan. "Think I'll make it before
we get to Boxford's Cabin. How far we got to go yet?"

"Less'n ten miles."

"Slow down. Need more time/' said Christofferson.

The big man now crawled to the left-front corner of the wagon
and pulled a deerskin bag from under a protesting ewe. He reached
inside it and pulled out a handful of whiteness. Methodically, carefully,
now he rubbed a bleached flour meal over the wool of the sheep, hop
ing to lighten their color. Merino sheep appeared darker than common
sheep because the richer yolk from Merinos picked up more dust.
He could not see what shade of white he made each sheep. But he

152 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

rubbed his hands repeatedly over every part of every sheep and through
the hanks of wool, spreading the white dust, hoping that he was turn
ing them to the white grey, typical of ordinary territory sheep.

Suddenly he stood very still on his knees with his whitened hands
motionless out in front of him. The wagon had stopped. He heard
the corporal say, "Can't you go any faster, Gavagan?"

"Load's pretty heavy, Mister," Gavagan said.

"Not that heavy/'

"Not if my right-front wheel wasn't binding," Gavagan said.

"Oh. Bad?"

"Yeah."

"Let's light a lantern and jam some ham fat or tallow in there.*'

"Naw," Gavagan said. "Won't do. But when we get to Boxford's
cabin, he's got a wheel puller. Won't take me long."

The flour dust and the wool were in Christofferson's nose forming up
an almighty sneeze in his head. He grabbed his nose with his right
hand and opened his mouth, freezing his face in an agonizing grimace.
He breathed through his mouth in short, panting breaths.

"All right," he heard the corporal say.

But a crescendo of pressure built up in Christofferson's nose. He
buried his face in the side of a sheep which deadened the blast some.
But he heard the corporal ask, "What was that?"

"Pretty chilly for them sheep," Gavagan explained.

"Sounded like a sneeze."

"That's what I say. It's chilly."

"Aw-w-w. A sheep?"

"For God's sakel" exploded Gavagan. "You never heard a sheep
sneeze?"

"A sheep?"

"Well, where in hell were you raised that you never heard sheep
sneeze?" charged Gavagan. He reached for the canvas. "Come here.
Look."

But the corporal said, "All right. All right. They sneeze then. Get
it rolling/'

As the wagon began to roll and jounce over the rutted and root-
ribbed south trail, Chris toff erson crawled back to the tailgate. He
picked up one of the smallest ewes. He held her out over the tailgate
using the sheep's body to push the tail canvas back from the tailgate.
He anchored the heels of his boots under the gunnels which projected

THE LANDS AND CHATTELS

into the top of the wagon bed and he leaned way out over the tail
gate, lowering the ewe as close as he could to the ruts in the road.
He hardened his stomach, but the tailgate cut into it unmercifully.
When the ewe's hooves were two feet from the ground he dropped her.
She fell to her knees when she landed in the dark. But she got up.

Christofferson lifted the canvas so he could watch her as the wagon
left her behind. He was not certain himself how the sheep would act.
Would she stand there in the middle of the road so that the buyer
and the soldier behind would come upon her? Or would she move
off the road into the brush and trees?

He lost her in the dark. But he waited there with the canvas lifted
until he judged the wagon had traveled five or six perches. He heard
no activity back there. He waited until the wagon had covered about
five more perches. That would give the riders back there a chance, if
they found the ewe, to overtake the wagon and ask any questions they
might want. But nothing happened.

Christofferson grabbed a lamb and dropped her over the tailgate
in the same manner. Again he waited while the wagon covered about
ten perches. There was no result. Now he began putting others over
the tailgate, dropping them silently to the ground in the blackness.
He dropped the lambs first, but interspersed an older ewe about every
third one. He held back the rams so that Boss would have the rams to
use as leaders when it came time to round them back up and head
back north.

After dropping each sheep over the tailgate, Christofferson waited
awhile.

That way they couldn't bunch up right away. Also, it gave him a
chance to see if the riders following were noticing anything. Since he
heard nothing from the rear he decided that each sheep as it was
dropped must be moving off to the side of the road, or maybe it was
too dark to notice them in the road.

Boss did not understand this procedure, and he paced anxiously
from the headboard to the tailgate, sticking his head over to watch
after each drop and whimpering his disapproval at Christofferson.

"It's all right, Boss. It's going to be all right/'

When he came to the heavier ewes and the rams, Christofferson's ribs
and stomach pained him from leaning over the iron-edged tailgate. He
devised a rope sling in which to lower the animals. When their hooves
touched the ground, he let go one end and pulled the rope out from

154 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

under them. Sometimes they fell on the rope and Christofferson had to
yank the rope, rolling the sheep over.

Chistofferson was just fixing the sling on Galahad, the last animal,
when Gavagan's head shoved through the front canvas.

"Christoffersoni"

"Yeah." Brute crawled forward.

"We're coming into Boxford's clearing. You got 'em all out yet?"

"One to go ... and the dog."

"Well, hurry up. And then get yourself out. There's lights in Box-
ford's clearing. Somethin's up down there. Might cut us off. Hurry up."

Christofferson lifted Galahad with great difficulty because of his
fatigue. He lowered the sling. When the reduced tension on the rope
told him that Galahad had touched the ground, Christofferson let go
the rope and let it slide out. Gavagan hissed through the front canvas,
"Couple men riding back towards us. Don't look like the corporal or
the buyer. Came from Boxford's."

And suddenly Christofferson was listening to talk between one of the
riders and Gavagan, who kept the wagon moving so that the men had
to ride along abreast to talk.

"Major Armstrong sent me down by the other trail to see if every
thing was all right."

"Well, didn't your Corporal Mulvane tell you everything is all
right?"

"Yes. But I'll just have a look in the wagon. One thing Armstrong
taught us is when you make an inspection, make it in person."

"All right. All right," yelled Gavagan with sweeping disgust, "When
we pull in up ahead at Boxford's Cabin, you'll have light and you can
crawl in and count each one of their little noses if you want."

Christofferson pulled Boss to him and inched back to the tailgate.
He held the dog firmly with his right arm, and wrapped his left hand
around his muzzle. He put his mouth close to the dog's ear and to
compensate for the fact that his whisper was even fainter than breath
ing, he repeated it.

"Boss . . . round up and home. Round up and home. Understand
that, Boss? Round up and home. Round up. Home. Good Boss."

The man's big hand patted the dog and kneaded his loose pelt over
his ribs. Then he tightened his grip as if trying to compel the animal's
intelligence.

"Round up I Homel Good Boss."

THE LANDS AND CHATTELS 155

He pressed the canvas flap back very slowly, taking advantage of
every noisy jounce and wheel squeak to push it back a little farther.
He held Boss over the gate with both hands, leaned down as close
to the ground as he could and let the dog drop silently to the trail.
The wagon moved on so that the canvas cut off his view of Boss;
but as he put his own foot over the tailgate he saw very clearly the
four hooves of the sergeant's horses who was dropping back to follow
the wagon into Boxford's Cabin.

Christofferson pulled his foot back inside and lay down in the bottom
of the wagon bed. There was a canvas up by the headboard. Christoffer
son crawled under it and lay still.

The wrath of Major John Armstrong in front of Hosmer's Store in
Hosmer Village the next morning was the special vinegar of a man who
is laughed at in public.

The major had no humor in his soul to lighten his heavy touch of
destiny. And his mind so directly related the present dilemma to his
chances for commanding the new western regiment that Corporal
Mulvane's faded blue sleeve already displayed two large inverted V's
of contrastingly wnfaded material which conspicuously marked his de
motion. Broken threads around the edges of the unfaded area told late
arrivals of the abruptness of the demotion. The chevrons themselves
lay in the dust near the corporal's feet.

The major roared, "Will you, damn it Mulvane, explain again how
you could lose a whole wagonload of sheep right out from under your
damn nose?"

"We were with the wagon every step of the way, sir."

"Well, you take that Gavagan up in that blockhouse and you and
the sergeant stay there with him until you can come back here and
tell me where to go find those animalsl And I don't care how! Just find
outl"

The ex-corporal reached to take Gavagan first. But Gavagan yanked
his arm away.

Blair said, "Major, you are empowered to enforce order in this
country during emergency, but you are not given power to arrest or
detain any of our men for driving a wagon."

"Well, you just heard the corporal say that he . . ."

"I just heard the corporal say he didn't know. You can arrest the
sheep, but not Gavagan for driving his ,own wagon."

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Hosmcr Village crossed its arms and smiled and watched. More of
them assembled as the argument wore on. The major fumed. It was
easy to enforce an auction. There the men got mad and violated the
rules. You could protect it by firearms if necessary. But how do you
fight a whole town full of men who only stand and smile?

The buyers were all assembled now, and from across the common
Virginia Schaacht made her way east on foot to join the crowd,

Armstrong started to work on the buyers who had accompanied the
wagon. What had they seen? How many times did the wagon stop?
Where was each man when the wagon stopped?

The argument was interrupted by a slight commotion from the
south where the roadway climbed up out of the little dip at the river
ford and came toward the store.

As Hosmer Village watched, a small column of ordinary common
sheep faltered up the grade. The lead ram wavered at the crest of
the rise, but not long, for Boss came flying up the slope and nudged
him east, out toward the Emerson place.

"There they are nowl" said Armstrong.

But his joy vanished. Amos Exeter said, "You're seein' things, Major.
Them ain't 'rinos. Just plain old sheep."

Armstrong turned to Hope. "Are those your sheep, Mrs. Emerson?"

Hope studied them awhile. "Likely are," she said slowly. "Most all
the sheep in this place are mine."

"What are they doing this far west of your place?"

Hope didn't answer. The major lowered his face into hers. "I said
what are they doing so far west of your place?"

Before she could answer, Christofferson said, "Miss Hope, those are
the ones I took over to graze on William Tyng's place. I had Tyng's
boy round 'em up and send 'em back by Boss."

Armstrong turned to Tyng. "That right, Tyng?"

"That's right, Armstrong."

Armstrong walked over close to Christofferson, "Why? Why should
you all of a damnit sudden decide to bring 'em back?"

It was Armstrong's habit on the offensive to step so close that his
adversary must necessarily take a step backward to reply in comfort.
But Christofferson stood still. He said, "Well, now that you sold her
'rinos, she's got more than enough range to graze her own common
critters. That right, Miss Hope?"

Armstrong kept his eyes on Christofferson as he turned away.

THE LANDS AND CHATTELS 157

Ruoff said, "Armstrong, you're wasting time. A child can see those
aren't Merinos. Too white. Let's get busy/'

As Boss worked the flock up the East Road they caught Virginia
Schaacht just as she was crossing the road. She started to turn back
but part of the flock were behind her. They brushed by her on both
sides forcing her to stand still.

This attracted Mesopotamia's attention back to the sheep. But it
was plain to see that these sheep were not shaped like Merinos. They
did not have the big fluffy chests and straight backs.

Hope said, "Brute, you better go open the shed door so they can
get in."

But Brute answered, "What's the difference with those miserable
sheep, Miss Hope, if they stand outside or get lost . . . now that the
'rinos are gone?"

"Still I think you better, Brute/' she said. "They may not be much,
but they're all we've got/'

"All right, Miss Hope," he said. He turned to Gavagan. "Can I
borrow your wagon, Matt? Be quicker."

Brute left the crowd.

When the flock had gone by, all the women of Mesopotamia noticed
with both dismay and a touch of delight, that the sheep had soiled
the striking black velvet skirt of Virginia Schaacht. They watched her
bend to examine the great smirch across it. She lifted it with one hand
and brushed it with the other, but it only smudged, and she con
tinued across to join the crowd.

Involuntarily Mesopotamia made wide room for this self-possessed
young lady who walked among them. The young women marveled at a
girl who obviously wore not a single piece of homemade cloth. Their
hands went to their hair as they looked at the smooth, finished outline
of Miss Schaacht's brunette head.

The younger women also felt a strong desire to go and wipe off the
great light streaks on the velvet skirt, only because it seemed to them
sinful to treat such a skirt so. She must have many such skirts, they
thought.

Faith Hawkins, however, did express concern for Miss Schaacht's

skirt.

The older women folded their arms in' silence or directed their atten
tion elaborately away from Miss Schaacht to the more important and
more pertinent discussion of the men. But in this they were in error;

158 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

for Miss Schaacht answered with fine graciousness, "Please don't worry
about the skirt, Mrs. Hawkins."

She bent to brush the velvet. "You see, it comes off with brushing . . .
just as easily, in fact, as it came off the sheep. I thought perhaps it
was some white powder you folks put on the animals to prevent
disease or something."

Smiles in the crowd faded.

The buyers came alert and Major Armstrong moved over to Miss
Schaacht. "Would you mind if I inspected that, Miss Schaacht?"

Bowing with enough stiffness to keep the inspection official, the
major bent to examine the skirt, which she belled out with her knee
so he could see it in various lights.

Hope Emerson said, "All sheep are like that. The yolk in the wool
attracts dust and holds it"

Without straightening, Armstrong looked up from the skirt to Hope
Emerson. "I see," he said, very politely. The crowd began to break
up. But the major said to Miss Schaacht, "Pardon me, Miss Schaacht."
And he reached out his hand toward the skirt. Blair noticed the major
pick a few small fibers off Miss Schaacht's skirt, which he twirled be
tween his fingertips, thoughtfully studying the crimps.

Finally, the major straightened up, still observing the fiber in his
fingers. '*! see," he said.

And as he said it, Jonathan Blair thought he also saw.

Major Araistrong walked slowly away from the crowd, motioning the
ex-corporal to follow. While the crowd dispersed, Blair watched the
two soldiers walking toward the blockhouse where the rest of the
troops were quartered.

He saw the major reach down into the dirt and grab a pair of
chevrons. He handed them to the ex-corporal, who grasped them
quickly. But the major did not let go* He put them in his pocket.

But Blair noticed the ex-corporal listened intently to whatever the
major was saying. Intently and hopefully, Blair thought.

The lawyer noticed that Hope Emerson moved swiftly to her light
wagon.

He also noticed from the porch of Hosmer's store that shortly after
the major entered the blockhouse, the corporal came out again and
sauntered to the hitching rail there for his mount, which he rode off
slowly to the east.

The lawyer remained there quietly with Amos Exeter and Jim

THE LANDS AND CHATTELS 159

Dolk on the porch, and in the space of a quarter-hour he observed
that six more soldiers came out of the blockhouse and saddled up.
He observed that they moved off independently and aimlessly . . . but
all east.

He also observed Emanuel Ault and the buyer called Ruoff moving
swiftly and independently toward the blockhouse.

Without taking his eyes off the blockhouse, Blair said, "Jim."

"Yeah."

"You've not had much occasion to use it, but you remember we
elected you Justice of the Peace of this place?"

"Yeah."

"You remember I gave you a little book that showed how to write
out the various writs and summonses?"

"Yeah," Jim Dolk said, "but so far nobody wants any."

"I know, but you know the one about when you want to search a
man's place?"

"Yeah, but nobody ever remembers about that until they already
looked."

"Yeah. But the point is, if anybody asks you for a writ of search,
you write real slow. Understand?"

"Yeah."

"Real slow."

The last of the soldiers to saunter his mount out toward the East
Road was the major himself, accompanied by the sergeant.

Blair called out, "Major, don't forget to get a search writ first."

"For what?"

"For whatever you got in mind."

"And if I don't, you'll do something about it?"

"Everything I possibly can."

Armstrong laughed, "Is that liable to be much?"

"Remember that's what you said before I let the Wyandot contract
for hard goods, Armstrong."

Aimstrong studied him. He did remember the Wyandot contract,
and he had observed some strange purposefulness in this lawyer of
late. He said to his sergeant, "Ride ahead and tell Mulvane to wait
until I get there with a warrant." He turned to Blair, "I'm gonna do
this so damn legal, Blair, that you'll be sorry." He turned to Dolk
and said, "Hurry up, Dolk. I want a search warrant. Quickl"

160 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Dolk lit his pipe. "Til have to go mix up some ink, Major," he said.

"I have a pencil!"

"All writs got to be writ with ink!"

Chapter 1 0: THE VICE

THE LAWYER put down his whisky, un
finished.

The ears o Jonathan Blair were finely enough tuned to the motives
of his townsmen so that the sound of tortured iron from Stike's forge
in the middle of the night jolted him to his feet. Blair left the tavern.
The long sliding door to the forge was closed, but through the cracks
in the door slabs he saw Mike Stikes grinding a length of hexagonal
bar iron. Stikes stopped and fitted the bar of iron into a piece of
maple. There were seven other hexagonal bars and seven other pieces
of maple.

That became Blair's calendar. Roughly, he judged he had seven
weeks till those rifles would be ready.

The next morning his calendar and his suspicions were verified in
Hosmer's Store, which was now run by Asa Buttrick. He overheard
that Buttrick was expecting a shipment of special fine-grain black
powder in about two months. That matched.

Blair walked up Slasher's Creek to Slasher's place, where he found
the ground was covered with new chips. Down in the creek were several
sets of enormous boulders. Blair could see the great levers with which
Slasher each day moved the wing boulders back a little, bending the
ash strips into half circles.

"Got orders for wagons, Slasher?"

"Man's got to keep busy at what he knows, Blair. Orders or not."

In the afternoon Blair went out the East Road toward the Emerson
farm. There were a number of horses there and two wagons. When he
approached, the conversation died. Then the big voice of Matt Gava-
gan, too loud even for Gavagan, said "Hope, if I were you I'd clear
another five acres."

THE VICE 161

"Hope, I advise against it," Blair said.

"Against clearing another five acres?"

"No. Against what you're really planning to do."

"And what is it that we plan to do, Jonathan?" she asked.

"Obviously some of you are going to pull out of here and move up
into the Indian lands about seven weeks from now."

Several men now looked at each other accusingly.

"No. Nobody gave you away," Blair said. "Stikes is building
rifles. Slasher is building wagons. Buttrick has ordered powder. I
advise against it, Hope."

"If you can put that together, Jonathan, I guess you can also put
together that I got some sheep walkin' around up in there that I can't
very well bring back . . . what with Armstrong workin' for the bank
and Ault workin' for the bank . . . and you . . . well . . ."

"I still say stay out of the Indian country."

Gavagan cut in with a grin, "I guess you can put it together also,
Jonathan, that she's got a pretty good man up there lookin' out for her
interests already . . ."

"But the Wyandots are still spread out," Blair said. "And The
Pigeon is spoiling for a fight. You'll upset the treaty/'

Hope said, "We know better how to fight Wyandots than how to
fight bad money, Jonathan. We've got to go."

"I'm only asking you to wait until we get the Wyandots paid off
and moved back into Upper Sandusky, Hope."

"We counted on you havin' that done long time ago. Now it's too
late."

A circle of grins invited Blair to answer that one.

Blair rode into the village thinking, reaching for a leverage to
apply against Silver Pigeon to hasten the withdrawal to Upper San-
dusky. He stabled the bay and stepped into his cabin. As soon as he let
go of the door, it slammed shut behind him.

"Silver Pigeon!"

Blair studied him in surprise. For this was a more Indianlike
Silver Pigeon than Blair had seen since '14. The Pigeon carried a
rifle, which was unusual. He wore no hat. He wore no cloth. All deer
skin.

The upslanted rays from the hearth- lighted a different set of planes
around The Pigeon's cheekbones and the undersides of his eye caverns.
He looked Indian.

162 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair sat on the bunk. Pigeon walked to Blair's small clay crock.

"Let us have one last whisky together, Blair/'

"One last?'

The Indian tipped the crock and handed it to Blair who did the
same.

"The Pigeon wishes to say you are not a bad. man, Blair. Almost you
could be an Indian/*

"I'm glad you think so," Blair answered, "because I was going to
talk to you about . . ."

"But that is the last good thing I have to say, Blair/' The Indian
sat opposite Blair with the rifle across his knees. "I want you to re
member I said it because after this drink tonight there will be nothing
between us but . . /' The Indian drew his finger across his throat.

"I wish it could happen to someone else," the Indian said. "But
it is only because it is you that it will work/'

"Will work?"

"Yes. You will get the extra Wyandot annuity money and the land
and the mission money. The Pigeon waits no more/'

"I'm trying. Pull back to Upper Sandusky," Blair said, "and I will
keep trying to get the money."

"Yes. You will get it. For The Pigeon is now in what your Chief
Harrison says 'strategic position/ Never again it will happen like this.
But it happens this one time. And the Pigeon will turn tife screw
tighter and tighter and he will never let go, This is the only chance
to turn the screw."

"Turn the screw?"

"Yah. The big white-haired one that makes the guns and the shoes
for the horse, he has the big screw that he turns?"

"You mean Mike Stikes' vice?"

"Yah. Pigeon also has the vice. And Pigeon will turn the handle
tight and tight more. In the middle . . . you/'

As Blair listened to the Indian he knew that he listened to a states
man, a general. The Pigeon explained that he knew of the prepara
tions of the group of whites to move up into the Indian country.
He had already seen them moving through the woods, marking trees,
cutting trees. He had seen the wagons Slasher was building. His men
watched every exit to the north of Hosmer Village.

"And when they come, Blair, when they come, they will come
into . . /' The Indian held out his two strong, slender-fingered hands,

THE VICE 163

palms up. Then he turned them over in a gesture like wringing a neck.

"And this is the vice?" Blair laughed. "You think I care enough;
about what happens to the settlers who go up there to get you your^
extra annuity?"

"Yah. Not think. Know. The Pigeon will do like the Schaacht. The
Schaacht fights the lawyer by fighting a woman. The woman saved
the sheep from the Schaacht. But now she drives them to the Pigeon.
The sheep are up there now ... in the woods . . . with the giant.
The woman will follow the sheep. And the Pigeon will wait for the
woman. That is the vice. She will live as long as the lawyer gets the
money. No money, no woman. No sheep also. That is the vice."

Blair already felt the screw tightening. There were no words low
enough.

"Damn you, I'm doing everything I know how to do!"

"Yah. But more still you must do."

Blair's face lighted. "It would be easy enough for you to know
that Christofferson was up there with some sheep. But that doesn't
mean you know where he is up there."

For answer the Indian pulled something out of his belt and stood
up. The hearth highlighted the bottom of his sharp jaw so that Blair
could see an eerie replica of the great Tecumseh.

Pigeqri grabbed hold of one of Blair's hands and placed the soft
object/%i it.

Silver Pigeon walked out of the cabin, leaving the door open. Blair
walked to the hearth and unfolded his hand. It contained a fine
grained hank of soft wool . . . Merino.

Hope Emerson fingered the wool. "Can't help it, Jonathan. I'd
chance the sheep against the Wyandots quicker than against bank
auctions."

"But it isn't only sheep."

She looked at him quizzically.

"It's lives."

Hope handed the wool back to him. "Always has been, Jonathan.
That's what Hosmer knew. Maybe you're just finding it out." She took
a pot of hot lead off the hearth.

"I mean especially your life, Hope."

For answer she poured the molten lead into the shot mold and closed
the cover.

164 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Then as sub-agent for the Wyandots, Hope, I've got to order you
to stay out of Indian country until the treaty has been executed."

She rose, and the base of her throat colored. "Order me?"

"Order."

"Thank you. Thank you, Jonathan." Her color and breathing deep
ened in a way to make Blair resent that a Wyandot should even
set eyes on her. "You've had me off and on mixcd-witted about you,"
she said. "But now you've picked your side."

She opened the middle cover of the mold and poured six shiny
lead balls onto the hearth.

At dusk on the third day after Pigeon's visit, Blair went to the
tavern where he knew Armstrong would soon arrive. Major Armstrong
was a hard man to ask for favors, but it had to be done. It was a
poor choice of a meeting place as it turned out. Because when the
major entered the tavern the settlers followed him with their eyes.
Their faces were straight, but their eyes were laughing at a United
States Army major, regular army at that, sent on a sheep hunt by a
civilian banker.

As the major fished out three cents for three fingers of Exeter's
whisky, Blair observed ex-Corporal Mulvane's chevrons mixed with
his coins, indicating that the major had not found the sheep.

The major drank it down in time to catch the receding Exeter for
another one.

"A damnit sheep hunt," he said to Blair. "Assignment not even fit
for the damnit militia. Why in the name of hell is Schaacht pickin'
on this miserable town?" He elbowed Blair with his whisky arm. "By
God, it's you he's aimin' at, Blairl You and your damnit meddlin'
down to statehouses."

"Maybe. That's what I want to see you about, Major. I want more
money to pay the extra annuities and damage money to the Wyandots
and five hundred dollars for the mission and the fifty thousand extra
acres for the reserve."

"Why tell mer

"As major in command of troops in this area, I want you to recom
mend it to War Department/'

Armstrong's head went back in a silent laugh. "Me? How's that
gonna look after I've been recommending we just ride the red skunks
to hell out of the place?"

THE VICE 165

"There's plenty of logic to it," Blair said. 'The white settlers are
preparing to move in. The Wyandots will resist You have only two
squads here. There are seven, hundred Wyandots. Eight hundred
Shawanees will throw in with them, 232 Ottawas counting kids, and
enough Senecas and Mohawks and odd lots to cut you down. Spell
that out to War Department. They'll give you the money. Save you a
bad record."

''Got it all figured haven't you, Lawyer?" But the major was not
laughing.

"You'd better make the recommendation just as soon as you can
send a messenger to Cincinnati. There's not much time."

"No," Armstrong mused. Then he snapped, "But you think I'm
crazy, Blair? When they go to pick the regimental commander I
can see Monroe reading the report on me. 'Good officer. Good record.
But lacks firmness in gaining Indians cessions. Found it necessary
to recommend increased annuities for Wyandots.' Then there would
be one in there by Schaacht. It would say, 'Good troop commander,
but lacks understanding of civil necessities of peace time. 1 Just because
I can't find his sheep. Sheepl Blair, where are those consarned sheepl"

"Don't know."

But Armstrong's eyes narrowed. "It's your mess. It's your town. And
it's even your damned womanl Blair, where are those sheep?"

"Don't know."

"All right, Lawyer, put it this way. You tell me where to find the
sheep, and I might tell the department you need more Wyandot
money."

Ex-Corporal Mulvane approached the major. He carried a roll of
deerskin in his left fist. "We just found this on the old Wyandot that
hangs around once in a while. The one who calls himself Captain
Michael."

"Anything about sheep?"

"In a way, sir. He said it was a message from The Pigeon to this
here lawyer, sir."

"Then give it to him. As you were. Give it to me."

Armstrong flopped the buckskin lightly on the bar. But to Blair's
ears it clanked like the handle of Mike Stikes' vice. When it unrolled
Armstrong said to Mulvane, "Tell the sergeant to mount a fresh
patrol . . . now!" Then he shoved his face into the lawyer's, "So you
don't know where the sheep are huh, Lawyer I"

166 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"No."

"Then what docs this message mean?"

"It means The Pigeon has turned the screw tighter," Blair said.
On the unrolled buckskin in front of him lay the short, stubby ear
of a sheep . . . Merino.

At a creek bed which he estimated to be thirty miles above the
Greenville Treaty Line, Brutus Christofferson held the head of Gala
had down close to the water and scooped handfuls of water over it
just ahead of the horns where flies had found the coagulating blood
where the ear should be. Christofferson did this absently. For his gaze
was attempting to pierce the big woods. But the woods only laughed
back and trees murmured to each other overhead. ChristofFerson
would quickly look behind him and then back to the front. He had
seen or heard no Indians, yet here was Galahad's ear gone, clean as
a scalp. Christofferson looked to the rear again. To be watched and
not see the watcher is panic.

Christofferson looked north. It was likely they had come from
there. But if he turned south he'd get fouled in Armstrong's hunt.
Armstrong would probably comb through the woods on a thin, broad
front, same as he used to flush out Tecumseh's pickets under Harrison.

He corralled the sheep and walked them north up the stream bed,
looking to the left and to the right, and holding his rifle alert across
his chest, changing it so the muzzle faced first the left bank, then the
right.

Armstrong had always taught them back in '14, "There are places
where one rifle can hold off a battalion, if you search out a defile
with a narrow enough neck."

Christofferson searched.

Jonathan Blair rode south* He hated to be away from the settlement
where he could keep track of Armstrong and Silver Pigeon and Hope.
But he had to see Gideon Schaacht. Staying in Mesopotamia he could
not get funds for the Wyandots, And until he did, the Silver Pigeon's
vice would screw tighter and tighter. Schaacht would do no favors for
Blair's sake, nor for Silver Pigeon's, but he might for Ruoff's sake.
He had brought Ruoff and the others out here to make them prosper
ous on foreclosed property* Their first investment had taken to its
hooves and run away. Blair thought he held a forcing hand.

THE VICE 167

Blair was surprised as he rode into Boxford's Clearing to find
Schaacht's great black hunter tied up outside Boxford's big double-
cabin. There were others, too. Blair found the big man inside. He
talked plain and quickly under the pressure of Pigeon's vice.

"Schaacht, I want something."

"Hello, Blair. If you're headed for Columbus, I can save you a trip.
Your bank-tax bill was remaindered till next session. Your supporters
dwindled considerably. And I was able to point out to the remaining
legislators the punitive nature of your tax."

"Later, Schaacht. Right now I want something, quick/'

The skin of Schaacht's cheeks was thin over his teeth and Blair could
see the outlines of them as they shattered Mrs. Boxford's bread crusts.
"What do you want bad enough to ask me?"

"More money for the Wyandots."

"You paid them what the treaty called for."

"It wasn't enough. Silver Pigeon knows what the Blue Jacket Shawa-
nees got and what the Lower Miamis got. He demands the same."

"Why come to me? I'm a banker, not Indian Affairs Commissioner."

"No. But Duncan McArthur made the treaty and has certain dis
cretionary powers where Indian cessions are concerned."

"Not the power to grant larger annuities," said Schaacht.

"No, but he has the power to authorize the same arrangement that
was granted to the Shawanees."

"What was that?"

"They let the sub-agent auction off the Indian lands to be ceded to
the whites and gave part of that money to the Shawanees."

"Then see McArthur. Why me?"

"Because McArthur's on your bank board and I've observed that
men around you do what you want. You tell him to do this."

Schaacht shoved back from the table, crossed his legs, licked his
teeth clean and asked, "Why should I?"

"Because if I don't get the Wyandots paid, they're going to butcher
the Merinos your investors bought. And if you can't keep the investors
happy, you've just got a handful of mortgage paper that isn't worth
anything. I figure Mr. Monroe isn't going to think you're doing so
well."

Schaacht's big mouth laughed, but his eyes didn't, "Blair, you'll have
to do better. I have a few words for Mr. Armstrong that I dare say

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

will hasten the recovery of the sheep. As for Ruofl, I can get others.
You'll have to do better."

"I plan to/' Blair said. "And here it is. Your Investors want good
land, cheap. And you also expressed interest in that northwest land.
It's good. It's valuable. If you let me auction it off, there's a chance
for your investors to get hold of it before the bounty warrant holders
move in and take the best of it."

Schaacht munched the idea like a nut and covered his thinking
with a draught from his mug.

"You're very shrewd, Mr. Blair," he said finally. "I do have to keep
those investors happy. Also I want a piece of that land, personally.
A big piece. But you are too modest, Mr. Blair. You overlooked a
bigger threat to me and the bank."

"What's that?"

Schaacht wiped his mouth.

"You, Blair."

Blair met the black eyes.

"If I can get rid of you, Blair, I don't have to worry about the
Ruoffs nor the Silver Pigeons. And, Mr. Blair, I plan to do just that.
It would surprise a lot of people, even on rny own staff, Blair, but my
first job is to break you down, publicly and finally. Everything that's
close to you, I'll have to smash . . . and every person."

Schaacht leaned his axe-sharp face close to Blair's. "So there is only
one way I will help you get money for the Wyandots, Blair."

"What's that?"

"Withdraw your bill from the legislature/' He leaned back in victory.
"If you want your land auction, that's the price."

Blair felt a draining sensation somewhere above the roof of his
mouth. His head bent to the palm of his hand which gripped his
forehead,

"What about it Blair?"

A white spot of hate appeared on each of Blair's cheeks.

Bolding said, "Mr. Schaacht, would you step outside for a moment.
Private business/'

They went outside and Blair crushed his knees against his elbows.

Boxford said, "That's twice Schaacht's going up to Hosmer Village
now. What in tarnation brings a big man like that up to a little place
like that?"

Blair did not answer.

THE VICE 169

Schaacht and Bolding returned. Schaacht stretched out his boots
in front of him. "Mr. Bolding has just pointed out some advantages to
your plan which have a great weight with me," he said to Blair.
Then he turned to his young assistant, "Bolding, you get from' Blair
the wording he wants in the land-auction authorization from
McArthur. Ride directly to Columbus and catch McArthur/'

"And I'll need surveyors/' Blair interjected with rising spirits. "Tell
Jarvis Pike to send me surveyors. Tell him pay will be in United
States Bank notes."

Bolding said to Schaacht, "McArthur will probably say he doesn't
have authority to do this."

Schaacht said, "Tell him authority is not something you're given.
Authority is something you take."

Blair handed Bolding a paper and said, "When you get to Colum
bus have them run a notice of this auction in Freeman's Chronicle,
and have him send word of it to Vincennes Western Sun, The Pitts
burgh Gazette, and The Centinal at Cincinnati. Say the auction will
be on November 20."

Schaacht added, "Send word to Ruoff and our other friends, Bold
ing."

Bolding left, and Schaacht said, "Shall we proceed to Mesopotamia,
Mr. Blair? I have to see about a matter of some sheep."

The day of the land auction on the twentieth of November brought
more strangers into Hosmer Village, or Mesopotamia as it was in
creasingly called, than had ever been there before. And more vinegar.

The settlers, those who were planning to move up into the Indian
lands and squat, had waited for Blair's auction in the hope that they
would have a chance at the bidding, that they might, at least, have
enough good money to make down payment. It would be better to use
their good money as down payment on new land than to apply it
to their debts which were large. But now for three days they had
seen the town fill with cloth-coated Easterners who paid for their
whisky at Exeter's Tavern in bigger coins than Amos could make
change for.

And as Blair walked slowly through the blockhouse toward the
front where the big map of the Indian lands had been set up, he
listened to snatches of the deep-souled grumble of Mesopotamia.

He heard Culpepper's drawl, "Looks odd this here Blair should take

170 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

and worry so much about gettin' money for his red devils while his
own kind are losin' property for lack of it."

Blair saw Exeter muttering to Denaro, "Tells us to wait for the
auction. Then he fills the place up with money men that carry fortunes
in their pants pockets. Lot of biddin' we can do here!* 1

He saw a group standing around Hope Emerson's relaxed straight
figure, Hope Emerson had come to stand for a way for settlers to
continue to get along without the moneymen and the lawmen. In fact,
in a way she had come to stand for Samuel Hosmer. And she stood
straight.

There'd been a lot of times in the past few years when the figure
of Hope Emerson was an affront to a man. That is, her damn soft
figure and her damn soft voice and soft skin and swishing skirt made
a man want to take her around the waist and lead her gently and do
for her. But about the time a man was thinking like that she'd catch
him at it and beat him in a trade, or heft her own staples into her
own wagon, leaving him to wonder if he were man enough to do her
any good,

But there were things you could do for her now, and you wanted to
join with her in this fight. Blair would like to have her touch him
on the arm like she was doing right now to William Tyng as she
talked to him.

But on Blair's arm as he walked to the front of the blockhouse
there was instead the thick grip of Joe Hussong, "Blair, you acceptin*
John Piatt Bank notes at this auction?"

"Can't. Treaty says the Wyandots got to be paid in specie or equiva
lent."

"Be a pity if your precious Indians had to lose out like us, huh,
Blair?"

As he approached the map, Blair found Schaacht pointing out a
parcel to Emanuel Ault.

"I want these two here, Ault. And If they go cheap enough, I want
the whole township. But above all I want this place where the stream
curves between these steep banks, a perfect mill site. But mind you
don't bid more than . * ." Schaacht saw Blair, so he concluded, "And
I presume you understand what I expect from you, Ault, and what
you have at stake."

As Blair prepared to open the auction he was puzzled by a change
in the chatter in the blockhouse.

THE VICE 171

Gideon Schaacht passed among the easterners talking briefly to
small groups. As he left one cluster to go to another Blair saw the
men grin, and some would slap others on the back and wink.

Blair hammered the side o the empty barrel.

"You've studied the plat, gentlemen." Blair pointed to the plat.
"Township One in Range One in the Indian lands. Does any man wish
to bid on the entire township?"

The silence that came back to him seemed organized.

"All right. We'll start bidding on sections. Begin with Section
One, Township One, Range One. Who wants to open?"

Ruoff yelled up from the floor, "If you're sure the damned thing
won't walk off and disappear like sheep, I'll open the biddingl"

The easterners laughed. The settlers even laughed at Ruoff's good
nature.

"Seventy cents an acrel" Ruoff said.

A chuckle rippled through the blockhouse.

"That bid is not acceptable, Mr. Ruoff. It is below the government
minimum."

"What is the government minimum?"

"Government Land Office has said no part of the public domain
shall be sold for less than one dollar and twenty-five cents per acre.
But we're not talking about minimum-grade ground. This range here
is covered with black-walnut timber. It's well watered. And squatters
have built a few cabins. What is your opening bid?"

"One dollar, twenty-five cents an acre," said Ruoff.

The chuckle broke into a laugh over in Gavagan's corner.

Blair was afraid he could see what was happening. But he said, "All
right. Start at one twenty-five the acre. Next bid?"

The blockhouse was silent.

"What's the next bid?"

Stikes looked up at the rafters. Exeter looked down at his shoes.

"Hussong?"

No one spoke.

"Buttrick?"

Buttrick nodded negative.

"Fitchburgh?"

Fitchburgh crossed his arms.

"Ault?"

Blair went over to the map and put a check mark on Section One,

1 72 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Township One. "All right/' he said, "we'll put this section aside for
now. What do you bid for Section Two?"

Blair was relieved to see Ault's hand go up.

"One dollar and twenty-five cents the acre for Section Two/'

The grins came back.

Blair said, "Next bid?"

Silence.

"William Tyng, you always wanted a piece up in here. What is your
bid?"

William Tyng had no bid.

"Culpepper, you always wanted the Indians out of here. What's
your bid to furnish the money to move the Indians out?

Silence.

"Next bidder?" Blair asked.

But there was no next bidder.

Blair was licked. This explained Gideon Schaact's cooperation in
the auction. The lawyer looked out across the crowd to Holding. **I
congratulate you, Mr. Bolding. Your little plan has been carefully
worked out/'

Bolding mock-bowed.

"However, at these rates you obviously give me no help in raising
funds to complete the Wyandot cession treaty." He closed the sur
veyor's field-notebook. "I find it necessary to close the sale/'

The room came alive with bumng.

Bolding called out, "You can't do that, Blair! An auction's an
auction. Section Two goes to Ault for a dollar, twenty-five cents an
acrel"

Schaachfs voice boomed over the crowd- "The auction is begun,
Blairl By what authority do you stop it?"
Blair pulled out Duncan McArthur's letter and read,

". . . and it will be the sub-agent's responsibility to see that
sufficient funds are gained from the sale to achieve these ends
or to cancel the auction.

Very Obt. Srvt.
DUNCAN MCARTHUR"

Schaacht turned to the assembled buyers, particularly Ruoff. "I
advise you to remain in this town a few days. We will see Mr.

THE VICE 173

McArthur and have this situation changed. The bank apologizes for
this delay. But you will find it worth-while."

Blair worked with the Land Office man until well after dusk. Then
he walked across the village to his cabin in the dark. As he stepped
over the sill he tripped over some soft object. He recovered his
balance, and felt for the floor. The object was soft and warm, and his
fingers came away wet and sticky.

Blair quickly lighted a candle from the fire pit. As the flame climbed
he found on his doorsill a large Merino ewe. Its throat poured blood
onto the floor of the hut.

Blair called out, "Silver Pigeonl"

But there was no answer.

The heart of Silver Pigeon's vice was Hope Emerson. Blair saddled
and mounted.

The Emerson place was dark. The rifle was gone from over the
hearth.

Blair knocked on the closed door to the other room. There was no
answer. Blair had never been in Hope's sleeping room, not even
through the doorway. Nobody had, as far as he knew. He pushed
the door open.

Though she was not in the room it was on this night that Jonathan
Blair met Hope. That is, he had not expected such a room in Hope's
cabin.

There was not a bunk as Blair had pictured with grey-wool army
blankets. There was a bed with white cloth sheets. There was a pillow
with a case. And the case had a lacelike fringe. There was a small
table, and covering the table was a white-bleached sheep fleece, On
the fleece was a wooden comb, one of the kind Slover Navarre used to
make. On a shelf by the window was a cut-glass dish containing a bar
of lavender eastern store-soap. And beside the soap dish was a copper
jewelry box.

Blair rode back into the village.

A cluster of shadows milled around near his cabin, some mounted,
some standing beside mounts. When Blair approached he saw there
were only six persons. But he heard Hope saying to Hank Flannerty:
"Be sure to bring them in well before sundown every night. And
count them before you leave the range and count them again when
you shed them, and keep your rifle with you."

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Yes, Miss Hope," Hank said.

Blair dismounted. "This means you're going?"

"Yes, Jonathan. We waited for your auction. It didn't work."

"It's going to work yet, Hope."

Hussong cut in. "Don't look like it to us, Blair. We're leaving."

"You'll lead Armstrong right to the sheep."

"Hell find us tough to follow," Hussong said.

"Even if you've got Armstrong handled," Blair said, "the minute
you cross the line Silver Pigeon will be watching you as he is right
now watching Christofferson."

"How would you be knowing all this, law man?"

"I had a message from The Pigeon."

Hussong laughed. "Where is it?"

"Just walk over behind my cabin," Blair said. "You'll see it."

Hussong and William Tyng walked rapidly out behind Blair's cabin.
They returned slowly.

Hussong said, "I'm convinced. But what in the damn hell are you
going to do to stop it?"

Blair saw Tyng lead Hope Emerson back behind the shed. But he
said to Hussong, "I need some help from you to get the land auction
to produce money for the Wyandots."

"That's a dead issue after this afternoon, isn't it?"

"Not if you'll help."

"All right! All right! But what!"

Blair singled out Hussong and Slasher and Tyng and he gave his
instructions.

Up in the Indian country at the bend in the creek in the newly
surveyed Township Two, the sting in the voice of Jonathan Blair
was born of pressure, "No, Hussongl Don't put the marker on the side
of the tree. Cut a post and set it on the boundary and trim the brush
around it so anybody can see it."

The hog farmer moved sullenly to cut a post "Blair, if I could see
how this was savin' Hope's sheep, or helpin' the rest of us, it would
be one thing. But what good it does to resurvey a piece of ground
you couldn't even sell above gov'ment minimum, I'm damned if I
can see."

"I'm not asking you to see. Cut the post."

THE VICE 175

"I I could even see how the Silver Pigeon might think this was
gonna get his money for him, I wouldn't worry so much, but . . ."

"You'll see soon enough/' Blair said.

Hussong and Slasher carried the new survey north. Blair stayed
behind as he had done for the last six miles, always looking back
wards, down the line. But this time as he walked north and looked
south, he was rewarded.

Following the line up from the south, leading his horse with one
hand, fighting the branches aside with the other, came Emanuel Ault.
Blair remained motionless behind good cover as he watched Ault come
up to the last survey post beside the steep bank of the creek.

Ault first looked at the post. Then he sighted across the top of the
post to the opposite bank. A shrewd land-spier's eye like Ault's would
notice the priceless constriction in the creek at that juncture, the steep
high banks. He would quickly calculate the perfection of this as a mill
dam-site and he would quickly convert that to a new meaning in
dollars and cents.

Blair watched Ault stoop to pick up one of the axe chips and put it
to his nose. He would find it fresh, very fresh.

Ault walked over to where the three horses were tied. He would
recognize Blair's bay.

Ault took a small black book out of his pocket and made a notation.
He would be drawing a map of the stream bed and writing down the
survey marks on the post. Then Ault turned and mounted his horse
and rode south.

At that moment Blair yelled for Slasher and Hussong, "We're donel
Come on backl"

Slasher shoved his hat back and put his hands on his hips, but
Blair did not wait to answer the question. He was not sure enough
of the answer. He led his horse south through the thickest part, leaving
Slasher and Hussong to round up the three protective troops and come
on in themselves.

When Blair rode into the clearing at Meso^btamia he slowed down
and looked composed. But his stomach churned.

Out of the side of his eye -he saw Denaro come out of his front door
to watch. Exeter came out the front door of his tavern and stood
there watching. Buttrick drifted out onto the front porch of Hosmer's
store. But Blair rode directly to the blockhouse which was being used

176 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

to billet Armstrong's troops. He walked into the small enclosure which
had been erected to partition the major's bunk from his men.

"Major, one of your men said the pay for your men was expected
today. Did it come?"

"What's that to you?"

"I want to borrow that money for three hours tonight," Blair said.

"What!"

"Want to borrow that money for three hours tonight."

"You're crazy, lawyer. If you're down to schemin" to give my men's
money to your Indians, that means you're desperate."

"Yes, I'm desperate. But I'm not going to give your money away.
Just to borrow it for three hours. Just want to count it. You can
have your men there to watch me count it."

"Why?"

"Can't tell you, Armstrong. But I promise nothing will happen
to it."

"If you can't tell me what you want to do %vith my money, you can
whistle for it."

Time was running out for Jonathan Blair. He didn't want to read
about any more dead Merinos in Hope's face.

The lawyer walked to the tavern slowly enough for all to see. He
bought his whisky and seated himself at the large table near the mug
rack so that Ault could approach him without seeming to seek him
out. He made it easy for Ault

The tavern filled quickly, as he hoped it would, with men who
thought they appeared to saunter.

The only one who moved fast was Mike Stikes who had other con
cerns. He walked up to Adams in considerable agitation. Blair heard
him ask, "You the one that borrowed my . . ," But the rest of the
conversation was drowned out in the tavern noise. Adams shook his
head and turned up his palms. Stikes went from one man to another,
apparently asking the same question. But Blair noticed that Ault
was now seated at the far end of his table. Blair wanted to start
proceedings so he yelled to Stikes, "Mikel"

Stikes broke off the questioning and turned to Blair who said,
"Mike do you have the makings for another set of wooden mill-
wheel gears like you made before?"

"Yeah, if I can ever find one of my tools."

"Man wants me to have you get started on a set."

THE VICE 177

"Who?"

"Tell you all that later. But he wanted you to get started."

From the far end of the table Emanuel Ault asked, "Somebody
buildin' a mill around here, Blair?"

"Not around here."

"Where? And who's buildin' it?*'

"Not at liberty to say."

"Seems if you're brokerin' some kind of a mill sale you'd let your
neighbors in on it, those that wanted in."

"You had your chance and weren't interested, Ault, beyond a dollar
and a quarter an acre."

This talk brought the loose crowd close around the table. Blair was
aware of Ruoff to his left, but didn't look at him. Armstrong had come
over. Schaacht's easterners were all here. Hope Emerson had come in.

Ault drank from his mug and said casually, "You trying to lead us to
believe you sold some of that land up on the survey?"

"Nope," Blair said. "Just sitting here, unthirsting myself."

Ault's sensitive bargaining soul told him he had stepped into one.
He backed off and was silent. Blair baited the trap a little, though.

"But I did think I saw you up there looking around, Ault, where
we were running a few new lines."

"Couldn't've been me, Blair."

But Ruoff pointed at Ault. "But it was you, Mr. Ault."

Ault half-rose. "Oh? And just how did you know this, Ruoff?"

Ruoff turned to Blair. "Yes, I was there. So were some others. Look
here, Mr. Blair. Just what's going on up there with those new posts
you put in and all? Who did you sell it to?"

"Don't think I have to say," Blair winked very slightly at Ault.
"Do I, Ault?"

The wink angered Ault. "Look here, Blair, don't try to get me ..."

But Ruoff also saw the wink, and he said, "Ault, did you go make
a deal with Blair for that land?"

Blair let the argument flare for a while until Ault said, "Ruoff,
he's got no buyer. Where would he get a buyer from?"

"Just the same," Ruoff said, "I'm changing my bid. I bid two dollars
an acre for a piece of that Township Number One."

"Isn't for sale, Mr. Ruoff," Blair said. "We had to close up the
auction, remember? You gentlemen weren't interested."

"I'm interested now ... at two dollars the acre."

178 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Attention was diverted as one of Armstrong's men entered with
a message. Blair was trying to keep the conversation at the table alive,
so he did not hear all that went on between the major and the soldier.
Except he did hear the major say, "Well, if it's meant to be a message
for Blair, it's the strongest language I ever read. Give it to him."

Then he was aware that the soldier had placed an oddly folded
piece of heavy tea-wrapper paper beside him and he xvas saying, "That
old Indian was hanging around outside, Mr, Blair. Said this was a
message for you/'

Blair moved it to one side so the conversation would keep going.
But the major said, "The message is for you, Blair."

Blair's tightened lips told the major to keep quiet. "I know, Blair.
But this is one you better read."

Blair unfolded the tea wrapper so the others couldn't see whatever
would be written here.

He unfolded the last flap, but then suddenly he folded it back up
again. A wave of whiteness drained the color from under his dark
skin as though a vice had cut off his blood.

Blair walked toward the door. Armstrong followed. Hope also. Out
side the tavern Armstrong said, "J ud g in by the size it's . . ."

"Yeah," Blair said, "It's his."

Hope asked, "Sheep?"

"No. Not about sheep, Hope."

"Then what?" She reached for the tea wrapper, Blair moved his
hand, but hers struck his, The wrapper flew, and suddenly among
their three pairs of boots there lay in the dust of the clearing called
Hosmer Village a wide-band gold ring. And through the ring might
as well have been a finger. For this was the ring that Brutus Christoffer-
son had never been able to get off over his great work-widened
knuckle.

Hope's two hands went almost to her mouth. Then she kneeled to
pick up the ring and turned back to the east. Blair grabbed her wrist
and held her.

"Let go. I'm going to him, if he's still . . ." She jerked her arm.
Blair held on. "You're the one that did this, Jonathan I"

"I suppose. But you're the one that told me to butt Schaacht head
on."

"I didn't say to butt back with my husband."

Blair dropped her arm absently. "Your what?"

THE VICE 179

"That's right. Starting now." She put the ring of Brutus Christoffer-
son on her finger. "If he's alive."

"But you never said you . . ."

"Loved him? No. But I guess he's saying plain enough how he feels
about me, and what he's willing to do about it. And I guess maybe
that's what love is all about. I'll be going now to tell him so."

Blair no longer had hold of her wrist, but he didn't need to. Hessaid,
"You can't now, Hope. You go now, you'll lead Armstrong right to
the Merinos, and it's already cost your man considerable to keep titienj
hid."

She looked from Blair to Armstrong . . . empty. *

Blair said, " 'Course I know now you'll try to slip out later. So I'll
have to have Armstrong put you under arrest, Hope."

"Arrest me?"

Armstrong reached for her arms.

"Yes. I've got blood enough on my hands now," Blair said, "with
out letting you trespass on Indian lands to stir up more."

"Is that why you're doing it?" she asked.

"Won't prove anything to you if I answer that."

Blair went back into the tavern.

Ault said, "Blair, we've come "back to our senses. You couldn't pos
sibly have sold those lands to anybody except somebody in this tavern
right now."

"I didn't say otherwise," the lawyer said.

"And we know you didn't do that. Nobody here bought."

As their confidence returned, the lawyer's case crumbled at the
table.

Two of the easterners left the tavern. Jim Hawkins went home.

That's when Major Armstrong entered the tavern carrying a leather
pouch. He clanked it on the table in front of the lawyer.

"Blair, that money was delivered this afternoon like it was arranged.
But you'll have to look out for it yourself. I can't look out for it for
you."

Blair's wits were dulled by the events of the evening and he turned
a questioning stare at Armstrong who stood behind his left shoulder.
Armstrong rubbed two fingers down the length of his nose and Blair
came awake.

"Good, Major. Is it all there?"

"Is it all . . . ? Oh, I don't know, didn't count it."

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

The lawyer spilled the bag onto the table and began to count the
gold coins first.

Ault was on his feet pointing to Ruoff, "Ruoff! You dog!"

"It's not mine, Ault. I think it's "

But Ault was already addressing the lawyer. "Blair, 1*11 give you two
dollars and a quarter per acre right now for the township with the mill
site on it!"

"Two-fifty!" snapped Ruoff.

"Two-seventy-five," said Ault.

"And you understand," Blair said, "that I want cash, metal money or
United States Bank notes. And I want it now/'

"Two-ninety!" Ault snapped. But Ruoff was already consulting a
small piece of paper in his pocket and he said, "Two-ninety-five, Blair!"

Jonathan Blair unrolled the survey plat, which ever so conveniently
happened to be with him. In the excitement none noticed the long soul-
deep breath that came out of the lawyer.

Out in the blockhouse the northwest bastion served for a jail in
this part of the country; and ex-Corporal Mulvane closed the wooden
gate behind Hope Emerson. The woman did not look at him, nor
did he touch her. She walked to the northwest firing port and looked
out into the darkness, giving him her back. The ex-corporal stood
outside the wooden grill running his right hand reflectively over his
right sleeve where the chevrons used to be, slowly getting an idea.

The private assigned to stand guard on the rifle parapet outside
Hope Emerson's cell arrived.

"All right. I'm here, Mulvane."

Mulvane turned to the newcomer, "Won't be necessary for you to
stand watch here, Gardner," he said. "Ill stand your turn."

Gardner looked over at the woman in the cell and then back at
Mulvane. "I see," he grinned, "seniority still has its privileges, huh?"

The private left. Ex-Corporal Mulvane adjusted the chain, but he
did not lock the lock. He sat on the parapet with his back against
the grill, but not so that it interfered with the swinging of the gate.
His rifle he held upright between his knees.

As minutes passed ex-Corporal Mulvane permitted his head to
sag, snap up and then sag even farther. His rifle was seen by the
prisoner to sag likewise.

THE VICE 181

Ex-Corporal Mulvane felt a tentative, exploratory tug on his sleeve.
But his head lowered even more.

Some minutes later he was aware o a delicate tug on his rifle. He
left the weight of his hands on the rifle, but no strength. He felt
the rifle ferrule slide out of his hands. The rifle was deftly twisted
then so that the frizzen evaded his thumb and was gone.

The ex-corporal remained in his slumped-forward attitude while he
counted twenty-two, being four more counts than the number of steps
to the descending ladder. He then sprang silently to his feet and
followed her.

Back in the tavern the survey plat was now covered with black
marks and names written in charcoal. There were still a few blank
spaces on it, and for one of these Emanuel Ault was bidding angrily
against Ruoff. He consulted his little black book. "Four dollars an
acre for Section Fourteen! And that's my last word!"

Ruoff, with infuriating quietness, said, "Four-fifty."

"Ruoff, don't you see we're just cutting each other's throats!"

"Then why don't you stop bidding?"

"Because the man I represent . . . four-seventy-five, damn it!"

"Five dollars," said Ruoff.

Blair said quietly, "Gentlemen, I remind you that this is the section
just upstream from the mill site which is already marked out. Who
ever controls riparian rights here will control the amount of water
downstream at the mill site."

"Five-fifty," snapped Ault, with finality.

"Five-seventy-five," drawled Ruoff.

Hosmer Village stood awed as the easterners bid on the land. But
they were also impressed by the calm and the effectiveness of Jona
than Blair. While Blair listened to the bidding with one ear he was
thinking of the ring in the dust and how hard Pigeon had turned the
screw.

Ex-Corporal Mulvane was neither tender nor squeamish. Yet the
preparations he now witnessed set up a queasy writhing in his stomach
and a pounding in his chest and temples. This was not related to
the throbbing in his wrists where the leather thongs cut into the
blood flow.

Neither was ex-Corporal Mulvane any less brave than others. But

lgg JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

he had grown hard to kill in six years service by not underestimating
the fury of a vengeful Indian. Mulvane had seen the empty sleeves
of troops who had survived the River Raisin massacre. He'd helped
bury the parts after the Copus Massacre at Greentown so he knew
as he watched Silver Pigeon direct the preparations that he was in the
hands of a bitter Indian.

But from his position kneeling on the dirt floor with his wrists
bound behind him to his ankles, ex-Corporal Mulvane did not know

what to do. .

He was glad the woman's eyes were bound. Not that it was his fault
that she was here; yet it was, too. They had her trussed to an upright,
her arms over her head and lashed to the timber, in a vulnerable,
helpless position. Her mouth was bound with a strip of deerskin,
her eyes with another.

They had removed the eye bindings from Mulvane, apparently so
he could watch. They were in an abandoned squatter hut. Mul
vane had no idea which direction they had been taken after the cap
ture. There were weeds and tree-sprouts growing up inside the hut,
but it 'could have been any one of several abandoned squatter
huts north of Hosmer Village. Mulvane could not tell which one.

It was a horrible waste of a well-made woman, Mulvane thought,
as he watched the four red devils busy around her. As they tied the
knots they grinned in silence both at the woman and at The Pigeon.
When they tied too tight, she winced. They grinned and slacked off the
tension on the thongs. But apparently they liked to see her tighten
up and hear the muffled exclamation from under the deerskin. One
short, heavily muscled Indian spied the wide gold ring on her finger.
To reach up for it he had to stand on tiptoes and crush his odorous
self against her. He removed the ring with insulting gentleness from
her finger.

But The Pigeon yelled, "Sa cati arm ga!"

The short Indian roughly jammed the ring back on her finger.
Next he picked up the woman's doeskin jacket and put it on, preen
ing himself in it.

He then walked over to her and felt the cloth of her blouse with
admiration. He grabbed a handful of it and tugged lightly, experi
mentally, to get it for himself. But The Pigeon looked up from a
contraption he had and snapped, ff Sa cati arin ga!"

The short Indian let go.

THE VICE 183

The Pigeon came forward out o the gloomy corner of the hut.
That's when Mulvane sucked his breath, for in the chief's hands Mul-
vane now recognized the huge wooden vice from Stikes' forge.

The Indians stood back and watched The Pigeon walk up to the
woman. He unscrewed the vice to its greatest width, placed one jaw
of the vice behind the post, rotated the other jaw around until it
enclosed the lower ribs. He pressed his fingers against the lower
part of his own chest, working them lower and lower until he had
found the rib he wanted. Then he pressed his fingers again against
the woman's chest, locating the same rib. He lowered the vice ac
cordingly and turned the handle. As he turned he watched her face.
The short Indian giggled in juvenile glee.

When the woman exhaled with a moan, The Pigeon stopped turning
and loosened it some.

The blood pounded to Mulvane's head. He yelled, "Stopl Damn
youl"

The Pigeon tightened the screw just a little to show Mulvane what
damage his talk could do. The pressure straightened the woman up
painfully. It reformed Mulvane instantly. The Indian released the
pressure, and Mulvane exhaled.

"Moneyl" Mulvane said, seeking some way to arrest The Pigeon.

"Money, what?" asked Pigeon.

"Money . . . you. Blair get money . . . you," Mulvane said.

The Pigeon grinned. He let go of the vice, leaving just enough
pressure on the screw so that it held itself up. He walked over to
stand close to Mulvane, looking down at him with his hands on his
hips. "You don't need Indian talk for me, soldier. I am the Silver
Pigeon. The Silver Pigeon understands. The Pigeon also understands
better about the money. That is why all this." He gestured to the
woman.

The intelligence encouraged Mulvane. "Then if you're so damned
smart, use civilized methods to get itl"

"Tried that," the Indian said. "No good. Try Indian ways now."

"Stinking savages!"

Pigeon walked back to the vice. "Yes, stinking savage. Better
Pigeon does not forget he is a stinking savage."

He said, "Owa he!" The short Indian stepped forward with a willing
grin. Pigeon pushed him back and called forward a tall Indian. The
Pigeon turned the handle over to him and said, "Yan da squa"

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

The tall Indian turned the screw a little. The woman winced and
breathed hard. The Pigeon reached over and slacked off the handle
and handed it back to the tall Indian, "Yan da squa."

The Indian turned the screw again, but this time, more gently. They
practicec^several times and then the Pigeon said to him, "Scat timendi
quas waugh sunt ya an des hra. Yan da squa." He then held up one
finger in front of the tall one's eyes repeating, "Scat"

The Pigeon then turned to Mulvane and said, "And for the ears
of the soldier, 'One turn of the screw every day at sunset/ "

The Pigeon picked up his rifle and ordered his men to bind Mul-
vane's eyes and unbind his feet. "Now we will see how fast Mr. Blair
can act/' he said.

Mulvane's ribs ached as he thought of the woman. He felt a burst
ing in his chest like the cracking of ribs. They led him out of the hut,
blindfolded.

In later years there was much criticism of what came to be known
as the Second Wyandot Treaty, subsequent examiners stating that the
annuities paid to the Wyandots by the sub-agent were too high as
compared with the standard set with the Miamis, Delawares and parts
of the Shawanees. This Wyandot settlement gave grounds for later dis
content among the other tribes when it became generally known.

Principal complaint was that the sub-agent paid over the money
too quickly, without holding out sufficient funds as security to insure
that the Wyandots did in fact withdraw to Upper Sandusky as stipu
lated. It was also claimed that the sub-agent allowed himself to be
outmaneuvered in the final settlement so that he was forced to settle
with undue and improper haste, certain matters of procedure being
entirely overlooked.

However, as the story was passed down through the years by the
descendants of the aforementioned Stikes, Amos Exeter, and a certain
Major Armstrong who were present at the meeting, the sub-agent con
ducted the transaction along conventional lines, absolutely refusing to
believe the Indian's story about the fact and manner of holding Mrs.
Emerson hostage, until such time as a certain Corporal Mulvane
was brought into the place wildly yelling, "Two turns of the screw
already. For God's sake don't let it be three!"

At which time the sub-agent rose and went quickly across the com
mon to Stikes' forge to inspect it. Finding the vice missing, he returned

THE VICE 185

immediately. Stikes followed him. The sub-agent's face was drained
white, being normally toward the dark side, and he stood there with
his lips drawn against his teeth as though he could see the beloved
form of the woman stretched taut against the post. It was said he felt
of his own ribs with his left hand and his mouth opened and a look
of terrible pain came over his face as if it were his own ribs that were
hurting. It was said then that he hurled the leather bag of money into
the Indian's breast bone, driving him back toward the -wall. The sub-
agent then grabbed him before he could fall to the wall and propelled
him out the door onto a horse, and the entire group rode north in a
plunge through the woods that drained the horses. At a certain small
fork in the trail the Indian pointed to the right fork where there was
an abandoned hut, himself plunging down the left fork with two
Indians behind him, while the white riders clattered down on the hut.

Some days later upon the return of Gideon Schaacht to Hosmer
Village, he was apprised by Mr. Ault of the fact that he was now the
possessor of five thousand acres of Indian lands bought at a price
of seven dollars per acre to which Mr. Schaacht was committed. Mr.
Ault had purchased this land for Mr. Schaacht and seemed quite proud
of his adroitness in the matter. When asked why he had been so pre
cipitous in the purchase, Mr. Ault advised Mr. Schaacht that he was
very lucky to get it as the sub-agent had had a buyer for it, and it
was with difficulty that Ault was able to get it at all. Hearing this
explanation, Mr. Schaacht turned to the sub-agent who was present
and asked, "Just who was this buyer you had which drove the price
up so damned far?"

They say that the sub-agent for Wyandots hesitated a moment and
looked at Mr. Ault, studying him, as though he were loth to do him
injury. But that he finally spoke quietly, saying, "I never said I had
a buyer."

Ault leaped up from the table. "What about the survey! And the
posts you drove in marking out the mill site! And the money!"

The sub-agent then said, again quietly, "Is there anything to prevent
a man from driving a stake in the ground if he wishes . . . whether he
has a buyer or not?"

The director of the United States Branch Bank, who was a man of
very tall stature and lean face turned to the sub-agent and seemed to
be speechless. But he looked at the sub-agent as though he had never
seen such a man before.

186 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

And, indeed, most of Hosmer Village had a new regard for the
sub-agent of the Wyandots. That is, he was no less a mystery to his
neighbors, but it was noticed that Mrs. Hope Christ off erson would
occasionally stop by his cabin, when he was out, to instruct the
Flannerty girl how better to clean it.

Ex-Corporal Mulvane was occasionally heard to criticize the sub-
agent on the poor condition in which he kept his rifle. In fact, the
corporal was seen to take the sub-agent's rifle once a week to the
blockhouse and return it to the lawyer's cabin, cleaned. Whether he
did this on his own volition or under instruction from the major was
not certain.

Michael Stikes bolted his vice back onto his bench. But whenever
newcomers came into his forge, one would usually ask, "Is this the vice?
The one that did it?"

And Michael Stikes had the habit then of dropping his work and
telling about the Second Treaty.

And up along the headwaters of the Sandusky River at Upper
Sandusky and vicinity, the Reverend Seth Gershom in charge of the
mission there heard Wyandots refer to their new grey wool blankets or
new rifles or nails or axes and then say the words, "Mr. Blair."

BOOK II

Chapter 11: THE

PARLIAMENTARIANS

IN THE winter of 18 and 19, Jonathan

Blair rode into the Borough of Columbus, and perhaps never before
had he really felt the power of Gideon Schaacht. Never had he seen
a man put his mark on a town so swiftly.

It was a strange mark. A combination of fear and respect, and hope
of favor. The mark of Gideon Schaacht was on the faces, in the voices.
Blair found it first in the stable at The Swan. The horsekeeper said,
"Not that stall, Mr. Blair. That's Schaacht's."

"Is he here?"

"No. But he might."

Blair found the mark of Gideon Schaacht even in Jarvis Pike's
shame-faced reception in The Swan. Pike closed the register book.

"Sorry, Jonathan. But they got plenty of rooms over at The Red
Lion."

One thing Blair had learned in the past few months, he had learned
to wait and to listen. He did both now with a calmness which made
Pike talk faster.

"I was just talking to Jeremiah Armstrong. Plenty of rooms."

Blair looked at the keys hanging up behind Pike. Pike said, "And
Colette over at The Eagle has rooms. Say, did you know The Eagle
is changed to The Globe?"

Blair had a way of studying a man lately that seemed to be
born of disappointment. Pike said, "All right." He opened the book
and shoved the quill and pot forward. "But havin' you here'll cost me."

Blair sighed.

"How d'ya mean?" he asked. "It'll cost you?"

"Well, maybe you didn't know that Coshocton County's pretty near
ruin't, Blair. That's the thanks Bela Hult gets for carryin' your bill
while you was away."

Blair looked around the public room of The Swan. He found that
his arrival was noticed. Even men who had not been at the last session

189

igo JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

seemed to know him, which meant that in the space of his walking
from the door to the registration book he had been pointed out to
them by older hands who now looked back to their food while the
newcomers stared at Blair.

"And the bank-tax bill?" Blair asked.

"Deader'n Tecumseh."

"Stuck in committee?"

"Hell no. Hauled it right out on the floor right away, and the
screamin' of the 'nays' was like crows landin' in my corn."

Blair met Gideon Schaacht's mark his first day in the statehouse.
He read it in the two empty seats on either side of him.

Blair voted aye on the bill to reorganize the militia; voted aye on
the bill to create new counties in the lands recently ceded by Silver
Pigeon. He proposed naming one of them Silver Pigeon County. This
was overruled.

Blair voted aye to the expenditure of $41 "for a reasonably accurate
map of the Republic of the United States." Aye for $8 for Jarvis
Pike for firewood for the legislature. Aye for f 1,200 a year for the
governor's salary. He voted nay for fining any man "for swearing the
name of God, Jesus Christ or The Holy Ghost." Voted aye for fining
"any person who shall play bullets across a street 05 thoroughfare,"
voted aye on the four-dollar per head bounty on wolves.

He voted aye on the act "for financial relief of Simon Kenton in
reward for his services against the aborigines, he being presently
destitute and in bad health and without family."

He voted nay to the "act for the erection of a headstone on the grave
of Simon Girty, deceased and believed to be without family."

And then he met Gideon Schaacht's mark again. That is, Gideon
Schaacht had nothing to do with framing the law. But the act was
made necessary by Schaacht's action:

"AN ACT REGULATING PRISON BOUNDS

Whereas the increase in debtors has overwhelmed the capacity
of jails: Be it therefore enacted that every person imprisoned
for debt shall be permitted to remain outside the jail building.
But he shall remain in an area which shall be not more than
400 yards from the jail structure, the bounds of such area being
required to be plainly marked on the ground."

1 HE r ARLIAMENTARIANS

Blair was on his feet to propose the addition of a second article,
specifying that the debtor's plaintiff pay the cost of maintaining the
debtor in jail, or the debtor be released. The proposal was instantly
popular on the floor.

But that's when Jonathan Blair saw the next mark of Gideon
Schaacht. For the man who rose to answer his proposal was none other
than Justin Bolding. And in this Bolding who rose from the opposite
side of the chamber, Blair was struck by certain subtle, skillful im
provements.

In the first place he used the parliamentary phraseology with the
scrupulous accuracy of a newcomer, but in a tired, automatic manner
which lent him the authority of an old Federalist.

But Blair noticed a difference in his clothes, which must have
been carefully calculated for their political effect. He no longer wore
the fine black fork-tail coat and the chestful of Philadelphia ruffles.
Instead the grey tweed cloth of his suit was precisely tailored, but it was
coarse. The tail of the coat was a short square-ended spade. The linen
was good, but mostly covered up. It was a suit that would leave a
man's politics incognito either in the common room of The Red
Lion or in the tap room at The Swan.

And there was that skill in the young man's talk . . . you couldn't
say it was the words or the tone . . . but it seemed to join sides with
you and lay the cards out on the table so candidly that you did not
notice they were face down.

His voice was not sharp, but it had the depth you like to find in
the chest of a young man who seems unaware that he's young. He said,
"Gentlemen, let's just take a look at that. Obviously Mr. Blair's
idea is aimed at the United States Bank which is the biggest creditor.
And I say that's probably fair enough. But let's not step in our own
muskrat trap. Don't forget the bank is not the only creditor. You just
might make it impossible that way for the small, harassed creditor to
prosecute his debtors and thus gain funds with which to pay his own
debts ... say to the bank. I dare say half the men in this room are
owed money by someone. Would you wish to pay your debtor's board
and room?"

Bolding's reasonableness was powerful. But the young man had be
come all the more formidable because he had somewhere learned that
a clear-cut victory is obnoxious to men. Immediately he gave some

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

of it back. He said, "However, it would seem fair enough if we said
that if neither the debtor nor the creditor can support a man in
jail, we release him. That way creditors are encouraged to leave a
man enough property to support himself in jail."

Bela Hult sat there like a molting owl. The Bank had a smart
man in the statehouse.

Towards the end of the third day, Blair rose to resubmit his bill
for taxing the United States Bank out of the state. Though every other
eye in the room watched him walk forward to hand it to the clerk, the
Speaker seemed only to see the upraised arm of Justin Bolding who
promptly moved for adjournment. The motion was carried with such
calculated alacrity that Blair found himself soon standing in a nearly
empty chamber with Jackson Garth on his right and Bela Hult on
his left.

Hult said, "You see how it is, Blair?"

"Yeah," Blair said. "I see how it is."

In the common room of The Swan, Blair waited for Virginia
Schaacht to finish reading the newspapers over in the corner where
Jarvis Pike kept the papers that people brought into Columbus,
But she didn't finish, and after all it was the common room. He
walked over. She nodded. He nodded. He grabbed the nearest paper.

He knew she was half-watching him as he read the papers. Most
people watched Blair when he read papers. There was something
compellingly gluttonous about the way Blair read papers at any
time, especially tonight as he sought tools with which to whip
Schaacht.

Blair thought he knew why these legislators acted as if they didn't
hear when the bank bill was mentioned; why they left the room when
a discussion of it came up; why they left unfinished meals at the
table when he broached the subject. And he thought he knew how
to beat it.

Blair's hungry eyes devoured three newspapers almost as fast as
he could turn the pages. Then he found a paragraph in the Western
Herald and Steubenville Gazette which slowed his pace.

THE GREATEST OPPRESSION

No government measure since the first settlement has hurt the
West more than the Treasury Department order instructing
the Land Office cashier to accept only such monies as are accept-

THE PARLIAMENTARIANS 193

able to the United States Bank. Since the Bank will accept only
its own notes, or silver, or Pittsburgh Bank notes, Western men
are left with no way to pay for their lands. What makes Pitts
burgh paper better than Ohio, Illinois, Michigan, Indiana
money? We separated from England for a much lesser oppres
sion! What holds us back now?

Blair tore it out of the Herald with a ripping noise like secession
itself. It snapped Virginia Schaacht's eyes toward him. He jammed the
clipping into his pocket, and grabbed the Vincennes Western Sun.

TWO MORE BANKS UNDER

The Vincennes Bank, under the oppressive order to pay back
loans to the United States Bank at 20 per cent per month has
ceased to redeem its notes in silver, and has begun drastic fore
closures in an effort to comply with the United States Bank
order. The Shawaneetown Bank will follow,

Blair ripped this article out and jammed it in his side pocket also.
The Miami Herald said:

Two wagonloads of gold and silver have just been drained out of
the West and hauled to the United States Bank which forwarded
it to Philadelphia for safekeeping. How long will it be at this
rate before the western country is exhausted of all coinage? Al
ready there is not enough metal money left here to conduct
business! Such is the blessed tendency of the United States Bank
branch which despoils us of our wealth under the guise of help
ing us!

Blair looked for more reports of this nature with which to impress
the members of the House that no special favors promised to a com
munity by Schaacht could save them now.

He ignored the rest of the news except to notice that Illinois had
finally become a state. Cincinnati had now grown to 1,100 houses. St.
Louis had 3,000 people in it.

Blair smiled some at an article which said that "McArthur and
Major Armstrong had successfully closed a new treaty with Chief Cap
tain Michael of the Wyandots, completing the Wyandot cessions.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"The negotiation was skillful upon the part of McArthur, leading
to an uneventful and amicable withdrawal of the Wyandots to Upper
Sandusky, and freeing some two million acres for white settlement/'

Blair snatched the Detroit Gazette which said:

BEWARE

What money is good today may be bad tomorrow.
Below you will find the currencies of the major West
ern banks classified as "Decent," "Middling," "Good
for Nothing." However, this should be daily checked
at this office.

Blair jammed his pockets full of more clippings which told of West
ern foreclosures and agony from Pittsburgh to St. Louis.

He yanked The Indiana Herald towards him, but it ripped in half.
He looked up to find that the other corner of the Indiana paper was
pinned under the velvet elbow of Virginia Schaacht. She did not give
way, but smiled at him tolerantly.

"You're doing some research no doubt, Mr. Blair, about conditions?"

"I'm aware of conditions, Miss Schaacht. But I intend to make some
others aware of them."

She lifted her elbow slowly as she watched him. He pulled the Herald
and some others up the table. Her handbag was dragged along inside
one of the papers. He returned this to her and moved to the far end of
the table.

That's when he noticed that underneath the handbag there had also
been a sheet of foolscap on which was some writing in a calculated,
vertical hand.

He was about to return that to her, too, but the notations oddly
compelled him to read:

"Concerning dress:

make sure cut and quality of the cloth is fine
like Tremaine's, but throw them on the back

quickly and neglectfully, like B .

Colour: use the grey of the well-bred, but not
slavishly nor on all occasions as is being done
by the pretenders and imitators.
See that the boots are well shined when in

THE PARLIAMENTARIANS 195

Cincinnati and Chillicothe, but never shined
in Columbus.

Speech:

with the authority of Gideon Schaacht. The
only way most men will judge the truth of
what you say, is how much you believe it. Say
it as though it were the last word. Wherever
possible speak -from a saturation of knowl
edge like B .

Argumentation:

see editorial in January i$th Detroit Gazette
for sound, logical support of United States
Bank policies.

Spirit:

like B /'

The writing was firm and regular, and it marched across the page
like destiny . . . somebody's. It was a kind of plat for building a man
... a road map to power. In his absorption he had picked up the
paper. But he was aware of a swishing approach and suddenly the list
was snatched out of his hand, and he was measured by a cool pair of
grey eyes.

She folded the sheet into her handbag with a touch of petulance.

"There's nothing against it is there?" she defended.

"Nope."

Her compressed lips demanded more from him. He shrugged.

"Your clothes are specially made to your ... uh ... specifications,"
Blair said. "Your wagonette was built special for you. Even heard your
beautiful mare was bred specially for you."

"To what point you cite all this, Mr. Blair?"

Blair shrugged again. "Only natural you should design your own
man, too."

"So glad you approve."

"Wouldn't expect you to be suited with any old ready-made the
Maker happened to strew around here. But I'm a little surprised to
see you doing the manufacturing yourself. Can't you find anybody
around to do the hand work for you?"

"Matter of fact, I have, Mr. Blair. You."

"Sorry. I'm not in that business. Besides, I don't think the raw stock

ig g JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

you picked will take an edge as fine as you want ground on it. If you
mean Bolding."

"I think you'll be able to do it."

"Me?"

"You're going to be the grindstone/' she said.

The velvet skirt which swished away from him was smooth over her
hips and then fell into long active folds in the fullness of the cloth.
They swirled a little now as she stopped and turned for an after
thought.

"I know you'll figure it out," she said. "So 111 say it. The 'B ' in my

notes was you, Mr. Blair. But don't make too much of that. You just
happened to come to mind handily when I needed an example. I
can find another if it makes any difference."

Blair grinned. Virginia Schaacht walked back to Betsy Deshler's
house where she had a room.

Jonathan Blair found out what it was to be a whetstone. Daily the
blade which Virginia Schaacht was fashioning ground against him as
he tried to pass his law taxing the United States Bank out of the West.
And daily the blade therefore grew sharper. Bolding became skillful,
adroit, subtle. He blocked Blair's bank bill despite the powerful ex
hibit which was building up for Blair's side before the eyes of the legis
lators. Daily, word of new foreclosures thundered into Columbus, in
creasing debtors who lived in huts set up around the jail.

The reports of the financial devastation dominated the talk in both
The Swan and The Red Lion. But the standard way to express the
ultimate and the most shocking news was, "Yes, but have you seen
Coshocton County?"

Gideon Schaacht's respect for the power of Bela Hult was expressed
in the pressure he brought against Hult's county. But the more Schaacht
bludgeoned Coshocton, the firmer Bela Hult stuck to Blair's bill. And
it was the staunch bull-like support of Hult beside him that finally
enabled Blair to overcome the terror of the representatives and build
up support for his bill to the point where he could almost get it
through. How close he was could be measured by the fact that Gideon
Schaacht returned to Columbus.

But as fast as Blair was building support, Bolding's skill was in
creasing to the point where he walked into Blair's room at The Swan
one night.

"Blair, you're very dose to getting your bill through."

THE PARLIAMENTARIANS 197

"Thanks."

"But you're so close that we're going to have to take a drastic step.
You are smart enough to see that it will defeat you. I thought to save
ourselves the trouble of going through with it, we would just tell you
what we plan to do, and you will probably concede and save every
body the grief."

The sight of the self-possessed young Bolding strained Blair's self
control. But he managed, "Go ahead."

"As we see it, Jonathan, if we can take five votes away from you,
you're licked."

Blair knew it was closer than that, but he said, "Go ahead."

"We figure we know the five shakiest ones on your list."

"I suppose you do."

"We can go to those five and tell them that if they vote for your
bill, well, it'll be like Coshocton County for them, back in their
home areas."

"I think Schaacht is too smart to make such a brazen threat/' Blair
said.

"He's too smart to have the United States Bank taxed out of exist
ence."

"And he's too smart to make such a bald proposal, I still say, Bold-
ing."

"It won't be baldly stated, Blair."

Blair could see how it could be done. He could even hear Schaacht
saying it, ever so gently. He could visualize the frightened faces of
representatives seeing the economic havoc about to begin back in their
home towns. He could see them beseeching for some alternative. He
could see Gideon Schaacht furnishing that alternative. He could see
five key votes who would not answer the roll call the day his bill
came up.

"I see," Blair said.

"I thought you would, Jonathan."

Blair walked to the wall where he had pegged a map of the North
west Territory on which he had crudely marked the Ohio counties.
As he looked at it today it looked like a huge spider web, and he could
see Gideon Schaacht, sitting in Chillicothe, manipulating the web, in
creasing the pressure here, letting up a little there ... to influence the
destiny of the West.

Bolding said, "So we've revealed our hand now, Jonathan. Shall we

ig8 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

go ahead and play our cards or can we consider it a gentlemen's con
tract that youll withdraw?"

"Huh/' Blair's voice was parched. "Where would we get the gentle
men?"

Suddenly Blair grabbed a handful of Bolding's tweed chest and
yanked him to his feet, backing him toward the door.

As he backpedaled Bolding said, "All right, but which are you going
to do?"

Blair opened the door and shoved Bolding out.

"Go ask your two teachers which I'm going to do."

Blair wasted no time finding Bela Hult that night. Together they
spent a busy four hours. A series of hasty meetings with key members
persuaded them that they just might have a one vote majority, pos
sibly three, if the vote were taken immediately. They decided it was a
better risk than waiting for Schaacht to go into action.

And in the House of Representatives the next morning, Jonathan
Blair tried to call for the question to be put to a vote on a special rule.

However, he could not get recognition from the chair. After repeated
failures he looked at Bolding, and in the satisfied smile which came
back to him he read the bad news that his plans had leaked out.

Bela Hult tried for recognition. But the opposition was apparently
too busy arguing a new bill on the handling of estrayed livestock.

Jackson Garth likewise could not get the Speaker's attention, Blair's
pulse throbbed in his neck as he sat there helplessly listening to talk
about strayed animals. Through his head went pictures of Hope's
Merinos banished from the town by the men who now stood here and
babbled innocently about estrays.

A little before noon, though, he saw Adonijah Fallon walk into the
chamber. Fallon doubled as a county surveyor and statehouse page.
He walked directly to Justin Bolding and handed him a paper.

Bolding allowed a respectable number of minutes to pass. Then he
was on his feet moving for an extra-early adjournment. Blair felt the
doors slamming in his face.

But suddenly he was surprised to hear his own people voting down
the adjournment. Under the surprise of this defeat the chair carelessly
recognized a reticent and apparently harmless member who, upon
gaining his feet, called the question of the bank tax to vote.

In the buzzing of voices the Speaker looked at Justin Bolding. Bold
ing turned around sheepishly and looked back to the gallery platform

THE PARLIAMENTARIANS 199

in the rear where sat Gideon Schaacht. Schaacht passed his hand over
his face in fatigue and reproach, and he beckoned to Adonijah Fallon.

The count was about to begin when Blair saw Fallon walk up to
the Speaker's rostrum and hand up a note. The Speaker then said,
"Gentlemen, the Speaker must leave the chair on sudden emergency/'
He held up the unpainted gavel. "I therefore appoint as chairman pro
tempore . . ." The Speaker's gaze ranged over the members as if he
were trying to decide. Then he said, "Mr. Jonathan Blair. Will you
take the chair, please, sir?"

This surprised Blair, but pleasantly. He walked forward to the
rostrum while the house buzzed with voices. The handle of the gavel
was sweaty and was dropped into his hand before he had a good grip
on it. The Speaker left hurriedly.

Blair looked to the rear of the hall where Virginia Schaacht sat.
He smiled, spread-eagling himself a bit. She smiled back, apparently
not begrudging him this slight victory.

Under cover of the buzzing Blair leaned over the rostrum and spoke
quietly to the clerk. "Mr. Clerk, what is the procedure for beginning
the voting?"

"You don't have to do much, sir. Just instruct me to call for the ayes
and nays alphabetically. Here's a copy of the rules."

The balloting began. In the beginning of the alphabet there were
more nays than ayes. But when Garth and Hult were called one after
the other, they both responded with such great booming "ayes" that
it seemed to influence a few others and the ayes began outnumbering
the nays. At the rostrum as the roll was called, Blair kept score of the
ayes and nays.

The clerk worked his way through the alphabet, and the replies
came back, "Ayel"

"Nayl"

"Nay!"

"N-a-yl" That was old Captain Vance, a Federalist who bragged of
serving with John Marshall in the Rebellion.

"Ayel"

"Nayl"

Blair seemed to stop breathing between votes, it seemed that close,
according to his tally sheet. He could count up quickly because he
marked the nays opposite the ayes.

But when the clerk came to Representative Zephias, the vote was

2OO JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

done; and Blair was appalled to find that the balloting came out on
dead center. While the clerk counted the votes slowly in a dead-still
chamber, Blair counted his list again quickly. He had been right. One
more vote would have made the bank tax law. One more vote would
have driven Gideon Schaacht back to Philadelphia.

Then a great exhilaration swept up his throat. He leaned over to
the clerk.

"Mr. Clerk, / vote 'aye.' "

The clerk looked surprised.

"I said, 'I vote aye'!" Blair repeated.

The clerk looked up at Blair blankly.

"I said . . ."

"I heard what the representative said, sir. But the chair traditionally
casts no vote, sir."

"The chair casts . . ."

"No vote, sir."

"No vote!"

"If you'll look at these pages, sir," the clerk handed up the roll book
for Blair's inspection, "you'll see the Speaker has not voted."

Bela Hult was shaking his head vigorously negative, but Tremaine
of Cincinnati moved adjournment.

Jonathan Blair looked out over a chamber which swam before his
eyes. The faces were blurs. On the gallery platform in rear he saw
Gideon Schaacht rise and a feminine figure beside him rose. They
turned and began to descend the ladder. In Blair's distorted vision
the white blur on top of each pair of shoulders seemed to contain a
great leering smile. A snapping noise near his stomach caused him to
look down and find one half of the splintered gavel in each of his
knotted fists. The chamber suddenly filled with laughter . . . laughter
that would soon thunder from Pittsburgh to Mesopotamia to St. Louis.

Chapter 12: THE WOMEN

IN THE winter of '19 the settlers of Hosmer

Village, as it was still called by the elders, anxiously gathered in Hos-
mer's store to hear the report of Matt Gavagan. They had asked
Gavagan to stop at Columbus on his way back north to tell Blair of
Schaacht's visit to Mesopotamia and his offer. Schaacht's talk had been
statesmanlike, based on the economic good of the territory, but it
added up to this: get Blair to call off the bank-tax effort in the legis
lature, and you will experience immediate relief from the pressure of
foreclosures. Major Armstrong will cease his search for the Merino
sheep. Even a few loans may possibly be arranged to ease certain
emergencies.

Schaacht had also been wise enough to give proof. Major Armstrong's
platoon had immediately withdrawn from Mesopotamia following
Schaacht's visit. The eastern purchasers left Mesopotamia and went
to Coshocton County. Foreclosure proceedings instantly ceased against
Hank Flannerty.

Matt Gavagan had taken a load of tan bark to the tannery at Chilli-
cothe. Now he was back and enjoying the eagerness with which the set
tlers waited for news of Blair's decision.

"The smallpox has moved up from the river through Chillicothe.
Chillicothe is better already. But it's stringin' up the Scioto to Circle-
ville, creepin' north towards Columbus. Some say it's movin' faster than
bad dollars."

Hussong snapped, "But what about Blair? You see him?"

"There's two taverns quarantined 'tween Circleville and Columbus
a'ready. I almost got my team quarantined in Blue Jacket Town."

"Did you see Blair?" Hussong barked.

"Blair. Yeah, I saw Blair."

"He said . . . and he told me to say it just like he said it ... he said
to tell you please that he'd learned you can't fix it just for one town.
To make things right for one town, you got to fix it right for all the
towns in the territory. He said, 'tell Hussong it's like the hog cholera,

201

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer
you can't keep one hog well unless you keep the whole passel fit/ He
said, 'tell them to trust me to do right/ " ^

"Helll We trusted him overlong now!" Hussong roared. Were
R oin' down there and bring him back. Who's comin'?"

Stikes said, "Wait a minute, Joe. You got to add it up a little differ-
ent on Blair lately. He did get them red devils backed up on the re
serve y'know. And he did get that land opened up so's, at least, we
got a place to go now, if we have to. And none of us helpm' him none

either/' ,

Gavagan said, "And down at that Columbus, our Blairs a some at
different critter than what he is up here. While I was settin' with him,
three of them white waistcoats came up and asked him questions, like
he knew somethin'. Seemed he did, too. And there's some of 'em callm'
him 'Mr. Blair/ and like that/'

Hussong's face darkened, "I'm callin' him a damned meddlin' scrib-
blin', book-readin' bandit. Who's comin' down there with me and git
him back outa there before Schaacht sets them blasted moneybags
back on us with their bargain-huntin' friends?"

Exeter moved over behind Hussong. Hawkins did the same. Elisha
Adams said, "Count me in."

Mesopotamia divided out heavily on the side of Joe Hussong who
said, "Gavagan, we usin' your wagon, or are you with the lawyer?"

Gavagan said, "I'm not exactly with him, Joe. But I'm not against
him either/'

"All right, Slasher, we use your wagon?"

Slasher fingered his chin and moved over to join Hussong.

Hope Christofferson stepped into the gap of floor space which about
measured the difference of opinion in Mesopotamia.

"You forgettin', Joe, that Blair's got men from all over the state
thinkin' his way now? You forgettin' how it's gonna look, you bargin'
in there and yankin' him out and undoin' everything?"

"That's the idea of it! So's I can keep my hogs, and you can bring
your 'rinos back down home like a man . . . uh, that is like a womanl
We elected him. We can de-elect him, tool"

"You can drag him out all right," Hope said. "But then maybe we
want to send him back again to ask for somethin' else; how's he going
to go back down and ask for favors if we cut the horns off our own
ram, right in front of everybody?"

Hussong backed up and folded his arms. "All right, Mrs. Christof-

THE WOMEN 203

ferson/' he proposed. "You know a better way o gettin' him back here,
you do it."

Hope looked down at her doeskin skirt. "I'm not much of a one at
goin' in places like that/' she said.

Hussong poked a finger at her. "You do it. Or we do it." He grinned.
"The lawyer always was kind of partial to your kind of handlin',
Hope. And I reckon his pretty curls wouldn't get so mussed up if you
was to . . ."

Christofferson took a step forward. Hussong protested, "I'm only
askin' are we gonna do it ... or you?"

Hope turned to Christofferson, "Brute, have Hank Flannerty go up
and look after the 'rinos tomorrow."

She turned to Hussong, "I'll bring Blair back," she said.

The way it was at The Swan during court days or legislation days,
after the evening meal the men got up from table with full stomachs
and walked across into the common room.

In this supposedly unguarded, pleasant hour men walked slow and
thought fast. And though an observer from the upcounties would see
only a swapping of cigars over brandy, the real swapping that went on
here was allegiance. It was the most efficient vote-trading market be
cause by watching that front door plus the small table in the corner
of the dining room, plus an occasional glance at the long bench in
front of the hearth, a man could about judge what would happen in
the chamber across the road tomorrow.

For this reason whenever the front door let in a February draft al
most every head raised up briefly to see who came or went. But on
this night the heads stayed up, because almost every man in The Swan
was now looking at the largest man he had ever seen.

The man obviously was accustomed to stares. His sleeves ended just
below his elbows. His great cold-reddened left hand held a large fur
hat. The hand had only three fingers and a thumb. He stood by the
door, surveying the room. His companion invited stares, too. Any
woman was rare at The Swan, but this woman was striking in that by
her dress she must not have been at an inn often. Yet by her poise she
had been in one every day. She wore a doeskin jerkin with a hood
thrown back off her hair which was short and swept back and filled
with sparkles of snow. The hood of the jerkin was trimmed with fur
and lined with sheep fleece. She waited for the man to find the way.

204 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

The huge man led her to a chair in the hallway between the dining
room and the commons. She sat, composed, while he strode to the regis
ter desk. After an exchange of talk, Jarvis Pike went up the stairs. The
tavern watched to see who would be summoned. And presently Jona
than Blair came down.

After he had seen his guests Blair looked aggressively around the
room, but relaxed. The curiosity was intense, but nowise disrespectful.
The height and breadth of Christofferson had a way of making gentle
men out of any group.

Blair followed Christofferson to stand beside Hope. Christofferson
said, "We don't come begging, Jonathan, but Hope has a matter to be
talked out.*'

Hope said, "Brute, I'd be obliged you'd stand off aways. It'll be that
hard, the talkin' I got to do with Jonathan."

"You want me to tell him, Hope?"

"No. Once I get it said, it'll be said."

Brutus Christofferson moved into the dining room where two men
stepped back from the mug rack to make a place for him.

Hope said, "Jonathan, I guess you foreglimpse what I come about."

"I suppose so, Hope. I heard Schaacht was up to see you,"

"I don't ask my favors light, Jonathan."

"I know that, Hope."

" 'Specially not from you, Jonathan, after what . . . now that it's
not to be man and woman between you and me."

Blair knew she'd like to look down. But it was like her to do it the
hard way. She looked him right in the eye, making it worse, because
that way a man could see how much she was worth losing a finger for,
or an arm, or most anything.

A man could see her being beside him in every kind of place and
time, and what a difference it would make. A man wanted to lay that
head in the crook of his shoulder and take the fight off her hands. But
Christofferson had got her.

She said, "Point is, Jonathan, I guess you're doing pretty good with
that law you're makin' to tax Mr. Schaacht's bank."

She looked around the commons at the men who stood in groups,
mostly staring back at her and Jonathan.

"They say you got a lot of 'em down here to seeing your way of it.
And though it's a sight of a jolt to everyone, they say you're getting
pretty strong-handed down here and might have your way."

THE WOMEN 205

"Looks like it now, Hope. They voted me down once, but we have
another chance."

"Schaacht was up to the village and had a thing or two to say that
would make it so's we could bring the sheep down out of the woods,
and take a lot of worries off people's minds if certain things hap
pened."

"Hope, that's the way it would look at first."

"Anyhow, they're sayin' you got the reach on Schaacht, and I came
down to ask you to . . ."

Blair interrupted. "Hope, remember you once told me 'butt right
into them?"

"Sounds like somethin' I'd say."

"Well, it seems to work."

"Uh-huh. Usually does."

"And ... uh ... remember when Aaron had the tremors you said,
'You can't be friends to all of them. A softhearted shepherd can be the
meanest'?"

"It seemed right then," she said. " 'Course I could have been wrong."

"Then the time you said, 'A man's got to be willing to lose, or he
can't win'?"

"Guess I said that, too. Sounds right."

"Then you told me . . ."

"I don't want to hear any more of my own words, Jonathanl" she
snapped.

"Well, I've been kind of leanin' on those words, Hope."

"Uh-huh."

"Just thought you'd want to know I didn't forget, Hope."

"Uh-huh."

"Well, what did you come to tell me, Hope?"

She studied the big map of the Territory that hung up over the
hearth in the common room. She looked at the men in the room from
various parts of the country. She looked down at the fur gauntlet
gloves in her lap.

"Well, we just came to tell you, Jonathan, that ... uh ... that we've
got the flock up in the woods. Got cover over their heads. Got them
pretty well hid. Flannerty and Brute go up there and see to them. Just
wanted you to know that ... uh ... the sheep are all right. Thought
you'd want to know, that's all."

Right there in front of everybody the men in The Swan saw a strange

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

sight that night. Some thought maybe Jonathan Blair was putting on.
Some thought it was too showy for out here in the Ohio Country. O
course, they couldn't see how he looked her deep in the eyes and said,
very slowly and softly, "Thank you, Hope."

All they saw was how he bent way over, like it was Philadelphia or
Boston, and took the woman's hand and put his mouth to it, slow and
long, like she was some great countess or somebody.

In the dining room two men filled back in at the mug rack in the
space which was left when Brutus Christofferson stepped away.

Friendly conversation between Justin Bolding and Jonathan Blair
was extremely unbecoming in the eyes of those who loitered in the
commons of The Swan. Justin Bolding's entrance into The Swan on
the following evening therefore caused a longer than usual pause in
the separate conversations in The Swan. Bolding's entrance reminded
younger members of interesting thoughts about the daughter of Gideon
Schaacht; and the older members wondered why Justin Bolding should
come to The Swan to talk to Blair. Throughout The Swan chairs were
yanked closer together.

Bolding walked directly to where Blair talked to Bela Hult and
Jackson Garth.

Blair stepped a few paces over to listen to Bolding who said, "Jona
than, what is the existing law governing passage of currency from man
to man in a smallpox quarantine area like, say, Circleville?"

"Bolding, why do you come all the way down here to The Swan to
ask me that question?"

"Thought you wouldn't mind helping out an old student."

"At The Red Lion you could have asked Judge Pease or a half-
dozen better lawyers."

"True, but lately you've studied a lot of law I've noticed. More
likely you'd know."

Blair looked around the room. He saw how many were watching
them.

"Wouldn't be you came here for some other reason would it, Bold
ing?"

"Like what?"

"Like making all these people here wonder what I'm doing talking
to you?"

THE WOMEN 207

Bolding grinned but made no answer. As he left he said, louder than
necessary, "Thanks very much, Jonathan."

Blair rejoined Garth and Hult Hult studied the wet end o his cigar.
"Jonathan, we heard your people from Mesopotamia came down to ask
you to let up on the bank-tax law."

"Yeah."

"Then we saw that sheep-raising woman come down. Probably to
ask you the same thing."

"She didn't ask it though."

Hult studied him. "But that's what she came for, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"Then we see Bolding coming over all the time to talk to you."

"You don't see me going to talk to him, though."

"I'm not quibblin' about details, Blair."

"What then, Bela?"

"Some of the men are commencin' to wonder if you're your own man
any more, Jonathan."

Blair's head snapped up, "And what do you think, Bela?"

"Not sure." Hult didn't like what he was saying. But he bulled on
through. "Everybody knows Schaacht is relievin' the pressure on a town
here and a town there and it's bringin' him results. Three of our men
swung over to oppose the tax last week. We're not sure who we got
and who we haven't got any more. Schaacht's playin' this state like a
piano. Pressin' hard here, lettin' up there. And it's known he offered
to ease up in Mesopotamia."

"Bela, I started this law. I'm going to drive it through."

"Yeah, but your people ain't lost out by it as bad as some."

Jackson Garth said, "Bela you're overhet. Blair's on our side all the
way. He started the whole thing."

"Yeah," Hult grunted. "But maybe he wants out."

"How could he get out?" Garth asked. "His bloomin' name is even
on it. They're callin' it The Blair Crowbar Law/ "

"All right," Hult said. "But let's keep it clear where everybody
stands . . . especially this week."

"Why do you say this week?" Blair asked. "Especially."

"That's what I wanted to tell you. Schaacht had Riddle bring up a
shipment of gold. We saw them take it into the Franklin Bank. Figure
it this way. For the next week or so the Franklin Bank will redeem its

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

paper in specie. That's going to make it look as if everything is all
right around here. It'll be the only specie-paying bank around. But
it's the one the legislature'!! see. To the shortsighted ones that makes
our bill look unnecessary."

Garth whistled.

Blair ran his hand over his head.

"But I ain't through yet. We been underratin' that Bolding. He's
got it rigged so the bill will come back out on the floor just a few days
after the hard money gets good and circulated around town."

Garth whistled again.

Hult continued, "And they're gonna start redeemin' paper in gold
the day the legislature gets paid."

Garth whistled again.

Hult added, "That's why everybody's got to see where you stand,
Blair, good and plain."

But it was no clearer in the next week to Colonel Bela Hult where
Blair stood. For the plan which was corning to Jonathan Blair was born
of desperation. It would not stand much light of day nor any conver
sation. It would not appeal to the forthright Bela Hult. It did not ap
peal to Blair. It came from the long and lonesome study of the law.
For years men had been trying unsuccessfully to disenfranchise their
opponents. Jonathan Blair thought he had found the only way. It in
volved a woman. But it did not make good watching.

Those who watched saw Blair's first step. He moved out of The Swan.
For quarters he selected an abandoned hut close to the river from
which he could watch the comings and goings at The Swan.

Voting on the Crowbar Law was likely to come on the fifth of
February. There were only four days left. And Jonathan Blair laid his
plans now with the precision of Mike Stikes fitting the sear in a rifle
lock, for he had to disenfranchise enough of the opposition to let his
bill through, but still keep a quorum.

By the evening of the fourth of February it was quite well known
around the borough that there would be a dinner that night at Sul-
livant's house across the Scioto. It was known too, that this dinner
would be a kind of strategy meeting for action against the Crowbar
Law in the chamber next day.

Blair had studied the route Virginia Schaacht took from the Deshler
house to Sullivant's house on previous occasions. He knew that she
might travel alone to the Sullivant's house, on foot or on horseback

THE WOMEN 209

or in Deshler's light cart. He knew she might also come accompanied
by Gideon Schaacht or by Justin Bolding or both. And for each of
these possibilities he had an alternate plan.

The location he chose for his brash act was the side of the road op
posite the entrance to The Swan. And he took up his position there,
alone, about dusk. He was shaved so close that the cold air stung his
face. But the nature of the task required a shave.

When men about the borough came by to enter The Swan, Blair
waved to them, but he scrupulously avoided close contact with anyone.

Lights began to show through the glass windows of The Swan as
dusk deepened. He hoped it would not get too dark, too quickly.

When she came, she came alone.

Blair was disappointed to see that she didn't drive the Deshlers' cart.

He had planned to detain her by making something of some trouble
with the cart. She rode her own horse, and she rode sidesaddle to pro
tect the great crinkly skirt which blossomed out below a fitted fur
jacket. She wore great fur gauntlet-gloves. On her head was what
looked like a militia drum, made of fur with a fur apron down from
the back of it protecting her ears and the back of her neck.

Since she was alone Blair knew he might have to use the most brazen
of his alternatives. But that was not unpleasant.

She saw him standing there and she reined in.

"Mr. Blair/'

"Evening, Miss Schaacht."

He came around on The Swan side of her horse and took the bridle.
His other hand he held up to her as a dismount post. Her trusting
weight on his hand made him feel guiltier.

"Well, tomorrow's the day, Mr. Blair."

"Yes. Tomorrow."

He looked around. There was no one watching from The Swan. He
would have to drag out the conversation until witnesses came by. For
in the opinion of Jonathan Blair it was important to him and to Meso
potamia and to the Northwest that he be seen at this particular time
in front of The Swan with the daughter of Gideon Schaacht . . . and
seen in a way that people could never forget. They must talk about it.

"I think he's outmatched you, Mr. Blair."

"Huh?" Blair watched The Swan and the road, searching, for people.

"I say I think Justin has lined up a three- or four-vote margin over
you for tomorrow."

210 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"You sound as proud of him as if you'd built the man from the

shoes up/'

Her quiet smile admitted as much. But her lips said, "I had a good
model to mold him on. He's more you than you are, Mr. Blair/'

"You love him, Miss Schaacht?"

"I will when I get him finished."

"Just where are you going to display this marionette when you get
him finished/'

"Washington."

"Uh-huh." Blair noticed that a couple men came out of The Swan
and looked over and stood for a moment.

"Aren't you apt to be disappointed in him, Miss Schaacht? I mean,
something you make yourself with your own two hands won't have
much mystery to you, will it?"

Blair noticed that Mrs. Pike was walking east toward them. She
would probably cross the road behind them and enter The Swan. And
Mrs. Pike had a better circulation than The Western Intelligencer.

Miss Schaacht said, "What are you looking at, Mr. Blair?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing."

"Well, what were you doing standing here?"

"Matter of fact I was waiting for you."

"Me!"

Her face was white against the dark fur collar. Snow flakes clung
in her eyelashes, melted, were replaced. Vapor from her breath spoke
of warmth. A fleeting flicker of a dimple guaranteed it. Chuckling
grey-green eyes denied it.

"Me?" she repeated.

"Yes."

As Mrs. Pike drew closer, Blair's old militia coat moved closer to the
rippling fur jacket.

"You borrowed me for a model for your man, Miss Schaacht."

"Yes."

"I figured you're the kind of woman would want to pay back the
loan."

"In what way?"

Mrs. Pike's footsteps came into hearing, then they stopped. Three
men came out of The Swan. They watched.

Blair said, "I want to borrow you for a moment or so/'

THE WOMEN

"Exactly how?" Her eyebrows arched. "I'm not exactly for hire,
Mr. Blair."

"No time for details/' Blair said. "But I promise it'll be quick." He
put his bare hand on the fur of her sleeve. She looked down at his
hand, but she stood still.

"Just how," she asked, "does this transaction take place between . . ."

But she found out directly.

Blair's arm went around her waist prisoning her left arm and seiz
ing her right wrist which he also pulled in against her waist.

Her lips parted in surprise as the breath was crushed out of her
against the solid body of Jonathan Blair.

Although his grip around her body was harsh, his lips were gentle
against hers. They could afford to be, for he had bent her so far back
that she could not escape. His cold left hand was under the apron of
her hat holding her neck, lest he bend it too far back.

She gasped for breath which he permitted her, but when the fur
jacket had enough breath in it to yell, his coarse wool shoulder closed
her mouth as he kissed her ear, and then her mouth.

He brought her back erect, but his left hand held her face buried
against his coat in fuming silence.

He heard Mrs. Pike cough and resume her course across the road.
The tail of a remark drifted over from in front of The Swan, ". . . but
Schaacht pays in a damned pretty coin; 111 say that!"

The fur against Blair's chest surged in anger and he tightened his
grip. Fragrance was squeezed out of her along with her breath. Even
on these terms she was a wonderful thing to hold. Blair had nearly
forgot how a woman that close seems the reason for living . . . how
magically fine beyond anything.

Horse hooves crunched the snow, approaching from the west. Blair
removed his hand from the back of her neck, but placed it quickly
over her mouth. She bent her head back, but the hand followed until
she could bend back no farther, being still pinioned around the waist.

"When I take my hand away," Blair said, "you can say what you
want."

He watched the horseman's silhouette approaching. It was the crisp,
well-tailored outline of Justin Bolding. The palm of Blair's hand grew
warm from her mouth. He said softly, "When I take my hand off, you
can still say what you want. But I'd advise you to look who's listening."

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

He released his grip on her waist and wrist just enough to feel if she
was going to spring into action. She was. He tightened again.

"Easy," he said.

He released his grip slowly as the rider approached, but she still
struggled vibrantly for freedom, so he tightened his grip again.

"E-a-s-y now," he whispered.

Slowly he released her, always ready to tighten again if she pranced.
He timed it so that when she finally stood completely free, Justin
Bolding looked down at her.

"Hello, Virginia. We'll ride together."

Her mouth ajar she looked up at him. Then at Blair. In charged
silence she reached for her bridle and straightened the stirrup.

Blair laced the fingers of his two hands and placed them palm up on
his knee for a mounting step. Her lips compressed against rage as she
removed her glove and reached into her pocket. Into Blair's waiting
palms she flicked a gold half-eagle.

"If I owe any more interest on that loan/* she said with laborious
control, "I'll pay in cash."

Blair examined the coin, flipped it in the air and caught it. Then
he flagrantly examined Bolding from boots to hat, "Looking at the
product/' he chided, "I'd say you've got some change coming."

She mounted and cantered off. Bolding's stare questioned Blair. But
then he heeled his horse to overtake the woman.

Jackson Garth moved out of the shadows. He did not approach
Blair, but he stepped into the light in front of The Swan where Blair
could see him. Blair waved. And Jackson Garth went into action.

By the time brandy was served that night in The Swan, Mrs. Pike
had seen that the story had saturated the entire dining room and the
tap. When the story reached the far corner of the dining room where
Bela Hult sat, the big representative from Coshocton County threw
his hand linen down on the table and rose. Jackson Garth reached out
to stop him, saying, "Wait a minute, Belal"

But Hult had heard enough. "If it's a woman he needs I could have
got him one that wouldn't cost us our shirts!" Hult stamped out.

At The Red Lion, dinner was usually later than at The Swan, de
layed by the late arrival of the Governor and Judge Pease and some of
the busier state senators. So the story reached The Red Lion about the
time Judge Pease got to his corn dodgers. The teller of the story added,
"How could he do it, Judge?"

THE WOMEN 213

The maple syrup found the weak spots in the judge's teeth so he ate
vigorously to shorten the pain. "Why not? The woman is soft and
pretty. Blair is a long time without a woman. Lost one that I know of."

"But how could Schaacht's daughter be seen with Blair?"

"Blair's a fair piece of manhood. Stands 'bout nineteen hands high.
Shaves. Strong handed. Good shoulders. Good head."

"Sure. But how can Blair break faith with Hult and those?"

The judge washed his teeth in a gulp from his mug.

"Break faith? How? Did Hult want to be kissed, too?" The informant
started to laugh, but the judge's eyes nailed his laughter. "Wait till the
testimony's all in, Mister!"

The judge turned to the others who had craned their necks over to
hear his opinion. "That goes for the rest of you that call yourselves
lawyers and senators!"

Across the Scioto at the Sullivant house the planners in favor of the
Bank of the United States and against the Blair Crowbar Law relaxed.
The score they totaled came to a three- or possibly a four-vote margin
against the tax for tomorrow morning. There were about nine men
present, and when Gideon Schaacht shoved his long, tight-clad legs out
in front of him and crossed his boots, it was plain to all that the busi
ness was over. Mr. Tremaine, representative from Hamilton County,
asked if Miss Schaacht would play the pianoforte which he understood
had been the second one hauled this side of the Alleghenies.

Justin Bolding adjusted the bench to it, but his mind was on Miss
Schaacht and the silence which she maintained and the reason for it.
In the course of which thinking he remembered how she was standing
with Jonathan Blair earlier this evening and the strange talk that had
gone on at that time.

Miss Schaacht was a good player of this instrument, so good that even
her little experimental testing of the keyboard sounded like music.

But the soft experimental notes were in direct discord with a pound
ing which now came from outside.

Gideon Schaacht said, "Bolding! Go see what that racket is!"

However, Bolding was accompanied to the front door by three other
men and Virginia Schaacht. Upon opening the door they found two
men hammering a stake in front of the house through the snow into
the frozen ground. To the top of the stake was fastened a small sign
which faced the road.

When Bolding opened the front door, bathing the two men in light,

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

the one who was pounding pointed to Bolding and said, "Stand right
there! Do not come out until we are gonel"

He then gave one last quick blow to the stake and the two withdrew
backwards to the gate. The loud-mouthed one lifted the gate latch,
not with his hand, but with a long stick. The two backed out through
the gate, careful not to touch their persons to any part of the gate.
The speaker tossed the stick back inside the yard and called back to
Bolding, "Sir, there will be an explanation along in the morning. My
job was just to put the sign." He pointed to a sullen figure which
they had not previously noticed out on the road. "Corporal Johanson
and two others here from the Franklin Dragoons are posted here by
Captain Vance to see nobody leaves this house."

Bolding went out to the sign, leaned down close to it but could not
read it in the dark.

Corporal Johanson's voice cut through the black. "It's the quaran
tine, sir!"

It was moments before this sunk into Bolding. Then he said, "But

nobody in this house . . ."

"No, sir. Not yet, sir. But you're tainted they say."

"Who's down with it?"

"Lawyer, name of Blair, sir."

"What's that to do with us?"

"Ask Miss Schaacht, sir."

The wind that whipped up suddenly off the river blew away the
shouting that went back and forth that night in front of the Sullivant
house.

In the chamber next morning the empty seats caused such a stir that
it was difficult to bring the House to order. The buzzing grew and
spread out into the hall until some members of the senate came down
stairs to watch the confusion. The sergeant-at-arms came back into the
chamber and reported behind his hand to the Speaker of the house
that it was impossible to compel the absent members to attend, and he
explained why.

Jackson Garth was on his feet demanding recognition from the chair.
The chair was busy talking to some men who promptly left the cham
ber, bent on an urgent errand.

Meanwhile a great grin of realization was spreading over the massive

THE WOMEN 215

face of Bela Hult. Hult's voice soon roared out over the chamber, "Mr.
Speaker, I call for the question on the bank tax."

Presently the clerk was calling the roll for the voting. The Speaker's
eye was on the door. Then he leaned over to talk quietly to the clerk.
The clerk resumed calling the names, but noticeably slower. Fre
quently he asked a member to repeat his vote.

Bela Hult was on his feet roaring, "You're not hard of hearing,
Clerk! Get on with the vote."

The gavel rapped. The Speaker said, "I shall not hesitate to expel
the next member who causes disorder!"

Hult's chest swelled. Garth dragged the hulk down into a seat.

The Speaker kept his eye on the door as the vote continued slowly.

At The Red Lion, Judge Pease closed the book in front of him until
the excited representatives, attorneys and senators who crowded around
him obediently silenced under his stare. The judge then reopened the
book.

Stuttgart said, "Judge we won't bother you, but hurry! They'll be
getting to the M's soon and my client needs to get back to vote!"

Another said, "Judge, there's got to be an appeal from quarantine.
There's no form of confinement in which a man isn't entitled to a hear
ing. That's law!"

The judge closed the book. "Gentlemen, I shall give you an answer
on the point and if you're entitled to a hearing, I shall arrange it in
stantly. But I shall iiot lift a finger until this chamber quiets."

It was a measure of Pease's stature that even the public room of
The Red Lion did in fact become a "chamber" when Calvin Pease dis
pensed justice there.

The crowd disciplined itself. The judge thumbed through his much-
worn book. He studied several different entries; then he said, "Ayeah."

"Ayeah, what?" begged Stuttgart.

"Quarantine may be imposed upon doctor's orders without appeal
or hearing of those confined."

"But, sir! It's not possible to take away a man's franchise or liberty
or right to hearing in this country."

"You're right, Stuttgart," the judge said. "Except in one single soli
tary instance. Quarantine."

The leaning-forward crowd exhaled as a man and glared at Judge
Pease.

21 6 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Don't act so surprised, gentlemen," Pease said. "It's implicit in the
nature of quarantine. Supposing a contaminated man were entitled
to a hearing, where would you find a court who would hear him? Can
you condemn a judge to the plague?"

But they were not listening. The group broke for the statehouse.
Those last to leave suspected they saw a grin on the judge's face.

And back across the road in the lower chamber of the government of
the new state of Ohio the vote rolled slowly but inexorably forward.

The Speaker did not seem to be listening. His eyes were on the door,
waiting for some messenger. But the messenger did not come. The
Speaker bent down to speak to the clerk, and the clerk thereafter pro
nounced the names still slower, but the name calling and the answer
ing took on the irrevocable aspect of an eight-horse team topping a
grade.

"Elton?"

"Aye, sir."

"Ellsworth?^ '

"Aye."

"Fallon?"

"Nay."

-'Garth?"
"'Aye, sir!"

"Goodridge?"

"Aye."

"Hult?"

"Aye! By God, sir, aye!"

As the vote rolled on a faint grin spread over the members of the
House of Representatives of the State of Ohio. The grin widened and
It spread out into the hall where the senators and some townsmen
matched. The grin broadened and spread across the road to The Swan
and The Red Lion, and then it was passed from rider to rider on the
south road and the north road, and by sundown the grin had broken
out into a chuckle which was already rippling as far south as Circle-
-ville and as far north as Boxford's Cabin. In the year 18 and 18 every
one understood that a tax of one hundred thousand dollars would close
the doors of the branch of the United States Bank. Thus it was that a
law was made as the long winter snow retreated into the fence corners
and pulled back to hug the sides of cabins in the Territory north and
"west of the Ohio River.

THE APPLICANT 217

Gideon Schaacht not being present in the hall, members pressed for
ward openly to shake the hands of Jackson Garth and Bela Hult whose
eyes watered on this occasion.

Chapter 13: THE APPLICANT

HOSMER VILLAGE, or Mesopotamia as it

was more often called lately, no longer knew how to treat its lawyer.
There was a garbled story about him drifted up from Columbus Bor
ough and it spawned mixed reactions. It caused Faith Hawkins to lift
her skirts so they didn't touch the ground near Blair's cabin.

It caused Camelia Flannerty and Elizabeth Buttrick to stare from a
distance into the Blair cabin to catch a new glimpse of the man who
would kiss such a lady in the middle of Columbus.

The garbled version of the story widened the lips of Christian Kil-
gore to a painful grimace as if he had bitten into a wormy grape. It
caused Matt Gavagan to throw back his head, at the store in a great
unguarded laugh, "I'm glad I didn't loan ya my wagon to haul him
outa Columbus! He put it over all of 'eml Mark me now, that Blair's
tough. They're findin' it out."

Hawkins said, "Aye, but usin' a woman like that ... if what I heard
was right!"

Gavagan grinned. "For Blair's sake I hope what you heard was only
the half of it." He rapped Hawkins' chest. "I wouldn't mind finishin'
that piece of work for him!"

Joe Hussong stared at the floor. "He's like to save us despite our
selves or break us ... one. He's drove that bank out all by hisself."

Buttrick cleared his throat, "Uh ... I have always said that Blair
had a certain strength if he'd ever rise to it."

James Dolk shook his head, "Maybe. But it's against God the way
he's risin'."

Emanuel Ault listened to everybody's comments. But he said, "We
ought to be learned by now nobody goes against Schaacht. We'll find
out now the hard way."

21 8 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

As if to support Ault, the village now saw the laboring heads of two
horses come up out of the depression at the river ford like an exten
sion of the long arm of Gideon Schaacht in the Northwest. One horse
carried a woman, the other Justin Bolding.

It was another measure of Gideon Schaacht that those who worked
close to him began to act and talk like him. In the store Bolding only
said, "Where's Blair?"

They pointed across the common to Blair's cabin. Bolding started
to leave. But Ault said, "The taint's still opt it."

Bolding stopped.

"You mean he's still sick?"

"He don't say he is, but he don't say he ain't."

"Well, find out!"

Mesopotamia was sullen. Time was they'd show a man like this his
place. But these days, the wrong word to Schaacht's men could put a
hundred acres under the auction hammer.

Emanuel Ault said, "Who wants to go find out? You see that fence
we run around his place? Nobody goes inside that. Flannerty's young
est boy takes eats up to the gate and sets 'em there. That's because the
lawyer defended Flannerty in debtor court."

"How do you talk to the lawyer?" Bolding asked.

"We don't."

"But I came all the way up here to talk to him."

The men in the store looked at Virginia Schaacht, their eyes asking
why she came.

Hussong said, "Go ahead. Go talk to him."

Ault said, "You could write him a message. Put it where Tim Flan
nerty puts the food."

You could see Gideon Schaacht in Bolding's gesture. He ordered,
'Taper."

Ault produced it.

Virginia Schaacht surveyed the store, putting Mesopotamia on the
defensive. Mike Stikes' young wife, Polly, defended, "We've bought
trouble enough, Miss Schaacht, without the pox."

Miss Schaacht asked, "All that piled up by the gate? That's one day's
food for him?"

"No," Polly said. "Three days."

At the old Shuldane house which had become Exeter's Tavern there

THE APPLICANT 219

was coarse laughter at Exeter's expense that night as they watched him
scurry around to fit up an accommodation for a woman. They saw the
Flannerty boy carry in a big bundle in a blanket. Hussong grabbed the
boy's arm, "What you got there, boy?"

"They had me to fetch white sheets, Mr. Hussong."

"Where did you find any?"

"From Hope Emer . . . Christofferson's cabin."

Hussong hollered to Exeter, "Would I get white sheets if I was to put
up here a night?"

There was laughter. The boy said, "Can you let go my arm now, Mr.
Hussong?"

"One more thing, boy. When you left the lawyer's feed, what did
Bolding's paper say that was there at the gate?"*

"It was all law talk, sir. Beyond me."

Hussong looked at Hawkins and Adams. As one man they rose to
leave the tavern.

But from the front of the tavern as they looked toward Blair's cabin,
they saw a woman pick up the food which was there and Bolding's
note. With a stick she opened the gate and walked toward the Blair
cabin.

Hussong cupped his hands to his mouth. But Hawkins stayed his
arm. "It's her funeral." He shrugged, "She knows."

Hussong dropped his hands, and they watched her walk toward the
cabin. They saw her put the stick to the latch and push open the
door. Presently they saw the dark deer-skin window of Blair's cabin
flicker and glow orange in the dusk.

The lawyer continued shaving, his bare back to his visitor. The cop
per reflector behind the candle would not tell him if the dull knife
was getting the whiskers. But it showed where the lather was. It also
showed him the straight stiff woman who stood in his cabin.

She said, "You still have the pox?"

The only answer was his knife scraping against the grain of his
whiskers.

"Or did you ever have it?" she asked.

The lawyer winced, either from the dullness of the blade or the
sharpness of the woman.

"Well, do you have it still?" she asked. "Or did you ever?"

"You didn't get it," he said. "Doesn't that satisfy you?"

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Not completely."

"You're standing in my cabin, aren't you? The Schaachts are known
to take good care of themselves. That must end the question."

"Not quite."

"Why?"

"A man who would wrack himself so much to save one woman's
sheep wouldn't probably set out to give the pox to another woman. But
a man that would push old Hosmer to his grave and let Christofferson
lose a finger and then expose his home settlement to foreclosure . . .
well, a man like that would do most anything to get a law passed."

"I didn't kill Hosmer! I'm not responsible for everything that hap
pens!"

"What happened in front of The Swan that night, maybe was an

accident, too?"

"You're a finely made woman. It was dark. It didn't cost you any
thing."

"That's why?"

"What does it matter now? Why did you come?"

She opened her handbag and brought out a small glass bottle. "I
brought this," she said. "Called Jenner's Matter."

He turned and looked at the bottle of white liquid. But mostly he
looked at the woman who held it. He had seen vaccine matter once
before. But he was not sure now that he had ever really seen this
woman before.

She said, "You don't need to stare as if it were poison. Five hundred
have been vaccinated in Kentucky already. And Dr. Goforth in Cin
cinnati induced forty settlers there to try it. It's supposed to be done
before, but . . ."

In unbelief the lawyer asked, "You brought that bottle up here
for me?"

She backed away from his steady gaze. He took a step closer, she
drew back more. Her withdrawal was interrupted by the bench which
held Blair's saddle. She sat.

"You walked through that gate thinking that I have the ... be
lieving that ... to bring that bottle to me? Why?"

It had been a long time since anyone had worried about the health
of Jonathan Blair.

"Take it, and use it. It won't hurt. I've had it."

"Why did you bring it?"

THE APPLICANT 221

"I suppose the same as a bootmaker takes good care of his pattern/'

Blair took the bottle from her hand, but he set it aside. He leaned
over her. Her wide mouth and thrusting chin suddenly looked to
Blair strong and trusting. As she grew older the strong chin and straight
nose would probably crystallize into the eaglelike profile of Gideon
Schaacht. But for now they were lovely and compelling. She did not
withdraw when his mouth touched her forehead, for that was a kind
of admiration and gratitude. But presently he had drawn her to her
feet and to his chest, and that was something else again.

She let him have her lips for a moment and then her arm was free
and her forearm was against his chin. Her face was rouged with the
effort and her breath short.

Her voice was not as firm as her words, "But I don't intend to wear
the pattern," she said. "Only the boots."

He let her go. She straightened her waistband,

"But I guess I'm glad it happened this once in our lives."

"This once in our lives?"

"Yes." She took Bolding's note from her pocket and handed it to
him. "You see I think this will end it."

Blair looked at her. There was something very lovely and very adult
in her candid enjoyment of the moment just past. In fact as he looked
at her he made a private and presumptuous resolve which transcended
any plans she might have for "ending it."

But then he opened the note:

BLAIR:

You will be interested in the decision of Justice John Marshall
in the case of Mr. McCulloch vs. State of Maryland, in which Mr.
Marshall finds against the state. If I have studied well under you
this means that the states under no circumstances have the right
to tax any part of the Federal Government; and your tax against
the United States Bank branch in Ohio therefore becomes uncon
stitutional and unenforceable.

Your resp't'ful student
JUSTIN BOLDING

Virginia Schaacht had seen men shatter before. She carried a mental
picture of the broad back of Gideon Schaacht walking away through
archways, leaving behind him human devastation, leaving others

222 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

to do the meaningless verbal picking up of pieces. In earlier days in
Philadelphia she had stayed behind to help with this picking up. Then
she had gone angrily to Schaacht.

"Virginia," he had said once, "the penalty of leadership is opposi
tion. Is it kinder to pretend it's not a fight?'*

And presently she understood the lonesome price Schaacht paid for
his leadership, and she also began to leave these scenes without waiting
to clean up, feeling as sorry for her father as for his victims.

About Blair, Schaacht had said, "Virginia, he fights so hard, that
when he gives up it will be all at once . . . poof."

Gideon Schaacht's record of judgment was superior, and so Virginia
Schaacht knew that today in Blair's cabin, she would see the ... the
poof.

But as she watched she was puzzled. If this were an explosion it was
a grim one. This was a slow, bitter, smoldering kind of internal bleed
ing.

Blair's profile was towards her as he stared at the cabin door. The
great muscular breastplate of his chest darkened in color. Then the
neck, then the ears, and then she could even see the pounding in his
temples. Lower on his chest there was a drumming under the ribs.

Absently his hand crushed Bolding's note into a small ball.

Then as Virginia Schaacht watched, it seemed to her she could see
the color drain back out of Blair's face as though he had forced it out
himself. He unrolled the note, reread it, and tossed it into the hearth.
The motion was suddenly relaxed.

His voice was deep and relaxed, too. "All right," he said. "All right.
I quit."

She sat, trying to read him. He even smiled faintly.

"You can go now, Virginia, and tell him he won."

And it seemed to Miss Schaacht that she had never heard such a
menace.

Gideon Schaacht sat in the United States Bank in Chillicothe with
his boots crossed on the desk at his own eye level, forming a front sight
through which he squinted at Justin Bolding.

Being a young assistant worthy of larger responsibilities, Bolding did
not trouble the great man with trivial details. "The job is finished,
Gideon. There'll be no trouble from Blair. The Marshall decision
crumpled him."

THE APPLICANT 223

But the great man preferred to decide for himself what was trivial. -
"You just tell me what he said, Bolding."

"Why he said in effect that the Marshall decision of course ended
the matter. That his bank tax was now unconstitutional."

"Never mind what he said in effect. What did he say exactly?"

"You mean the exact words?"

"I mean the exact words, and the tone of voice, and how loud, and
how did he look?"

"Well really, sir, I didn't note every single . . ."

"Send in Virginial"

Bolding colored, and left.

To Virginia Schaacht, Gideon said gently, "Virginia, what was your
impression of the trip to Mesopotamia?"

"I think this will be it, father."

"Will be what?"

"Will be the biggest fight you ever had."

Gideon Schaacht's gaunt head rolled back and his mouth opened in
a great rising basso laugh that thundered up a stairway of notes. But
it didn't treble back down. It broke off unnaturally at the top step.
His feet came off the desk. The face came on guard and the voice
yelled, "Riddlel Bolding! Turner! Come in here!"

Up north of Columbus and north of Boxford's Cabin in the place
called Mesopotamia in the hut of the lawyer a great shouldered man
with only four fingers on the right hand sat down opposite Blair, His
elbows went forward on his knees as he began his stiff-necked proposi
tion.

"Jonathan, we all heard around the clearing how the trap you set
for the bank got unsprung on you."

Blair smiled, "The Supreme Court says it's unconstitutional for a
state to tax the Federal Government."

"That's what I mean/' Brute said. "But we heard you don't plan to
take that sittin' down."

"Our tax law is on the books, Brute. The auditor should collect the
tax."

"That's what I said. But we hear the Federal is already givin* your
law the horse laugh. Not even worried that youll even try to collect.
They got a prohibition out against the collection."

"An injunction."

224 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Yeah, that's what I said."

The big man unfolded a clipping from an old copy of the Scioto
Gazette.

"Well, 'manuel Ault says he's got his instructions from Schaacht to
start closin' down on Hope's place again. Seems he's fixed in his mind
to make an example of her. That'll mean likely Armstrong'll be back
with his soldiers combin' the woods to find those 'rinos."

Christofferson referred to the clipping. "Well, some of us notice in
this law you got made that it says the auditor of state is supposed to
appoint a man to walk into that United States Bank some day after
next September fifteenth and collect the tax of one hundred thousand
dollars owing to the State of Ohio."

"That's right, Brute."

"Then way down here in this Section Twenty it says: 'the person
appointed to make this collection for the state shall, when the money
is collected, receive for his compensation 2 per cent upon the amount.' "

"That's right, Brute."

"And 2 per cent of the tax reckons out at two thousand dollars?"

"Yes."

"Point is, Jonathan, with two thousand dollars I could square off all
Hope's debt. And I could buy her another 'rino ram to replace Aaron,
and a pair of seven-eighth or three-quarter bloods to boot."

Blair started to speak, but Christofferson said, "Point is, Jonathan,
we saw that they listen to you down at Columbus Borough. If you'd
see that Matt Gavagan and me got that job of collectin', we'd collect
it for ya all right. Be somewhat justice for us to get the two thousand
dollars after Schaacht keepin' Hope's flock runnin' from hollow to
hollow up in the woods, losin' five pounds per head every fortnight."

Blair shook his head.

"You mean you won't?"

"No."

"Seems little enough to ask after the grief you caused us."

"That's the point, Brute. Some hold me for old Sam's passing. Others
hold me for Hope's sheep having to run. Hope holds me for your
finger. I'll not be held for any more grief."

"Grief?"

"Yes, Brute. You see, the collector is going to walk into that bank.
But I don't know if he's going to walk out."

"You didn't worry about us before, Jonathan. Let us worry now."

THE APPLICANT 225

Blair looked tired. He shook his head.

Christofferson stood up. His wrinkled forehead begged pardon for
his defiant jaw, "All right, Jonathan. But nothin' says I can't go to
Columbus and ask for myself."

"No. But 111 try to head you off."

In Washington and Philadelphia and Pittsburgh and perhaps even
down at the Borough of Columbus the John Marshall decision against
Maryland in the case of McCulloch vs. Maryland was coffee-house
talk for lawyers between cases. Old John Marshall had hammered the
last peg in to support the superiority of the Federal Government. The
old man had spent a lifetime holding the Federation together.

But in Steubenville and Louisville and Coshocton and Cincinnati
the great Chief Justice had just hammered a wedge into the middle of
the Republic that split it apart at the Alleghenies.

In Mesopotamia Jonathan Blair saw the McCulloch vs. Maryland
decision convert his people from land owners to squatters. That is,
James Hawkins didn't know McCulloch from Maryland. But he did
know it made Blair's bank tax illegal. He did know that the United
States Bank was saved, and he was ruined . . . foreclosed.

He usually plowed an extra half-dozen furrows each spring, widen
ing his field. This spring he plowed a half-dozen less.

"Put it this way, Blair. Why should I break new ground for the
bank?"

Christian Kilgore usually grubbed out a few more stumps each
spring as they rotted out. This year he plowed around them,

"I'll not bust my plow point, Blair, on stumps that will belong to
the bank."

And Hussong had been breeding his Bedfords to Bedfords for years.
Now he bred Bedfords to plain woods hogs. "They can take the trail
better, Blair. And we'll be needin' stock that can travel."

The forest closed back in on the clearing at Mesopotamia. Second
growth shoots filled in the clearings hungrily. When a man isn't clear
who owns the land, the land lies idle.

Even Silver Pigeon noticed it when he came down out of Upper
Sandusky.

"Men in the cabins, Blair? None in the fields."

Blair answered coldly, "What do you want, Pigeon?"

"Our people crowded in like whites. We got the white man's sick-

226 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

ness. Kine pox. Takes a white man's medicine man. Pigeon wants one."

"I don't owe you anything else, Pigeon."

"True. The Pigeon asks only."

"It's not in the treaty, Pigeon."

"No. In The Book."

"What book?"

Pigeon grinned. "In white Father Gershom's Good Book."

"The Book was never anything to you."

"No. But it is your Book."

Blair had trouble enough. "You're on your own, Pigeon. Get your
own doctor."

"I tried."

"Then why come to me?"

"It is the white man's sickness. We lost Tahwendah and Sootaie."

"How did they get it?" Blair was peevish. "Keep your people up
where they belong!"

"I did. But you don't keep your whites down here."

Blair knew it was true. Settlers and trappers and traders trespassed
the Indian reserve. Blair barked, "Throw them out!"

"You forget the treaty, Mr. Lawyer," Pigeon said with a bitter smile.
"It says, 'If a white man crosses the Indian border he shall be un
molested, but Indians shall report him direct to the President of the
United States/ " Pigeon shoved his face close to Blair. "How do I do
this, Mr. Blair?"

Blair snapped, "Well, keep your men away from the whites 1"

"It is not the men."

Blair looked up.

"The women. They want the white cheah-ha."

"Cheah-ha?"

"Babies."

Blair kicked a stump. "The doctors are all south, where it's worse.
Way south."

"But you will get one."

"It would need money."

"The Pigeon will get the money. You will get the doctor." He added,
"Father Gershom says so."

Emanuel Ault's thick legs slowed down as he saw the Indian talking
to Blair. He approached nonetheless.

"Blair, I've got to start," he said.

ST. GERSHOM 227

"Start what?"

"Bolding brought word from Schaacht when he was up here. It'll go
hard with the whole town if Schaacht doesn't see some signs of action
against the borrowers. Hope's debt is the oldest. Logical place to start."

Blair was tired. Even the Pigeon could see it. He left. Blair just
looked at Ault.

"I told Christofferson," Ault said. "He said see you. Said you knew
how he might get some money. So? . . ."

Blair turned suddenly and hailed the Silver Pigeon who was already
twenty rods north. The Indian turned. Blair yelled, "Tell Gershom to
come down here to see mel"

"He will say 'what for?' "

"Tell him I want him to make a Christian," Blair looked at Ault.
"Starting with nothing!" he added.

The Indian cupped his hands to his mouth. "And you will get the
medicine doctor?"

"Send Gershom down!" Blair ordered.

Chapter 14: ST. GERSHOM

BEING THE two most misfit professions

west of Pittsburgh and north of Chillicothe, the lawyer and the rev
erend should have been a comfort for each other in the year of 18
and 19. Instead the lawyer rasped, "It's your business, isn't it? If you
can't make a Christian of Ault, how can you make Christians of
Wyandots?"

"Because I don't have to undo the work of lawyers before I can
start," the gaunt minister rumbled.

"Believe me, Gershom, if there were any recourse, I'd not beg like
this. Will you do something with Ault, for God's sake?"

"For God's sake?"

"For mine."

"How exactly do you expect me to effect this instantaneous conver
sion, Mr. Blair?"

228 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Should I know your business, too?"
"I'm glad you put it on a business basis, Blair."
"Why? There's a fee?"

"A doctor for the Wyandots on the reserve. They prayed for a doc
tor. I told them prayers are answered."

"Gershom, I ..."

"I know, you've got troubles. But I've got funerals.

"Contact your bishop."

Gershom's face blackened. Indeed, the bishop ... the b:shop who
still thought the frontier was Pittsburgh, and never ventured west of
it to see what Gershom had done.

The lawyer said, "You hold the bishop over us as a threat when you
urge us to build a church building here; let the bishop demonstrate
his power. Let him get a doctor for the Indians."

Gershom said, "Health and justice come high west of Pittsburgh.
The bishop can afford neither. You get a doctor for my Wyandots."

Blair sighed. "Can't promise to deliver one."

The reverend's grin was grim. "Fair enough. I can't promise to de

liver Ault." .

The two men rose. The lawyer added, "And it's got to be quick,

Reverend. A day or two." _

A dry chuckle rattled the reverend's bony chest. "Please, I insist on

o

.

"Maybe that'll do. You can stay here in my cabin. I'll fodder your
mount. You take the bunk."

"Ill need accommodations for three Indians besides/'

"What?"

"I will need Captain Michael and Stand-in-the-Water. The girl came

because . . ."
"The girl?"
"Fawn. Silver Pigeon's sister. I need her because she can read. The

other two can't."

Amos Exeter was outraged when Blair asked him if he could put
the three Indians up in one of the back rooms of the tavern. But Blair
whispered to him Gershom's mission in the settlement, and Exeter
found room.

Blair was surprised to observe the forthright and daring manner in
which the reverend began his work.

His presence in the settlement was welcome. There was the Culpep-

ST. GERSHOM 229

per babe to be baptized, a number of personal requests to The Maker
which needed the reverend's special and official phraseology, and there
were other clerical chores awaiting the reverend's saddlebag ministry.

But his long visit naturally brought the question, "Why?"

And Gershom did not tiptoe around the question, "Because," he
always answered, "there is among you a certain one who has forgotten
the last ten verses of Saint Matthew's great eighteenth chapter. I am
here to save him."

Blair was amazed that the reverend so explicitly outlined his mis
sion, leaving himself no face-saving retreat. But Gershom's great use
fulness in the north was a brand of religion as direct as Slover Navarre's
rifle. It was as productive as Slasher's double-bitted axe in a stand of
hickory. It could be as bitter as Exeter's fresh-made whisky; and Ger
shom's relation to The Maker was obviously as direct as Blair's to
Judge Pease. More important, his horse was fast enough and strong
enough to stay abreast of sin in the Northwest.

Blair admitted to himself that Gershom's horse-borne religion,
though it might not be for lawyers, did have enough power actually
to spread relief over the faces of the settlers. Up here every man had
to produce . . . including the preacher.

The purpose of Gershom's visit spread through the woods quickly.
And it was definitely observable that grown men and women walked
more like children, throwing off worry now that this grim parent had
arrived.

It was natural for Emanuel Ault to hear about Gershom's expressed
purpose. It was natural for him to notice how settlers looked at him
with expectancy and anticipation. It was natural for him then to bor
row a Bible from young Flannerty to look up privately the last ten
verses of Matthew's eighteenth chapter.

And of course, having read them, he daily expected a visit from
Gershom. He smiled. But to his own surprise he caught himself men
tally framing the answers he would give to Gershom. "Now, look,
Reverend, I see the parallel, but it's not quite that simple. Don't for
get the people actually owned the Mesopotamia Hog & Trust. So I'm
really only maintaining their own credit for them." The successor to
Sam Hosmer found his answers so sound that he was even eager to
deliver them to the Reverend Seth Gershom. He placed the benches in
his house so that they would sit opposite each other when the en
counter took place. He placed a slip of paper in the Bible at Matthew,

JOHATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Chapter Eighteen, so that he could readily point out to the reverend
a few inconsistencies in the economics. He was ready on Monday morn
ing.

Monday came and went, and then Tuesday and Wednesday. But the
reverend did not come.

On Thursday Ault cleaned his house some. He opened his Bible
again to bolster his argument; and he was pleased to notice that he
was right. "You see, Reverend, in the case o the master in this chap
ter, the ten thousand talents were owing to him and him alone. So he
was free to act as he did. But the case here is different. It's public
money, so to speak. What alternative do I have in the case of public
money?"

It was when Ault's hound lifted his head to stare at him that Eman-
uel Ault caught himself talking aloud ... to himself.

On Friday Ault saw the lank form of Seth Gershom approaching his
house. Ault put some burned barley coffee on to boil. He got out two
mugs. But the reverend veered off to the south toward the store.

On Saturday morning Ault studied the promissory notes of the peo
ple of Mesopotamia. But when he saw the long strides of Seth Gershom
approaching he shoved the papers in his lock box. He opened the
Bible and marked opposite the twenty-fourth verse for quick finding.
"You see, Reverend Gershom, we're not talking about the same kind
of money. Ten thousand talents figure out to about twenty million
dollars. But all it would take Hope Christofferson to square up would
be $1,800. Less, if you forgive the interest." Ault smiled in blank gen
erosity, adding, "which I am quite willing to do."

But the Reverend Seth Gershom did not enter Ault's house. He
veered off to the north.

On Saturday night Blair said, "The week's up, Reverend."

"I'll need two weeks, Blair."

"You even talked to him yet, Reverend?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Gershom was piqued. "Blair, I know my business, as you call it. See
you keep your part of the bargain."

"Well, it's Saturday already, and you haven't even let him listen
to you."

"Ault will listen to Ault. He'll only argue with Gershom."

"I don't see it, Reverend. But it's your job."

ST. GERSHOM 231

On Sunday Emanuel Ault attended the service in the blockhouse.
Mesopotamia expected one of the public lashings at which the Rever
end Seth Gershom was so expert. But there was none.

On Monday evening Ault fully expected a visit from Gershom.
But Gershom didn't come. Ault had his case down to a fine point.
Word for word he had studied the text, and word for word he could
refute it.

But his rebuttal consumed much of his sleeping time. It seemed
to Emanuel Ault that he heard noises in his house, below the loft.
On Tuesday morning he was quite sure that he had heard them.

On Wednesday the village of Mesopotamia was alarmed at the
arrival of Riddle and Colonel Armstrong.

"That's the sign it's going to start/' Stikes said sadly.

"Yeah, looks like the reverend couldn't do us any good," Gavagan
said.

And it was on Wednesday night that the lawyer said, "You're too
late, Reverend. They'll start foreclosing now."

Gershom did not reply, and his long shapeless black-clothed figure
kneeling at the bunk was now repugnant to Blair. "I said you can
give up that prayin*, Gershom. It's too late."

The kneeling figure remained motionless.

"You might as well go tomorrow," Blair said.

Gershom rose. His cavernous pock-marked face seemed composed.
He said, "Blair, in the event they attempt a foreclosure against the
Hope Emerson Christofferson lands and chattels this week, your
part of it will be to examine the mortgage instrument."

"Examine itl Hell, Gershom, I can quote it to you."

"That would not interest me. Just examine it and see that it warrants
any foreclosure action they may attempt."

"Warrants it? Of course it warrants it. I drew it up myself."

"Never mind that," Gershom said. "Just demand to see it if any
thing happens."

But strangely no action was taken by Riddle, though he followed
Ault around constantly. No action was begun by Ault either.

On Sunday Mesopotamia was surprised at the arrangements the
reverend had made in the blockhouse for the service. Though it was
broad daylight, a candle burned on the puncheon platform at Ger-
shom's feet.

The presence of Emanuel Ault in the front row of the blockhouse,

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

when it was observed, started a hush of interest which smothered the
chatter. The presence of Riddle on one side of Ault and Armstrong
on the other quieted the place more.

Gershom stood erect, waiting for the room to come to that trigger-
squeezing silence he required.

When the blockhouse was so quiet that the boys sitting on the rifle
parapet stopped swinging their legs, the Reverend Gershom announced
that he had come today to talk about money.

The reverend usually commenced with a loud pronouncement. But
today he began in a low, modulated voice. He didn't have to talk
loud. There was a compelling fierceness about the enormous face of
Seth Gershom when he took the rostrum. Some watched him intently
pondering how a man of such homeliness should become a minister.
Some watched with admiration because such a face must surely be
devoid of all vanity and must be a great strength in time of trouble.
Children watched quietly because they sensed this must be the parent
of their parents.

"And when the master had begun to reckon," Gershom began
,quietly, "one servant was brought before him who owed ten thousand
talents/'

Gershom's rumble increased slightly, "But forasmuch as he had
naught to pay, his master commanded him to be sold, and his wife
and children, and all that he had, and payment to be made."

Gershom's voice dropped. They leaned forward to catch his words,
"The servant therefore fell down, and worshipped him, saying, 'Master,
have patience with me and I will pay thee all/ "

Gershom dropped his voice still lower, "Then the master of that
servant was moved with compassion and he . . /' Seth Gershom opened
his great maw and he yelled, "WHAT DID HE DO? EMANUEL
AULT!"

Ault was jolted. But he composed himself and sat silent.

"What did he do, Ault? You tell us the rest of the story!"

"I don't know it."

Gershom reached into his pocket and unfolded a paper. Quietly
now he said, "I will help you remember the story, Emanuel. Come
down front here and look at this document."

Ault walked slowly toward the minister. He looked at the document
in Gershom's hands. He grabbed for it. Gershom withdrew it just out
of his reach. He smiled, and his tone was gentle.

ST. GERSHOM 233

"Suppose this were the note for ten thousand talents, Ault, tell me
what happened. Tell us the rest of the story ... in the exact words."

"I don't know the story." Ault stared at the paper, which was the
land and chattel mortgage of Hope Emerson Christofferson, some
how escaped from Ault's lock box. Gershom moved it slowly toward
the candle which sat there.

"I tell you I don't know the story, Gershoml"

Gershom moved the paper closer to the candle.

"Don't, Reverend!"

"What is the rest of the story, Ault?"

"I don't know. I don't knowl"

Gershom moved the note so close to the flame that one corner of
it curled and turned brown.

"And forgave him the debt!" Ault yelled in panic, as he watched
Gershom move the paper away from the flame. "But the same servant
went out, and found one of his fellow servants which owed him a
hundred pence." Ault breathed. "That's all I know." And Ault seemed
truly surprised at himself that he had quoted that much.

Gershom moved the note closer to the candle. Ault gulped, and
quickly gasped, "And he laid hands on him and took him by the
throat, saying . . . saying . . . saying . . ."

Gershom moved the paper back toward the candle slowly.

"Stop. Stop! I'm trying to think! 'Saying pay me what thou owest.
And his ... his ... the one that owed only about seventeen dollars . . .
fell down at his feet and said, 'Have patience with me and I will pay

all.' "

Gershom withdrew the paper from the candle.

Ault perspired. His face struggled to remember how the print looked
on the page of The Book. "And he would not, but went and cast him
into prison till he should pay the debt."

Ault struggled to remember the rest. Gershom moved the paper
slowly toward the candle. The parish was puzzled to note that this
simple act jerked Ault to his knees just as though Gershom had twisted
his arm up behind his back. Ault's hands went to his head as if to
ward off blows. But there were no blows, only the paper and the candle.

"I'm trying! Can't you see I'm trying! And then the bank . . . that
is, the master came to the first servant and said, 'thou wicked . . . thou
wicked ... I forgave thee all that debt, should not thou also have
compassion on thy fellow servant?' And the master was wroth . . ."

234 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"You left out something, Emanuel." Gershom moved the paper
toward the candle.

"What? What?" Ault pounded his head. "What did I leave out?"

Gershom let the edge of the paper turn black and glow a little.

"I'm trying! Stop it!"

The glow broke into a small flame.

"And the master was wroth and delivered him to the tormentors till
he should pay all that was due unto the master."

Gershom extinguished the flame on the paper.

Ault's head was down. "I'm thinking. I'm thinking. Wait! 'So shall
my Heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive
not every one his brother in their trespasses.' "

Ault sagged with relief.

Gershom stood staring at him. Without taking his eyes off Ault he
said, "The congregation will kneel."

They did so.

Ault half-rose and reached for the paper. The minister moved the
document toward the flame. "Kneel."

Ault dropped to his knees, head down.

At times Gershom found there was not time to pray to the Almighty
for instructions. It was often necessary to issue instructions in His
name, which could later be cleared with Him at leisure. This was such
a moment. Gershom extended his great right claw over the parish,
saying, "Be it understood in this community in the future, any man
wishing to collect a debt of his brother by foreclosure shall first con
tact myself and explain the nature and amount of the claim. We will
thus assist each other in living the teachings of Matthew. Should
any man fail to do this, Saint Matthew shall cause the flames of the
candle of justice to consume the notes of the creditor. The congrega
tion will remain kneeling."

Gershom folded the document into his inside chest pocket and
walked swiftly out of the blockhouse.

The congregation remained kneeling, puzzled; puzzled the more
by the guttural Indian tones from outside, the slapping of leather
on horse flesh and the sudden clatter of three horses leaving the village.

When the hoof beats faded in the distance, heads began to raise
hesitantly. Only gradually did the spell of Seth Gershom lift.

Young Tim Flannerty walked out of the blockhouse beside Jonathan
Blair. Blair looked in the direction of Gershom's retreat. Tim Flan-

ST. GERSHOM 235

nerty said, "Mr. Blair, how would Saint Matthew know if somebody
was going to foreclose somebody in this town, so he could get that
candle out to ... like Mr. Gershom said?"

Blair smiled. "If Saint Matthew slips up, Tim, Reverend Gershom
has the makings in his pocket to handle it himself/'

"You b'lieve Saint Matthew could do like Mr. Gershom says, Mr.
Blair? I mean the flame burning and all that?"

"Ault seemed to believe it. Guess that's more important right now."

In the dimness of his cabin the lawyer exhaled and chuckled. "That
rascal. The Book of Saint Gershom will be one to read."

He tossed his buckskin coat to the bunk, and he was halfway to the
washstand when he sensed that he had not heard the coat hit the
bunk.

It was in the hands of Fawn who was bending the leather between
her hands. She smiled.

"Should soak. Too stiff."

"What the devil are you doing here?"

"Needs ash water," she smiled.

"What are you doing here?"

She moved to the hearth and scooped up some wood ashes into his
small wash tub which had water in it. She then folded the buck
skin into the tub, slowly, soaking it.

"Should come white."

The lawyer noticed as she worked that her own doeskin skirt was
nearly white, and so pliant that it sculptured her. He noticed, too, that
Fawn was the kind of Indian the land jobbers liked to send back east
to demonstrate what fine neighbors the Indians made. He knew, too,
as he watched her soft brown arms work, why it was that pack traders
who went up into the Wyandot country were always so carefully super
vised by Silver Pigeon, and given a hut next to his where they got
more sleep than they really wanted, two Indians posted outside to
see to it. Blair noticed the plaid-cloth blouse which she wore. He
understood now why the two French pack traders northbound through
Mesopotamia would not sell Faith Hawkins that blouse. He re
membered, too, how on their way back down they had grinned at
each other and told Faith they would have been better off to let her
buy it after all.

"What are you doing here, Fawn?"

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Wait for the doctor. Take him north."

"The doctor?"

"Father Gershom says wait for the doctor. The lawyer will bring."

"Huh. He delivers promptly. But he .collects promptly, too, huh?"

"What?"

"I say, they're mighty sure there will be a doctor."

"No, Pigeon sure. Father Gershom not sure. Big talk fight. Father
Gershom say no doctor comes. Pigeon says yes. The Blair will get the
doctor."

She smiled up at him.

"Fawn also says."

The Borough of Columbus was dead. The Governor had gone home
to his farm, the legislature had gone home to theirs. Nothing was being
bought, nothing sold. The lawyer had stabled his horse and walked
inside The Swan. Jarvis Pike said, "Don't mind tellin' ya, Jonathan,
we're sorry he licked ya."

Blair flared, "He?"

"Well don't curl up at me, Blair! You shoulda known . . . nobody
fights Schaacht/'

"Schaacht didn't lick us! It was John Marshall's Supreme Court
made the decision."

"Sure," Pike said, wetting the end of a Conestoga cigar. "Sure."

"Well, wasn't it?"

"Sure."

"What could Schaacht have to say about that?"

"All right, the case before the Supreme Court was McCulloch vs.
Maryland, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Not Maryland vs. McCulloch, but McCulloch vs. Maryland."

"All right. All right."

"Now Mr. McCulloch is who? He's cashier of the United States Bank
branch in Maryland isn't he?"

Blair sat down, heavy.

Pike reached to the hearth for a coal for his cigar. He sucked fire
through the Conestoga, but his eyes right-angled toward Blair. "Now
I'm just a woods-born tavernkeep," he said. "But even I'd have sense
enough, if I was in Schaacht's shoes, to get word to the mother bank
at Philadelphia. I'd point out if Ohio can run the United States

ST. GERSHOM
Bank out of Ohio, every other state can run it out, too." Pike blew
smoke. "Seems clear enough to me why Mr. McCulloch chooses to make
a little test trial in front of old man Marshall just about now."

Blair didn't speak.

"Now you gonna tell me Schaacht didn't have anything to do with

all this?" Pike asked.

"But that was just a little squabble over a matter of tax stamps to
be pasted on bank bills. A very small tax. Pennies."

"Sure. That makes yours look all the more preposterous, don't it?"

Blair was silent.

"So preposterous in fact that Schaacht isn't even worryin' about your
old tax any more. He knows the auditor won't dare to collect."

"How do you know?"

"I don't hear anything about the United States Bank packin' up or
closin' down or hirin' wagons to haul itself back home."

And Blair knew it was true. There had been no sign that the bank
was closing down. There were many signs that they were laughing at
the tax law. It was uncollectable, unenforceable, and no threat at all.

"And y'see he's got it fixed now, Blair, so anything y'do, you're not
just fightin' little old Schaacht any more, you're fightin' the whole
bloomin' sixteen branches of the United States Bank, from Boston to
Louisville. Schaacht plumb lifted the fight right out of your hands."

"How do you mean?"

Pike laughed, but he saw Blair was not joking. "Well, no offense
meant, Blair, but isn't very likely, is it, that a little old woods lawyer
like you is gonna take on the whole bloomin' general government?"

A brazen voice said, "I don't know as that 'ud be such an uneven
match!"

The flat of a thick hand stung Blair's shoulders. It was Jackson
Garth. It was great to see that wide-based stance of Garth, his broad,
grinning face.

Garth and Bela Hult had agreed to meet here to talk to the Frank
lin Bank. Both their districts had been hit hard by Schaacht's fore-
closures and they were seeking financial relief.

Schaacht's lash had marked Bela Hult's face. His Poland-China
jowls now hung limp, more like the wattles of a turkey cock. He said,
"Blair, how'd you happen to start this whole thing?"

238 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

It had been such a long road that Blair had to think back. "To
save a nock of sheep/' he finally said.

"For a client?"

"Not exactly a client."

In his mind Blair could see Hope Emerson Christofferson sitting
on the porch of the store in Mesopotamia. He could see the sheep being
led up onto the porch one at a time. He said, "And damn it, we've
got the law passed, Bela, and we're going to make it work!"

"But we're findin' out a law isn't a law," Hult said, "until somebody
tries to use it or break it. Until then it's just words. And the bank
won't even have to break this law. It won't be enforced."

Blair was on his feet walking out of the tavern.

"Where you going, Blair?"

"To give them a chance to break it."

Blair found the auditor's office on the second floor of the long,
shedlike building next to the statehouse. But he found himself look
ing at the back of a man seated at a desk, writing. Since he didn't
recognize the man's back, he knocked. The seated one said, "Come in."
And he continued to write, much in the manner Schaacht had with
intruders. Blair walked in. When he came even with the desk the
auditor rose to greet his caller. Blair looked at him full in the face.

"Boldingl"

"Yes, Jonathan." Bolding smiled and put his hands in his pants
pockets, rocking back and forth from his toes to his heels, "I'm getting
experience in all phases of government, you see. Won't you sit down?"

Blair stood.

After several moments of looking at each other Blair said, "I guess
between you and me there's not much sense to waste time in talk. I've
come to see if the auditor is preparing to collect the bank tax."

"Need I answer?"

"That's why I'm here."

"Blair, you know there's going to be no tax collected. You heard
about the Marshall decision."

"Bolding, I don't know how you got to be auditor of this state.
But you don't take your orders from John Marshall. You take 'em
from the legislature. We ordered you to collect a tax of one hundred
thousand dollars from the United States Bank if they haven't quit
business by September 15. And I'm appointing myself a committee of
one to see you do your duty."

ST. GERSHOM 239

"You don't think the Federal Government is going to stand by and
let me collect that tax do you, Blair?"

* "If the Federals stop you that's one thing. But just see it isn't you
that stops you."

"Well, what do you want me to do, Mr. Blair?"

"I want to see some preparations going on here for collecting that
the tax/ "

"Like what?"

"Like appointing a collector to collect the tax and instructing him
in the provisions of Section five of the law."

"Blair, I confess the chances of collecting the tax are so farfetched
that I haven't troubled myself with Section five of your bill."

Blair burned. "Section five says., 'the person appointed collector by
the auditor shall enter the bank and demand immediate payment of
the tax. Should he be refused, it becomes his duty to proceed by
violence if necessary to levy upon all monies, goods or chattels present
in the banking room. If he cannot find any monies present in the
banking room it is hereby made his duty to go into each and every
other room, vault, closet, chest, box or drawer to open and search
and seize any monies, bank notes or specie or so much as will satisfy
the tax/ "

Bolding chuckled. "Strong language."

"And explicit. You've got to collect the tax."

"In person?"

"No, you can hire a collector. We'll watch to see you appoint a
good one/'

"You'll be happy to know that I'm going through the motions,
Blair. I've already appointed a collector."

"Who?"

"Very competent man. You'll be pleased."

"Who?"

"And very eager to have the job. His qualifications were excellent.
And you'll be the first to agree that he needs the money."

"Who is it?"

"He asked me to keep it confidential."

"It's my bill, Bolding. Who is going to be collector?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"To give him some instructions. Naturally you won't take any but
the minimum measures for collecting the tax/'

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"I may be understandably lax, Blair. But the man I have chosen
is very acute. He has engaged his own assistant, and he has already
taken the first measure for the success of the collection."

"What is that?"

"He made me promise to keep his identity secret." Bolding smiled.
"Now I ask you, Blair, isn't that smarter than your course? If it is
generally known who is to make the collection, would not the man
be marked, not only by the bank and by the Federals, but by crowds
of people who would follow him and watch for excitement? Perhaps,
even bandits?"

Blair admitted, "You're right. The man uses good sense, thank good
ness." He thought it over a moment, though. "But you could tell
just me."

"He said especially not you."

"He knows me?"

"You find it hard to remember you're not just an upcounty lawyer
any more, Blair. You and your Crowbar Law are no longer a secret in
these woods."

"Why doesn't he want me to know who he is?"

"He knows that the friends who helped you put the law through
will ask you who is to collect. He said it would be hard for you to
refuse to tell."

"The man sounds good," Blair admitted. "But how come you would
choose such a good man for the job?"

Bolding smiled. "Put it this way, Jonathan. The tax is not going
to be collected anyhow. So I can afford to appoint a good man. Second,
if I appointed an incompetent, your side would scream until I had to
replace him, perhaps with a superior man."

"Uh-huh. But how come suddenly you keep your promise of secrecy
to this man so scrupulously?"

Bolding smiled again, "Because, if by some chance or by some
overt act, the tax should be collected . . ." Bolding shrugged his coat
closed in front and buttoned it ". . . this is the man we'd most like
to see jailed."

"Jailed! What says he'll be jailed?"

"Stealing a hundred thousand dollars is grand larceny in any man's
court, isn't it, Jonathan?" Bolding smiled. "If you taught me correctly,
and if I read John Marshall's decision correctly."

THE MARKSMEN 241

Before returning to Mesopotamia Blair rode south o Columbus a
way to knock on the door of a cabin belonging to a certain Saul Brooks.

Brooks turned out to be an abrupt blond youngish man with blue
eyes that asked your business as quickly as possible.

Blair asked him if he would come up to the Indian town at Upper
Sandusky to stop the pox there.

"No."

Blair said they would give him a square of land.

"I don't want land."

"What do you want? Maybe I have it or can get it."

"Money."

Blair's scorn must have shown through.

"Don't be too smug, Mister," the doctor defended. "You might want
money, too, if you'd been forced to practice medicine this far north
just because you didn't have a certificate from a medical college. That
takes money. I want it."

Blair was looking at a closed door. He shrugged. He had tried.

But as he rode into Mesopotamia he knew he hadn't tried hard
enough. In front of his cabin, The Pigeon waited with Gershom.

Chapter IS: THE MARKSMEN

IT WAS an effort for Blair to talk to Hope

nowadays. Because while she talked he was studying the curve of her
eyebrows and the composure in her eyes, the precise little groove which
ran from her nose to the center of her lip. He was thinking how
she would look in his cabin, and he was visualizing the giant
Chris tofferson moving around in the room in her cabin, the one with
the curtains and the rug and the mirror. At such times the lawyer's
gaze was larceny; and he felt somehow that Hope knew it, though she
made no sign.

"What did you say, Hope?"

"I said I know it's not your concern, Jonathan, but is Brute any-

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer
ways mixed in your business about collecting the tax from the bank
down in Chillicothe? He isn't, is he?"

"Why should you think so?" Blair was alert.

"No good reason, Jonathan. Except he's been up where those Fed
erals are target practicing. Gave me notions. He says no, though."

Til go see what I make of it, Hope. Let you know."

Blair found Armstrong at the foot of the knoll where Stikes tested
new rifles. But the strange sight was Armstrong standing beside
Christofferson wholeheartedly explaining, "Now after you've taken the
slack out of the trigger just hold that front sight on the target and
squeeze the trigger. Don't hold your breath, but only squeeze while
you breathe out."

They both looked up at Blair, questioning.

"Just seems like odd company, the two of you," Blair said.

Armstrong grinned. "Yeah. Looks that way. But Christofferson asked
would we teach him a thing or two about shooting better. Why not?
Better I get to know him, better chance I'll find where he's got those

sheep hid."
Christofferson grinned. "You might as well give up, Major. You 11

never find 'em."
The two men fired alternately. Both fired well. Armstrong slightly

tetter.

Blair said, "What's all the special target practice for, Armstrong?

Armstrong tossed his pistol to Mulvane to be cleaned and loaded.

"Just this, Blair. I've finally got a chance to get off this sheep hunt.
You gave it to me. If an attempt is made by the State of Ohio to
collect that tax of yours, I'm to stop it. We're going down to Chilli
cothe. And if we do this job right they tell me that I ..." Armstrong
looked down at the weathered major's leaves on his shoulder straps,
"Well, don't worry, we will. There's nobody going to collect that tax."

Armstrong fired. Christofferson fired. Mulvane examined the target
and called back that the major was on the bull, the sheep raiser was
two fingers left.

Armstrong said, "Christofferson, you're turning your wrist as you

squeeze off."
Blair asked, "Brute, you planning to be in Chillicothe anywhere near

the middle of September?"
Christofferson studied Blair, then, "If I were ... and if it was for

THE MARKSMEN 243

what you're drivin' at, would I say so right here in front of the man
assigned to stop me?"

"I suppose not. But I promised Hope you'd not be mixed in it."

"Jonathan, I been full-grown for quite a spell now."

The major laughed.

"Who did get the job then?" Blair asked.

"I don't know. I admit I tried. Thought you'd know."

"Did you ask who got it?"

"Said the man who took the job of collectin' the tax wanted it
kept secret."

Blair studied Christofferson and his answer. So did Armstrong. Brute
said, "Fire, Major."

Armstrong fired. Christofferson fired. Mulvane reported the major
dead center. Christofferson a complete miss. Christofferson said, "I
couldn't have missed."

The corporal insisted. Christofferson said, "Take your knife and dig
out that top bullet. You'll find the major's ball right underneath
mine."

Mulvane dug. He stood there with two battered bullets in his hand
and amazement in his face.

Armstrong suddenly studied Christofferson who barely hid a grin
under the labor of reloading. Armstrong reached over deliberately and
shook the powder out of Brute's pistol and handed it back to him
slowly. "That'll be all the practice you need for today, Christofferson/'
he said gravely.

Christofferson shrugged, belted his pistol and walked awiay. Arm
strong said, "Wait!"

The big shepherd turned. Armstrong handed three half-dimes to
Mulvane. "Put them up edgewise."

Keeping his eyes on Christofferson he gestured impatiently for three
rifles. Mulvane stood back from the tree. The major had a way of
swinging a rifle up so that it just seemed to fit right into the line which
was already drawn from his eye to the target. He fired, kept his eye
on the target, handed the rifle off, swung up the next one, fired,
handed off the rifle, swung up the last one, fired. "Bring them back,
Mulvane, and put them in Mr. Christofferson's hand."

Mulvane ran to the tree, wrenched out the three coins and brought

244 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

them back. Into Christofferson's big palm he rolled three small coins,
each encased in a blob of warm lead.

Christofferson clucked his tongue in admiration and handed them
back.

"No. Keep them," Armstrong said, "as a reminder/'

Christofferson started back toward the firing line as if to give a
counter demonstration. But then he jogged the bullet-wrapped coins
into his other hand, dropped them into his pocket. "I will, Major,"
he said.

It wasn't like Christofferson to consort with his enemies. He used
to be less civilized and more honest than that. But there were other
surprises about Christofferson. The next time Blair noticed it was
when Christofferson came to his cabin accompanied by Slasher and
Ault, who did the talking. Blair did not bother to cover his disdain
for the groveling he witnessed. Ault handed him a piece of brown
paper on which had been drawn a design for a railing, the kind of a
railing you found in the Cincinnati courthouse or the Pennsylvania
statehouse. The Mesopotamia banker said, "Jonathan, you think
Schaacht would accept a thing like this as a gift from Mesopotamia?"

"Hah! Now we're going to crawl. That it?"

"We didn't come for your philosophy, Jonathan. Just your knowl
edge of Schaacht. You think he'd take it?"

"If you mean can you buy leniency with a fence? Answer is no."

Christofferson looked embarrassed. "That isn't exactly what we
asked."

Blair looked at the sample of polished walnut Slasher brought along
to show how it would be finished. The design on the paper was a
handsome thing. It was a polished walnut railing to go across the
inside of the bank to separate the customers from the desk where
Blair had first met Bolding. It was even somewhat spectacular. There
were four sections to the railing, one of which was a gate. There was
a broad rail on the top, the kind men would lean on while asking
permission to talk to Schaacht. There was a thinner rail a few inches
from the floor. And in each of the four sections, demarked by posts,
there was a round walnut medallion about twenty inches in diameter.
They looked like huge walnut coins. Each of these big wooden disks
were suspended in the centers of the sections .by four chains which
went out from the disks diagonally to hook into the corners of each
section. And in the center of each walnut medallion was an eagle,

THE MARKSMEN 245

Around the circumference of each were the words, "Bank of the United
States . . . Chillicothe."

"We can see you don't think much of the idea/' Ault said, "but
would he accept it for the bank?"

"He might do one of two things/' Blair answered. "He might be
delighted, and see in it a chance to make friends out of you. But
more likely he'll throw you out as a bunch of snivelling bribers. But
you might as well try your own way to save yourselves. He might like
it. He's ordered a new bell for the front of the bank. A bigger one
. . . louder."

Blair tossed the paper back to Ault. "Whose idea was this?"

"Christofferson's."

Christofferson colored under Blair's gaze.

"Brutel"

"The gift will be presented by Ault, though," Brute defended.
"Gavagan agreed to haul it down."

When the lawyer next saw Hope, he said, "Don't worry about your
husband being mixed in the collection of the bank tax. Don't worry
at all."

When the thing was finished, it was a beautiful job. Slasher put it
together so you couldn't find the joints and he polished it so the
grain in the wood picked up lights in the sun and gleamed like glass
under the rubbing. They loaded it on Gavagan's wagon, well-padded,
and on the fifth of September they drove south.

On the seventh of September, Major Armstrong left a four-man
garrison in Mesopotamia and pulled south with four men, mounted.

On the ninth of September Jonathan Blair was about leaving when
Chief Silver Pigeon entered the town. Blair wore blue-cloth breeches
and a leather short-coat. But he had in his saddle roll a pair of long
grey stockings, a good pair of cloth pants, a white shirt and a white
cravat. He had a saddle bag of papers. But before he had crossed the
river to the south, the Silver Pigeon intercepted him and said, "Six
Sundays we wait. No medicine doctor."

"I didn't promise you a doctor, Pigeon. I couldn't find one."

"I will go back and tell my women that. The lawyer tried, but he
could not find one/ It will make them feel good about dying."

Blair dismounted. "How many?"

"Six more since I sent Fawn here. One fighter, two women, three
cheata."

246 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair stood thinking. Pigeon goaded. "Wait until it comes to your
people, lawyer. Then you will find a doctor."

Blair flared. "Pigeon, you have brains! What is there to offer a
doctor to come up and stay at the Indian towns? Why should he
come?"

"It was you drove us up on the reserve. When we were spread out in
the woods we did not get your pox."

"Past history won't help. Why should a doctor leave where he is
and go up there?"

"We'll give him a square of land, a hundred chains on a side."

"That won't do it. Only thing I can think of would be money, and
it would take a wagon load of it."

"Then get it, lawyer,"

"Get it? Get it where?"

"From your great council."

"Pigeon, the government has paid all you have coming."

The Indian's voice hoarsened in hate, "Wait, lawyer. Wait for the
day you can't help your own flesh. You will see."

Blair said, "There's only one way, Pigeon. Give me the smartest
young brave you have. One that speaks good English. I will see if the
government will send him to Transylvania in Kentucky to the lectures.
Maybe that much I could do."

"How long . . . the lectures?"

"Three months to nine months."

"Three months! The pox is now! Three months they are dead!"

Blair stood in the glare of poison from the Indian's eyes. In frustra
tion the Indian placed his hand on the lawyer's chest and shoved. It
didn't satisfy. The Indian shoved again. And again, until Blair
bounced off the hindquarters of his own startled mount.

Blair took it ... in the name of his nation.

One hundred trail miles to the south of Mesopotamia lay sullen,
regal, Chillicothe. It should have been called New Richmond, for
here were the powerful, intelligent, self-righteous Virginians whose
parlors had become the throne rooms of the Northwest. The Tiffins,
Worthingtons, Nathaniel Massie, the Creightons, the Schaachts. As he
rode south toward Chillicothe via Columbus, Blair reflected nervously
how the Chillicothe Virginians still ran the West. In the beginning
Chillicothe had been the center of settlement. But the Yankee Puritans
had pushed in far enough to the north and west apparently to justify

THE MARKSMEN 247

a center of government at Columbus. They had moved the capitol
building to Columbus. But the governors and the major legislative
leaders still lived in Chillicothe. The Chillicothe cabal made up the
rules at home, then they rode up to Columbus to legalize in the
capital what had already been decided at dinner tables in Chillicothe.
It was perhaps justified since the population still hugged the Ohio
River. But now the presence of the United States Bank in Chillicothe
made a farce of Columbus as capital. And the governing that was
done from the chair of director of the Bank of the United States
turned the Western state-governors into lance corporals.

Unknown to the lawyer the fortress of Chillicothe was preparing for
his arrival with flattering concern. In the Cross Keys Tavern, Justin
Bolding sat down opposite Gideon Schaacht.

"Things are working according to schedule, Gideon. Major Arm
strong has arrived. He brought four men with him/'

But the young man's sitting motion was arrested. Through unmov-
ing lips Schaacht rasped, "Don't sit down here." Bolding was sur
prised, he stood with his knees frozen at the half-bent position. "You
forgetting you're auditor of this state?" Schaacht said. "Charged with
collecting a hundred thousand dollars from my bank? How do you
think you look at my table?"

"Everybody knows I worked for you."

"They will now. Sit down. It's done now."

"Just wanted to tell you the arrangements and tell you that I'm
going to tell Armstrong who the collector is, so he can be watching
for him."

"Don't tell him."

"Don't tell him?"

"That's right. Hell be more alert if he doesn't know. He'll watch
everybody."

"You act like they might actually try to collect. How can they if I
don't issue the warrant?"

"Blair may make you."

"Why do you worry about Blair so much?"

"Why don't you worry about him more?"

"Why should I, Gideon? Judge Byrd, everybody . . . says they can't
collect that tax. Even their own governor. Blair's just bull-headed blind
dumb."

Schaacht surged to within ten inches of Bolding's nose. He spaced his

248 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

hushed words in a bludgeoning monotone, "Have you got past wean
ing and not learned yet that all the monuments in this world are built
in honor of men who are bull-headed . . . blind . . . dumb!"

With less assurance Bolding now clutched at the obvious, "But
we've got the Marshall decision against him and me in the auditor's
office, what can he do?"

"Don't know. But get back up to Columbus where the auditor is
supposed to be."

"How about the injunction from Judge Byrd prohibiting me from
collecting the tax?"

"The judge has it ready. Stop and see. him. Take it with you."

Jonathan Blair walked into the office of the auditor of state in the
Borough of Columbus on the thirteenth of September.

"Bolding, I'm on my way down to Chillicothe just to see everything
goes all right You issued the auditor's warrant to your collector yet?"

"There's not to be any collection, Jonathan," Bolding said smugly,

"No collection?"

"No."

"Who says?"

Bolding was obviously prepared. He had the two papers laid out
in front of him on the blotter of his desk. He merely revolved the
blotter, shoved it toward Blair, and said, "Injunction. Signed by Judge
Byrd, United States Circuit Court sitting in Chillicothe. Prohibits
me from proceeding to collect the tax."

Bolding leaned back and folded his arms. But he then immediately
unfolded them and leaned forward for he saw no alarm on the face of
Jonathan Blair.

Blair read slowly. He read this time as a dull man reads, tracing each
word with his short finger.

"Good Lord, Blair, you can see what it is! Just look at the signature!"

Blair continued to read slowly.

"It's a simple injunction, Blair!"

Blair held his place with his finger. "You're to be envied, Bolding,
that you find eighteen hundred and nineteen years of law . . . simple.
The development of a piece of paper which will stop party number
one from injuring party number two is a miraculous substitute for
bloodshed. Any piece of paper which achieves this ... is not simple!"

THE MARKSMEN 249

After a quarter-hour of study Blair walked toward the door without
a word, forcing Bolding to demand, "Well, what did you find?"

"That you should have studied with me another six months."

Bolding showed a moment of panic. -

"You don't have an injunction there. You have the bank bill in
chancery to the court and a subpoena to answer. That doesn't add up
to injunction."

"How could a simple mistake like that be made?"

"I repeat it is not simple to stop a state from collecting a tax which
has been passed into law."

"Then if it's not simple," Bolding suggested, "how come you know all
about it?"

"Because this was a logical step for you to take and I therefore set
out to find out precisely what kind of an instrument you would need
to stop the tax."

"Where are you going?"

"To ask Judge Pease a question," Blair said.

"What question?"

"How to force you to issue the warrant to collect the tax."

The name of Judge Pease further unsettled the young auditor.
And the calm purposefulness of Blair elevated the lawyer suddenly to
a kind of equality in his mind with Schaacht, a view he had never
before taken of the woods lawyer from Mesopotamia. It had been
quite comforting a few moments ago to be on the side of Gideon
Schaacht and John Marshall. But suddenly here was a man in a buck
skin coat and in a big hurry, who said, "Bolding, you can be Schaachf s
man or' you can be auditor of this state. But you better not try to be
both."

Blair moved for the door. Bolding said, "Wait!"

The young auditor sat down and wrote the warrant ordering
collection of the tax from the United States Bank. He handed it to
Blair. "You can take it down to Chillicothe with you. On the fifteenth
of September give it to the man who hands you a half-dime embedded
in a chunk of lead. He will look for you in the Gross Keys Tavern."

"How will he know I have the warrant?"

"I told him you would probably stop to check on me, and that i
anything went wrong with the injunction I would send the warrant
by you."

250 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"And you will now rush to tell Schaacht that the tax will be
collected?"

"No. I will rush to get a new injunction."

Blair took the warrant and left. He mounted directly and rode south
toward Chillicothe. Bolding did the same.

At the Salt Creek crossing Blair pulled up short at a small fire
which smoldered there. What startled him was the presence o three
Indians. The center one was Silver Pigeon. Beside him was Squindatee
and another one whom Blair did not know.

"What brings you down here, Pigeon?"

"To find a medicine doctor, of course."

"Did you find one?"

"Yes. In the circle town we find one."

"He will come?" Blair was surprised.

"Yes."

"How soon?"

"As soon as we show him money."

"Pigeon, I'm glad."

"I know. You are not a bad man, lawyer. We will let the doctor
come to your town when your people get the sickness. You help
pay."

Blair had no sufficient thanks for this unearned generosity.

"Do not thank us, lawyer. We know."

The Indian studied him a minute, then he said, "Your horse breathes
fast. What chases you?"

"The young apprentice lawyer. The one that was with me. Re
member?"

"The handsome one? The Bolding?"

"Yes. I need to get to Chillicothe ahead of him. He will stop the
. . . you wouldn't understand, perhaps."

"He will stop the law you make? The tax?"

Blair was forever amazed at Silver Pigeon. He said, "Yes."

Pigeon sprang to his feet. "How long do you need to be ahead of
him?"

The other two sprang up, compelled by Pigeon's act.

"How long do you need?" Pigeon repeated.

"A day and a night and a day."

"Ina un du se seesta!" commanded the Pigeon. Squindatee kicked the
fire apart.

THE MARKS MEN 251

"Meshewa!"

The other Indian grabbed the horses, and the three Indians were
suddenly mounted. The Pigeon said, "Lawyer, we will slow him down.
You will have a day and a night and a day. Go!"

As Blair sat in the Cross Keys Tavern in Chillicothe a gnawing
suspicion came upon him. Watching the customers in the tavern he
saw none who would make a logical collector for a hundred-thousand-
dollar tax. Stuttgart was there, probably handling a case before Judge
Byrd's United States Circuit Court which was sitting. There were the
usual well-dressed out-of-town men who came into the Cross Keys
to fortify themselves for their interview at the United States Bank.
If one watched closely, he would see these men leave the Cross Keys,
and then he would see them come back an hour later, mad, dis
appointed or frightened.

Blair heard fragments of conversation in the tavern: "Why they
call the damn thing a bank anyway" . . . "Say they haven't made a
loan in six months" . . . "Own most of Cincinnati now. What they
gonna do with it? Answer me that! So they own it, but what good will
it do 'em?" . . . "Tomorrow's the day they're supposed to collect that
tax. Hope they do" . . . "Aye, like to see 'em run the bastards plumb
to helL"

In the midst of one overheard conversation, Blair had a strange ex
perience. He heard his own name mentioned in connection with the
tax, mentioned by a man Blair didn't know, and by a man who didn't
know him. The man used the word "Blair" as though it meant a man
who knew many things, a man to be counted on, a skillful man.
The speaker who used the word "Blair" was better dressed than Blair.
It was a strange experience for the lawyer.

But as he looked around the Cross Keys for a man whom Bolding
might have appointed collector he saw no likely person. He held the
sealed warrant in his hand, and he began to suspect that Bolding
had played him a trick.

It would have been very clever of Bolding to appoint Blair him
self, and to let Blair sit through the fifteenth of September with the
warrant in his own pocket, never realizing that he was the one em
powered to collect the tax. This would cover Bolding perfectly. He
would have complied with the Crowbar Law. It would be Blair's own
fault if the tax were not collected. It would be impossible for Blair

252 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

to explain to the legislature or to the public why the tax was not
collected.

Blair broke open the seal. The opening sentence leaped out at him:
"The bearer is hereby commanded to proceed to the United States
Branch Bank at Chillicothe on September i5th ult. to demand the
tax of $100,000 from the cashier. Should the cashier fail to comply
the bearer is commanded to proceed by violence if necessary to the
vaults of "

Blair's face burned. There was no individual named. Only "the
bearer." Surely that must be Bolding's maneuver. Blair was completely
unprepared for this. How do you collect one hundred thousand dollars
out from under the nose of a career major who is hungry for a pair
of silver eagles? Blair needed help. That's why he was so glad to
see the big pair of shoulders that waded along above the heads of
the crowd in the Cross Keys.

"Christoffersonl"

Brute turned and came eagerly over to Blair's table. The big man
sat down.

"Brute, I've got a problem." The lawyer slid the warrant over in
front of the sheep man. Christofferson read it and grinned. His answer
surprised Blair.

"I thought you'd never get here/' he folded the warrant in his big
hands.

"You thought rd never get here?"

"Yes." Christofferson reached into his pocket. On the table he laid a
blob of lead which enfolded a silver half-dime.

"You?"

"Me."

"But you were . . . with Armstrong up on the target range."

Chistofferson grinned. He pocketed the warrant. Blair asked, "Does
Armstrong know you're the one?"

"Don't think so. Might."

"But I told Hope you'd not be in this."

"Blair, there's not much time. We need your help."

"But you were in with Ault on that railing that was made as a gift
for the bank. I figured you're on the side of the bank."

"Blair, it's your time to listen. We've got things arranged so that . . ."

"Is Ault in on it?"

"No. He's gone home. You listen now. We are going to try to get

"PROCEED BY VIOLENCE" 253

the money out of the bank. But there's only two of us, Gavagan and
me. We want you to do two things: first, you be with Schaacht at five
o'clock tomorrow. Wherever he is, you be with him. And second,
join us as soon as you can on the Scioto Road, north. If we are fol
lowed we will drop the money with you and let them chase us north
in an empty wagon. The best place to hide the money for a while will
be right here in Chillicothe. You bring it back here somewhere."

Blair nodded, speechless.

"We will come back for you, or well send somebody."

"Christofferson, one question. What are you doing this for?"

"For two thousand dollars."

"Then I guess you'll do a good job.*'

Chapter 16: "PROCEED BT

VIOLENCE"

AT five o'clock on the fifteenth day of Sep
tember, year of 18 and 19, J. Blair, lawyer, leaned against the long
draught board in the tavern known as Cross Keys, town of Chillicothe,
Territory North and West of The Ohio River.

He drew on his cigar with the extra deep pull that is only enjoyed
by a throat numbed by drink. His face had the grin of cordiality that
flushes out of a mug of sour-mash whisky. And he talked to his com
panion at the rail spontaneously, just as though his unguarded geni
ality were perfectly reciprocated by the tall sober army officer.

For the fifth time in as many minutes he offered a cigar to the
major who refused again. The two had their backs to the bar. The
major also declined drink. He studied the lawyer carefully.

A tall man wearing a white cravat and a white gold-threaded waist
coat rose from one of the tables and came over to confront the two.
The tall one grinned and said, "Mr. Blair, you're giving a poor imita
tion of a man overindulging his cup." The tall one turned to the
major, "Major, I don't know whether it's for your benefit or mine.
But I know Mr. Blair didn't come all the way down to Chillicothe

254 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

to drink whisky. I suggest when Mr. Blair drinks he drinks for a
purpose, and I suggest you get on over to the bank and see if there s
anything going on."

The major left.

The tall man took the major's place at the bar. The lawyer pulled
out a cigar, "Have a cigar, Mr. Schaacht."

Schaacht declined. But Blair had the aggressive hospitality of the
draught room. Schaacht accepted the weed with dawning amusement
and studied the lawyer as he bit the end off between large even teeth.

"Maybe you are in your cups at that, Blair. I heard you used to

drink a lot."

"You know a lot about me, eh, Mr. Schaacht?"

The man behind the bar handed forward a burning stick which
Schaacht applied to his cigar, all the while studying Blair. Smoke came
out of his mouth as he said, "I know enough to suspect you're sober
as Judge Byrd right this minute."

Blair laughed genially and as he did so whisky from his tankard
sloshed up and arched over onto the gold-threaded white waistcoat.
Schaacht's face contracted and his hand flashed to his pocket kerchief
which he used to brush off his waistcoat. His mouth clamped his cigar.

Blair whipped out his own handkerchief, "I'm sorry, sir. Let me

Schaacht brushed him aside. But Blair insisted. "I'll get that vest
washed. I'll get you a drink."

Schaacht straightened up and watched the lawyer. The vexation on
his face turned to amused assurance as he reappraised the lawyer.
"You have had a few at that, Blair. It's all right. Leave it. Bernard!
Another whisky for the lawyer . . . and myself."

The tankards were refilled and Schaacht dapped the lawyer on the

back cordially.

"You and your boys have come down for the hundred thousand
dollars, no doubt, Mr. Blair?" Schaacht threw his head back and
laughed. "Let's have another round right away, Bernard, to toast Mr.
Blair's coming for the hundred thousand!"

The big man's laugh was taken up in a ripple that washed along
the length of the crowded bar.

Blair slapped his mug down on the bar and laughed with them. "I'll
drink to that!" he grinned. "Where the hell is my hundred thousand
dollars?"

"PROCEED BY VIOLENCE" 255

The laugh surged off the end of the bar and around the room. Men
looked up from tables and grinned. A few scowled at Blair in dis
appointment.

"How will you have it, sir?" Schaacht roared. "In twenties or tens
or solid bullion?"

Blair grasped his chin in thought. "Well, if it's all the same to you,
sir, I'll take it in quarters. I brought a wagon along to haul it in."

Schaacht laughed. Blair laughed. The long line of loungers laughed
at the most fantastic proposal ever.

Brutus Christofferson stood at the new walnut rail in the bank.
Riddle took the twenty dollar United States Bank note from him
and counted into his palm a handful of silver and copper and gold.
"We don't usually redeem such small notes in specie," he said irritably.

"I know," Christofferson said. "But I thought I better redeem this
bill in coin before those critters collect that tax from you folks. They
told me you might not be able to redeem after that."

Riddle sighed in strained tolerance at this quip which was already
stale to his ears, "There'll be no tax collected from this bank."

"Well, just in case," Christofferson said.

"All right. There's your money."

"I'm not familiar with all these different kinds of coins. So I'll just
go over to the bench there and count them careful."

"It's all there," Riddle turned to other business, marvelling at the
stupidity of the woodsmen in this country.

Christofferson sat at the bench counting and recounting the coins
as though he had never seen coins before.

Major Armstrong walked in. "Anything happen, Riddle?"

"No. Been quiet."

"Well, don't forget, Mulvane is right outside the door. You holler
if anything looks foul."

Armstrong turned to Christofferson. "Cash in a note, Christoffer
son?"

"Yeah, thought I'd best cash it before they collect that tax."

Armstrong grinned at Riddle and shrugged. Then he said, "Brute,
when you go back up to Mespo will you take a message back to my
men?"

"Sure."

"When you leaving?"

256 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Tonight. Better write it out now/'

Armstrong stood at the extreme left edge of the new walnut rail
ing, writing a note.

Christofferson rose and walked to the extreme right edge of the
railing. He rubbed his hand over the smooth walnut, as if admiring
Slasher's work, which in fact he was. Neither the major nor the
cashier paid any attention as his big hands felt along the near edge
of the railing. Nor did they notice when his fingernail found a joint
in the apparently solid walnut railing. Christofferson's fingernail ran
along a three-foot length of the walnut, and quietly lifted off a curved
section, revealing a trough in the rail.

Armstrong finished the note, folded it and turned toward Christ-
offerson. But the note fell from his hands. The major was looking
at two black holes in the muzzles of two Stikes-built hand guns.

The major's hands were starting to rise in slow amazement.

"No, Major. Don't lift the hands. Put them in the pants pockets/'

"You! You're the one?"

"Put yours in your pockets, too, Mr. Riddle," Christofferson said.

Christofferson held the pistols low, beneath the window level.
Armstrong said, "Christofferson, I'll teach you to hang."

"You might, Major. But don't forget you also taught me to shoot."

Armstrong exhaled through his teeth, "Damnit yes. I even taught
you to shoot."

"Major, move over to that railing and unhook the four chains
that hold that big walnut disk with the bank crest on it."

Armstrong looked confused. But then he walked over and unhooked
the four chains which extended out from the round medallion to the
four corners of the first section of railing, which was the gift to the bank
from Mesopotamia. It left him holding a large round medallion
twenty inches in diameter from which extended four substantial chains
with hooks on the ends. When it had been a part of the railing it
had looked purely decorative. But now that he held it in his hands
Armstrong noticed that it lost all decorative appearance and seemed
like a tool of some kind.

Christofferson eyed both Riddle and Armstrong like a sheep dog
as he laid one gun down on the railing long enough to extract the
warrant from his pocket. He snapped it open with one hand and let
it glide through the air to land at Riddle's feet.

"Don't move your feet, Riddle. Just bend over far enough to read

"PROCEED BY VIOLENCE" 257

that paper. You'll see it says to give me one hundred thousand dollars,
and you'll see it's signed by your old friend Bolding."

Riddle read it.

"This is preposterous. We have had an injunction issued forbidding
this collection."

"I don't know anything about that part. How are we going to do
this? You going to hand it over? Or do we do like it says in the third
paragraph?"

Riddle read the third paragraph:

". . . after demand and refusal of payment of aforesaid tax, if he
cannot find in the banking room sufficient monies, the collector is
hereby commanded to enter and search every closet, vault, chest,
box, strong box, and to seize forcibly sufficient monies to satisfy
the terms of this . . /*

"It's unbelievable!" Riddle straightened up. "If you get it you'll have
to seize it."

Riddle moved three steps sideways toward the bell pull-rope in the
hall that led to the back.

"Stand still! Where were you going, Mister?"

"To pull the bell rope," Riddle said.

"No! Stand still!"

"I always ring the bell at five and a quarter o'clock," Riddle said.

"But it should only ring once. You would ring an alarm."

"All I want to do is . . ."

Armstrong barked, "At ease, Riddle! You're not dealing with a fool!
He's a cute one. I know him. Stand still."

Riddle said petulantly, "Then he should want the bell to ring on
time as usual."

Christofferson said, "The bell will ring."

"It will ring?" Riddle laughed. "How will it ring?"

Armstrong looked at the railing, studying if he could grab Christ
offerson when he tried to get over the railing to the bell pull-rope.

"No, Major," Brute said. "I will not try to ring it. But it will ring/ 1

Riddle laughed.

"By your clock," Brute said, "it needs two and a half minutes yet
till ringing time. We will stand still for two and a half minutes and
then the bell will ring."

258 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Christofferson knew it was a dangerous two and a half minutes. In
two and a half minutes someone could come to the door of the bank.
In two and a half minutes Armstrong could do a lot of thinking,
and Christofferson knew it would be good thinking. So he said, "Major,
I didn't plan you'd be here like this. And I don't want you to think
for two and a half minutes because you might think of something
I didn't think of. So I'll talk."

"It's all right, Christofferson. Keep quiet. We'll just wait it out."

"No. I'd rather tell you how I figure. I figure you're thinking I
won't shoot because a shot would alarm your men. Then I'd not be
able to get the money. And you're right about that part."

"Just keep quiet, Christofferson."

"But if I was just interested in the idea of Mr. Blair's tax I could
shoot because this warrant says I can. But I got to confess I'm not too
much carried off by Blair's tax on principle; I want the two thousand
dollars that goes to the collector. It's not the principle, it's the money.
So I'd likely not fire off a gun to alert your men. That would stop me
gettin' my hands on the two thousand. I know you'll figure that far.
But what you might not figure . . ."

"At ease, Christoffersonl We're waiting, like you said! What more
you want?"

"I know, but you might not figure this way . . . that if I get the two
thousand I can get Hope some more sheep. But if I don't get it, and if
I can get rid of you, I can bring her own sheep back down out of the
woods."

"You aren't the kind, Christofferson, to shoot a man down for a few
miserable sheep."

"I know it, Major. I don't feel like that kind of man either. I'm
not sure myself if I would fire or if I wouldn't. But all I know is there's
not much I wouldn't do to keep from facin' Hope to tell her you
caught up with the sheep, and me havin' none to take their place for
her. And truth is, you been gettin' kind of close to our hidin' place
a couple times this summer."

"What's all this talk add up to?"

"Just wanted you to know, if you was to break away right now
and make a grab for me or holler for one of your men, I. don't know
if I'd have the gump to squeeze off these triggers or not. Probably not.
But I'm that far into this thing now, I wouldn't bet much on myself
not to."

"PROCEED BY VIOLENCE" 259

"Don't worry, I'll not chance it."

"Well, I know this fat one over here won't. But I figured you
might . . . knowin' me as well as you do after all these months of
chasin' me. I think if I was in your place I might chance it, knowing
me like I do."

"Sounds too much like an invitation," Armstrong said dryly. "Be
sides, you still haven't got the money out of this building yet, nor
out of the town."

"That's true. I think we got that figured, though."

"Doubt it. You probably know where my men are stationed. They
can see the back and the front."

"That's true. You did an almighty good job of placin' them. We
might not make it. But I hope we do."

"We?"

"Well, I don't want to go into that."

Armstrong looked at the clock.

"Minute to go yet," Brute said. "I hope you'll keep standin' there
like that."

"Shut up, will you! I'm waiting!"

"Some day," Christofferson said after a while, "if this miserable
money trouble clears up, you and I ought to have a drink like men,
Major, instead of ... like we are."

"Shut up, and do whatever you're going to do."

"Only half a minute more, Major."

Over in the Cross Keys Tavern Gideon Schaacht pulled his large
ornate watch from a small pocket over his flat stomach. He opened
the cover and said, "Well, Mr. Blair, I guess you won't be collecting
the hundred thousand today. We close up in about half a minute."

Blair snapped limp fingers in sodden anguish. "Here I went and
waishted the whole af'ernoon! Well, what time you open up 'morrow
morning, Mr. Schaacht?"

The crowd laughed. But Schaacht didn't laugh. "Blair, you aren't
the joking kind. I think I just better explain a few things to you.
We've got an injunction against this ridiculous tax of yours."

"I know that. And you've got your boy in the auditor's office."

"That's right, Blair. Then why aren't you more worried?"

"I a-a-m worried, Schaacht. Wouldn' you worry if you jus' lost
hunderd thousan' dollars?"

The crowd laughed.

260 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"And we've ordered a new bell for the bank that can be heard all
over town."

"I heard about that/' Blair said.

"And I know what Christoferson is down here for."

"I suppose you do."

"And I also know you wouldn't be happy to have anything happen
to him. Wouldn't make you exactly a hero up in your town. They
like him. Especially his wife."

"That's right."

"So I'd just like to take you out and show you where Armstrong's
men are posted. I want to show you what would happen to a man
that tried to take a trunkful of money out of that bank."

"Just le's have one more, Misser Schaacht, 'fore we inspect the breas'-
works. Bernard! Whisky for Misser Schaacht."

Schaacht scratched his chin.

In the United States Branch Bank in Chillicothe the clock on the
wall suddenly cleared its throat like an old hen and three men snapped
their heads to watch. The long ornate minute-hand backed up a
quarter-inch and kicked a few times to scratch itself, then it jumped
forward a half-inch to register a quarter beyond five o'clock.

Riddle said, "Hahl There it goes, seel Fifteen after five and your bell
isn't going to . . ."

But the banker's jowl quivered and his scalp moved.

O-n-g-g-g-g-g!

The faint crack of a distant rifle drifted into the room seconds
after the bell rang. Perhaps only the three men in this room plus one
other knew how the bell was rung that day in Chillicothe. Christoffer-
son did not have time to enjoy their amazement.

"Major, step over to the door and shove home that bolt!"

Armstrong tarried over the job, but he complied.

"Riddle, lead the way back into the vault! Hands stay in your
pocket! Walk wide of that bell rope! Major, follow Riddle!"

In the vault room Christofferson said, "Open it, Riddle."

Riddle hesitated.

Armstrong said, "Riddle, I taught him to shoot. Open it. He can't
get it out of the building anyhow."

Riddle unlocked the vault with a key. He swung back an iron door.

"Start counting, Mr. Riddle. I want the larger bills, so there won't
be so much to tote. But I want it in United States Bank notes."

"PROCEED BY VIOLENCE" 261

"We don't have a hundred thousand in only United States Bank
notes."

"Then give me what you've got. Then go to the other kind. Mr.
Blair said John Piatt notes are pretty good. And any eastern notes
will be all right. And we'll take all the gold eagles you have. Com
mence."

Riddle counted money into a cloth bag.

Outside the bank building a wagon pulled up, driven by Matthew
Gavagan. Gavagan dismounted. Mulvane said, "When are you men
going back up to Mespo?"

"Be leavin' tonight, I guess."

"When you go back up, the sergeant wants you to take some mail
and a message back up to the rest of the platoon."

"All right."

"What's on the wagon, Gavagan?"

"The smith had me to bring this new bell over for the bank. Guess
they're gonna put it up tonight. Hell be along soon."

"Oh."

Inside the vault of the United States Branch Bank Brutus Christoffer-
son said, "How much you got now, Mr. Riddle?"

"Depends on how you compute it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you count the John Piatt notes as a discount of only 20 per
cent, we've already got ... let me see . . ."

"Let me heft the bag," Christofferson shouldered Riddle aside im
patiently.

"It hefts like a hundred thousand. Pick it up now."

"I'll want a receipt, Christofferson."

"You'll get your receipt from the treasurer of the State of Ohio.
Now carry it up those stairs to the second floor."

Riddle looked surprised. So did Armstrong.

"Riddle, you go first. Major, you're next."

As they climbed the stairs Brute said, "Don't get near that bell
rope. I'm that far in this now that I'm a mite flustered. Any loud
ringin' noise would like to set my fingers jumpin'."

At the top of the stairs the shepherd said, "Riddle, open the little
door there to the bell. Reach outdoors and slide the bell in this way
on the railing. Pull it inside the building."

262 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Riddle moved slowly, exploring every opportunity he might have
to set off an alarm. But Christofferson stood close to him.

"Good, Riddle. Now tip the bell easy on its side, and mind the
clapper/'

Riddle rotated the bell and Christofferson shoved a table under it
with his foot.

"Now cram that bag of bullion and notes inside the bell. That's what
I saidl Inside the bell!"

Riddle complied and stood back smugly, because the arrangement
was far from satisfactory. The money slid out of the smooth inner
surface of the bell. But Hussong said, "Now Major, if Slasher's work
is as good as usual, that walnut disk should just fit inside the lip of
that bell. Fit it in there."

Armstrong looked at the walnut medallion and then at the cashier.
Both of them looked at the disk as though seeing it for the first time.

"Go ahead, Major."

Tranced, Armstrong moved to the bell. He fitted the disk into the
lip of the bell, and many things now fit together. The very bevel on
the edge of the walnut medallion, which had appeared to be strictly
decorative, fit the skew of the bell so that as Armstrong pressed it
into place, air flushed out around it.

"Now if you'll just take those four chains, Riddle, and loop them up
so they meet at the top of the bell, they should just hook together
nice."

In amazement Riddle looped the chains up over the top of the
bell and struggled to connect the hooks.

"It'll be a tight fit, Riddle. You'll have to force it."

Riddle complied and stepped back from the bell. Christofferson did
not step closer, but he squinted sharply at the connection.

"Now, Mr. Riddle, that isn't a good fit you made there. That one
hook doesn't look all the way in."

"That's as far as it'll go."

"You think it'll hold?"

"Looks like it would."

"Well, would you be satisfied to be suspended from it, hooked that
way?"

Riddle shuddered and moved quickly to the bell. With the heel of
his fleshy hand he pounded the hook. It snapped suddenly into place,
giving the whole container a nice adjustment. The eagle was outer-

"PROCEED BY VIOLENCE" 263

most on the walnut medallion, and the words "United States Bank
. . . Chillicothe" were carved in a circle around it.

Christofferson carefully laid one gun down within snatching dis
tance. He drew a knife and sawed it through the bell pull rope
which he held fast under his foot. He sheathed the knife and pulled
the bell rope up through the hole in the floor, handing one end to
Armstrong.

"A cavalry knot please, Major, tied to the chain at the top of the
bell."

Armstrong complied and then Christofferson motioned him back.
The big man again carefully laid one pistol down no more than ten
inches from his hand. He grabbed the rope, wound it several times
around his sledge-sized forearm, placed his foot on the bell and pulled,
testing the knot. Satisfied, he snaked the rope out through the bell
door so that the end of it fell over the top of the bell support-bracket
and then down to the ground outside.

He watched the rope until he saw the slack suddenly go out of it.
Then he turned to the cashier, "Mr. Riddle, I want you to call out
two words, not real loud, just a turkey gobble above normal. Call out
lower away/ But do it quietly just once to kind of practice. And
if you call out anything else, I reckon you know I'm scairt enough
now that the shakin' of my miserable arm is near squeezin' off this
hand gun without you excite me none,"

"Lower away," the cashier said with an excess of caution.

"Pretty fair," Christofferson said. "But your fiddle strings are screwed
too tight. Make it deeper and relaxed like you talk to a man that's
trying to borrow money. Once more, quiet like."

Riddle promptly pulled his chin in against his jowls to deepen his
voice and to show obedience. "Lower away!"

"That's just nice, Mr. Riddle. Now put more wind in it."

"Lower away!" the cashier boomed.

Christofferson pressed his boot against the bell so it just cleared
the shelf. Instantly he resumed his guard stance, one hand gun-bear
ing directly on the major's middle, the other on the cashier's. The
three watched the rope slide slowly over the bracket.

Outside the bank and below the bell, Matthew Gavagan payed the
rope out slowly through his hands, lowering the bell gently. The
slowness and apparent ease with which he handled the rope indicated
a light load. But ex-Corporal Mulvane, beside him, noticed the rope

264 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

left red marks on the heel of Gavagan's hand and on his forearm.
He was about to remark, but Gavagan said, "Mulvane, just take this
rope and pay it out easy while I back the wagon under it. Want to set
the old bell right on the tail of the wagon so's it won't be too tough
to unload. Thank ye."

Mulvane leaned his rifle against the wall of the bank and fed the
rope out, though by misjudging the weight he let it slip a bit too much
at first.

The sergeant came roaring across the road. "Mulvane!" He stormed
up to the corporal boiling over at his cracked sun-baked lips in a
steady stream. "Mulvane! How many times do I tell you that when
you're on guard duty for me you keep that rifle in your hands. I don't
care if they cut your head off, you keep that rifle in your hands until
I relieve you. Understand?"

Gavagan took back the rope.

Mulvane said, "Hell, he only asked me to give him a ..."

"Never mind what he only asked. If Jesus Christ or the major him
self asks you . . . when I say 'guard under arms/ I mean 'guard under
arms.' That means a gun, not a rope. You need somethin* done you
call me. Understand?"

Mulvane grabbed up his rifle. The sergeant took the rope from
Gavagan. "I'll do anything needs doin'. Just you keep that rifle in
your hands like it was growed there."

The sergeant lowered the bell absently as he eyed his errant guard.
Gavagan leaped up on the wagon and pulled out his knife. The bell
jarred the wagon.

"Heavy damn bell," the sergeant observed.

"Yeah, them bells are heavier'n they look," Gavagan said.

Gavagan sliced the rope. He handed the cut end to the sergeant and
said, "Now would ya just be tyin' that rope to the new bell there,
Sergeant? I thank ye."

Gavagan jumped down from the wagon, slammed up the tailgate ancj.
drove home the bolts.

"Hurry up, Christofferson!" he yelled. "We're ready!" The sergeant
looked a query. "With the new bell," Gavagan explained.

Keeping his eyes aloft Gavagan walked over behind ex-Corporal
Mulvane. "Can I take a drink out of your canteen, Corporal? No,
you hold your gun, like the sergeant says. I'll get it."

Still watching aloft, Gavagan untied the leather pouch on the back

"PROCEED BY VIOLENCE" 265

of Mulvane's shot belt. He took out the wooden bottle, drank, and let
a little run off the lip of the bottle and under the frizzen and over
the flash pan of Mulvane's rifle lock which was near the soldier's hip.
He returned the bottle to the pouch, wiped his mouth and exhaled in
loud appreciation. "Ah, nothing like water to dampen your stomach."
Then louder, "Hurry up, Ghristofferson!"

Aloft on the second floor of the United States Branch Bank Christ-
offerson said to the cashier, "Now once more, Mr. Riddle, call out,
'Hoist 'er up!' "

ChristofEerson looked down at his shaking hands which drew Riddle's
attention to the same, and the cashier anxiously boomed out, "Hoist
'er up!"

The three watched the rope travel over the brace in the opposite
direction now.

Chris to fferson waggled his two-hand guns herding the major and the
cashier over to the far side of the room. "Lie down on your stomachs,
your feet toward me."

They looked at the nervous face of Brute ChristofEerson and they
complied quickly.

"I don't mind tellin' you both I'm a little conflustered at this point.
Like you said, Major, this is the worst part right here. So I'm just
sayin' the longer you lay there the better. I know you'll do what you
have to do soon as you figure I'm gone. That's all right. But it'll
be up to you to decide when I'm gone. Wouldn't hurry it none."

Christofferson belted one pistol and removed his boots with his
free hand. Armstrong's head moved.

"No, I'm not gone yet!"

Armstrong's head elaborately hit the floor.

Christofferson walked out on the bell shelf just as the new bell
clanked up against the bracket. He tossed his boots and his other
pistol into Gavagan's wagon below. He stooped to get a good grip
on the bell rope and he swung his body off the bell shelf. As the big
man's hands burned down the rope his heavy body slammed against
the side of the bank and twirled. The baffled sergeant below held onto
the rope and was jerked forward, but recovered to watch the big man
slide down toward him. But before he could make sense of it a large
pair of wool feet smothered his face and shoved him to the ground.

Christofferson hit the ground. Gavagan leaped to the box of the
wagon. Brute grabbed the tailgate and vaulted over. Gavagan cracked

266 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

the silk over the horses . . . who plunged the rig west in a clatter of
fright.

From his back on the ground the sergeant yelled, 'Tire! lor God's
sake, fire!"

Mulvane squeezed off his trigger which delivered a sickening phsst
to his ear and a wet glob of black powder to his eye.

Gavagan leaped back off the box to kneel low in the wagon bed
where Christofferson was already on his belly.

At the corner of First and Water Roads a long black barrel stabbed
out the second-floor window to flash in the setting sun. The horses
surged in fright as a point blank explosion filled the street.

Gavagan caught the glint off another barrel which swung in a track
ing arc from the first floor windows at First and Church. Gavagan
hawed sharp to the right giving the rifle the narrowness of the tail
gate. He heard the ripping of wood beside him and he raised up to
explode the silk over the heads of the frenzied team before they could
reload.

Then there was nothing but the plunging pandemonium of the
wagon hammering north over the hard clay ruts and fossilized hoof
marks of Church Street toward the Cross Keys Tavern.

Gideon Schaacht's mouth was still ajar listening for more rifle shots
when he looked down to see an extremely sober Jonathan Blair open
ing a brass padlock in haste. He was about to speak, but the lawyer
was gone. Schaacht moved swiftly to follow through the crowd which
was already surging for the door, some already out.

Jonathan Blair forced his way out the door and then turned to slam
the door shut against the crowd. By a steady push he was unable to
close it against the human bodies which thrust out through it. So he
suddenly opened it wide throwing them off balance and then he
slammed it home and threw his shoulder against it long enough to
slip the lock through the hasp and snap it shut.

The wagon did not stop, but it slowed up, the wild-eyed horses not
knowing what to expect. Blair grabbed the gunnel between the front
and rear wheels and sprang up onto the side. Christoffierson rose up
and hauled him in. Gavagan cracked the silk over the terrified team.

Chapter 17: TO SATISFY THIS

WARRANT

THE WAGON rammed north through the

woods. The right rear wheel flung a spoke far ahead of the team. Yet
the team moved so fast that the off-mare's chest ran into it before it
hit the ground.

Gavagan gave the mare no time to worry. He exploded the cracker
over her ears and they hammered north; the wagon timber creaked,
crosstree bolts screeched; they surged and lurched up the Columbus
Road. Blair was thankful Stikes had built special axles for Gavagan's
wagon.

Christofferson lay on his belly where Blair could see the dark red
spot on his right trouser leg spread at the calf.

"Brute, you got to get those pants off and look at itl You're hiti"

"Not yet." Christofferson hammered the chain coupling loose at the
top of the bell.

From his kneeling position at the lines Gavagan turned his head
long enough to yell, "Christofferson, you're hit. Open up them pants
and see to it!"

Blair crawled forward and grabbed Christofferson's short boots.
But the knife edge of the big man's hand cracked down on Blair's
wrist bashing it on the bed of the wagon.

"Not yet!" he yelled, and he counted out one hundred gold eagles
from the tax money. Over the rushing wind he yelled, "Blair, I'm
takin' a thousand of mine in gold coins. The other thousand in
United States Bank notes. And I'm takin* it now. You want to count
to see I'm only takin' two thousand?"

"The hell with that!" Blair yelled. "Open up those pants and look
at that leg!"

"In a minute," Brute said. He placed half the hundred-dollar United
States Bank notes in ttie bottom of one boot and half in the other.
Then he pulled on the boots.

"Brute, you damn fool! We got to tend to that leg!" Blair rose
up on his knees and grabbed hold of Brute's right boot.

267

268 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Not yet, I tell ya, Blair! I got somethin' to do yet!"

Blair nevertheless tugged at the boot. But the flat o Brute's big
hand came down on the back of Blair's head and the lawyer's face
picked up splinters on the wagon bed. Christofferson's left boot planted
itself gently but firmly on Blair's back ribs, pinning the lawyer to the
sideboards and the wagon bed. The jolting of the floorboards pounded
his face as he turned it to watch Christofferson.

He saw the big shepherd take out his knife and slit the stitching
between the inner and outer layer of leather in his short boots. He
poured half the gold eagles between the two layers of leather in his
right boot, dispersing them. The shepherd's face was grim, as a man
who works against time. Every motion accomplished work. A few gold
eagles spilled on the wagon bed. But time was worth more than
ten dollars a second to Brute. He left the spilled coins. His face
contorted in pain as he straightened his right leg and pulled his left
leg in to where he could slit that boot top also. Without interrupting
his work he yelled, "Blair, watch to the rear!" He slid the rifle over
to Blair and he poured the rest of the gold coins between the layers
of leather in his left boot-top, flattening them out. He rolled the top
of each boot into a cuff, sealing them. He cut two leather whang
strips off the sling of one of Gavagan's rifles and he wrapped one
around the top of his left boot, pulled it very tight and tied it. He
winced as he pulled his right leg in to do the same. Christofferson's
fortune was safe in his boots.

He now braced himself in a sitting position with his hands flat on
the wagon bed behind him. He closed his eyes and his lips drew back
in pain. He sighed and said, "Now!"

Blair picked up the knife and slit Christofferson's pant leg. The un-
coagulated redness that met his eyes was a sickening sight he hadn't
seen since the Battle of the Thames in Canada with Harrison. The
cloth stuck to the red mass. Blair clamped his jaw and went to work.

"Gavagan! Your shirt!"

With one hand on the lines Gavagan started to take off his shirt.

"No! Rip it!"

Gavagan stole a glance at the leg and he ripped the right side of
his shin off. Blair took Gavagan's canteen of whisky, he squeezed open
Christofferson's jaws by pressure at the hinges, and he poured in
enough whisky to drunken a bull. Blair folded half of Gavagan's shirt
into a bunch and jammed it into the red cavity in Brute's leg. He

To SATISFY THIS WARRANT 269

jerked the other whang strip off Gavagan's rifle and bound the shirt in
place so tight Christofferson winced.

The big man now opened his eyes for the first time and gaped at his
own leg. His face drained white, his arms melted and the huge torso
sagged to the wagon deck.

Gavagan tried to steer around the largest tree roots.

"The Brute can't stand blood/' he yelled. "That's why he wanted
to finish first."

Blair took off Brute's belt and strapped it around the enormous
thigh, high up.

"Gavagan, there's a doctor at Circlevillel"

"Yeah! I'll get him there, don't worry! But if I do that, I can't worry
about the money, too. Take the money and get over the side, Blair.
I'll come back for you. Get in the woods and hide!"

Blair looked around the bed of the wagon.

"Take it in the bag!" Gavagan yelled.

But a man walking around in the woods with a cloth bag full of
money would be marked. Blair crawled up to the front of the wagon
and pawed through the miscellany the wagoner kept there. He pulled
out two old army blankets Gavagan had brought home from the war.

"Got a harness needle and twine?"

Gavagan opened the seat box and pulled out a roll of twine with a
huge needle stuck in it. Blair jammed the twine in his pocket. He
grabbed the blankets, Brute's powder-and-ball pouch and one of the
hand guns, and the bag of money. He crawled to the side of the
wagon. But Gavagan poked him with the butt of the' whip and jerked
his head to the rear. Blair looked and saw riders behind them.

Gavagan yelled, "Wait for the bend at Deer Creek! When I cross
the creek, 111 have to slow up going up the far bank. Go over the
tailgate! Good luck!"

At Deer Creek, Blair blessed Gavagan's skill. The wagoner splashed
across the creek, and just as the wagon tilted to climb the other bank
Gavagan sidled her through a stand of cattails. Jonathan Blair went
out over the tailgate into the cattails and waded back downstream
toward Chillicothe.

He was a good forty rods back downstream by the time the riders
came plunging across the ford.

It was getting dark fast. Blair spread one of the blankets on the
ground, and opened the bag. He was glad Brute had chosen bills of

270 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

large denomination. Quickly he spread the hundred dollar and five
hundred dollar bank notes out on the blanket. He laid the other
blanket over the bank notes and curled in the edges of the blankets.
With the harness twine he sewed up the edges in great loose stitches.
Then he ran the harness needle through each pile of bills and through
both layers of cloth, quilting Ohio's tax between a pair of U.S. Army
blankets.

He sliced the cloth bag in half, rolled the coin and small bullion
in the two halves and twisted the cloth. These two rolls of metal
he sewed into opposite edges of the quilt. He curled the edges of the
blankets under and sewed a hem in great six-inch stitches. He rolled
the blanket into the smallest possible bundle and stood up to see how
far he was from the road. It was too dark to see.

It was easy to tell, though, because from the road now came the
sound of slow southbound horsehooves and a voice calling, "Halloo
from the road!"

Blair was somewhat surprised then to hear a responding voice con
siderably closer to him, "Halloo from the field!"

Blair turned back deeper into the tree line and sought the creek
again. He had just splashed back into the creek when his scalp crawled.
Behind him in the creek came still a louder answer, "Halloo from the
creek! You're gettin too far ahead of me, Mulvane! Patrol slower.
Zigzag back and forth. Not so fast. Whatever bent them cattails can't
be far from here."

Blair stood rooted like a water heron, with one foot lifted and his
breath arrested.

From farther to the east now came a fourth call, "Halloo from the
woods! Nothin' over here so far."

And much louder now from directly behind him, "Halloo the creek.
Slow it down and guide on center. I heard some splashin'. Touch your
flank man on both ends of your zigzag. If you fire, fire only to the
south."

Slowly Blair lowered his right foot behind him onto the shoreline
debris. When he touched shoreline driftwood he pressed down slowly,
compacting the material underfoot, testing to see if it would crackle.
It did not. He pressed his boot down to solid footing. He shifted his
weight back onto his right foot and slowly raised his left boot out
of the water. As it broke the surface it made a slight sound, "doip." He
froze.

To SATISFY THIS WARRANT 271

"Slow it down and guide on center!" The voice was close behind
him.

Blair got his left foot on solid ground. He took a few steps away from
the creek, compacting the swamp brush slowly under each foot before
he shifted his weight forward.

"Halloo the creek! We got somethin' here. Take it slow, in toward
the center."

Blair tried another step toward the road, but his boots sucked mud.
Instantly the call, "Slower still!"

Blair sank slowly to the marshy ground, huddled. He knew now
why Harrison had once boasted, "My Major Armstrong is the only
officer who's developed a patrol tactic that can flush a Shawanee out
of the Black Swamp." Armstrong had a reputation in early 1814 for his
patrols. He had trained his men to patrol in a thin line through
woods and marsh. Each man zigged to his right then zagged to his left,
and on each leg of the zigzag he made contact with a man on his right
and his left, each of whom was doing the same, so the line always
remained straight, and Armstrong could control it from center. He
trained his men to maintain contact in the dark and to fire only in one
direction to prevent accidental casualties. He had successfully con
ducted such patrols even on a half-mile front.

The major had written paragraph thirty-two of Chapter Ten in the
new Light Infantry tactical hand book. And he practiced what he
preached this night. It was a thorough, searching, merciless comb. The
teeth were riflemen. And suddenly Blair knew how it felt to be a
rabbit or a fox or a Shawanee.

In the dark it would come. He wondered if the hunted target ever
saw the muzzle-flash, or did the bullet travel faster than the flash? He
had heard wounded men say you were hit before you heard the dis
charge, but it didn't start to hurt until you heard the shot. Then
you knew who it was, and you got madder than you've ever been;
but then you got madder still because you couldn't do anything about
it. You felt that you were the only man in the world who had ever
been shot.

Blair was mad already, and the shot wasn't even fired. He was mad at
the calm, atrocious intention of the hunt; what they dared to take from
some woman's son out here in the swamp . . . the ultimate larceny,
robbing a man of the future, robbing him of even tomorrow. And
this they did self-righteously.

272 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Slow it down! And remember, no talk, no parley. Just shoot.
They're full of tricks. You saw!"

The voice was on the off-tack. But Blair heard the boots tramp back
into the creek, then across it, then out on Blair's side. He supposed in
daylight tomorrow the faces of strangers would look down at him.
Perhaps some of them would be women. They'd think of sons they
lost in the war. The men would be calm about it. Might go right over
to the Cross Keys Tavern for a drink. Some one would lean on the bar
at the exact same place where a live lawyer had leaned yesterday. "He
stood right there . . . right exactly there/' someone would say. "In the
chest they got him."

The boots approached, pulling at the mud. Blair breathed in short
breaths over stiffened jaws, not enough so his chest moved. He looked
down so the whites of his eyes wouldn't show. He wanted to cover his
white shirt-front more, but didn't dare move. Perhaps his bowed head
would hide the white of his shirt. His spine was arched and it ached
to be straightened, but he held.

The boots squelched toward him.

In the chest would be best. Not the stomach. Butchel had had it in
the stomach at the battle of Thames, and it was the worst. But the
chest could be bad, too, like Captain Smythe. But not as bad as the
neck and lower face. If it could be the leg. There was extra flesh there.
But the lawyer remembered Christofferson. The chest was best. The
chest or the leg.

The boots stopped and the only sound was the drumming of Blair's
pulse. He told himself it only seemed loud. It was not possible for
others to hear a man's heart beat, surely.

A filmy, maddening soft insect walked up Blair's neck, walked out
on the underside of his chin with disgusting softness. Blair thickened
his jowls to deaden the repulsive tickle, but he did not move. The
thing walked up over his lips. He longed to blow out air to blast it
away. But he only closed his mouth, careful not to touch his teeth.
From the effort of holding still he felt that his body was quivering.
But he could not control this.

The air from his nostrils apparently angered the soft thing that
crawled on him. It held on and climbed up beside his nose. He did not
move.

From the opposite direction another pair of boots slushed through
the marsh toward where the major stood stock-still.

To SATISFY THIS WARRANT 273

"That you, Major?"

"Yes, Mulvane. Anything?"

"Nothing."

"All right. Continue."

Both pairs of boots turned outward from Blair and receded in op
posite directions.

Ever so slowly the patrol passed by Blair to the south. Blair held still.

He gauged their distance by their calls, "Halloo from the creek."
And fainter, "Halloo from the field!" "Halloo from the roadt"

Not again in a hundred times would Armstrong's combination of
zigs and zags leave a gap just big enough to miss a man in its fine-tooth
comb.

When the voices became faint enough Blair rose slowly. He moved
quickly out of the trees into the brush, out of the brush into the field,
from the field to the road, then across the road into another field, and
then south.

Jonathan Blair decided that there was only one safe place for him
self and for one hundred thousand dollars of bank money this night.

When the lawyer arrived at the stable in back of the Cross Keys
Tavern in Chillicothe, he picked up one of the curry brushes. He had
it poised over his trouser leg when the stable boy said, 'Til do that,
sir. Which hoss?"

"The bay with the black boots."

He took the brush from Blair and went to work on the bay. Blah-
reached for another brush, and when the boy worked the off-flank,
Blair surreptitiously applied the brush to his own trousers which were
full of burrs and seeds and sticks. He swabbed off his own boots and
saddle-soaped them.

"Which saddle, sir?"

"That Kentucky cavalry one. But wait till I blanket him."

"Blanket him, sir?"

"Yeah, chills."

"Chills? Oh, no, sir. He's in fine shape. I noticed when I fed
them."

"This is an odd one," Blair said.
"All right. Then let me get you a better blanket,"
"No!" Blair calmed his voice. "Sorry. But, has to be just so. I'll
handle it."
Blair threw the heavy quilted blankets over the bay. The coins

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

weighted it down nicely over the flanks. He hooked the blanket over
the bay's chest with a huge horse blanket pin. "All right. The saddle
now."

Blair led his horse right up Church Street to Water Street to Paint
Street. There were lanterns walking around in the streets and a lot of
men. The talk was excited. Blair guided away from groups and lan
terns. He headed down Paint Street. He thought he knew the safest
place in the West for the bank's money and for himself right now.
But he knew that if he had guessed wrong, he would be mortally
wrong. There'd be no half way.

He listened closely to the snatches of talk, learning as much as he
could.

"Went right down ... I mean right down the center of this street,
they did. Right in front of ... I mean right in front of everybody . . .
broad daylight ... I mean broad."

"You never see anything like it. Just as calm they was . . . like . . ."

"Didn't get much start, though."

"No, but they had that rig rollin' like Harrison's cavalry."

"Notice the team he had? Big. That was no dray team/'

"Personally, myself, I hope they're to Circleville already."

And when the lawyer was five houses down Paint Street he had the
strange sensation again of hearing his own name come out of the dark,
as though it were public property. "Don't know if he was with 'em
or not, but you can hand it to that Blair. Nobody thought it would
come off."

When he came to the tall narrow brick house, Blair tied his lines to
the hitching rail in front. Double knot. He walked up the short walk
to the tall forbidding doors of the Schaacht residence. He pulled the
big ring knocker. Instantly, as though the house were waiting for
news, one of the big doors swung inward.

She stood there with her hand on the latch, her mouth ajar in sur
prise. The silence elongated into awkwardness until she laughed.

"Well, the last person I expected to ... you have more nerve than
sense, Mr. Blair. Come in."

Blair took off his broad brim felt and was over the threshold.

"Take Mr. Blair's mount to the barn, Kentuck," she said to the
white-stockinged Negro.

"No," Blair said. "Thanks, no. He'll be fine right there."

Blair held the door open with his foot. "There is on^f thing, though.

To SATISFY THIS WARRANT 275

Could ... ah ... I notice you have a post lamp near the hitch rail.
Could you light it?"

Her head cocked in query.

"Your horse is afraid o the dark?"

Blair twirled his wide-brimmed hat and grinned, "Well ... ah ...
that way I could see my horse from the house. Little worried about
him."

Kentuck started out the door. "Ah'll take 'n put him in the barn. I
see y'all got him blanketed. Ah'll jest , . ."

Kentuck looked up in surprise. The fingers which now gripped his
upper arm seemed too strong for the polite smile on the lawyer's face.
"Thank you, Kentuck. But I'd rather just have him where he is."

Blair followed her toward the dining room. Perfume whispered back
to him. And he marveled that he was so recently in a rotting swamp
inhaling its stinking exhalations and his own fear-soaked sweat. He
observed the fiexuous folds of her swirling skirt and breathed deep.

"WhereVe you been," she said over her shoulder, "during the ex
citement?"

"I guess I missed it."

She gestured to the long table sparkling with twelve place settings.
"You can see you disrupted things at this house. They're all out help
ing the search."

"Don't blame me. It's the auditor's job to see to the collection of
taxes."

She measured him a moment and motioned him to a place at the
end of the table. She walked to the other end and sat in Schaachfs
place. Between them stretched a long table, ten empty chairs, and a
hundred thousand dollars.

Conversation was cryptic. Blair was glad that he had a stomach, a
throat and a face to eat with; but Miss Schaacht said, "You seem to
have a light appetite, Mr. Blair."

"Yeah," Blair said. "Well, you don't get much exercise in my line
of work."

Kentuck came in bringing food and news which he received from
people who came periodically to the front door. "Miss Virginia, a man
jes came say they got one of the two of them holed up in the Scioto
marshes north of town."

"One of two, Kentuck? I thought there were three."

She looked at Blair.

276 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

And again much later Kentuck returned to announce, "Major Arm
strong called in his men from all around these counties. He's gon 'ave
fifty sojers by mornin' combin' the whole place an' on up to C'lumbus."

At that Blair stood up. "Could we finish the wine in the music room,
Miss Schaacht?"

"Why?"

"Uh . . . like to hear you play. Don't see many pianofortes in this
country you know/'

She smiled.

"You can listen to music tonight?"

"Why not?"

Blair immediately chose the couch from which he could see out the
front window, his reason for wanting to be in the music room.

His bay stood patiently by the post lamp. While Virginia Schaacht
settled to the piano, Blair reclined a little so that he could look be
tween her arms and her lap out through the window to the hitch rail.
To change his glance from the keyboard to his horse was only a mat
ter of focus.

Virginia Schaacht played in a fortissimo which set the room to throb
bing. There was an oceanic sweep to her music which caused a man to
think of his accomplishments. With her music for background, sud
denly they seemed good. It firmed a man in his purpose. If there was
music like this when men faced their great trials, a man would give a
better account of himself. But there never was, unless you carried your
own inside.

She looked over her shoulder at him. She was very perceptive, and
she saw what the music was doing for him. So she changed.

The light, tinkly thing she played next put the laugh to everything,
and she knew it. But he had caught a moment.

"Kentuck reported there was some activity up at the bank/' she said.
"Would you take me up there?"

Blair considered this a moment. "Don't think it would be safe for
you," he said.

"For me?" she asked with crinkled dimples. "Or for you?"

He said. "We will go."

Blair untied his bay.

"It's close enough I'd planned to walk," she said.

"I'll just lead him along with us."

To SATISFY THIS WARRANT 277

"You won't need him. And I thought maybe you'd walk me back
afterwards."

"I will. But I'll just walk him along with us to warm him up a bit.
Worried about him some."

There were many lanterns at the bank. Men swarmed around the
outside of it, and inside it, and up onto the bell shelf on the second
story. A sparse ring of Armstrong's men stood at port arms around the
bank, keeping out unauthorized people.

Blair listened to the remarks in the crowd of watchers. "They think
maybe the money never went out of the bank. Think the gee might
have hid it inside and made as if he took it. Come back for it later."

". . . think they can find something one of them dropped or some
thing. They say a hundred thousand would close down the bank."

". . . waste of time. Riddle says he knows the money was in the bell."

"But he don't know if the bell ever hit the wagon."

"The sergeant already said it did."

"But Schaacht don't believe it"

A possessive bystander, self-appointed guide to the historic scene,
came up to Blair. "That's the new bell there. Here's where the old bell
hit the ground."

"I see," Blair said.

"Then they went up Paint and down Water and up Church. They
say they picked up that lawyer, Blair, at the Cross Keys."

"Oh," Blair strove for brevity.

Virginia Schaacht started to speak. Blair gripped her arm.

"They're lookin' here at the bank. The money maybe never left
here. They say that Blair's a canny one. Might have stirred up a
ruckus, figurin' to come back later when everything's good and cater-
wampussed."

"Uh-huh."

Virginia Schaacht said, "Maybe you could save them a lot of look
ing, Jonathan."

"Me?"

Disappointed in the lack of reaction, the excitement-monger left to
inform others.

Through the crowd now strode two men, one Blair recognized. The
short, heavy one wore a colonel's uniform. The taller one wore a weath
ered major's leaf and chagrin. The short one was saying, "I didn't ex-

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

pect to give my personal attention to a one-platoon assignment, Major.
Have you got it guarded against a second surprise?"

"Yes, sir/'

"What strength do you have in pursuit now?"

"About fifty men, sir."

"What report from the patrol in the swamp on the one that got

away?"

"None, sir. But we've got him bottled in. As soon as daylight breaks,

sir, well "

"Daylight, hell, Major! Get up there and flush him out tonight 1"

"Yes, sir." Armstrong saluted and reached for his horse with the
callous grip of a man trying to hold together a career. The major's
horse-holder stepped out of the way as the major wheeled in the crowd.
But the humiliation was not over.

"Armstrong!"

"Yes, sir."

"Not you personally, you fool! Send somebody. You stay here at the
center of things and command this unit ... if you know what com
mand means."

"Yes, sir." The major dismounted heavily. The difference between
the rank of major and lieutenant colonel was usually just a six-bit
chip of silver, but for Armstrong now it would be a hundred thousand
dollars worth. For the benefit of the colonel he barked officiously,
"Sergeant! Mount a patrol for the swamp!"

"And report hourly!" added the colonel.

This last indignity perhaps would not have seared the major's soul
so raw if he had observed that it was in turn for the benefit of Gideon
Schaacht who now loomed out of the dark at the colonel's elbow.

"Got it yet, Colonel?"

"Gideon, we've dispatched a patrol of . . ."

"Spare me your dispatching and your patrolling, Colonel. My re
port will simply say you got the money or you did not get the money!"

In the dark Virginia Schaacht looked up at the lawyer. "Your law
will break a lot of men, Mr. Blair."

"My law will make a lot of men, Miss Schaacht."

Schaacht saw Blair. He parted the crowd and approached.

"Blair!"

But abruptly he turned and yelled, "Colonel! Don't waste any more
time looking around here. It won't be near here if Blair's here."

To SATISFY THIS WARRANT 279

A few in the crowd looked at Blair when they heard his name and
then their heads went together and they stared at him. Schaacht said,
"Blair, you've got nerve standing here. Your boys are in trouble."

"You forget, Schaacht, they have a warrant. They're legal. You're
not"

Virginia Schaacht said, "Where's Justin, Father?"

"He's over at Judge Byrd's getting a new injunction. And late he is
about it." Schaacht turned to Blair. "You want it legal. All right,
Mister, you better warn your boys just how legal we can get."

"How legal is that?"

"Shootin' legal. Over the signature of Judge Byrd."

"I'll worry about that," Blair said. "Meanwhile you might want to
warn yours. Namely . . . the auditor better decide which side he's on
because if he leaves me a shilling's worth of excuse I'll sue him for
dereliction of duty to the state. That won't be hard if he's not in
Columbus to receive the tax money. Amount of the damages will be
one hundred thousand dollars." Blair turned to Virginia Schaacht.
"He'll be an old man when he gets out."

Her sophistication slipped enough for Blair to see her swallow.

The helpful chatterer turned up again at Blair's elbow.

"Pardon me, sir. I found this gold eagle right here on the ground
'side your horse. It your'n?"

Blair looked at the coin in the dirty palm. He sidled close to his
bay in the dark and ran one hand along the bottom edge of the blanket.

"I say, I found this coin there in the ..."

"No." Blair said. "Not mine. Keep it."

"But it must be your'n."

"No."

Virginia Schaacht took a dose interest in this.

"Well, I'll keep it then," the man said. "But right by your horse I
found it."

Gideon Schaacht's attention was drawn to the business.

Virginia Schaacht leaned up against. the bay. Blair put his foot in
the stirrup. The chatterer bent to the ground. "Here's another. Must
be your'n, Mister."

"No."

"Look in your pocket and see/'

"All right. They probably are mine," Blair said, reaching for the coins.

Schaacht stepped closer. "Now wait a minute, Blairl Just what do

280 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

you mean 'probably' yours?" He turned to the chatterer, "Where'd you
find those?"

"Right here on the ground," the man said, anxious to have some
thing made of it.

Schaacht snatched the coins from Blair, examined them. "Hah!
Colonel! Come here!"

The colonel broke through the crowd.

"Look at these! Tell your men there may be a trail of gold coins
leadin' us right to 'em."

The colonel acted on this suggestion with flattering alacrity. He
looked at Blair. "Sir, let me borrow your mount! I want to round up
a few of my men and follow this up."

"Sorry, Colonel. I need it."

"You can contact my Major Armstrong," the colonel said, "Tell him
I said to loan you one of our horses. Can't you see I'm losing time?"

The colonel grabbed the bay's bridle. Instantly Blair's knuckles
hammered the corded inside of the officer's wrist, springing open the
grip. The colonel held his wrist, shocked.

Virginia Schaacht stepped forward. Her hand was in the pocket of
her habit which she held out away from her body so that all could see
her finger sticking out through the bottom of the patch pocket. "Gen
tlemen, I'm afraid this is wasted motion. I seem to be the one with a
hole in the pocket. I had a few eagles in it when I left the house. They
seem to be gone." She turned to the finder. "Please keep one as a re
ward."

Blair studied the woman closely. It was impossible for him to tell if
Virginia Schaacht had had two gold coins with her or not. It was im
possible for him to tell anything about Virginia Schaacht except that
the high curve of her cheek promised a kind of nobility, and the agile
corners of her mouth denied it.

Blair backed his bay out of the crowd. "I trust, Miss Schaacht, you'll
find sufficient escort home."

Blair rode to the stable at the Cross Keys. The stable boy reached for
the lines. "No thanks," Blair said. "He's in bad shape. I'll sleep here
with him tonight. You got any tonic?"

Chapter 18: THE CARRIER

FROM THE talk in the stable of the Cross

Keys Blair heard how the search spread out from Chillicothe. Each
patrol was armed with thirteen rounds of ammunition per man and
a copy of the new injunction. This second injunction, issued after
the collection of the tax, prohibited the collectors from delivering the
money into the treasury of the state of Ohio, and commanded them to
return it to the custody of the United States Bank.

Patrols combed east and west and south from Chillicothe, but Arm
strong himself led the one up the road north to Columbus and its at
tendant trails and traces along the Scioto River.

Blair learned that in Columbus troops surrounded the state office
building to prevent transfer of the funds from the warranted collector
. to the treasurer of state, or to the auditor, though the auditor was not
expected to cooperate in receiving the funds.

Excitement in Chillicothe itself dwindled some. Troops were no
longer wasted guarding the bank. There were few people in the street
on the nineteenth of September, year of 18 and 19. But even those
few saw nothing alarming in the lonesome sight of the now familiar
buckskin-clad lawyer, leading his blanketed horse north out of Chilli
cothe. The ferryman said, "Horse is no better, sir?"

"None."

"You tried leeching?"

"Yeah."

"You try sulfur fumes?"

"Yeah."

"Try feedin' 4m a pound of ground Peruvian bark?"

"No. Is that good?"

"Fixed up the land clerk's York State Pacer."

"I better try it."

"You want me to put you back ashore then?"

"No. Cross over. Ill try to get some at Circleville. Peruvian bark you
say?"

As Blair rode along the trail north, slowly, he did not examine the

281

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

blanket, nor feel it. In fact he conducted himself exactly as though he
were being watched, which is exactly the feeling he had. Occasionally
he slapped the back of his neck, as though at a fly, using the pretext to
look behind him suddenly. But he saw nothing.

As he rode, Blair pondered how to transfer the funds from himself
to the treasurer. He believed that he would be able to ride through
Columbus right out in the open, with no question. He had had time to
improve the quilting job on the blanket. But he knew that any man
carrying anything at all, even a blanket, into or toward the treasurer's
office would be stopped and searched, and the new injunction would be
served upon him.

He knew, too, with Armstrong hungering and thirsting for a lieuten
ant colonel's leaf, any man resisting the injunction would be sum
marily shot.

Armstrong was at that ticklish point in an army career where a
brilliant war record was beginning to fade and the momentum from a
number of swift promotions had run down. A little shove would still
push him over the next rank. But a little more delay would mire him
in permanent inertia. So Armstrong rode his men hard.

And therein lay more of his trouble. His sheer competence with line
troops intimidated and discomfitted the regimental commander. Thus
Armstrong was uncomfortable to have around the headquarters mess
room, but invaluable to have in charge of troops in the field. So while
the two new majors lounged at the colonel's elbow in Cincinnati as
adjutant and quartermaster, Armstrong was dispatched to the field on
a sheep hunt and a bank-guard detail.

Not the least of Armstrong's abilities as an officer was precision en
forcement of his own orders. He was careful how he phrased them;
then he enforced to the letter. And Blair could imagine what kind of
orders had been issued this week.

Blair also knew that the one hundred thousand dollars could not be
squeezed into small space. Nor could it be deposited in another bank
and a bank check issued to the treasurer of state, because no alert
banker would accept this money.

No man would be permitted to walk into that treasurer's office carry
ing any more than a pair of gloves.

As Blair churned this over in his mind, he came to a conclusion.
There was only one possible carrier for the hundred thousand dollars
. . . Armstrong himself, or one of his men.

THE CARRIER 283

And as he rode along, in thought Blair sought some way to get
Armstrong himself to carry the money into the treasurer.

"Hey, lawyerl"

Blair yanked his hand gun out of his belt and hied the bay around.
But the soldier behind him sat his horse quietly, his rifle slung harm
lessly across his back, a grin on his face.

"Put it down, lawyer." The soldier spurred gently and his horse eased
onto the road, approaching Blair. "We aren't going to grab you. Just
follow you. The major figures you know where it is."

Blair did not know the soldier well, but he recognized him as the one
called O'Fallon; he'd been up on the sheep-hunt detail at Mesopo
tamia, an eager young soldier with a career to make.

O'Fallon's hand signal was executed with the unnatural perfection
of the manual-trained recruit. But it brought two more riders out of
the woods promptly to fall in beside Blair.

"Just be prepared, you got company with you for the next however-
long-it-takes. You'll never be lonesome."

They rode north toward Circleville.

"I can't go very fast, O'Fallon. Sick horse/'

"Still? Well, no hurry. Just go where you're going."

They rode in silence for the most part. Blair was wondering if it were
possible somehow to use these soldiers to get the money into the
treasurer's office. Periodically he wondered if perhaps they already
knew where the money was.

When they rode into Scippo Creek, Chief Cornstalk's old Shawanee
Village, Blair saw ahead a strangely familiar figure sitting quietly on a
dappled draft horse. As they closed the distance Blair knew it was Joe

Hussong.

Hussong heeled his heavy-shouldered horse in alongside Blair, dis
placing one of the soldiers.

" 'Lo, Jonathan. I was down tradin' for some packin' salt. I'll ride

back with ya."

This was strange, Hussong would ordinarilly have hollered out some
inquiry about the tax collection. Unless he had heard. And Fitchburg
was boiling salt this year right in Hosmer Village. Hussong looked at
each of the soldiers, then reined his horse closer to Blair. "Jonathan . . .
uh . . . you got any gear or anything to be picked up anywheres? I
got Daisy here. Good broad rump in case you got legal books or any
duffle from the legislature session needs carryin' home."

284 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair looked at the three soldiers and then he reached his right hand
down to pat the blanket.

"Thanks, Joe. But nothing except what's with me right now."

As they crossed a neck of the Pickaway Plains, OTallon became alert
because another rider now fell in alongside, the same way Hussong
had. Startling to Blair, too, it was William Tyng. Tyng said, " 'Lo,
Joe. 'Lo, Jonathan. I was down seem' if the new wool mill would pay
in eastern money for rolled wool fleeces. No luck. They're buy in', but
not payin' in eastern money. I'll ride back with ya."

The six men attracted some attention riding through Circleville.
People came out of the cabins and pointed to the civilians in the group.
One bold youngster yelled to OTallon, "They the ones that took it?
They the robbers?"

The word "robbers" jerked Blair's head around to look at the boy.
But he was not a malicious kid. He was obviously repeating a word he
had heard. Could they be referring to a legitimate tax levy this way?

But he was in for another surprise. Just a little north of the last
house in Circleville, Denaro fell in with the column.

"Hallo, men! I was down talking to the vino man. But already he got
too much grape. No business. We ride back together, eh?"

Blair looked back at Denaro. The Italian face was naive simplicity.
The forehead wrinkled in constant worry, the eyebrows arched high
in a perpetual question mark at the hardships and terrors of life. But
denying this artless face, Blair distinctly saw one olive-colored eyelid
lower unmistakably. And suddenly Blair realized a wonderful new
dimension in Antonio Denaro.

Blair looked to see if OTallon had also seen it. He hadn't. But he
had seen enough to recognize that all these men were from Mesopo
tamia, and all armed. It was common enough for a farmer from the
north counties to go casually armed, even to his own fields. But these
firearms were all charged and the flash pans covered, ready.

OTallon dropped back from the now sizable group of riders, sig
nalling his two soldiers with him. They put their heads together briefly,
and then suddenly two of the soldiers stretched their horses out into
long, flat, ground-covering gates toward Columbus.

The Mesopotamians looked at each other. And in the same incredible
manner, as the party proceeded north, they picked up at various trail
crossings Amos Exeter, Asa Buttrick, Aaron Fitchburg.

Their explanations of their business here brought a grin to Blair's

THE CARRIER 285

face. Their presence brought a great warmth in his chest. He said to
Tyng, * 'Great that you happened to be down this way. Good to have
your company/'

"Good for us to have yours, Jonathan. You done a thing or two for
us all right ... for the whole country/'

When O'Fallon was blocked from view by several riders, Hussong
came alongside close. He reached out and felt of the blankets on Blair's
horse. He grabbed a fistful of blanket and felt the stiff crinkle inside.
He pursed his lips in understanding. "It should be warm enough for
him/'

Blair said, "How are the sheep up home?"

"Good."

"And the shepherds?"

"Bad. One of 'em at least."

"Oh?

"Yeah. Couldn't find the doctor at Circleville. They came straight on
through."

"And Matt?"

"Arrested. But he got the word to us about you."

Hussong dropped back.

They were at the halfway tavern between Circleville and Columbus.
No reinforcement had arrived for O'Fallon. Blair decided to stop for
the night, for he still had no solution for transferring the funds from
himself to the treasurer. And the entrance of this crowd into Columbus
would draw attention.

They fed themselves and the animals at the tavern, but they did not
spend the night in it. Blair did not want to be caught inside any kind
of enclosure.

They moved well off to the east of the road and camped in the woods.
Hussong built a long narrow fire.

"Three of us will sleep on one side of it, well back from it. Three of
us on the other," he said to Blair as they spancelled the horses. "Any
body passing near or through us will be silhouetted against the fire
from both sides. O'Fallon can sleep where he wants."

"Hussong," Blair said, "did you see anybody behind us on the way
here?"

"Nobody but O'Fallon. Why?"

"Ever feel like you're being watched, and don't know who?"

"Yeah. You feel that way now?"

286 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Yeah. All day."
"Well, sure. The soldiers."

"I suppose so. All the same, Hussong, you better take the blanket
on your side of the fire. You and Tyng lie on it."

"We will, don't worry. And well stake it into the ground."
The Mesopotamians set up a guard. However, this proved unneces
sary. OTallon left a mark out on the road which guided in the rein
forcements which Armstrong sent down to him. His original two men,
plus two more. The troops set up a one-man rotating guard. So the
civilians abandoned their system.

The ground was cold. But in addition to this Blair felt watched,
even as he lay between Buttrick and Fitchburg. Buttrick's large, soft
body found the ground hard. But when he did finally get to sleep, he
slept loudly. Fitchburg was an older man. His tawny old muscles were
cold, and he moved around a lot. Between them Blair also lay awake
long after even Fitchburg slept.

The sounds of the woods seemed more numerous and louder than
they should. But then Blair reasoned that he was considerably south
of Mesopotamia. The insects and animals might have a longer summer.

The lawyer dozed off, but he was more frequently wakened by two
owls, calling and answering. They seemed to grow louder or closer
together. But sounds are more piercing at night. Blair dozed.

Suddenly, though, he was awake. Not just conscious, but bolt up
right. And not from any noise, but from the lack of it, as when the rain
stops abruptly.

Then suddenly from behind him there was a thumping, unguarded
running, as something plunged through the dry interlaced underbrush.
Blair whirled around to his rear. The other two were up, suddenly fac
ing away from the fire.

Throughout the camp now Blair heard men grabbing for rifles. A
few locks clicked back to full cock.

"Halt!"

The civilians and the soldiers were staring into the dark to the west.

"Haiti"

There was more than one running person or animal.

"Halt!"

But it was a foolish command. What would you fire at?

But two did.

"Hold that firel You can't see anything!" It was Mulvane's voice.

THE CARRIER 287

Suddenly, though, from the east, Hussong's voice. "It's this side!
Hey!"

Then you could just see a flitter of a silhouette dash through the
center. It flayed through the fire, dragging a stick. The fire flared up,
lighting the center and effectively dropping a curtain of black around
the outside of the bivouac.

"Hey! The blanket!"

Blair's stomach turned over. He ran across the fire toward Hussong.
But Hussong was gone, crashing east through the woods. So was the
blanket.

Two of the men fired east.

"Hold them damned guns! You can't see nothinV

The blanket was gone. Tyng held up the palms of both hands to
Blair in an anguish of helpless apology.

"I don't know. I don't know, Blair! We sat up to see what was the
ruckus to the west. There was a tug. It was gone to the east.

In a frenzy of atonement Tyng grabbed his gun. "We'll get it, Blair!
We'll get the blanket!" He plunged east into the black. Buttrick went
huffing to the east also.

Blair looked at O'Fallon, who said, "Blairl Is that blanket gone!"

Open-mouthed and in blank amazement, Blair asked, "And just
what does that blanket mean to you, O'Fallon?"

"A hundred thousand dollars and promotion to sergeant!" O'Fallon
said.

"You mean you were going to let me ride it right into the hands
of . . ."

"Seemed like the safest way with a man like you, Blair."

"But it looks like Hussong outfoxed us both, O'Fallon."

Denaro said, "No, Blairl Not Hussong."

"Who then?"

Denaro shrugged.

The lawyer walked to his horse. Quickly he untied the spancel rope.
O'Fallon had followed him. Blair said, "One thing, O'Fallon. If you
knew, how come Armstrong sent only you two men?"

"When I sent for reserves I didn't know for sure about the blanket."

"Oh, what convinced you?"

O'Fallon pointed to Blair's bay. "I noticed your horse wasn't bad
enough off to need the blanket at night."

2 88 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Fitchburg had come up beside Blair. "Shall we chase off after 'em
with Hussong?"

"No. No point in it."

OTallon said, "What do you mean, no point, Blair?"

But the lawyer was mounted and pushing west through the brush
toward the road.

"Halt!"

But O'Fallon's bewilderment gave Blair plenty of start. On the main
road, he headed north.

Daybreak brought him to Columbus. But he skirted Columbus wide
and rode north toward Mesopotamia.

It was the midmorning of the twenty-second of September that J.
Blair walked into the cabin of Hope Christofferson. She noticed two
things strange about him. The horse he tied outside was not his own.
And by looking at him she could judge that his own was spent out
somewhere south of here.

Second, he had a red-splotched rag around his right arm, just above
the muscle, and the sleeve of his buckskin coat was ripped. And this
did not go with the Jonathan Blair she knew.

Hope Christofferson had seen a share of blood in her day. She had
been the one to bandage Joe Hussong's father's eye during the Ron-
tondee raid in 'n. She was there when Hosmer's daughter miscarried.
They brought Jim Hawkins to her place after he axed his foot. Hope's
own cabin was right now hung with washed white rags stained with
various shades of pink. And the one in her hands at the moment was
stained dark brown with spots of bright vermilion. But the redness on
Blair's arm stopped her for a moment. However, she looked at the
closed door to her other room, then at Blair.

"I'll get to yours next," she said. "A husband comes first."

He grinned. Hope had a clear-cut, comfortable code that did her
choosing for her. Blair knew some judges who could learn from her.

She was gone into the other room. And then she was back, surprised
that he was still standing.

"I didn't come for that/' he said. "Want to talk to Brute."

"Not now," she said, and then seeing that he was not hurting, she
charged, "And you said he'd not be mixed in this!"

"Hope, I didn't know."

"You knew."

THE CARRIER 289

"Hope, some day he'll tell you. Right now I've got to ask him a
question about the money. It's gone."

"He's weak from losing blood. Can't you be satisfied yet?"

"Hope, it's a hundred thousand dollars/*

"That's more money than makes sense. But it's not worth riskin*
Brute's strength for . . . he's got that little."

"But Hope, Brute could tell me whether ... I mean, it could be
that Hussong and the others saw a way to get the money for them
selves. It would pay a lot of mortgages." But he could see talk would
make no difference. He brushed by Hope and grabbed the leather
door-pull to the bedroom. But the splinter in her voice held him.

"Jonathan, I never laid old man Hosmer to your door. But Brute
... I would."

Blair let go the door.

He rode over to the Hussong place. He didn't go in the cabin but
rode up into the wooded section. He found what he was afraid he
would find, a fresh dug hole in the ground, with dirt piled up.

He rode back down to the shed. Tim Flannerty was feeding Hus-
fcong's hogs. Blair said, "Tim, is Joe Hussong around?"

"No, Mister Blair, that's why I'm tendin* hogs for him."

"What's the hole up back for?"

"The hole?"

Blair watched the lad's face closely. "The hole in the ground."

"Oh, that? That's fer buryin'. Mister Joe says a natural dyin' hog's
got to be buried direct he dies to keep it from spreadin'. He lost three
last week. Keeps a hole dug, ready."

Blair had no choice but to believe the lad. He heeled his borrowed
stallion north by west, up the old Harrison War Road toward Upper
Sandusky and the Indian towns.

Chapter 19: RECEIVED THIS

DATE

THOSE WHO knew where to point could

point to the skeletons of careers and of men in the Northwest who had
underestimated the Silver Pigeon.

J. Blair had made many mistakes in the Northwest, but this one he
never made.

Four men sat at the table of the Reverend Seth Gershom. Blair ate
hungrily, Gershom nervously. Rontondee ate with his hands. Silver
Pigeon did likewise, and Blair paid attention to this. He knew that
The Pigeon liked to eat with a knife and fork. The fact that The
Pigeon tonight ate with his hands might be only for the benefit of
Rontondee, leader of the unreconciled Wyandots in Upper Sandusky.
Rontondee would love to go among the disgruntled faction and mimic
Silver Pigeon eating with a fork.

But Blair thought the fact that Pigeon ate tonight with his hands
was more for his own benefit. Pigeon kept two distinct faces, the
civilized and the savage. With one face he fought the eighteen United
States with its own civilized tools, the bad dollar, the treaty, the con
tract. If these failed he was apt to fight with the Indian tools, and
when he soberly put his mind to the Indian ways he had forgotten
more savagery than Rontondee could even imagine when sweating
drunk. s

Pigeon's eating by hand served notice on Blair that he was dealing
with the Indian Chief on Indian terms tonight.

The Pigeon said, kindly enough, "What brings you, lawyer?"

"As sub-agent I'm to make a report on conditions."

"This means . . . how many of us? What health? How do we be
have our people?"

"Yes."

"I can help you quick. How many? Nine hundred eighty-three. How
do we behave? Very fine. Health? Gratitude to our own efforts, the
health will soon be good."

290

RECEIVED THIS DATE 291

"The pox is mending?"

"Yes. We have the doctor. He puts the sick ones in four cabins.
Keeps the well ones away. This doctor is good. He takes money. But
he is still good."

"Much money?" Blair asked.

"Much." Pigeon looked across at Blair. "But nothing is too much for
a good medicine man."

Blair dropped the money question.

"And your money, lawyer? Did you get it from the bank? We held
your man for you."

"I guess everything went all right."

"Good. I am glad you got whatever you wanted." Pigeon gnawed a
wing clean. "Sometime you will show The Pigeon how to count some
of the bills, please? Tell how much is the different colors and pictures
on the money. Which is good? Which is bad?"

"Why do you want to know?" But Blair wished he hadn't asked.
Fawn, standing behind The Pigeon, nodded her head, negative.

Pigeon threw his bones on the trencher. "You come to make the
report, lawyer. But where is the feather for writing?"

Blair gulped a drink of water. Then he pointed to the preacher.
"Figured I could borrow some from Reverend Gershom."

The meal proceeded with only the cracking of bones and the scrap
ing of fork tines on trenchers until The Pigeon pushed back his bench.

"Get your paper and writing feather, lawyer, and I will take you
around to the huts tonight to see our people."

Blair studied the dark eyes a moment, then lifted his gaze two fingers
above Pigeon's head. Behind the chief a gentle chin moved slowly from
side to side. Blair searched her eyes. Pigeon whirled to look behind
him. But Fawn was quick. She swiped at a sluggish September fly as if
it were the cause of her nodding.

"Well, lawyer, are you ready?"

Blair thought Rontondee rose from the table with too much eager
ness,

Blair studied Gershom. Gershom buried his beak, and perhaps his
conscience, in his mug of coffee. At least Blair thought he saw relief
slacken the minister's lank frame when he answered, "I guess I won't
go with you tonight, Pigeon. I'm tired."

Rontondee stiffened and looked at The Pigeon disappointed. But
The Pigeon was gracious. "Yah, I should have think. I will send

292 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Squindatee take care your pony. You have many friends here, Blair.
Squindatee and Mudeater are arguing still which feeds the lawyer's
pony. I chose Squindatee. So maybe you will go by the Mudeater's hut
tomorrow to make him feel proud, too/'

Pigeon started to leave, but . . . "Here he is now."

Mudeater, a short skinny Indian, burst into the hut, walked to
Blair holding out his cupped hands which contained a belt of wampum,
and chattering in Wyandot. Blair only understood that it was a gift
from sixteen remaining Wyandots of the Turtle clan, Mudeater's
group. Pigeon strolled over and took the belt from Blair's hands. He
pointed to the figures on the wampum belt. "In your language, lawyer,
this belt would say, 'gratitude to white man who brings land, blankets,

hoes, axes and ' " The Pigeon's dark face turned darker with hurt

and anger. But he recovered and smiled casually. "And they also think
you brought the new medicine man. Well, it is all right for them to
think you did it."

For two days Blair walked around the Indian town which was
crowded with gangs of dogs, squaws who looked as old and brown as
the leaves, shrunken old braves who looked as old as the trees from
which the leaves fell, and naked black-haired, broad-footed children
who seemed as numerous as the leaves.

Blair slept in the loft of Gershom's cabin. He made a convincing
display of writing a report. But at the end of the second day The
Pigeon came up beside him and said, "To make the letter to your great
white war chief you will perhaps go over the many acres of the reserve
to see some improvements we make away from the town. Tomorrow
Rontondee and I take you to see the dam we make."

"You seem to get along better with Rontondee lately, Pigeon. At
least, these two days."

"For some things Rontondee is good. He has not been turned
womanlike by the Gershom. Do you want to go tomorrow?"

"I guess not tomorrow, Pigeon."

On the second night, when Gershom got up from the table to close
the shed door, Fawn was cleaning off the table. She kept her eyes on
the trenchers and equipment, but her husky voice said, "The lawyer
should stay in large groups of Indians, not alone. Or go home."

"What do you mean?"

"My brother can not only read wampum belts and some white man's
writing, lawyer. He can read better still the face."

RECEIVED THIS DATE 293

"What does he read on my face, Fawn?"

But Gershom returned and Fawn carried the trenchers to a clay pot
of steaming water.

On the third day he talked to the young doctor from Circleville.
They had given him the best hut, next to Gershom's and Pigeon's.
Blair was pleasantly surprised at the candor. "No, I'm not certificated.
But I've reached legal practitioner. My preceptor was Drake, Cincin
nati. But I'm as good as all licensed physicians, and better than a few
of the society members/'

"Why did you come up here?"

"I want money to get to Transylvania to attend the lectures."

"What kind of money they pay you in?"

"Is that some business of yours, sir?"

"I'm Indian sub-agent. Supposed to see to things."

"Oh. Well, the pay is to be in U.S. Bank notes, which is more than
I can say for Circleville."

"They pay you a lot, I suppose?"

But The Pigeon came up then. Conversation ended.

In Gershom's cabin that night Blair said, "I notice The Pigeon was
at one of your services, Gershom. You convert him?"

"No."

"Then why does he come?"

"When The Pigeon makes a contract, he keeps it. His attendance is
part of a bargain. His presence brings some of the roughnecks in."

"And what is your part of the bargain?"

Gershom leaned forward as if to begin a long explanation. Then
he said, "Have some more whisky, Jonathan." And he left.

Late in the same evening, Blair went to sleep in the loft. He was
only beginning to realize what had been drained out of him in the
last week. He lay on the loft trying to figure where The Pigeon might
hide a blanket full of money in this town. He wondered if it were
coincidence that Pigeon had been down near Chillicothe just before
the tax collection.

Vaguely he heard Rontondee enter below and tell Reverend Ger
shom in English that he was wanted to pray for the sick Jonathan
Pointer. Later still he heard Mudeater come in and talk to Fawn in
Wyandot. She was wanted for something. Blair knew Fawn helped in
the bringing of babies, and she was the only one who could get the old
Mingo woman to stop bringing her cow and its attendant flies into

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

the hut where there were two new and sick babies. Fawn also was the
only one who could push old Red Jacket's spine so the bones snapped
back in place. She was the only one that could keep the young Chip-
pewa woman from trying to exchange her baby for that of the lighter
skinned, nearly identical baby of the quarterblood woman Seshawan
McCullough.

Blair thought nothing of it while the two talked in rapid whonking
Wyandot. But when the door closed after Fawn, Blair found himself
more awake. Until this moment he had not realized the comfort he
had been taking from her soft brawn presence.

Blair was a man accustomed to aloneness. So he recognized this as
not the absence of a friend, but the presence of danger. There was no
noise in the cabin beyond the draft in the smoldering hearth. Yet
the room throbbed with another human presence.

Blair made sleeping sounds and thrashed around as a man does in
half-sleep, and under cover of this noise he crawled close enough to
the edge of the loft to look down.

The Indian on the floor below had selected a relaxed, leaning-back
position which he could hold without moving a muscle. His hands
were clasped around his knees. His head leaned back against the wall,
commanding a view of the loft.

The hearth occasionally sputtered and snapped, fanning up a glow
which lighted the immobile cheek of Rontondee. The glow showed
his nearest eye to be open.

Blair lay still.

On the following night the Reverend Gershom was again summoned
out of his cabin to break an argument between two Christian Wyan-
dots and three non-Christian Mingoes who had straggled into the
reserve. Fawn was called to help find the Chippewa woman who had
removed Seshawan McCullough's nearly white baby from the McCul
lough hut and made off.

And again, when Fawn left, an Indian silhouette slid to the floor
to wait. It was The Pigeon himself.

It brought Blair a flashing revelation. If the Pigeon had a large
amount of money to hide from white men, who would he best make
custodian of it? Obviously a white man. What white men did he have
available? Several quarterblooded whites lived among the Wyandots.
But nowhere in the Northwest could he find a safer vault than the
cabin of Seth Gershom.

RECEIVED THIS DATE 295

And in that cabin, in case The Pigeon were not always able to trust
Gershom, was another pair of perceptive Indian eyes, Pigeon's sister,
the Fawn.

The facts fell together like one of Judge Pease's decisions.

Those who brushed lightly against Jonathan Blair in the world
which straddled the old Greenville Treaty Line were apt to mark his
gentle manner and note it down to unsureness. Oddly enough his
fault lay exactly the opposite way. The quiet voice of Jonathan Blair
stemmed from a monstrous overconfidence which hated to bludgeon
people unless a crisis warranted it.

This became manifest now in the preposterous action of the lawyer
which jolted him noisily to his feet and brought him to the edge of
the loft, standing.

Pigeon rose slowly at the commotion, startled by the sight of the
lawyer standing above him on the edge of the loft. His amazement at
the leap left him open-mouthed even as the lawyer's weight crashed
into him.

But the impact which flattened the Indian against the puncheon
floor flooded protective rage through his hard body, and alerted every
one of his long slippery muscles into writhing action. His torso
wrenched out from under the lawyer as the heel of his right hand
came down on the back of the lawyer's head, driving the white face into
the splintery puncheons.

The lawyer was still an instant, but before the Indian could pull
his legs under him to rise, the lawyer's knee was in his stomach, pinch
ing the flesh of his belly against his lower ribs. Pigeon doubled in pain
and Blair was on his chest, pinioning his wrists to the floor.

"Where is it, Pigeon?"

The Pigeon writhed to the left and right, but the lawyer was solid
on his chest.

"Where is it, Pigeon?"

The Pigeon said, "Over there."

Blair turned his head to look, and as he did a sharp knee jabbed
him in the back, straightening him up. The Pigeon was suddenly on
his feet, and stooping to draw something shiny from the thong around
his leg. In the gloom of the room, Blair felt around the floor. The leg
of the reverend's Bible stand came to his hand. He brought it up in
front of his face in time to absorb Pigeon's knife. Pigeon jerked back
the blade, but the Bible s,tand came attached to it. He banged the

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

stand on the floor snapping the point off his knife. Before he could
jab again, Blair had hold of both his wrists.

Pigeon jerked his arms to free them, thus pulling Blair from side
to side and forward and backward. But the lawyer held on and backed
the Indian slowly against the loft ladder.

They struggled in winded grunts. Blair was awkward, but a great
calm came over him and his strength amazed the Indian.

The Pigeon let his arms go slack. Blair was letting go when he felt
the surge of power return as Pigeon drove the broken knife toward
his chest. The lawyer fell back, grabbed the Indian's wrist and yanked
him down.

But Pigeon's wrists were slippery with sweat and they revolved within
Blair's grip. As they rolled and struggled wordlessly Blair hammered
Pigeon's wrists against the puncheons, to pound the knife loose. But
the Indian was leather. Besides, he had learned now to twist his wrist
so that the blade scraped and pricked Blair's forearm. Blood ran down
Blair's arm, but he learned to jam his thumbnail between the bones
of Pigeon's wrist in a way that brought relief from the blade.

The necessity to hold Pigeon's wrists gave the Indian full play
against Blair's body and enabled the Indian to lift Blair up from the
floor occasionally and then shove him down against the puncheons
so his teeth jarred.

But Blair noticed that the Indian also gasped for breath now. He
supposed the air burned in Pigeon's chest as it did in his own. The
knife blade slid between two puncheons and Blair hammered the
Indian's wrist, snapping four inches off the blade. What remained
was a jagged iron.

The Pigeon was strong, but his strength this night was multiplied
in blessed hot release against a single white man instead of a hundred
elusive tentacles of white government. Blair paid for the militia Indian
massacre of '13 by having his spine jammed against the stone hearth
so his brain jostled in his skull. He paid for the Duncan McArthur
Treaty by being yanked upright so his arms sucked in their sockets.
He paid for The Pigeon's smoldering years with a backful of splinters
as he was dragged across the floor and then jerked upright and spun
around. Blair still held the Indian's wrists, but his arms were crossed
now, as were the Indian's. Sweat blurred Blair's vision or perhaps he
would have seen the knee which rammed his groin to spring his grip
and melt his will.

RECEIVED THIS DATE 297

He floated to the floor.

A warm streak across his cheek and down across his chest muscles
brought stinging strength back in time to dodge the second pass o
the knife which had just slashed him with red.

Blair's hand found the hearth shovel which he flung in one motion
at The Pigeon's head. The Indian ducked. Blair was on his feet and
had hold of the wrists again.

Blair was not as elaborately muscled as the Indian, but his legs were
thick and his hands were strong. The staunch legs now pushed the
Indian back against the loft ladder again. Blair yielded his left arm
a little allowing Pigeon a stroke of the knife. Then he jammed the
brown elbow against the loft ladder so that The Pigeon filled the
cabin with an agonizing roar. His hand sprang open, fingers out
stretched and strumming like cords. Blair kicked the knife into the
hearth.

Against the loft ladder Pigeon's shiny chest heaved in exhaustion
and pain. Blair held him there with the hearth shovel which he
anchored behind a loft pole, and he panted, "You stole it!"

"Yah! If I did, I stole it from the stealers!"

"That's different!" Blair gasped. "It was owed to us. Didn't take it
for m'self. For my people!"

"Different?" The Pigeon was broken-winded, but he managed a
laugh. "How different? What did I take it for? Myself? Look at me.
What did I buy for myself? I bought a medicine manl Different, did
you say, Blair? How do I steal different than you steal?"

The question was unanswerable.

Pigeon's own arguments recharged his own body and he pushed
against the shovel. But Blair had it anchored securely.

The door swung open. The Fawn stood on the threshold. "Stop!"
she said. "The sergeant comes with soldiers."

The Pigeon relaxed. "Good," he said. "Bring them. Tell them Blair
is here."

"Neethetha kitchokema" she said, which sobered Pigeon's face. But
then a faint flicker of a grin reappeared. "Even so, tell them the
lawyer is here."

Blair released his grip on the shovel.

"They can search a lot better than I can, Pigeon, if there's many
of them."

The Pigeon sobered again, and he walked toward the door. His sister

gg8 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

threw her doeskin coat over him. He stared at her hard and meaning
fully, Blair thought, with instructions.

Blair sagged to the bench at the eating table. The blood from the
gash in his chest flowed fast in the sweat down over his chest and then
sideways in the folds of his torso and down his flanks. Blair grabbed
a red cloth and started to wrap it around his waist to stop the satura
tion of his doeskin trousers. But he noticed it was Fawn's red shawl
from the French traders, and put it down. However, she came over
to him and herself wrapped the shawl around his waist.

"Sit still," she said.

She went into her room in the back and returned with a pitch pine
knot as big as a man's fist. She lighted this at the hearth.

"In there," she said.

She took him by the arm and led him into her part of the cabin
where he sagged to the bunk.

"Is The Pigeon all right?" she asked.

"I think so."

"Down." She pressed him down flat. But he was upright again in
stantly because of the splinters in his back.

"All right, sit then."

She poured him a mug from the reverend's crock, which he drank
sparingly at first. But the liquor would not bring the usual pleasant
sting to his hot throat, so he upended the mug and emptied it.

She swabbed down his chest with a wet soft doeskin. She grasped
his shoulders and bowed them forward, closing the gash on his chest.
She then soaked a long strip of doeskin and plastered it over the gash,
rough side to his skin. The strip began to turn red, but she ran
the back of her finger down over the strip. As the water squeezed out,
it stuck to his chest. She wound two dry strips around the barrel of
his chest.

"Over," she said, and Blair lay chest down on the fur-covered bunk.

His head was turned to the side. He could not see his own back,
but he noticed that after she looked, she poured him another mug of
whisky. It cut into his throat better. She poured another, but when
he reached for it, she poured half of it over his back. The coldness of
it arched him back against the grain of his spine. But splinters arched
him forward again.

He winced each time she pulled one out.

"Stay stilll Pulls open chest."

RECEIVED THIS DATE 299

She gave him the rest of the whisky which spread a comfort through
his warm body. Her cool hands moving lightly over his shoulders
became pleasant except for the periodic nicks as she pulled out
splinters.

As she worked lower on his back, the nicks became hotter, but her
hands became cooler and more tender. The groove down his spine
was deep, flanked by strong ridges of muscle which reservoired the
whisky. She used this to rub over the places from which she drew
splinters. Her fingers were a light breeze.

Her hands slowed up as her attention drifted from him to something
else. He rolled to look at her.

"I found the cheahha."

"What?"

"The little one. Fawn finds it. The Chippewa woman took it. Hide
him in empty hut."

"Did you give it back to . . ."

"Yes," she said reluctantly. "To Seshawan McCullough."

He rose on one elbow to study her. "Not black hair on the cheahha,"
she said. "Brown, like this." She grabbed a handful of the beaver
blanket. Then she dropped it and took hold of the bear skin. "Like
this," she said. But she dropped the bear skin then and her hand en
meshed in the short hair at the back of Blair's head. She clawed
her hand gently through it, over the top of his head toward his
forehead.

"Like this," she said. "Like this it is brown."

She leaned forward and blew into Blair's hair like Squindatee
examining a beaver pelt, and just as critically. Her lips parted as she
examined him with even more intensity than Squindatee at a fur
trade. Her tremulant weight was soon against him, tenderly.

Her loveliness in the eyes of Jonathan Blair this night was classic.
She was mercifully cool hands, and a warmth of urgent breath against
his face. His elbow slid out from under him beneath her precious
weight. His arm went around her to speak a gentle, unhurried lan
guage, neither Wyandot nor English.

Blair thought briefly of the sergeant and the troops who had just
ridden into town. Then he thought of the hundred thousand dollars
which both he and the sergeant sought. Then his head lost perspec
tive; or perhaps gained it in the crook of a copper-colored elbow
where a pulse alternated with the throb in his temples.

goo JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Well south of the Indian lands, in the caucus room of the tavern
called The Red Lion in the Borough of Columbus sat a group which
had come to be known as the Chillicothe cabal. They were waiting
for someone.

Each of the persons in this room, if he were to appear on the roads
of the Borough of Columbus, or of Chillicothe, or on the log sidewalks
of Cincinnati, would be a figure of influence in his own right.

The heavy-set, heavy-lidded Riddle, who sat placid like a sleepy
eagle, had been dispensing loans for the United States Bank long
enough to have built a solid base of patronage in Cincinnati, Louis*
ville, Steubenville, Columbus, Dayton, and as far northwest as Detroit
His leaden stare made a borrower crawl and contort, and his trapliks
mind for figures, it was said, could calculate a man's ability to repay
down to the last dollar. But borrowers who were desperate enough to
crawl low enough, and borrowers who did not make the mistake of
going over Riddle's head to Schaacht, could at times get loans from
Riddle.

Word passed among small bankers and large farmers and merchants
as to just how to approach Riddle. By the similarity of approach
lately, he was beginning to suspect that there had been some compar
ing of notes. But this, too, was a kind of fame not unpleasant to
Riddle.

. Every loan application to the bank was ultimately approved by
Schaacht in person. But as the borrowers had studied Riddle, so Riddle
had studied Schaacht Often as not he would present the applications
of his pets unfavorably to Schaacht, saying the man's security was only
double or triple the amount of the loan, or some other overcautious
demurrer. To which Schaacht would often as not say, "Good God,
Riddle, do you want, blood?" He would scrawl his approval on the
loan.

And if some of the pets of Riddle were slow to pay, Riddle would
often recommend to Schaacht such fierce collection measures that even
Schaacht would yell, "Riddle, you must be the bastard that sold Jesus
for thirty pieces of silver. Extend the loan sixty days!"

So Riddle was an influence in the West.

Duncan McArthur, speaker of the assembly, piled his muddy boots
on the round table and whacked off flakes with a rifle ramrod. When
the West had needed soldiers his Indian-baiting truculence had
boosted him. His boasts had been comforting to the nervous settle-

RECEIVED THIS DATE 301

ments along the river; and since he made good on them he had served
the West. The West had thanked him with a generalship and speaker-
ship of the house. If he did not know a great deal about treaty making
or legislation, that was not as important as keeping Tecumseh off
men's backs. And he might be needed again. From his knowledge of
militia officers, his influence in the assembly and his seat on the board
of the U.S. Bank, he also could call favors from two or three impor
tant men in every major Western settlement, and would be recognized
in every Western tavern and army post

On McArthur's right was the slim-fingered, brocade-vested Tremaine
with morocco shoes. Most of the group wondered what a Cincinnati
man was doing here. But no one asked. If he was here today, he was
important.

On McArthur's left was that fortunate kind of man, a self-possessed
youngster who had learned to pull up a chair as though he belonged,
and by the very presumption proving that he did. For Justin Bolding
knew that though the numbers discussed at this table were bigger
and the cigars came from farther south, the principles and motives
were the very same as those being discussed by his young contempo
raries out in the common room of The Red Lion. He knew, too, that
he would be put to the test as soon as his elders at this table could
manage it ... which would be soon; and he knew also that he would
be competent.

Major Armstrong was here and there were others in the room of
equal stature. And viewed thus individually they were impressive, but
grouped here in this room, they would soon be as a group of children.

Bolding knew that Gideon Schaacht was arriving when McArthur
swung his boots casually but quickly down off the table. Tremaine
stopped fingering his watch chain. Even Riddle's upper lids raised
a little.

Gideon Schaacht yanked out a chair for his daughter and said,
"Well, what have you all accomplished?"

The veterans of such meetings made no stammering attempts to
answer. But Tremaine, not realizing how much information normally
came to Schaacht from all quarters, began a recapitulation of news
which was interrupted fiercely by Schaacht. "We know all that! Good
God. What have you done about the money?"

Armstrong gave an account of the military side since OTallon's in
cident, concluding, "So, since the big Christofferson is in his cabin in

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Mespo, and the wagoner, Gavagan, is arrested, we believe that Blair
knows where the money is, and is gone after it his damn self. He was
last seen goin' north out of Mespo, so I've got a sergeant taking a
patrol up into that Indian town with instructions to let Blair find
the money, then bring in Blair,"

Justing Bolding waited until the meeting came to its lowest ebb,
when everyone was embarrassed at not having an idea and would
welcome one from anywhere without jealousy. Yet he did not wait so
long as to give Schaacht time to propose an idea of his own. He cleared
his throat and every eye was on him. "I suggest, Major Armstrong,
you don't capture Blair if he does have the money."

Bolding enjoyed their surprise a little too long. Schaacht said,
"Come on! Come on!"

"Just keep a ring of troops around Columbus to prevent him from
delivering the money to me or the treasurer. If he delivers that
money into my office or the treasurer's office, I've got to accept it. And
once he delivers that money to me or the treasurer his wild scheme
has a sort of official blessing on it. After all, it is a state law; consti
tutional or not, it's a law. But if he does not deliver it into the
treasury . . . and since he's not the official collector anyhow . . . then
in the eyes of the nation and the Congress and Mr. Monroe . . . well,
the whole thing is reduced to" he shrugged "grand larceny. And
how long can one man keep a hundred thousand dollars safe in these
woods?"

Riddle's wattles reddened. "And we lose a hundred thousand dollars
to a gang of woods robbersl"

Bolding didn't even bother to defend his idea. Schaacht did. "Yes,
Riddle! We lose a hundred thousand dollars, but we win the principle
of the thing; and we lose it only once. Not once every year. You can
stand it once. The Baltimore branch lost three times that to its own
embezzling cashier."

McArthur grinned. "We change Blair from a crusader to a crook/'
While the others savored the idea with relish, Schaacht had already
dispatched Riddle to tell the editor of the Freeman's Chronicle that
it looked as though the money had fallen into the hands of thieves,
and it was no longer expected at the treasury.

Riddle glanced at Bolding suggesting that he should run such er
rands, but Bolding sat still.

Schaacht said, "Bolding, you've got a head on youl Just let Blair

RECEIVED THIS DATE 303

try to preserve a hundred thousand dollars in those woods. Why some
of his own Mesopotamia grannymothers would skin him for a tenth
that much. Every rifle in the woods will be looking for him. Arm
strong, your job now is to make it impossible for Blair to deliver that
money to the auditor or the treasurer. Don't catch him, but make it
look like you intend to."

'Til get out messengers." Armstrong scrambled to his feet, but he
was arrested, as were the others, by a quiet contralto voice, much like
Schaacht's, except it was sweet and mellifluous.

"Just a minute/' she said. "Justin, when you proposed this scheme,
were you aware a man could get shot trying to husband a hundred
thousand dollars out there, with the way blocked for him to bring
it on in?"

Bolding smiled, taking silent credit for the knowledge, whether he
had it or not. Armstrong said, "Ma'am, he could get shot, stabbed,
drowned, beat to death or all four combined. There was a drover
stabbed dead in the stable of The Swan last night over one miserable
Spanish doubloon. Half the men in the West have gone back to packin*
what money they got in their boots, and honest farmers are drove to
waylayin' strangers on the trails."

Virginia Schaacht kept staring straight at Bolding. "Did you see
Riddle's sick mare, Justin, when they shot her? How the lead went in
through the forehead bone and came tearing out behind, rolling the
side of her neck off?"

Bolding swallowed and turned red.

The only sound was the whispering of levantine silk falling into
vertical folds as she rose and left the room in disgust.

Blair had no idea how much time had passed when he woke. The
pine knot still flickered in the drafty cabin beside the bunk. But he
did know what woke him, the faintest stiffness in the blanket under
his cheek. The fur rugs had parted so that his whiskered face lay on
a rough army blanket. He did not move his face, but he reached his
right hand up slowly and clutched a handful of the blanket, only
long enough to hear the brittle crinkle inside it.

It made sense. Where better could Pigeon hide the money than
under the person of his sister, in the house of the Reverend Gershom?
Gershom's silence now made sense, too. Gershom's bargains were hard,
and he honored his side to the letter, expecting the same in return.

304 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair had contracted to deliver a doctor to Upper Sandusky. He had
defaulted. Pigeon had therefore made his own arrangements about a
doctor, which involved money. Gershom would never interfere under
such conditions. Other things fell into place. Pigeon's occasional
tongue-in-cheek attendance at the Reverend Gershom's services could
be part of a bargain for Gershom's custodianship of the money.

Blair lifted his head just enough to clear the blankets, and he rolled
around to look at Fawn. She slept with a smile, hugging herself. He
raised his torso ever so slowly from the bunk. The slowness of the rise
required muscular strain which broke open his chest gash; but he
continued until he was sitting upright. He lifted one leg clear of the
bunk and found the floor. Then he transferred his weight slowly to
his feet.

He rolled back the fur rug on his edge of the bunk, revealing the
quilted blankets containing the money. Keeping his eyes on Fawn he
tugged at the quilt lightly. The far edge of it was pinned under her.

She drew her knees up in languorous slumber. She turned her head
toward where Blair had lain and her smile sweetened. Blair wondered,
how in the midst of male-made turmoil did some women still smile
so trusting lovely. Didn't they know about the world? Or did they
know and still smile that way? Were they all-knowing, or all-blind?
Anyway, it was wonderful.

He snapped back to danger, because, though she did not open her
eyes, she rolled, unfolding one somnolent arm, extending it to where
he had been. Blair moved like a panther so that he was under the
arm when it settled. It seemed to satisfy her dream. He lifted her
gently, kissed her slowly, and jerked the blanket from under.

In the front room he found his coat and gun and then he paused
long enough for one of those gestures which had often defeated him.
Gershom's quill was there and foolscap. While measuring time in
heartbeats, he scrawled:

Sorry , Pigeon.

Blair

In Gershom's shed Blair did not risk the noise and fumbling of sad
dling up, especially after his borrowed stallion woke with such a loud
start.

RECEIVED THIS DATE 305

A half-mile into the woods, the trail narrowed. Blair saddled.

Blair lost all track of time because of the way he slept. He rode
south through Mesopotamia in darkness without stopping. But he
thought it was probably the third night when under his thighs he
felt the tired stallion begin to yearn forward with new speed. Looking
ahead he saw why. The bright patch of moonlit clearing ahead was
Boxford's where the horse belonged. He dismounted before she came
out into the opening. He had trouble holding the barn-bound stallion
still while he inspected. But something didn't look right. He studied
the Boxford cabin and sheds.

The trouble was the bearskin which hung over the doorway of the
last shed which was usually open and unoccupied. There was an extra
horse at Boxford's. It would be normal for Armstrong to station a
man here.

But Blair wanted to trade off Boxford's stallion for his own bay.
He wrapped the stallion's lines around a tall butt and circled toward
the sheds.

He was halfway there when the stallion split the night with a scold
ing whinny. Blair froze like a stump. The whinny brought Boxford's
hulk into the lighted cabin doorway. It also brought a woman's sil
houette out past him. It was a silhouette that could fit twice inside
Mrs. Boxford's shadow and it marched out into the moonlight and
down past all the sheds to the last one.

The stallion issued another shrill complaint. With the woman
standing by the shed where his bay was and with Boxford unsaddling
the stallion, Blair decided to wait it out. But the woman's voice said,
quietly, "Blair?"

And Boxford answered, "Yeah, this is the one he relayed off."

Her voice had the snap of her father, "Blairl"

He stood rooted.

Boxford said, "It's all right, Blair. The young lady has a message
for you. I wouldn't call you out if I didn't think she was on your
side of this thing."

Boxford couldn't know how often the sides had changed lately.
Blair kept quiet. But the two closed towards Blair until she saw him.

"Come inside, Blair," she said. "I came up this far with one of
Armstrong's men. Something to tell you."

"I guess you'd best tell me here, Miss Schaacht. I'm not going in
any buildings tonight."

306 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"All right. Do you have the money?"

"Nor am I answering any questions."

"The point is the game is changed. The trick is no longer to get
the money back. Just keep you from delivering it."

Blair whistled slowly as he grasped their idea.

"This is Virginia Schaacht telling me this?" Blair alerted. "Daugh
ter of Gideon Schaacht?"

"Yes."

"So I can be led right into Columbus, nice and easy?"

"No. I came to help you get the money in."

"And I should believe this?"

"I think I could prove it in the cabin."

"Any troops in there, Boxford?"

"No, Blair. Just her. She's been real domestic here waitin' for you.
Matter of fact, she's just been sittin', sewin' on a dress."

"Her? Sewing?" Blair backed up.

"Sewing."

"You both go first."

Blair carried in his blankets, staying well behind the other two.

Mrs. Boxford looked at Blair and got him hot acorn coffee and
fingered his eyes. "Boy, your eyes are ringed down to your face bones.
You'll be sleepin' here tonight."

"Afraid not, Mrs. Boxford. Miss Schaacht, you mentioned proof?"

Mrs. Boxford reached to relieve him of the blankets. He tightened
his grip. "I'll just keep 'em handy, Mrs. Boxford, thanks."

Virginia Schaacht left the room and returned carrying a grey wool
dress, wool so fine it hung and fell into every indentation. She dis
played it to him. Boxford said, "Yeah, that's the dress she's been
sewin' on, Blair."

Blair said, "Uh-huh. But the proof you spoke of?"

Virginia Schaacht smiled and said, "And notice this special petti
coat, Jonathan."

Blair colored as she flipped back 'the hem of the dress, revealing a
multiruffled affair underneath, the color of which alone made a man
feel he'd got into the wrong room. It was nice, though. But Blair felt
he was being laughed at. She left the delicate thing exposed, and said,
"I took a lesson from you sewing horse blankets, Jonathan. The
story's around now, how you sew a pretty fine horse blanket."

RECEIVED THIS DATE 307

Boxford looked puzzled. Mrs. Boxford's hand went to her startled
eyebrows, "Horse blankets?"

But Blair was watching Virginia Schaacht's fingers. Deftly they were
working through the ruffles, and Blair saw her fingers duck in and out
of what seemed to be a hundred little pockets in the thing. You
didn't notice the openings among all those feminine ruffles and frills.

Blair suddenly made bold to finger the garment. He looked into
her eyes now and said, "You?"

"Together we'll walk in to the auditor," she said

"Why should I trust you?"

"Perhaps you shouldn't."

Mr. and Mrs. Boxford looked at each other and left the kitchen in
case there was to be a proposal or something; but not before they
heard the lawyer say, "Miss Schaacht, that's the most beautiful gown
I've ever seen."

Blair and the girl went to work immediately. In the young Republic
of America, no woman had ever worn as valuable a dress as Virginia
Schaacht pulled over her fine shoulders that night.

On the twenty-sixth day of September, 18 and 19, a light, four-
wheel chaise drove toward the clapboard building which was already
being called the state office building in the Borough of Columbus.
It was remarked not only because it was one of only two such chaises
seen north of Chillicothe, but because Virginia Schaacht sat in the
right hand seat, composed. The beauty of her face began with the
bones, which is why the men stopped to look at her. Then, there was
a certain at-homeness about the way this woman swayed beside this
man, which was odd considering what antagonisms should be between
them at this moment; which is why the women stopped to watch.

As for the lawyer, the natives of this town had not seen him much,
but they had nevertheless seen a remarkable change in him. Having
observed it, they had a feeling of ownership of this man. When he had
first come here his face had been a little vague of contour. Today,
though, his cheekbones were pronounced, because the skin was tighter
over the face. The mouth, less full, but more of a mouth at that,
straight across. The nose had flattened out some, and a small, faint
blue "x"-shaped scar on the bridge added to the folklore of this town.
Today some noticed a diagonal slash on his left cheek, rather recent.

308 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

His hair was dark and curly, lying close to the head except at the
neck where it bulged a little over the collar of his buckskin shortcoat
The face displayed some wear and some growth . . . and power.

On this day the bystanders watched the lawyer, J. Blair, rein the
chaise to a stop in front of the clapboard state office building. The
lawyer made no effort to get out of the chaise immediately, but sat,
allowing the corporal to go all over the entire vehicle, unfolding a pair
of horse blankets in the back boot and inspecting them carefully. The
soldier's motions were apologetic, but the lawyer made it easy for him.
A major of infantry stood off from the carriage watching. The corporal
finished his inspection and then called something to the major. The
major made a gesture, and the corporal shrugged and asked the lawyer
to step out of the carriage. The lawyer displayed some papers from his
pockets. The soldier walked around in back of him and looked. The
lawyer opened his coat, but there was a call from the major and the
lawyer took off the coat. The soldier inspected it and stepped back.

The attorney took the woman's elbow, helping her dismount. They
started toward the doorway of the clapboard building. Again the major
yelled.

Bolder bystanders moved closer.

"Who you going in to see?" the major asked.

"Treasurer of state or the auditor," the lawyer answered.

"What for?"

Blair laughed. "Why, to deliver the money, of course. Better inspect
my wallet."

No humor lightened the major's on-duty face. He gestured for Blair
to open his coat, which was done. With apologies the officer looked at
the woman who wore a grey dress and carried a bundle of dark green
levantine silk. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I don't know who's who any
more, with your friend Bolding being first on one side, then the other.
It's in your father's interest."

"Oh," she said. "You mean this? Why, certainly."

She handed him the silk. He held it up and let it unroll down. The
bystanders smiled. The major colored and handed her back the dress.
"I'm taking it later to Mrs. Deshler for some alterations," she ex
plained.

"Yes, Ma'am."

The major looked at Blair. "I'll accompany you to the treasurer's
door."

RECEIVED THIS DATE 309

They went into the clapboard building.

The treasurer's office was empty. They went to the auditor's office
on the second floor. Bolding stood up like a shot. He looked be-yond
Blair and Miss Schaacht to Armstrong, who stood in the doorway. But
Armstrong only gave him back a shrug. "The lawyer was searched be
fore he came in, Bolding."

Relief flooded Bolding's face. Then he studied Blair, and smiled
easily. "I see you bring no bells with you, Blair. What can I do for
you?"

"I want to discuss some business of the State of Ohio," he glanced
at Armstrong. "In the absence of any representatives of the Federal
Government . . . that is official representatives."

Armstrong stepped barely outside. Bolding closed the door. "You're
in strange company, Virginia, considering whose daughter you are.'*

She looked down at her gloves. "Yes, Justin, I guess I am." Then she
lifted her chin above his barb. Bolding was uncomfortable as he no
ticed that Blair and Virginia Schaacht, though they stood far apart,
gave a strange illusion of standing together, relaxed and easy. He said,
"Well?"

Blair said, "I want you to write out a receipt for $100,000 minus
$2,000 for the fee of the collector, minus $3,000 more."

"What?"

"You heard."

"But why? Time enough when the money arrives, if it does."

"When the money is delivered, it may be necessary to deliver it in a
hurry. It will be in the interests of Ohio to effect the transfer as quickly
as possible, in view of the Federal troops on duty here."

"But there's a Federal injunction."

"That does not concern you. The injunction forbids the collector
from delivering. It does not prohibit you from accepting."

Bolding walked to the window and looked as far up and down the
road as he could. "You expect the delivery to be made soon?"

"Very soon."

Bolding went to the door, opened it. There was a soldier there.
Bolding only looked at him. But the soldier went quickly down the
stairs. Blair walked to the window and looked down. He saw Arm
strong pointing out sentry stations, and he saw soldiers moving to them
quickly, forming a large, rough circle around the building.

310 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Holding shoved home the bolt on his door quickly. But Blair no
ticed it, and was pleased.

"All right, Blair," the auditor said, "i it will ease your mind I will
write out the receipt. I won't sign it, of course, until the money is on
this table."

"Fair enough. And I would like to have the treasurer sent for."

This was done. The door was bolted again.

Bolding put down his quill and passed the paper over to Blair with
a patronizing smile:

Received from bearer on behalf of the State of Ohio on the th

ult. y year of > $95,000, representing tax levy by State of

Ohio on The Bank of the United States.

SIGNED: Auditor of State

SIGNED: Treasurer of State

"When and if the money should ever turn up we will deliver this
receipt to the bearer of the funds," Bolding said confidently. "Will
that be satisfactory?"

Blair studied it.

"We'll want the state seal on it." He handed it back.

Bolding chuckled, "Yes, sir!"

The auditor handed it to Mr. Curry, the treasurer. "Would you go
to your office and get the seal, Mr. Curry?"

Pink flushed into Curry's white paper-textured face and he reached
into his waistcoat pocket, producing the seal on the end of a short shaft

Bolding was startled. "You knew it would be needed, Mr. Curry?"

"No," mumbled Curry. "That is ... uh ... what I mean, I usually
carry it with me. Uh . . . that is ... lately."

"Why? Did you expect it would be needed?"

"Well, I ... uh ..." Curry straightened some. "I hoped it would be
needed, Mr. Bolding. Didn't you, sir?"

Bolding's composure melted some. Curry worked silently, but with
ill-concealed expectancy.

Blair inspected the seal, blew on the cooling wax and casually handed
the paper to Bolding. "You can fill in the date now."

"What?" Bolding's rising pitch betrayed him. But he settled back.
"What date?"

"Today's date."

RECEIVED THIS DATE 311

Bolding laughed. "All right, sir. Done. Now what?"

"Now you can both sign it."

Bolding folded his arms and laughed. "You taught me better than
that, Blair. When the money comes, I'll sign."

"Very well. Fair enough."

Blair walked to the door, checked the bolt. He walked to the win
dow and looked out at Armstrong's alert sentries. He closed the inside
shutters on the window.

"What the devil are you doing, Blairl"

The lawyer said quietly, "Gentlemen, would you face the other way?"

"Not on your life, Blairl And I warn you if you put a strong hand
on us, we'll have the sentry in here."

"I don't intend to touch you, Bolding. Just turn around as a mat
ter of courtesy to Miss Schaacht."

Curry's crinkled paper face showed the beginning of a grin and then
the beginning of a blush. He turned his back. Bolding said, "Gurry,
are you crazy?" Bolding grabbed the hearth poker to defend himself.

Blair took the green silk dress from the girl and stepped in front of
her, facing Bolding. "All right, Miss Schaacht. At these stakes I guess
we'll not stand on modesty."

Blair, facing Bolding, saw the auditor's jaw drop at the sight of a
flurry of pristine, red-piped ruffles which foamed out beyond Blair's
screening body. The fact is the lawyer himself was immensely aware
of the rustling behind him.

The absence of voices and the surprise on the face of the auditor
caused the treasurer to turn back toward Blair. But the snowstorm of
lace which frothed out from behind Blair jogged his Adam's apple and
pivoted him back away. Red flushed into the veins of his parchment^
thin ears, like red maple leaves in October.

Blair sensed the moment when the dress slipped up over her head.
He kept his feet planted wide, but he twisted to hand her the green
dress and to take the wool dress from her. A brief vision of round arms
and shoulders above a white something-or-other jarred his head. The
base of her throat was flushed with some embarrassment but her mouth
and chin denied this in matter-of-fact determination, completely ad
mirable. She stooped to step into the green dress, but her head raised,
pointedly reminding him that he was looking . . . overlong.

Blair stood silently until she finally stepped out from behind him,
face flushed above a green dress.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair walked to Bolding's desk and placed the grey wool dress on it.
He furled back the hem. Bolding had lost himself to candid amaze
ment.

Blair grabbed two handfuls of the ruffled petticoat which was at
tached to the inside of the dress. He pulled in opposite directions and
the petticoat ripped. It covered the desk with money.

In the same instant, that petticoat bulged the eyes of the auditor,
brought a grin to the face of the treasurer, and laughed at the last de
cision of the Chief Justice of the young Republic of America.

No thought was given to the ripped petticoat, for the four people in
this room well understood that what ripped beyond repair here today
was the sovereignty of the Federal Government over its states, the safety
of the United States Bank in the West, or the possibility of peace be
tween Jonathan Blair and Gideon Schaacht . . . however you chose to
look at it.

To Jonathan Blair, it meant the sheep of Hope Emerson could come
down out of the woods.

Chapter 20: THE TRESPASSERS

THE U. S. Bank versus Messrs. Christof-
ferson, Gavagan, Curry, Bolding for trespass, contempt and recovery,"

Extremes were well understood in the settlement of Hosmer Village,
lately more often known as Mesopotamia. Twenty years of survival
thirty miles north of where the double-rutted trail dwindled to single-
axle width had depended upon extremists.

A man needed not to be a good shot, but a superior shot. Sam Hos
mer had not worked hard, he had worked like an ox to haul the first
crops out of the forest. In the raising of hogs, Joe Hussong could not
be merely clever, he needed sheer cunning. And those who had not
been extremists had gone back east or had gone down beneath the
twenty-two stone markers in the burial yard. That's why the survival
of Jonathan Blair had been little understood here. But in November
they understood.

The townsmen of Hosmer Village accurately measured the new

THE TRESPASSERS 313

stature of Jonathan Blair in the West by the immensity of the charges
now hurled against him. These were extremes, and they were under
stood.

Culpepper looked out the new glass window of Hosmer's Store,
which was proprietored now by Asa Buttrick, and he said, "God'l
mighty, would ya look at that lawyer out there feedin' his bay so quiet
and gentle? How'd a man ever guess he was such a hell-eatin' demon
as they got him writ down here for!"

The newspapers which they all labored over, were the ones which
Asa Buttrick had just brought up from downstate.

"They're sum' Blair's people just like they was bandits," Culpepper
said. "Blair called it a simple tax collection. But it appears by The
Western Spy here the central gover'mint calls it grand larceny."

Other papers called it other names:

"The Governor of Ohio does not support his own people and has
declared, 'I view the confiscation in the most odious light, and
from my very soul I detest it. I am ashamed it has happened in
Ohio.' However your editor hastens to add that he would have
been proud to have had it happen in Indiana."

Vincennes Western Star

"We reprint the Pittsburgh paper which reprints the Philadelphia
paper which quotes the president of the U. S. Bank as saying, 'This
outrage cannot be paralleled under a government of law, and if
the defendants are sustained by the courts, they have struck at the
vitals of the Constitution, and union among the states will dis
solve.' "

Miami Intelligencer

"It has often been stated that the United States will one day
divide at the Alleghenies into two countries. Easterners are now
saying the first blow has been struck, and this paper says if they
wish to consider this the second Boston Tea Party, let them. We
are ready."

Western Herald and Steubenville Gazette

"And to think that's him that stirred up the whole caterwampus . . .
right out there feedin' his bay like nothing happened." Culpepper
shook his head.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"That's him/' Buttrick said. "He said he was gonna drive that
Schaacht outa here, and it* looks like by Jehovah he did."

"That don't follow," Exeter said. "They got Holding in jail. They
got Gavagan in jail. They got Curry in jail, and they're gonna put
Christofierson in jail as soon as his leg cures. Does that look like Blair
won?"

Buttrick said, "If Blair's got friends enough in the legislature to get
the tax law passed, he's got friends enough to get them all out of jail."

"That don't follow either," Exeter said. "Looks by these papers
like Blair's friends got kind of scarce all of a sudden since Judge Byrd
announced he's holdin' Christofferson and them on $250,000 bail/'

"Christ!" Culpepper said, "is there that much money?"

"The Bank can't sue those individuals," Buttrick explained from the
world-wide knowledge of a man who got to Cincinnati once a month.
"They have to sue the State of Ohio. That's who took the money."

But Exeter, from his more accurate newspaper said, "Maybe so, but
that's not who they got in jail. Who they got in jail is Gavagan, and
Bolding and Curry. And if I read right, that's who they're suinY'

Which happened to be the fact of the matter.

"And I don't mind 'cedin' Blair started a big thing. But looks like
wefll have to finish it, like everything he starts. 'Less we intend Chris
tofferson and Gavagan to stay in jail. I don't mind about that Bolding
the least part. But the others." Exeter shrugged with good effect.

In the jail at Columbus, Justin Bolding was not in the main build
ing. The debtors had swollen the population of the prison beyond
capacity. Seventeen long, shedlike cabins had been built around the
jail. Captain Vance's Franklin County Dragoons patrolled the grounds
and were glad of the militia money.

Bolding was in one of the cabins. The resident dwellers were not
referred to as prisoners, because some of the best of Western society
were there. They walked around outdoors, restricted only within the
sentry paths.

It was an awkward situation, in which Captain Vance commanding
the Dragoons was seen each morning upon his arrival to salu'te several
of the inmates who had been in his regiment in the late English war,
much his senior. Also, Sergeant Blakely was on duty as a guard on
Monday. On Tuesday he was an inmate.

But Bolding was not a debtor prisoner. Two Franklin Dragoons

THE TRESPASSERS 315

were therefore stationed outside his cabin. Visitors were not deterred
from bringing food. They were encouraged by the officials who could
not supply adequate rations.

Justin Bolding was first surprised that he was allowed visitors; but
more than this he was surprised that any visitors came. Worse, though,
was the unsettling nature of the visits.

On the third week of his imprisonment, they still came. Not so many
as before. But a few.

He stood still under the palsied inspection of a white-maned specter
of the great rebellion. The old man ran his eyes up one side of Bold-
ing and down the other with the audacity of age. Then he presented
an unsteady tangle of bony fingers to be shaken by Bolding. Bolding
gripped it gently, then he winced as the old man squashed his hand
like a bird's wing.

"Good work, boy," the old man rasped. Bolding did not reply, for
he suspected sarcasm. But after his hand was released, the old man
grabbed it again. "Strong stomach it took to issue that order. Good
work, boy. We're behind ya!"

Bolding sat down on his bunk.

Outside the cabin occasionally a stranger would come up to one of
the sentries and apparently ask a question. The sentry would then
point to Bolding's cabin, and the stranger would stare in. A square
block of a man entered the cabin. "You Bolding? The one that issued
the warrant for the tax?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Expected an older man." The block shoved out a square hand.
"Name's Adonijah Heth. I can do anything, you let me know. I got
the forge down the road aways. We know what you did."

"You do?" Bolding was careful. If these brazen black eyes knew as
much as they seemed, then this offer of friendship was surely facetious.

"What do you mean you know what I did?"

"We know ya stuck by your guns and sent them collectors after the
money from the Bank when you was ordered not to."

The mitered hand shook Bolding's and left him liking very much
the blunt admiration of a blunt man. Bolding was tasting for the first
time the strongest of liquors reward for fundamental service to men.
But it curdled as he swallowed.

Even before the time for the distribution of evening rations to the
prisoners, the unconfined prisoners lined up to receive the corn bread,

316 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

salt, coffee and salt pork with which they would prepare their own
meal. The confined prisoners had their meals brought to them. From
his doorway, Bolding stood watching the slow moving line. In it he
saw a woman in a sheepskin coat. She had a small pale girl with her
who carried one of the vessels. The child kept leaning out o the line,
counting the number of people ahead of her. Then she would argue
with the woman in the sheepskin coat. The woman, girl really, would
pat the child's head.

Corporal Johanson brought Holding's ration which included a
crumbling square of corn bread. Bolding pointed to the small pale
girl. The corporal delivered it to her. The woman's eyes followed back
over the route of the corn bread to Bolding.

She turned to the man behind her and then left the line, coming
over to the doorway of Bolding's cabin.

"You're Bolding, the auditor. My husband says you got spine, what
you did."

Bolding forked in a mouthful of slumgullion.

"He says the men will not stand for it that you stay in prison because
of it. He says it is in the papers from Dayton."

Bolding was just going to nod to her, but he was caught in this lie
of omission, because over her shoulder he saw the unreadable face of
Virginia Schaacht.

He said to the woman in sheepskin. "Lady, does your husband know
what part I had in the legislation behind that tax law?"

"How would he know? But I'm sure it was grand. Did you make
the tax?"

Bolding now noticed that a Franklin Dragoon had arrived with
Virginia Schaacht. The Dragoon stepped over to talk quietly with
Corporal Johanson. Bolding also saw an unmistakably mischievous
interest on Virignia Schaacht's face as to how he would answer the
lady in sheepskin. He swallowed another forkful of slumgullion. "Well,
I guess to keep the record straight, madam, you'd better tell your
husband that I am the same Justin Bolding who, on the floor of the
assembly represented the side of . . ." Bolding seemed to choke on the
slumgullion. "You'd better tell him once and for all that I represented
the interests of ... I tried to maneuver for . . ."

"Oh, he already knows you're a smart one," the woman interrupted.
"They're all sayin' it. Though I wouldn't know about the details/'

He saw Virginia Schaacht's faint dimples wink in amusement.

THE TRESPASSERS 317

"Now wait a minute, Ma'am, I'm trying to tell you something, Listen
close now. I'm telling you that . . ."

But Corporal Johanson interrupted. "Bolding, this man just brought
a note from up yonder/' The corporal leaned his rifle up against
the cabin wall and abandoned his cautious and watchful demeanor.
"You're bailed."

Bolding's eyebrows queried the corporal. The corporal's thumb mo
tion evicted the auditor. "We need the room."

"Bailed by whom, Corporal?"

Johanson emancipated a stream of eating-tobacco nectar. "Does it
matter?"

"It might. Who bails me?"

The corporal spit. "Schaacht, of course."

The sheepskin-coated woman exclaimed, "But that's . . . the one!"
Her hand went to her mouth.

Bolding sat down.

"We'll be needing the space," the corporal said.

"Find it elsewhere, Corporal. I'm staying."

"You're what!"

"You can't bail a man that doesn't want to be bailed."

The sheepskin-coated woman nodded and smiled as though she had
said this. The corporal shrugged.

The dents in Virginia Schaacht's cheeks disappeared.

Blair planned his arrival at Columbus to catch the circuit court
when it came through again. He was in search of a good lawyer. After
opposing each other all afternoon in the courtroom, the lawyers came
across the ruts of High Street to The Red Lion, laughing and talking
together. The judge walked across separately, but he permitted the
lawyers to join him at the dinner board each night.

Blair approached the table after they were all seated so that he
could sit in a certain place. He wished to talk across the whole length
of the table so that Ewing and Stanhope would have to answer his
questions loud and plain and for record.

He hoped there would not be a lot of fuss upon his arrival. But Stutt
gart was there, and he exclaimed, "Blairl How long y'all been heah?
Ev'body's lookin' for yal Includin' the federal lawyers I heah! You
sure did it big, Mistah Blair! Big! They say that old man Schaacht is
stompin' up the . . ."

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Other exclamations broke out. But Judge Pease glared them silent.
He waggled his hand.

"Mr. Blair has had enough of explaining and gasping. Let's give him
peace at least amongst the bar."

Pease leaned close to Ewing and said something. Ewing studied
Blair and nodded at what he heard.

Pease said, "Mr. Blair, this is Mr. Ewing."

"How do you do, sir."

"Hello, Blair. Naturally I know about you. Everybody's heard. Glad
to meet you."

While he had his attention Blair waded right in. He said, "J u< % e
Pease, I tried Jacob Burnet as you suggested."

"Would he take the case?"

"No."

"You try the others?"

"Yes, sir. I asked Curtain of Dayton, and Colonel Johnson/'

These names commanded Ewing's attention. Judge Pease said,
"And?"

"They won't take it."

"What's the matter with Bela Hult? He's man enough and he's a
good lawyer and some standing at the bar."

"He'll take it if I insist. But we bo h agreed a man of more reputa
tion is needed. Either reputation or ability. Besides it's costing Hult's
people dear he says, for what he had to do with it."

Pease resumed eating his soup, but his head snapped up as Blair's
next remark went like a bullet to Ewing. "The truth is, Mr. Ewing,
I came here tonight to ask you to take the defense."

The heads at the table snapped from Blair to Ewing.

Ewing lowered his chicken bone slowly. His eyes challenged Blair
for forcing this public decision.

The other lawyers, ineligible for the assignment, were free to enjoy
the tension. Ewing borrowed time, "Are you referring to the defense
of the collectors of the tax against the suit of the U. S. Bank in Federal
Circuit Court in Chillicothe?"

Blair ignored the question in favor of his food. The length of the
silence was emphasized by the chuckling of Judge Pease's soup sluic
ing through his poor teeth.

"It needs a big man," Blair said. "A man of great ability and knowl
edge. It needs you, sir."

THE TRESPASSERS 319

The judge's soup fairly gurgled.

"There'll just be the treasurer, Mr. Curry, and a man named Gav-
agan and one named Christofferson to defend, sir."

"What about the auditor?' 1 asked Ewing. "Young Bolding."

A snicker started around the table, but Pease glared the young law
yers down.

"He's being bailed I hear," Blair said. "And I expect charges to be
dropped in his case. Will you do it, Mr. Ewing?"

Ewing straightened up with excessive forthrightness. "Mr. Blair,
whoever takes that case must be available to thoroughly research it.
I expect to go to Washington in the winter. I must decline." He looked
around the table, preventing any facial comments. Judge Pease sucked
his soup.

Blair's comment was eloquent. He only ate.

For long seconds there was nothing but Judge Pease's soup, as Blair
punished the great man with silence.

"Salt, please," Ewing said. But he had to reach for it himself.

There was more soup through the judge's teeth.

"All right!" Ewing said. "All right. I'll take the defense."

Blair looked up.

"If," continued Ewing, "you'll get me Jacob Burnet for associate
counsel." .3

They exchanged glares.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me say I can't get him," Blair said. Pease
studied Blair as if he had never seen him before.

Blair turned abruptly to Henry Stanhope. "Mr. Stanhope, I heard
your preceptor was Tuttle of Philadelphia; and that you won a case
in bona confiscata before the upper bench in Pennsylvania against
Bouvier."

Stanhope kept his eyes on the table. He wiped his mouth slowly
with the hand linen. But every lawyer saw his mind was racing.

"Ours is really only a routine collection of tax by confiscation," Blair
continued. "Same as a state would proceed against any debtor."

Stanhope was not one to be bowled off his feet. He waited for the
proposition to be fully stated.

"Chance for an exceptional young lawyer to skip five years of will
writing, dower settling, petty crime and woods circuits."

"Or nail himself to it forever, Mr. Blair. The federal isn't calling it
taxation. They're calling it trespass and larceny and a few more."

3 <>o JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"But our side is clear cut. The action complied with a state law and
a warrant from the auditor."

"Then why don't you defend them, sir?"

Blair slapped the table with a flat hand. "Because I've chucked a life
into petit juries on this woods circuit. And in fifteen years I don't know
fifteen cents worth of law, nor the feel of a federal court, nor the whims
of Judge Byrd, that's why!"

Stanhope looked about to answer, but Blair cut^him off. "Never
mind. The job's not for such a cautious young man."

Stanhope reddened and stood up. "I'm not cautious because of the
law involved! But if you'd stop and think a minute, if the plaintiff
plans to rely on the Marshall decision, they'll choose some arch Fed
eralist for counsel. The Federal circuit judge will be the same. They'll
have fought the rebellion together, fought Jefferson together and
then along comes me for the defense in the face of a Marshall deci
sion. Does it look like a win?"

Blair ate.

"But I'll do this," Stanhope said. "You get your Colonel Hult to face
the bench, and I'll be his second counsel. It would be a politic com
bination. I saw him at The Swan. I'll get him."

Stanhope stepped outside The Red Lion and sent a stable hand for
Colonel Bela Hult over at The Swan.

Hult came in and shook hands with Blair in silence. He nodded to
the others and sat down.

"Will Mr. Ewing do it, Jonathan?"

"No, Bela. We're asking you."

"Burnet and the others? No?"

"No. Will you take it, Bela?"

Blair looked into the saddest pair of hound eyes he'd ever seen on
a man. He was looking at a man who wanted to say, "yes." But a man
who was thinking about Coshocton, and what they had lost there
already. "Jonathan, I ..." Hult took out his pocket linen and
swabbed the undersides of his chin. "Jonathan, you think I'm the best
we got for it, huh?"

Blair looked at his friend and he surprised even himself. "No, Bela.
I don't think so. We'll look some more."

The following evening Blair went to the prison to talk to Gavagan.
Gavagan was all right. He said, "Tell Flannerty's boy to cut the black's

THE TRESPASSERS 3211

feed in half when he's not workin'. And don't use the hair collar on
him."

"I'll tell him, Matt."

Blair went to see Mr. Curry. Curry was frail and he was cold. But
he seemed proud to be in prison.

"Don't you worry any, Blair. We'll beat them."

"You might be in here awhile."

"Don't you worry about that." Blair was leaving the prison.

"Did you find one?" The voice in the dark was a woman. He
stopped and Virginia Schaacht caught up to him.

"Find what?"

"It's pretty well over the territory that you're looking for a lawyer
with stomach to stand for the defendants against the Republic."

"People know I'm looking?"

"And the more time goes by," she said, "the more nobody wants
the job."

"I'll get somebody. And somebody good! Plenty are against the
Bank."

"Trouble with you, Jonathan, you mistake Mesopotamia for the
whole territory. You mistake talk for action. Your friends talk strong
in the taverns. But they won't stand to the bar and talk against
Gideon Schaacht."

"All right. All right. Don't tell me what I already know. Help me
find the man I needl"

"There is one that's man enough to stand in court against father."

"With a brain in his head?"

"He's smart enough."

"Anybody ever heard of him?"

"Lately he's achieving something of a name for himself."

"Wouldn't be one your father wants to put in my camp . . . like
he did the auditor?"

"No."

"You think this man would do it?"

"Yes."

Blair stopped, "Who is he? Take me to him."

"No. I wouldn't put you in touch with this man until you've really
found out how many others of ^our so-called supporters will back
out."

"I need him nowl"

322 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"No."

"What's the matter with him?"

"Nothing. But you won't accept him until you're desperate."

"I'm already des . . . hahi No doubt. If he was worth a damn he
would have come forward by now."

Blair walked faster.

"Like your others have?" She kept up to him.

"Besides," Blair said, "I don't know any good reason you should
be on my side. What are you after?"

The exertion of keeping up with Blair colored her face, "I should
think I'd done enough that I don't have to go into that/' she said.

"Tell me this man's name. I'll see him myself."

"No point in it," she smiled. "Even if you knew the name, you
wouldn't believe he could help you . . . until you're desperate."

Blair was puzzled. This woman had reasons not to help him. And
she was not helping. Yet there was a teasing quality in her as though
she would take him to this great man, if he would crawl low enough.

He tipped his broad-brimmed, low-crowned beaver. "I won't get that
desperate."

On his third evening in Columbus, Blair's attention was grasped
by a horse tied in front of The Red Lion. Only Culpepper brushed
the coat so ostentatiously that it had a changing evanescent grain like
mahogany. Culpepper's presence in Columbus was confirmed because
next to the chestnut was Mike Stikes' big white mare. They must have
come down together. But Stikes had not been to Columbus since . . .
in fact he'd never been.

Blair hurried into The Swan. He didn't see them in the ordinary
room. He hurried into the tap room. But he slowed up then because
of the way Stikes and Culpepper leaned so intently toward Judge
Pease. The men's backs were mostly toward Blair. But as he ap
proached he heard Stikes say, "So we figured, Judge, that you could
tell us the names of some of those good hundred-dollar lawyers down
in these parts."

"You wasted your time comin' down here, men," Pease said.
"Y'oughta know Blair is gettin' the best lawyer he can/'

"We heard he's not havin' any luck."

"No. But he's tryin' the best. Been turned down by Burnet, Stan-

THE TRESPASSERS 323

hope, Ewing and a fine lot of others. Huh. A fine lot. You think you
can do better than Blair can?"

"Tisn't that, Judge," Stikes said. "But we figured when Blair asks
them, it's all full of complications. Somethin' about the way Blair
goes at a thing that gets it all tangled up in right against wrong and
all that. But if we asked the lawyer to take the job, we'd just say 'get
Gavagan and Christofferson out of the law/ "

"Oh? And what reasons would you suggest this lawyer give the court
for setting them free?"

"Because it's blamed important."

"Why?"

"Why, because Gavagan does our haulin' for us. He's got
the only six-wheel hundred-hundred rig up our way. The rest of us
can't go runnin' off all the time and haul stuff down to the water
courses and bring back iron and seed and salt etsetra."

Culpepper added, "And Christofferson's leg is bad and Miss H6pe
does nothing but tend him and stand by him, and won't leave him."

"Is that bad?" asked the Judge.

"Yeah, y'see while she's tendin' him nobody's watchin' out for them
Merino sheep, and they got a touch with Merinos like nobody but
Adam Rotch hisself. And 'rinos might save us. Only thing bringing
bankable money these days."

Blair stood rooted, listening.

Pease said, "I see. But that's not law. And the Bank has bought the
best law brains in the country to prosecute."

"Prosecute?"

"Yes, for the bank. Schaacht has got J. Harrison Inge in here from
Pittsburgh."

The name obviously didn't mean anything to Stikes or Culpepper.
But it stood up the short hairs on Blair's neck. J. Harrison Inge. The
Western waters navigation case * . . decision favorable to the federal.
The national road case . . . decision favorable to the federal. The
Revolutionary Officers' Pension case . . . decision favorable to the federal.

Stikes said, "Well, we don't know anything about him, but we got
a man looks pretty good to us."

"Who?"

"Stuttgart."

Judge Pease never got into personalities. A long pause covered his

324 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

thoughts, and then he said, "Don't you realize he was working for a
client who was fighting the tax bill?"

"We don't know about that/ 7 Culpepper said, "but he gives a nice
speech and knows a lot of words. That carries it off, don't it?"

Blair saw Judge Pease shake his finger in Culpepper's face. He
couldn't hear the words.

Betsy Deshler answered Blair's knock. She read him before he spoke,
and said, "She's over at Sullivant's."

Blair crossed the Scioto in the dark. His admission at Sullivant's
was cool. But from within came the music of Virginia Schaacht at
the pianoforte. Blair accepted the proffered chair immune to the cool
ness of the offer. The music filled the small room and made it a
throbbing cathedral. Blair knew it was probably because he hadn't
heard much music in the woods. Yet, he could not discount it. The
chords invaded him through the very wood of the floor; and in the
middle of it was the straight back of Virginia Schaacht. Seen thus,
with her hands moving to new sets of notes while the previous notes
were still rising through the air, she was fine.

She saw him there once, but she played right on until the end. The
resonance seemed to be still in the air, flickering the candles even after
she moved away from the instrument.

She made it easy for him. "Are you ready at last, Jonathan?"

"Yes."

The others looked startled as Blair and Miss Schaacht abruptly
left the house.

Once outside she said, "I thought you'd never come."

"Just tell me who he is and in what city," Blair said, "I'll go get him."

"I think I would have to be the one to ask him/'

"Well, you could give me a note. I could ride faster alone to wher
ever he is."

"He isn't that far away. In fact, he's right here in Columbus."

"In Columbus!"

"You'll meet him soon enough."

She indicated the direction and Blair walked as fast as she could
follow in the dark. He led the way.

"What's the man's name?" he asked.

"It isn't that his name is so much," she explained. "But lately he's
displayed a strong potential."

THE TRESPASSERS 325

"What cases has he won?"

"Point is he has every motive for defeating the Bank and defending
the robbers."

Blair stopped.

"I mean the collectors"

They resumed.

"What motives?"

"Ever hear the legend about the drunken beggar who was found in
the gutter outside the good Duke's palace?"

"No. Can you walk faster?"

"He was mistaken for the Duke by the Duke's servants. They washed
him, put him in the Duke's bed. Next morning they shaved him and
dressed him in the Duke's clothes."

"Are we going the right direction?" Blair asked.

"Then they sat him in the Duke's chair and ushered in the suppli
cants waiting to see him. And the drunken beggar became in fact the
Duke, and a good one."

"Let's hurry/'

"Well, it's the same with the man we're going to see," she said.

"He's a drunk?"

"No. But he's been on the federalist side of things. Oddly enough,
though, the people have credited him with the collection of the bank
tax."

"They what!"

"And he seems to like the Duke's clothes. Quite becoming to him."

"I don't know who could be credited . . . unless perhaps O'Shaugh-
nessy who changed his vote and persuaded six others to ... hey,
we're going into the prison bounds!"

"So? You said some of the best people are in prison these days."

"Not the best lawyers."

"Well, he's not a debtor prisoner."

"Why are you so eager to take me to this man?"

"Gratitude."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because you made a man out of him."

Blair increased the pace. A suspicion squirmed into his head, mak
ing him impatient.

Virginia Schaacht reached for the latch thong of one of the cabins.
She pulled open the door.

326 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair stepped into the dark cabin. A silhouette against the hearth
rose and extended a hand to Blair.

Blair reached for it, but then suddenly he withdrew his own hand.

"Boldingl"

Blair bulled for the door. Virginia Schaacht snapped the latch and
stood athwart.

"Wait a minute, Jonathanl Until you've thought it out. Who
pleads better than a man in his own defense?"

"Huh I Which Bolding would he plea for? The auditor of the State
of Ohio? Or, the chore boy of the Federal Bank?"

Blair moved close enough so his words were damp against Holding's
face, "In fact, just who the hell are you Bolding? You decided yet?"

And to Virginia Schaacht, Blair said, "And even if you know which
side he's on, you know I don't need an auditor or a bank clerk! I
need a lawyer!''

"He is a lawyer, but for a little matter of a signature on a piece of
certificate paper."

"Oh is he! Just what entitles him to be called a lawyer!"

There was an impish moment of relish for Miss Schaacht. "Why, his
training, of course/' she smiled. "Or wasn't that so good?"

Chapter 21:THE DOCTOR

MESOPOTAMIA had a nod, a nod of the

head that was a kind of jury. You can't live up in the woods, two
hundred miles north of the river and pass a man without speaking.
Same time, there's a limit. So the nod was for the newcomer, the nod
was for the defaulter, for the man who reported sick the day of a
barn-raising or a road-mending.

Lately the nod was for Blair.

Jonathan Blair had long since learned to live without the slapping
of hands on his leather back in Exeter's tavern. But at least he had
always been a comfortable man to drink with. Always quick to buy
his round. Didn't have much about himself that was worth telling,
but always listened to the others with admiration.

THE DOCTOR

Seemed to absorb what Stikes had to say about the proper way to
break in a new rifle; and if Blair was at the table, Slasher always
expanded more about the merits of cherry timber for inside wood over
ash, Hussong spread himself more than usual about how he'd im
proved the Mesopotamia spotted hog over what Woodbridge had done
with it. If Blair was there just quietly listening, every man seemed
more of a hero. Because Blair mostly just sat there studying *them in
a way that made a man feel important.

Now it was different, though. They studied Blair. This say-nothing
fellow who bent no iron, dug no dirt, carved no wood, boiled no salt,
it turned out now he was not just a by-sitter. Suddenly he was the
middle of the town ... in fact, the whole county. And every man's
troubles ... if you followed them back . . . somehow suddenly
started with Blair.

Like Hope's sheep hiding up in the woods somewhere . . . that
went back to Blair. Like Stikes 5 bounty land warrant not going
through yet.

Then there was the debt hanging over all of them. Wasn't Blair's
fault Mesopotamia Hog & Trust notes went bad. But it had been
Blair got them mixed up with the U. S. Bank. Take Christofferson
lying up in the hut with a shot-up leg. Wasn't Blair's fault, maybe
that the pain was moving toward the knee. But take it back a step.
It was Blair bulled through that Crowbar Bank Tax. Looked like a
good idea for a time, but now Gavagan was in jail. And most every
man's troubles went back to money, therefore to Blair. That would be
all right except these were vague, mysterious troubles a man couldn't
get his axe into, or his gun sights on, or his ox hitched to, or his
hands on.

So Blair was accustomed lately to just nodding, and getting just a
nod back, which he did now with the men at the next table as he
clanked his empty mug down on Exeter's counter and walked out.
He nodded again to Stikes as he passed the forge and again to Buttrick
and those on the porch of the store.

He was used to it. Didn't bother him much. But he could read the
nod these days. And the nod this day said, "Christofferson's leg."

But at the Christofferson place, Blair nodded to the Federal sentries
outside the place.

Inside he nodded to Hope who nodded back. He knew he should
have been thinking about Christofferson, That's why he came here,

328 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

But as his eye went around the room he was instead soaking up the
signs of how this woman was taking care of her man. The whole room
was Christofferson's leg. Yards and yards of washed bandages. A
wrapper of store tea. Bottles of medicine. The sheep tools hadn't been
used lately. To be the husband of Hope apparently was to be every
thing.

He asked, "Any better?"

"Some. The doctor is in there now/'

"Hope, I came to tell you I haven't got the right lawyer yet for
Brute and Gavagan. But I will. They'll have the best. We'll get him
free before he ever has to leave this house."

She dismissed that subject with a wave and a deep breath.

"You may hear that I've failed. But I'm still at it."

"Jonathan, you overjudge your law business. I don't need a good
lawyer. I need a doctor that knows what a chunk of lead does to the
flesh."

The doctor came out of Brute's room and closed die door. He was
a cheerful, brisk man of fifty with Philadelphia breeches, shiny from
the saddle. The doctor had chin hair, but none grew on the back of
his neck. It didn't seem right to Blair for a doctor to come out of a
sick room so cheerfully, and with such unseemly interest in arranging
the items in his bag just so.

Blair knew nothing of medicine, but he compared the doctor's
display of his lancets, leeches and cups to the way Stuttgart flaunted
his new copy of McClean's Pleadings in the courtroom. He noticed,
though, that Hope was apparently taking comfort from the strong
medical smell and the view of the object which looked like a pair of
glass doorknobs, one end filled with green liquid, the other with
red. The doctor wrapped it in velvet cloth.

"Pulsometer," he explained to Hope. "The bubbles show your hus
band's pulse to be a little rapid. But, not unduly. I've given more
laudanum to ease him."

Hope reached for a leather bag. She counted out gold coin. There
were some instructions and the doctor left in an aroma of sassafras,
juniper, and geranium.

"He doing any good?" Blair asked.

"I don't think he's the right kind of a doctor for Brute. This doctor
knows about fevers and agues and downstate ailments, but not bul
lets."

THE DOCTOR 329

"Hope . . ." But Blair didn't know either.

She was tired and she raised neither her eyes nor her voice to him.
She just said, ''Jonathan, you want to do something for me, don't get
me a lawyer. Get me a doctor."

"I'll go south tonight.'*

"Not south. I hear that Doctor Saul Brooks has got the pox near
cured up there in the Indian town. Gershom said he seems to know a
thing or two beyond leeching and pills. I want him."

"Himi But Hope, The Pigeon would no more let me get . . . that
is, I took the money away from Pigeon. If I step back in there,
they'll . . ."

Hope was nodding silently and impatiently. "All right. But that's
what I need."

"Listen, Hope. Not only me. If any man from Mesopotamia sets
foot in that Indian town and attempts to take that doctor . . ."

But she nodded her head some more, and started to move toward
the bedroom. "I see, Jonathan."

Suddenly he had her by the shoulders. "All right, Hope. All right.
Doctor Saul Brooks."

She turned back to him, and he let go of her, relieved.

"But it will take money," he said. "Brooks made it plain he wants
to go to Transylvania Medical College in Lexington. We'll have to
have money."

"There isn't any. Not that kind."

"Brute's two thousand dollars, I mean."

"He won't spend it for anything. Says it's for Merino rams only."

"Take it from him." Blair was impatient.

"Can't. He keeps it in his boots. And he keeps his boots on/*

"When he sleeps take them off."

"He doesn't sleep."

"Then take them anyhowl"

"Did you ever try ... from Brute?"

Blair kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. "Then you see what
chance we have."

But she was nodding again and she turned to Brute's door. Hope
seldom asked anything. And when she did, she only asked once.

Blair forced her to face him. "All right. All right. Don't go. Saul
Brooks."

Of the many obstacles Blair foresaw, the chief one was Saul Brooks,

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lazuyer

himself. For, from his brief contact with the young doctor, Blair al
ready suspected the presence there of a slightly unhandy streak of
character.

Blair found Asa Buttrick in the store. "Asa, you've been ordering
quinine out of Cincinnati for that Brooks up in the Indian town,
haven't you?"

"Got some waiting for him here now."

"I'll take it up to him. I'm going up."

"Oh, you will, eh, Blair. Fine. You got ninety dollars?"

"Ninety!"

"Ninety."

"What is it, a barrel full or something?"

"Tha-ree ounces, mister." Buttrick leaned over the counter and un
folded three fat fingers in Blair's face. "Three."

Buttrick put the tiny package on the counter.

"What color currency does he pay in?"

"U. S. Bank notes."

"How does he pick it up? In person?"

"Nope. The Pigeon sends that old Captain Michael down here for it
on horseback. And there's five big bucks come in with him, armed.
They don't say one word. Just walk in that door there. The old man
grunts and plunks down the cash. The old man holds the medicine like
eggs, and the others are watchin' over him like he was Tecumseh's
sacred ghost. They go up that trail . . . and gone."

"How long has this package been waiting here for him?"

"He's overdue a week now," Buttrick said with concern.

"Hmmm."

"Hmmm what?"

"I may be able to do business with the doctor at that."

"What for?"

"For Brute."

"I wouldn't have any truck with a money-hungry, Indian-lovin'
son of a bitch that turns down white trade for Indian money."

"Except to sell him the medicine, huh, Asa?"

Buttrick's wattles jostled as though he'd been plucked.

Up in the Indian town, Blair had to use the smallest signs to read
the minds of Brooks and Pigeon. And the chief sign he had that the
Pigeon had perhaps not told Brooks about the U. S. Bank funds, was
the fact that Silver Pigeon allowed the lawyer to sit here at Gershom's

THE DOCTOR S3 1

table with them. The Pigeon made no reference to the bank, nor to
money, nor to Blair's last visit here.

Gershom ate in silence. The Pigeon talked. Brooks ate fast and his
mind was back in the Indian huts. His hair was blond and tied behind
his head queued into a tube of unpolished snakeskin. His oblivion to
the other conversation was plain by the abrupt, irrelevant remarks
he inserted.

"Just because that number-four hut is cured up now doesn't mean it
doesn't get the whitewash tomorrow like the rest, Pigeon."

Pigeon's face went blank, then it grinned. "Yes, Doctor, like the rest.
What you call number four is Squindatee's hut."
"Number four is easier."

"That is all right, Doctor. You call it number four. We whitewash.
Pigeon asked Blair how the pox and marsh fever and ague were
down the Scioto Valley.

Brooks interjected, "And remember, Pigeon, I want those cow flaps
shoveled away from the cabins tomorrow/'
"Yes, Doctor."

And later Brooks said, "Also, that Mudeater fellow, he's^ well. He
just likes the medicine. Keep him out of the line tomorrow."
"Yes, Doctor."

"And go now and check on Squindatee that he's in his hut."
"Yes, Doctor Brooks. Right after eating."
"Now."

The Pigeon grinned and went out.

Blair decided to strike quickly. He said, "Doctor, I came up here to
ask you to come down to Hosmer Village to fix a man's leg."

Gershom's great hawk eyes bored into Blair. Fawn came from the
back room. Brooks looked at Blair and then as though the lawyers
request were not worthy of answer, he scraped the last of the bacon
onto his trencher, and ate.

"I said we'd be grateful if you'd come down to Hosmer Village,
Doctor Brooks, and tend a man's leg."

"There's doctors enough around to set legs for white men, Brooks
said. "I came up here to wring the pox out of these Indians, and I've
done it nearly. Then I go to Transylvania to hear the lectures. I came
up here to get money for that. And that's what I'm going to do.
"That needs a lot of money, doesn't it?"
"Yup." Brooks finished his coffee. "And they're payin* me a lot.

332 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"You sure they've got the money, Brooks?"

"They've had everything else they said they had. And they've co
operated, too. Did you see how those huts are cleaned up?"

"How do you know they have the money?"

"They showed it to me when I first came up here." Brooks got up
and put on his coat. "And they been payin' for the medicine I called
for right along."

"Could you just come down to Hosmer Village for thirty days, say, to
take care of this man's leg?"

"Thirty days to set a leg?"

"It's not broken, Doctor."

"What then?"

"It's shot."

Brooks shoved out his lower lip. But he said, "There's doctors in
Columbus."

"That's what we got, Doctor. But the leg is swollen up. Red in
places. Dark blue in others."

"Where is the red?"

"Around the mashed part."

"And the blue area?"

"It's not an area. It's streaks."

"Streaks! Why didn't you say streaks? What's the doctor doing for it?"

"He put a lot of ground up hickory bark around it."

"Bark!"

Fawn watched the doctor become absorbed and she glared at Blair.

"This doctor ... is he a Homeopath or a Botanic?"

"How would we know?"

"Well did he say if he studied under Thompson or under . . . what
is your doctor's name? Did he use large amounts of Calomel?"

"We don't know these things, Doctor."

"Look, it's important. If he is a Homeopath, maybe that bark thing
is legitimate. They believe in inducing mild symptoms of the thing
they're trying to cure. But if he's not a Homeopath-type doctor, his bark
thing may be just plain no-count pract , . . what's his name?"

"Brooks, you got to come look at our man!"

Brooks suddenly woke up. He put on his hat. "No, sir. That's how
I'm five years late getting to the lectures at Transylvania, Always it
was 'just look at this one more patient please/ And always I stayed a
year." Brooks's blue eyes accused the whole room. "That's why I

THE DOCTOR 333

stand here today . . . ignorant! I don't know if bark induces an im
munity or not. I'm neither a bona fide Homeopath nor a Botanic, nor
even a horse doctor! I always put off the lectures. I've seen it happen
to others. So I fix your man's leg. And while I'm doing it I don't learn
how to fix a thousand other men's legs! Good day!"

Brooks went out of the cabin. Gershom rose up from the table.
When he had reached his full six foot four he yelled, "Blair, can't you
leave us anything up here! You think it's right to come up here and
take our doctor when you couldn't even help us get one? What are you
thinking of!"

'I'm thinking of a man with a shot leg. I didn't say it was right.
I just said I'm up here to get a doctor for Chris toff erson."

"Huh! You thinking of the man with the leg?" Gershom sneered.
"Or his wife!"

The cabin door opened and bit off the talk. Brooks leaned in, "Blair,
how long has this wound been open?"

"Since before I was up here last."

"Since before you were . . . good God! What part of the leg?"

"The calf."

"A clean hole or . . ."

"No, all mashed."

Brooks was drawn into the room as if by magnet.

"Does the man eat?"

"A little."

"Sleep?"

"Very little."

Fawn walked in front of Brooks and looked into his face, "It is
time now," she said, "for Mudeater's cheah-ha to be born perhaps."
Brooks alerted. "Yes. Besides, I said I'm going to Transylvania."

He turned to go. But Blair grabbed him by the only handle he could
find.

"Transylvania! All right!" Blair rose. "If the Indians have paid you
enough to go to Transylvania, they did it with money that was got for
them by Brute Christofferson. He got shot in the leg getting it. You'll
owe your education to Christofferson, Doctor."

Gershom grabbed Blair's arm. But Blair rose and shrugged loose
from the preacher's claw. "And if they don't pay you enough for
Transylvania, Hosmer Village will."

Brooks scowled, "I'll take mine from the Indians."

334 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Will you? They don't have it to give, Brooks."

Brooks laughed.

"All right, laugh. But have you asked for money yet?"

"No. But I will."

The door opened and The Pigeon stepped in. His quick face took in
the room. "What is this loud talk?"

"There he is," Blair said to Brooks. "Ask him now."

But Brooks just stood there looking at Blair. "That's a low way to
get a doctor, Blair/'

"Is it? Then think this one over Brooks. Why do they let your last
shipment of quinine sit so long in the store down at Hosmer Village?
Ask them if they have the money to pay for it?"

Brooks turned to the Indian. "Have you the money for the quinine,
Pigeon?"

"Uh . . . yes, Doctor."

"Then why haven't you sent for it?"

"I did not know it comes so soon. Apparently Mr. Blair looks out
for our interests. He maybe sits all day to see if the Indian quinine
comes."

Blair said, "Pigeon, we only want the doctor for thirty days. It's for
Chris toff erson."

Pigeon mimicked bitterly in a whining singsong. "We only want the
doctor for thirty days." He dropped the mimic. "But when I asked you
for a doctor, what did you give me? Talk only. Now, get out, Blair!"

"Pigeon, damn it, you don't need the doctor any more. He's got
your town fixed up. We need himl"

The powerful Indian moved on Blair, but these two had measured
each other before and apparently it was not necessary again. The
Silver Pigeon's voice came out hoarse, "Try and get him, Blair. Try
itl"

"I didn't want it on that basis, Pigeon," Blair said. "I only wanted
to borrow him. But if that's the way it is . , ." Blair turned to the
doctor, "Brooks, I suggest you ask The Pigeon for your money now."

Brooks said, "I suggest you get out."

Pigeon smiled. Blair walked out.

But apparently the doctor did ask for his money. Because two days
later as Blair waited impatiently on the trail south of Upper Sandusky,
he saw a small Indian pony approaching. The pony carried a man,

THE DOCTOR 335

and two bulges astride the saddle. Behind was a pack pony with two
bulges. It was the silhouette o a doctor in the Northwest Territory.

Blair dropped down the trail quietly, two miles south, to a defile
where the trail went between two granite faces, nearly perpendicular.
In nervous times or war times, smart men never rode through the
defile which was known as Navarre's Pinch because o the time that
Slover Navarre's squatters trapped Armstrong's scouts there. You could
still see traces of the little side trail which circumvented the Pinch like
a toll dodge. But it was a laborious climb and seldom used, mostly at
night, and when there was trouble.

Blair checked his rope which was fastened to the top of a birch which
was pulled down across the path so that its top was down behind the
south face of the granite bluff. He thought he had done everything
exactly as he had heard Navarre describe his trick in Exeter's Tavern.
For all he knew he might even have the very same birch tree. Navarre
had said you should have an axe to activate the pinch. But Blair felt
the edge of his heavy knife and hoped. The convolutions of the
ground afforded him cover and yet allowed him to watch the cut. He
saw the doctor's pony approach. Braoks's mind was apparently already
at Transylvania, and the pony picked his own way down the trail.

Blair waited until the pony had picked his way to the place where
both forehooves had stepped over the trunk of the bent-over birch.

The lawyer laid his knife over the rope and hit the back of the
blade with a rock.

The doctor heard the click. But it was too late. The birch swished up
noisily, its top branches fighting with other branches.

The trunk came up under the pony's belly, slammed him against the
face of granite and then spun him around sideways. The pack-horse
guide rein halted the spin with a jerk.

The birch whished on by to the upright position.

Brooks was on the ground scrambling for his rifle which was rolling
down the rocky incline. Blair jumped on his back, pulling the doctor's
arms up behind him until the latter's face was in the rocky path. The
lawyer took no chance, for the young doctor looked strong. He roped
the two wrists together and then wrapped the end of the rope around
the windings between the wrists.

Brooks had seen so much unspeakable conduct up here already this
past few days that he was neither outraged nor excited. Only taciturn.
With Blair's help he remounted his pony and rode ahead of Blair.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Thus did the doctor and the lawyer enter Mesopotamia in the winter
of the year of Christofferson's leg.

Exeter and Hawkins, Fitchburg and Stikes, Culpcpper and Faith
Hawkins and some others crowded into Christofferson's room behind
Blair and the doctor.

Christofferson lay there, white. Hope had washed him and combed
his hair. His usually whiskerless face had grown a beard long enough
so that you could see here and there speckles of gray in it. His eyes
were smoldering black in an expressionless face. Hope had drawn a
sheet over him.

Exeter said, "Just tell me which bag you want brought in, Doctor,"

Brooks stood there, eyeing Christofferson. "I don't want any of them
brought in. I told you I'm on my way to Transylvania. I just want to
be untied."

'Til bring in all the bags then, Doctor," Exeter said. And the bags
he brought in were not new like the other doctor's.

Brooks said, "I told you I'm not a certificated M.D. anyhow. I'm
only a legal practitioner. And I can see even by this man's face that he
needs the best."

Hope Christofferson said, "You're the best as far as we're concerned,
Doctor. We heard what you did up at the Indian town."

Blair said, "Look, Brooks. All we ask is you take care of Christoffer
son and then stay here thirty days so we're sure you did it right."

Brooks glared contempt at Blair, "You want a guarantee, huh?"

"Sure, but we're willing to pay for it."

"Do you guarantee court victories, lawyer?"

Christofferson's voice was weak. "Blair, get that man out of here. I
didn't ask for him. The doctor we got is doin* good enough. And he's
willing."

Blair ignored the big, helpless Christofferson.

"Brooks, I told you we'll pay your way to Transylvania."

"I've been told that before you know/'

"I guarantee it. Every man in this town will pledge a part of it."

There were sharp intakes of breath around the room. Brooks saw it.
"That their idea, Blair? Or just yours?"

Exeter said, "It's just his, Doc. We got along all right without a doc
so far."

Blair pointed to the tavernkeeper. "And we got a full buryin' yard

THE DOCTOR 337

to show for it, Exeter. Your share is twenty dollars. Mike, yours is
thirty-five. Buttrick, well count on you for forty dollars."

"Now wait a minute, Blair!"

But Blair walked over to Buttrick, "How was Elizabeth's cough when
you left the house this morning, Asa?"

Buttrick's jowls backed up, "Well, all right, I admit it'd be a good
thing to have a doctor here. But forty dollars!"

Hussong next began to protest, but Hope cut him off, "You'll be
the first to want him, Joe, if the hog cholera comes back. You been
buryin' about two a month."

She had hit Hussong where it hurt. "All right, Hope. But twenty-
five is all I'll go." Hussong whirled to examine the doctor critically.
"And how do I know he knows anything about hogs?"

Brooks turned red to the roots of his blond hair. "You can take
your hogs to the devil, mister. I wouldn't so much as . . ."

"All right. All right," Hussong said. "You're ornery enough you
probably know your business."

"My business isn't hogs!"

"Yeah, but I can tell you got the stuff to catch on fast. I'll go for
twenty-five dollars worth of the doctor."

Brooks was speechless. But Hope brought in her leather bag and
counted out sixteen dollars in gold and silver. Blair took a pencil
and scraps of paper out of one of the doctor's bags and got signed
notes from the others for pledges toward the doctor's tuition to Tran
sylvania.

He stuffed them in the doctor's chest pocket. "There's part of it.
And here's Hope's share in cash. And I'll get the rest ... in writing."

Exeter had an afterthought. "But don't forget, Brooks, that means
you got to stay here' thirty days and then, after you get this schoolin',
you got to come back here and settle."

Blair glared at Exeter. Brooks laughed. "Oh, is that so? No thank
you, gentlemen. If this is a sample of your town, I've already had too
much. I'll be goin' now."

Brooks moved to the door. The crowd moved out of his way with
unflattering alacrity. Exeter even flung open the door with a flourish.
Blair sagged. Then suddenly he called, "Doctorl"

Brooks turned around, quietly defiant. But he was not prepared for
Blair. The lawyer suddenly threw back the sheet over Christoffer-
son's leg.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

The room went silent. Brooks stared.

The puncheon floor creaked as Brooks, with a trancelike expression,
moved slowly to the bedside.

When his hands were freed, Brooks took hold of Christofferson's
knee gently. Christofferson winced in pain. Brooks let go. He took
hold of Christofferson's leg up higher where it did not hurt. Then he
moved his hand lower in succeeding grips until Christofferson stiffened
in pain.

"All right, sorry."

Brooks's face was contorted with concentration as he examined
Christofferson. His mouth was open and his lips pulled back as though
he were squinting into a hot fire. Without taking his eyes off the leg,
he opened his bag. He soaked some wisps of fleece in some clear liquid
that smelled like Amos Exeter's tavern, and he swabbed over the
wound, after he had propped Brute's leg up where he could see the
underside. Mesopotamia craned its neck.

Brooks stood up, "I want whisky/'

"What?" Hope asked.

"Whisky. The strongest you've got." He measured Christofferson.
"About a quart and a half."

Exeter said, "I got just the thing." Exeter scrambled out with im
portance.

Brooks untied Christofferson's boot and took hold of it gently to pull.

"Leave the boots alone, Doctor!" Christofferson said.

Brooks ignored the patient. Christofferson kicked, "Leave 'em alone,
Doc."

Brooks looked up, surprised. Hope said quietly to Mr. Brooks, "If
you could leave him his boots it would ease his mind."

Brooks glared.

"I know it's hard for you to work," Hope said. "But if you just
could leave his boots on I'd be obliged to you."

Brooks' face softened. "All right. He can leave them on ... un
fortunately."

When the whisky came, Brooks directed Hope to feed it to her hus
band. She gave him a cupful. "More," Brooks said.

She gave him more and Brooks looked up from his bag, out of which
he had gotten some leather straps, "Give it all to him."

As Brooks worked he frequently looked at Christofferson's face and
felt his pulse at the wrist, and laid out instruments. At one point he

THE DOCTOR 339

said in a quiet tone which Blair found too matter-of-fact, "Everyone
out of here. The wife can stay."

Brooks studied the faces of the men in the room and then he pointed
to S tikes and to Blair. "You and you, wait in the other room. I'll need
you later."

Mesopotamia went out, but not far out. They stood near the cabin
speculating and comparing opinions of the doctor. Strangely most
agreed with Hussong, "I favor a little cussedness in a doctor. Means
he's got to know his trade."

But talk was cut short by a shattering roar like the dehorning of a
bull. They surged back into the cabin.

Brooks was against the cabin wall. Around his throat was the mas
sive hand of Brutus Christofferson and across his chest was Brute's
great forearm. Christofferson kept his weight on his right leg, his left
pantleg was slit revealing the inflamed calf muscle, big around as the
gaskin of a draught horse. In Brooks' hand was a small shiny, silver
saw.

Christofferson let go. Brooks sagged to the floor. The patient seized
the doctor's leather bags one at a time and pitched them through the
thin doeskin window.

Brooks rose from the floor unruffled, "Get off that leg, you crazy oxl"

"All rightl But I'll keep itl I thought it was a doctor Blair brought!
When I want a leg butchered off, I'll get Hussongl Now get outl"

The reactions in the room varied.

This much, though, was apparent to all, including Brooks. If he
wanted to leave now, he would not be stopped.

But he did not leave.

In the days that followed Mesopotamia became accustomed to the
blunt, unsmiling face of Saul Brooks. It was an odd thing about him
... a man didn't like to go up and ask him to look at an ailment be
cause of the way he looked straight at a man as though he'd heard all
this before. It made you think you shouldn't be troubling him with
this. You should be glad you were alive and keep quiet. Without say
ing anything at all, he had the town pretty quick so that Charlotta
McGuire didn't much enjoy telling him about that mysterious ache in
her head. Yet Camelia Flannerty somehow understood that she was
quite welcome to call him over to look at her brother, Tim, when he
was down, even though Hank Flannerty hadn't signed one of the
pledges to buy a piece of the doctor.

JON AT HAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

But even though Elizabeth Buttrick's cough improved and Tim
Flannerty got cured quick and Aaron Fitchburgh was made spry, it was
a disquieting thing to watch Brooks ride his Indian pony out to the
Christofferson place every other morning, knowing what he was trying
to persuade Hope to do. And you had the feeling that after he'd done
the awful thing he would just wash his hands and pack up his bags
and go eat his supper. Mesopotamia had a pain in its leg just think
ing about poor Brute. Each man had his own horrible vision of the
awful procedure. And a simple thing like Saul Brooks passing could
make every leg in the store hurt and take the laughs out of Exeter's

stories.

When you'd pass a man like that you'd just nod, and that s all
except some o the older women shuddered a little. As for the younger
women, well it was more like a shiver, unpleasant a little, but excit
ing. In fact Elizabeth Buttrick confessed to Camclia Flannerty she'd
like to take a comb and run through that blond hair and straighten it
out a little. Also take that snakeskin thing off his queue and tie it with
some black ribbon. But when they passed him in front of the store,
Camelia Flannerty said to Elizabeth out of the side of her mouth,
"But when you see him, can you picture yourself doing that for him?"
And they nodded as they passed him.

Every morning he carried a crock of special whisky out to the Chris
tofferson place. But he always brought it back, unused. And one day
he rode back to the common with a great blue-black spot under his
eye, about the size of Christofferson's knuckles.

When thirty days of Saul Brooks were up, Blair had a tough assign
ment. It was in the store that it happened. Hussong said, "All right.
So the thirty days' is up. So let him leave, I'll not stop him if he's that
kind of turncoat."

"No turncoat," Blair said. 'That was the bargain. But we've got to
pay him the money we pledged. Today's the day."

Hussong's laugh recruited support behind him, "Ho-ho. Blair, count
me out. I didn't get twenty-five dollars worth. The two times I asked
him to come out to check my sows he refused. Me pay?" Hussong
waved a big hand.

Exeter followed up, "I ain't had a sick day since he come. I should
pay twenty dollars for not bein' sick?"

"Well, you may get your money's worth yet, Exeter," Blair said, "b$-

THE DOCTOR 341

cause it's probably going to make you sick to know you got to pay, like
we agreed. It's not Brooks' fault you didn't get sick."

Charlotta McGuire was there. She said, "Jonathan, we called Saul
Brooks about my head noises. He said to call him when they got as
loud as a horse stompin' into the barn. But they never got that loud.
Why should we pay?"

Blair grinned. "Charlotta, if you don't get a view of the gates of hell,
will you take back the money you paid to the Reverend Gershom?"

But Exeter, riding the popular side, said, "No joke, Blair. We don't
pay."

It was along in there that the blunt face of Saul Brooks appeared in
the doorway. He said, "Blair, I overheard the trouble."

"Don't worry, Brooks, they'll pay. But up here we pay hard just by
nature. Insures we get full measure. But you'll get your money."

"I know I will," Brooks said.

Hussong asked, "And just what makes you so all-fired sure of that,
Mr. Brooks?"

Brooks reached in his pocket and pulled out some slips of paper
which he handed to Blair. "Because Mr. Blair here will see to it."

Even Blair cooled to the offensive assurance of Brooks, "Me?"

"Yes, Blair. You commandeered my services. I guess I have the same
privilege. You're a lawyer. The circuit court gets up this way now I
understand. Here are the contracts. Yours to collect."

"Contracts!" said Exeter.

"Yes. I believe those notes you signed constitute contracts, wouldn't
you say, Mr. Blair?"

It was too much. Hussong hung his thumbs in his chest pockets and
leaned his elbows back on the counter behind him. "All right Mr.
Lawyer. Collect."

The argument was little further along when Hope came into the
store. She commanded attention because of the red under her eyes and
because of the urgent way she marched directly over to Brooks.

"Now, Mr. Brooks 1"

"You've persuaded him?"

"No. But I know now what you said is true* It's got to be done. And
it's got to be now."

"I doubt if I can even get the straps on him. I've never seen his
strength anywhere."

S4 s> JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Hope looked around the store. None volunteered. Her eyes lingered
on Stikes, who stood it for a minute and then said, "Hope, I will if you
say, but . . ."

She looked at Buttrick. Buttrick's face quivered. "Hope, I couldn't/'

Hope looked at Hussong. The hog farmer studied the floor, but
when he looked up she was still looking at him. "All right, Hope. I'll
come." Then he looked around in anger, "And you'll come, too, But-
trick. Least you can do! And you, Mike, and Exeter. Let's go, Brooks,
and get it done."

But Brooks did not move. Hope tugged at his sleeve. Brooks shoved
out his jaw. "You can think what you want, Mrs. Christofferson. But
I'm not going until a certain matter is settled here."

Hussong looked at the slips of paper in Blair's hands. Blair's own
mouth fell open. Hussong said, "My God. Even at a time like this!"

Hope looked baffled. Hussong explained, "The bastard wants to be
sure he gets his money. Why I'd sooner . . ."

Hope looked around the room and last at Hussong. "Please, Joe."

Hussong glared at Brooks in loathing. But he slid his fist into the
pocket of his breeches and addressed the room. "All right, men, for
Hope."

And the hard knuckles of Mesopotamia went slowly into its pockets
and came out with cash.

Hope said, "Please hurry I"

At the Christofferson cabin Brooks silently laid back the cover and
spread apart the slit pant leg of Brutus Christofferson.

He grasped Christofferson's knee very lightly, but it must have been
like a needle in the eye to Brute. He pressed his finger into the out
side of the thigh and Brute still winced. He ripped the trouser leg
up higher and touched the hip bone. He pressed harder than before,
but Brute still stiffened.

Quickly now Brooks pulled Christofferson's shirt out of his belt and
examined his flank. He touched it with his hand and Brute rolled
away from him.

Brooks exhaled, and pulled the cover back over Brute's leg. He
picked up his bag and walked out of the cabin. They followed him
out.

Hope's face was misery and her eyes were wet. Brooks said, "At the
knee I could have saved it. Even at the thigh I begged you. At the

HUNDRED-DOLLAR LAWYER 343

hip there was a chance. But now? No point to put him through the
pain."

Men are sparse enough in the great Northwest that you don't pass
even a miserable buck Mingo in silence. But there's a limit to every
thing. So when Saul Brooks rode his lead pony south across the com
mon toward the ford and Transylvania College somewhere south of
the Ohio River in the Kentuck Country, his only farewell was a nod
from the porch of the store in Mesopotamia.

Chapter 22: HUNDRED-
DOLLAR LATTER

HOPE CHRISTOFFERSON could see now

why Blair had been so anxious to find what Stikes called a hundred-
dollar lawyer.

Jonathan Blair had always seemed like a downtown sort of man to
her. She had always been able to imagine him walking into the finest
house in the world and handing his hat to the house man. But as she
looked at him in his buckskin jacket here in the old legislature hall,
among these downstaters in Chillicothe where the Federal circuit court
was in session, she could see that he was up-county people like herself
and like Matt Gavagan, next to her, and like Mike Stikes who sat
behind the rail which they called the bar.

Hope Christofferson was here to see that they got it all straight
about Brute and his part in it. When they came up to Hosmer Village
to move the sick man down to the Chillicothe courtroom, she had had
Doc Brooks tell them to get out and leave him alone, which they had
done upon her agreeing to be present.

But today, she could see by how many people had come crowding
into the courtroom how important the thing was that Jonathan Blair
had got them all mixed up in. There were women in this courtroom
who had obviously never worn linsey next to their skin, and there
were men here with morocco leather shoes and wrist cuffs like women.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

The room was full and many of them were studying Jonathan Blair.
You might see some buckskin behind the bar in an Ohio circuit court,
but you didn't expect to see it in front of a federal bench any more.

Hope was a little proud of Blair in that he seemed to know what
this was all about and understood everything.

Once in a while he'd look over at her and Gavagan and that Mr.
Curry and he'd smile as if to say they shouldn't worry.

But still she noticed that he looked anxiously over at the two finely
dressed men who sat at the opposite end of the table from him. These
men had a bigger pile of papers than Blair, and a bigger pile of books.
And their books, like their clothes, were new. She noticed too, that
Blair's ruffle-fronted shirt which looked so white and fine up in Hosmer
Village, looked bedraggled and yellowish here when it was seen di
rectly opposite the chest full of Philadelphia ruffles.

Everybody knows that clothes don't make the man. But they told a
story here today. The auditors who sat closest to the bar in good
black cloth coats were there to see Schaacht win. Hope wondered why
Bolding didn't get bailed out and go over and sit with his friends.
But instead Bolding sat here with herself and Gavagan and Curry,
being defended by Blair.

But the clothes of the largest part of the auditors here showed
them to be on Blair's side of the discussion. After three years of money
grief the cloth on the settlers' backs had worn so thin you could see
bare character showing through. You could tell by the way they
studied Blair that they liked their representative. But you could also
tell they wished he had another lawyer to assist him the way the
opposition did.

And whenever he got up to speak, they strained forward with him.
On the faces of some you could see the wish that he'd bear down on
the judges a little harder, and that he'd stomp around more like the
opposition did.

J. Harrison Inge walked around a courtroom as if it were his. The
opposing counsel, the auditors and the judges on the bench became
his guests. And they were to sit quietly and not disturb his thoughts as
he walked around. In fact, the auditors absorbed the uneasy feeling
that they were not even guests, but eavesdroppers. Inge was alone in the
room with the judges, it seemed, in private conversation; not so much
a conversation either, but a seminar in which Inge appeared to instruct
the judges.

HUNDRED-DOLLAR LAWYER 345

Inge was a very red man, aggressively red. His hair was red, with
grey threads. It disappeared into a long, thin, black silk queue. His
face was thin and his skin was thin, and the light came through his
veinous ears, red. The thin membrane between his nostrils was promi
nent and very red when the light shone through it. He was that pale-
eyelashed kind of redhead who looks cold as ice and smart as a trap.

He inspired no affection. But he inspired great quiet from the
bench, the gallery, the jury. You could say what you wanted about
him, but you didn't say it very loud. Among the bar itself, he had
perhaps no friends. But he had many admirers. The gallery today was
packed with seasoned Western lawyers who had ridden long distances
for a chance to hear J. Harrison Inge at the bar. They wished he had
better opposition.

But you could not watch J. Harrison Inge without learning the
trade of the advocate. When Blair objected to a question, Inge in
stantly withdrew even before the judge ruled, and moved on to
another question, as if the first was unimportant anyhow, giving the
distinct impression to the entire court that the defense counsel was
concerning himself with trivia. But Blair learned to watch for the
same question to recur a few seconds later in disguise.

Occasionally when Blair would object, Inge would close his eyes
briefly as though his good nature could barely stand much more such
nonsense. On one occasion, after three such consecutive objections
from Blair, Inge started a question, paused in the middle of it and
turned to Blair as if expecting an objection. By reflex Blair rose, but
finding he had nothing to object to yet, he sat down.

"See? The defense objects to me just on general principle!"

Inge smiled. The gallery chuckled. Blair burned.

The more alert ones not only admired Inge, but they admired his
client also. For they now observed Gideon Schaacht rise from the
gallery, walk up to the bailiff and hand in a note. The bailiff walked
over to the advocate's table and handed the note to Inge. Inge turned
the note over and looked at the back of it. Then he placed it face down
on the table. And while Jonathan Blair made a serious point on the
inadequacy of this court to decide the question, Inge let the curiosity
in the room build up to the point that even Mike Stikes wished Blair
would sit down so they could hear what was in the note.

When the best of Blair's argument was over, Inge stood up slowly

346 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

and said, "Your honors, I beg leave to interrupt because of an offer
just brought to me by my client."

"Go ahead/' said Byrd.

"Well, since my client is not interested in discomfiting any o the
defendants, since his only desire is the return of the stolen "

"Object!" said Blair. "The word 'stolen/ Unwarranted assumption
to prejudice the court. That's what we're here to try, whether it's stolen
or not."

"Sustained."

Inge closed his lips at the interference and amended. "Since his only
desire is the return of the money to the bank, he would like the
defendants to have comfortable quarters during trial. He has therefore
arranged to raise the two hundred fifty thousand dollars bail for the
defendants."

"Objectl" said Blair.

"What grounds?"

"Attempt to influence the jury, favor of the plaintiff. These details
can be arranged in chambers/'

Inge said, "I ask only that defense counsel do me the courtesy to
ask his clients if they would like to accept this bail, so that we can
make the necessary arrangements. Your clients would no doubt prefer
to sleep at the inn."

Inge looked at the well-dressed Bolding. Bolding said nothing. But

Gavagan blurted, "Naturally we'd rather sleep in the " Hope's

elbow silenced him and she said, "Well stay in the jail. A few more
days won't matter."

Bolding nodded.

Judge Byrd said, "Bench sustains the defendant. These details can
be handled privately."

Blair watched Bolding. Bolding could certainly play a part to per
fection. To look at him one would think he despised the bank's offer.

But the bail offer from the plaintiff indicated that Schaacht was
afraid of having any martyrs on his hands.

It came Blair's turn. He walked slowly from the advocate's table to
the bench in the hush that usually precedes the defense's first major
speech. As he walked he studied Judge Byrd. It was a good face, a rea
sonable face, a face of considerable courage. But it was a professionally
blank face. It offered neither encouragement nor discouragement
Blair was disappointed at this. Not because he expected favor at this

HUNDRED-DOLLAR LAWYER 347

point. But this remarkably complete blankness was a trait of young
judges leaning over backwards to be judges. Now Judge Byrd was an
old hand on the bench. Old enough and respected enough that he
could afford to smile at the advocates, ask after their health, he was
even known to josh an approaching attorney at times with, "Now,
Ned, let's have it straight this time."

But today Judge Byrd had on his young judge's mask. Which meant
that he was aware that he had a landmark case on his hands this time.
Blair watched Byrd fold his hands and compose himself as he wished
posterity to view him.

This was bad. Blair knew that a judge can be so preoccupied with
phrasing his decision for the printed page that he makes his decision
the way he thinks history should be made to read.

Blair did not blame the judge particularly. He asked himself, "If I
sat there, would I be deciding whether states can tax the Federal
Government? Or would I be deciding whether Christofferson and
Gavagan should go to jail?"

In any case Blair could see the judge had braced himself to make
history, so Blair knew he would be disappointed at what he was about
to hear. And it was in fact very true that as Blair talked the judge's
face betrayed resentment. Blair was saying, ". . . and so I maintain that
we have here no suit, and that if we did have a suit, this court is not
entitled to exercise jurisdiction. The bill of the plaintiff should be
made out against the State of Ohio . . . not against the individuals,
Gavagan, Christofferson, and Curry."

Byrd leaned forward and put on a pair of glasses. "Do you omit
Bolding's name on purpose?"

Blair still did not think of Bolding as one of the defendants. He
corrected himself and continued. "The acts complained of by the
plaintiff," continued Blair, "are the acts of the legislature; the party
charged with aggression and trespass is the state legislature; the relief
prayed is against the acts of the legislature. Therefore, this court must
dismiss the case or stay proceedings until proper parties are made."

Judge Byrd wiped his glasses as if to see if he heard right. He
obviously was not pleased.

"Are you presuming to say, sir, that there is then only one court in
the world which can try this case, and that is the United States Supreme
Court?"

34 8 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

The laughter came from the auditors, not from the judge. But even
that faded when Blair's answer cut through the room. "I am saying

exactly that, sir."

The auditors looked at each other uncertain whether to laugh or
what. But neither J. Harrison Inge, nor the judge, nor Gideon Schaacht
laughed. They only looked at Blair, surprised.

Byrd recessed five minutes to consider the point. He returned to
announce that, where the proceeding is in rem, the court could and
would definitely act upon the subject matter of the controversy. "So

proceed." . , ,

Jonathan Blair, up-county lawyer from Mesopotamia, then proceeded
to the great pleasure of the audience to draw an extremely persuasive
and understandable counterattack against the Bank of the United
States, a condemnation of the Bank's disastrous policies to the popula
tion of the state. In this section, he was frequently interrupted by
objections from J. Harrison Inge, most of them sustained.

He then proved that the collection of the tax, loosely referred to by
the plaintiff as "the robbery" was by confiscation, an accepted method
of collection of any state debt.

But he was at his best near the end of the third day of the trial
when he brazenly attacked the very foundations of the bank case. On
the day preceding, J. Harrison Inge had traded heavily on Marshall's
late decision. It had given him a close which rang with authority. Judge
Byrd was comforted at the thorough documentation which relieved
him of going against Chief Justice John Marshall.

But on the morning of the third day, Blair shattered all that.

"The great mistake of Mr. Inge was way back in the beginning,"
Blair said, "when he framed the Bank's charges against my clients. His
charges assume that the Bank of U. S. is not subject to the taxing
power of the State of Ohio, because he believes, like most of us, that
the U. S. Bank is an agency of the federal government.

"Allow me to show you that this is not so."

The entire courtroom leaned forward.

"The Bank of the U. S. is no more an agency of the U. S. Govern
ment, than the Cross Keys Tavern across the road."

There were laughs in the gallery. But they died from lack of re
action from Blair.

"In fact the Cross Keys Tavern may be more of a federal agency
than the U. S. Bank. As I remember when General Harrison mobilized

HUNDRED-DOLLAR LAWYER 349

the third regiment here, the troops spent three to four hours a day in
the Cross Keys Tavern. The proprietor then might have well named it
the U. S. Tavern because it served the U. S. Troops.

"Now, the U. S. Bank is the same thing. It is nothing more than a
private business establishment which is in the business o making
loans for profit."

Blair now went into a detailed story of the origin of the bank in
Philadelphia by private individuals. He called to the stand several
witnesses who were stockholders in the bank. He forced them to ex
plain how they had not had to lay out much cash for the stock, draw
ing out the fact that they had paid for their stock from subsequent
dividends.

"Now then, if it is just a private business establishment, how did it
come by the sacred title of U. S. Bank? Well, one of the customers of
this bank is the United States Government. The U. S. borrows money
from the bank for which I might add it pays a good interest. In addi
tion, the United States needs to have its money stored in various places
in this country so that it can pay its bills. The U. S. genially agrees
that in exchange for the dubious privilege of storing its money in these
banks . . . which are called Federal Depositories ... it will not draw
this money out suddenly. But I would like to point out how handy
this is for Mr. Schaacht. While this money is on deposit, Mr. Schaacht
is permitted to loan it out, on interest. Now since the bank is going
to handle so much of federal funds, your government thinks it wise to
hold a few seats on the board of directors. They therefore purchase a
few shares of stock in the bank, the same as you and I are privileged to
do, and just as you and I might buy shares in the Cross Keys Tavern,
if Mr. Higgins were selling."

The laymen in the gallery were leaning forward with their mouths
open. The U. S. Bank dwindled before them to a tavern; and in fact,
as they looked at Mr. Riddle sitting there, he did indeed begin to
look like a bartender.

"Now, just as Mr. Higgins might have named his tavern the U. S.
Tavern because of selling whisky to the U. S. troops, so the bank in
question named itself the U. S. Bank because the U. S. was one of its
customers. Now, I believe this court would not say it would be un
constitutional for the legislature of the State of Ohio to pass any tax
they desired on the tavern of Mr. Higgins. Why then can that same
legislature not tax in the same way this bank of Mr. Schaacht's?"

350 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair sat down.

He had scored, and he knew it, not only by the buzz of vehement
approval which swept the gallery, but by the slackened jaw and un
guarded expression on the face of Gideon Schaacht. For just a mo
ment, Blair saw naked attention on Schaacht's face. Schaacht jolted
alert angrily when Blair caught him in this moment of impressed re-
Attention of the gallery now shifted with a smile to J. Harrison
Inge, opposite Blair.

Inge walked to the bench with his arms behind his back. He stifled
a yawn, as though the case were exceedingly routine. And it must
be admitted in his favor that it had the effect of calming down the
court and deprecating Blair's last speech.

"Plaintiff begs leave to remove a juror, the third one from the left. '

Blair studied the third face from the left. "On what grounds, pray?"

-The decision lies with the judge, Mr. Blair. But the juryman had

applied for a loan to the bank and was refused. Naturally he would

be prejudiced against my client."

Blair came forward. "Perhaps so, but no more than the other eleven.
It is impossible for you to empanel an unprejudiced jury in this state."

"Sir?"

"And as to its being the judge's discretion, I believe you err, sir. I
I believe it is at my discretion."

"Yours?"

"Yes. We were put to considerable delay on your account, I find
now that you may only withdraw a juror on account of misconduct of
the juror, or with my consent."

Byrd said he would recess to consider.

During the recess the attorneys for both sides retired to the Cross
Keys Tavern. Poorly clad men crowded around Blair and wished him
well. It gave him a good feeling.

But when the bell summoned them back to the courtroom, he saw
something which rasped the raw ends of his nerves. Walking down the
street to the courthouse came Justin Bolding, accompanied by the
federal guard assigned to hold him. But he came from the direction
of Schaacht's house. And beside him, looking up at him, walked Vir
ginia Schaacht. Blair stopped in the middle of the road to watch.
Others stared with him. Seconds later Gideon Schaacht, surrounded
by five men, came walking toward the courthouse, smiling.

HUNDRED-DOLLAR LAWYER 351

Blair did not like the taste of it.

Inside the old legislature hall, Blair moved through the crowd toward
the bar. Stuttgart, who was present as an auditor, caught his sleeve
and congratulated him on his handling thus far.

"And I'm especially pleased to heah ya'll gettin' an assistant/' Stutt
gart said. "Makes us all feel kind of sheepish, the way nobody had
spine enough to stand up with you. But I hear you got a good assist
ant now, Blair. Ya'll deserve it."

"An assistant?"

"Yeah, we figured you picked him. That's the talk."

Blair walked inside the bar, bewildered. Maybe Bela Hult had de
cided to come in with him.

But it wasn't Hult.

Judge Byrd announced that a new counsel for defense had been ad
mitted. And would be allowed to speak on the point under discussion.
Blair watched in amazement. The bailiff walked over to the defend
ant's box and opened the gate, admitting to the inner rectangle of
the bar. . . . Justin Bolding.

Bolding smiled at Blair and walked toward the center of the bar.
But Blair was on his feet. "Sir, what do you mean you're admitting
this man to speak for the defense?"

Byrd said, "Well, naturally I assumed the request originated with
you, Blair. You are directing the defense I presume."

"Yes, I am, and I neither requested, nor will I permit this man to
speak."

"I'm afraid you have nothing to say about it."

"Not only am I persuaded that he does not have the loyalty to my
side of the argument, but he is not even an attorney."

"Are you forgetting that a defendant can speak for himself in any
court? Apparently Mr. Bolding has elected to do that."

Blair stared in unbelief. So tightly was Bolding bound to Schaacht
and the bank, that Blair had forgotten the ironic twist which made
Bolding one of the defendants. A man as smart as Gideon Schaacht
would not forget this, though. Blair sank slowly to his chair.

Justin Bolding addressed the bench with impressive poise.

"Your honor, may I proceed with Mr. Blair's point that it is im
possible to select an impartial jury for plaintiff."

"You may."

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Bolding addressed the jury. "Gentlemen, do you have any money
in your pockets? Will you get it out, please?"

The jurymen looked puzzled, but they pulled out their money. Bold-
ing selected the fifth man from the bailiff's box. He was big and
whiskered and his hair was doubled into a thick club queue in the
back. His neck was thick, and his chin whiskers were a half-inch long.
Bolding picked up a twenty-dollar bill from the juryman's hand.

"What is a dollar?" Bolding asked.

"Huh?" The juryman's forehead wrinkled.

"What is this I have taken from you?"

"Why, it's a twenty-dollar bilL Bank of Muskingum currency/'

"But what is it?"

"Why just what I said."

"I mean how did you get it? Do you remember?"

"Sure. That's for twenty hundred-pound spotted hogs, paid to me
by Muskingum Packing Company."

"But what did you do to the hogs?"

"Why, I raised 'em, fed 'em, notched their ears. I gelded 'em, fattened
'em, slaughtered 'em and hauled 'em to town and unloaded 'em. Didn't
you ever raise hogs?"

The court laughed, except J. Harrison Inge, and Gideon Schaacht.

Bolding grinned, genially. He had good courtroom presence. He said,
"How much time would you say you spent on those hogs?"

"Why, takes about a year to get these skinny critters up to a hundred
pounds. You know that."

"But I mean how much time, say in hours, would you say you
spent on just these twenty hogs?"

"Oh, I see. Why, maybe if you filled it in solid . . . thirty days/'

"Thirty days. All right. And for that thirty days labor you got this
twenty-dollar bill."

"Right. And damned lucky to get it the way hogs are gluttin' the
Muskingum."

"So, it would be safe to say that this twenty-dollar bill is really thirty
days of your time?"

"Uh . . . ayeah."

"All right." Bolding reached into his pocket and pulled out a five-
dollar bill, a U. S. Bank note. "Now, would you swap me this
twenty-dollar Muskingum Bank note for this five-dollar bill? It's a
U, S. Bank note."

HUNDRED-DOLLAR LAWYER 353

"You're dang right I will." The juryman reached for the bill.
Bolding gave it to him.

"Now don't you want to know how I got this five-dollar bill?"
Bolding asked.

"Dang right I do."

"Well, I got it by going to the Cincinnati money market. I sold
a thin packet of ordinary local bank notes to get this U. S. Bank
note. The transaction took me about an hour. So you might say
this five-dollar bill represents four hours of my time. You have
just swapped me thirty days of your labor, for four hours of my labor.
Do you like that?"

The juryman turned red in the neck and forehead. But under the
constraint of his strange surroundings he sat down, injured to the soul.

Bolding turned to the bench. "A dollar is a unit of work. This jury
man who produces solid worth in the form of hog flesh has just
traded me thirty days of his work for four hours of mine. That's what
the Bank of the U. S. did to him. I could repeat the same transaction
with most every member of this jury. Do you tell me that every man
on this jury, or any jury, won't be prejudiced against the bank, Mr.
Inge? Shall I continue?"

Byrd scowled at Bolding. "Bolding, you confuse me. Are you argu
ing for the defense or are you supporting Mr. Inge's request to with
draw a juror?"

"I am proving Mr. Blair's point that it will be impossible for the
plaintiff to find a jury, and therefore we should not be delayed while
they try."

Byrd pulled his chin. "Mr. Bolding, you have made a point which
deserves the most serious consideration. Recessed until tomorrow."

Bolding smiled at Blair. Blair did not smile back.

The following morning Judge Byrd announced his decision to dis
charge the jury with the consent of the defense. J. Harrison Inge
smiled.

The trial began over again before Judge Byrd.

Charles Willing Byrd then found the defendants guilty of trespass
against the close of the United States Bank, and liable for returning
$100,000 to the United States Bank, plus court costs, plus interest on
that portion of the money which was in gold bullion or specie. The
prisoners were to remain in custody or be freed on $250,000 bail.

And Jonathan Blair traced his defeat directly to the day Judge

354 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Byrd decided to dismiss the jury, which was the day Justin Balding
interfered to make his courtroom essay on the subject, "What is a
dollar?"

At the bar in the Cross Keys Tavern Jonathan Blair observed how
quickly the fruits of victory came to Gideon Schaacht. When it had
looked as if Schaacht could lose the case, men talked more boldly to
Schaacht, including debtors. But now he was back in power more
firmly than ever, and the men of the West rushed around him to listen
to his words of wisdom.

But Gideon Schaacht moved away from them and walked to the bar
where he ordered a Monongahela for Jonathan Blair.

"No, thanks," said Blair.

"Have it your own way, Blair. But two like us should work to
gether. I could keep a lawyer of your ability busy and wealthy/'

"How?"

"Well, naturally I will proceed with collections and foreclosures
now that the court has established our right to be here. That's lawyer
work, Blair. And I could use you."

Blair's tankard came off the bar and knocked the glass out of
Schaacht's hand. "Schaacht, I said I'd drive you out, and I will. You'll
foreclose nothing!"

Schaacht looked at his broken glass on the floor and then he laughed.
"How will you stop me, Mr. Blair?"

"I will take State of Ohio legal protection away from you. I will see
that sheriffs won't foreclose your mortgages, courts won't try your
debt instruments, constables and sheriffs won't protect your money.
I'll leave you all by your damned self."

Schaacht laughed. "I've been that way before, Blair." 1

"Well, don't dismiss your lawyer, you'll need him."

Schaacht's laugh followed Blair out into the road and to his dinner
and to his bed, and all along the trail up to Columbus.

Chapter 23: THE FULCR UM

THE jailkeep at Chillicothe had never had

such a fancy customer as tHis J. Bolding, one that insisted on wash
water twice a day and was now handing his coat and waistcoat out to
him through the bars to be taken to the tailor for pressing. "And
mind, tell him to stick it on a hanger when he's done, Constable."
The swelling constable was on the point of making a counter sugges
tion for the lodging of the coat, but he withheld it because of the
intimidating stature of the visitors who now approached to see Bold-
ing.

That girl who was so striking pretty that you couldn't look her
steady in the face, now came in with her father, Gideon Schaacht.

Schaacht waited until the jailer was out of rumor range and then he
said, "Bolding, I see you did learn something from Blair after all."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Getting rid of that jury was the smartest stroke I've seen in a court
room for a long time. A Federalist appointee on the bench, confronted
by a case in violation of Marshall's own decisionl" Schaacht threw
back his big head and laughed. "Beautifull"

Justin Bolding smiled. Virginia Schaacht studied this smile. He
smiled at her, too. But that was not good enough for Miss Schaacht.

She said, "Well? What do you have to say to these congratulations?"

Bolding grinned. "I say I wish you two would get out of here. Your
presence embarrasses me. You forgetting I'm the hero of the debtors,
Gideon?"

Schaacht froze off the new first-name familiarity. But Bolding's grin
held like dried plaster.

Schaacht said, "But you've got to get out of here now, Bolding, and
get up to Mesopotamia. I want to know what Blair's up to."

"What makes you think he's up to something?"

"Because of the way he left here. I'll have horses ready for you in
the morning."

"Don't arrange bail on my account, Mr. Schaacht."

Schaacht squinted into Bolding's grin, "What did you mean by
that?"

355

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"I mean I don't think I want any more favors from you, Mr.
Schaacht."

Virginia was interested. Schaacht was puzzled.

"I mean I think Blair can help me more than you can."

"Blair 1"

"Sure, show me another law student as young as I who will get a
chance to recite in the Supreme Court o the United States."

"Supreme Court! ".Schaacht thought he saw the joke and he laughed.
But Bolding didn't. He said, "Certainly. Blair will appeal. It's pre
sumptuous, but you forget what you've made of Blair. He doesn't
even seem to know it himself. But this state and three others are
watching that man now. If he only had the sense to know it, Illinois
Territory would give him a lot of help. Indiana, too, and Kentucky.
They all have crowbar laws drawn up, patterned after his. If he suc
ceeds, they're all going to pass those laws. They'll pressure Blair to
carry on. Hell appeal because he worries about people. You said
yourself he's tougher than a man that work for fees."

"The Supreme Court!" Schaacht breathed, without laughing. But
the laugh broke out again. "But . . . Blair! Blair in the Supreme
Court!"

"I didn't say Blair would go to the Supreme Court; I said he'll
appeal. He won't have so much trouble getting a good man to take the
case for him now. Ewing, Corwin, or Hurley over in Indiana, they'd
all love a chance at it. And / go with the case, whether he likes it or not.
I'm the defendant, remember?" Bolding let it sink in. Then, "You're
better off to keep me in jail, aren't you?"

Schaacht admired brains, wherever he found them. "Hmm," He
reached through the bars and whacked Holding's shoulder. "Y-e-a-h."

Riddle came puffing into the jail with some papers in his hand.
"Gideon, if you'll sign these requests to the county sheriffs, we can
start debtor and collection and foreclosure proceedings in a week,
beginning in Cincinnati."

Schaacht chewed the inside of his cheek and studied the floor.
"That's not soon enough, Riddle. And we'll have to start first in
Mesopotamia. Get all our people in my office right now. And the
complete debtor list! Nowl Hear me?"

The swiftness and the mightiness of Gideon Schaacht in the West
were well known to Jonathan Blair. But it now suddenly struck Hope

THE FULCRUM 357

Christofferson with an impact Blair had never been able to convey to
her. Hope measured all men against her heroes. And to her the great
man of the West was Adam Rotch. He was the man who had brought
to the West a salable product, a stuff which would hold its value until
you could get it to market. When nothing else would sell, you could
usually get metal money for a Merino fleece.

Yet this great man was now humbled by Schaacht. That Schaacht
could sit in Chillicothe and yet somehow reach way up to Big Sippo
Creek a mile east of the Tuscarawas, somewhere in the new Stark
County, to lay strong hands on Adam Rotch was to Hope the height
of power. Yet it had been done.

As Blair and Hope traveled north toward Mesopotamia through the
Borough of Columbus, she saw a circle of beautiful dirty Merinos
nuzzled into a circle for warmth. And in the center of the circle stood
the great Quaker.

Around the Merinos stood a group of men, haggling over price.
Rotch had brought part of his flock here to Columbus to sell off
enough to clear a United States Bank mortgage. But the bids were
low. Men were beginning to understand that Merinos were like gold.
But they had no gold to exchange for them.

Rotch was delighted to see Hope Christofferson because of her
knowledge and understanding of Merinos.

"My husband has got hold of two thousand dollars, Mr. Rotch.
He wants me to get three good breeder rams with it, and if possible,
ewes to match."

Rotch was firm, but kindly. "Mrs. Christofferson, for the kind of
flock you're building, don't buy the kind of ram that comes three
for two thousand dollars with ewes thrown in. I have two here you
should consider."

To Blair's amazement Rotch remembered the names of each of
Hope's rams and inquired after the health of Galahad. Rotch said,
"All right, with those rams you need a longer combing wool type.
And you should, if you can afford it, purchase one or two of these
ewes who have a good record for bearing twins and triplets. These
two rams I'm advising you to own are producing sheep which yield
about eighty to a hundred hanks to the fleece. Since your flock is small,
you need that."

But Hope could only afford one at the price Rotch had on them,
and she insisted on looking at three cheaper quarter bloods. But

358 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Rotch was adamant. "My sister, you are wrong. You must learn. Buy
everything else as paltry as you can. But for the ram, look for the
costliest you can find."

But between the two rams Rotch recommended she could not
decide. She asked him which he would choose.

Rotch shrugged and sighed. "If I should pick the one for you, and if
he should come down sick, you would think the other might have
stayed well/'

Hope studied the two rams for a half hour. She felt them all over,
measured the hanks of fleece, scraped the hooves and studied the ear
tags. Finally she said, "How long since they've been fed?"

"Four hours."

"Give me some fodder, and I will choose my ram/'

The men who had been trying to buy the sheep were piqued at
being ignored by Rotch in favor of a woman. And now while she
made up her woman's mind, one of the buyers said, "Hey, Rotch, if
the lady wants to go through some hocus-pocus while she decides, you
could at least tell the rest of us the prices of these."

Rotch froze the speaker. "Sir, I suggest you would do well to watch
this lady who is one of the best breeders of Merinos west of Pitts
burgh, and she is working under the most difficult pasturage condi
tions imaginable. You probably know about her."

One of the men said, "You mean that's that woman that's got her
flock hid up under the Greenville Line, and half the United States
Army is up huntin' 'em?"

Rotch nodded his head and the men now eagerly grouped around
to watch this woman who said she needed fodder to select between two
rams.

Rotch placed the two prize rams on the other side of his wagons.
Then he scooped a handful of fodder out of his small wagon and
started toward the two select rams. Hope said, "No, Mr. Rotch. Let
them see it, then take it over there about six paces."

The two rams eyed Rotch and turned around to keep him under
surveillance as he circled them and then walked away from them.

Rotch placed the fodder on the ground, and looked back at Hope,
puzzled. Hope watched the rams.

The smaller, but darker, of the two pricked up his ears and stuck
his head up in the air. His orange-spotted black nose flickered a

THE FULCRUM 359

moment, and suddenly he marched briskly to the fodder. The other
followed.

"That's him in front," Hope said.

Rotch raised his eyebrows and smiled. The crowd of men looked at
each other and grinned. Hope removed her boot and paid for the
ram.

It was painfully evident, almost as soon as Blair and Hope reached
Mesopotamia, that the long hand of Gideon Schaacht had preceded
them here. It had turned Mesopotamia in against itself in a way
that wrenched Blair.

The long hand of Schaacht was manifest here in a new secrecy in
contacting Blair which was foreign to the days when Sam Hosmer
fought the town's battles. Time was, if there was trouble here Sam
Hosmer would yell the whole length of Exeter's bar, "Hey, Blair.
Buttrick is tryin' to collect from me for a shipment of rope that got
sunk on a keelboat out of Pittsburgh. Do I have to pay him, or don't

I? "

That's how it used to be. But now they came to Blair privately.

Amos Exeter, the elected constable, was the first He rapped on Blair's
door after every light on the common was out.

"Blair, I need to talk to ya."

When they sat down in Blair's cabin, Exeter's face fought with
itself. His chin was out with self-righteous determination. His fore
head was wrinkled with shame.

"Jonathan, we heard what happened at the trial. Everybody says you
did right good. We was surprised ... I mean they said it was somethin'
to see the way you stood up to them down there, just as good as a
regular lawyer ... I mean just as good as ... I mean, they said you
would of won it if that Bolding didn't trick you, the way he did."

A new directness had crept into Blair's speech in the last half-year,
the same that comes to mechanics and craftsmen when they change
from dreamers to doers. He said, "Thanks. But you didn't come for
that."

"Nope. Didn't. Y'see, fact is, you lost the case."

"Yes."

"So that means Schaacht can move in now."

"Yes."

360 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"I'm constable. And Ault says I got to serve the foreclose notice
on the debtors. Says I got to start with Hussong."

"That's your job. If he pays you the twenty-five cents per writ, youVe
got to serve it."

"But I can't serve the writ on Hussong. He's . . . well, he's in my
tavern every day. And he's my ... he's . . . well, he's like to flare
off, too."

"That's right. But there's a way out."

Exeter leaned forward gratefully. "How?"

"Nothin' says you can't resign, does it?"

Exeter sank an inch and revolved his hat over his finger.

"Yeah, somethin' does."

"What?"

"Well, I ... well, after all I am constable. It's my duty:'

"Duty never sat that heavy on you before, Amos. What other
reason?"

"Well, fact is, Ault thinks he can get me an extension if I'll help
him execute the foreclosures."

Blair saw more than he wanted to see. Schaacht was organized. He
stood up. "Your problem, Amos."

Exeter flared off. "Yeah, now it's my problem. You lost the case,
and it's my probleml Huh!"

The next one to come was Adams. He too came late at night.

"Amos wants to deputize me to help him serve notice on Hussong."

"Did you accept?"

"He says I can't refuse deputation."

"He's right."

"But I can't serve no writ on Joe. He's . . . he's my next neighbor."

Blair grinned, "And besides he's tough, huh, Adams? Shoots quick."

"Yeah. So what do I do? If I can't refuse the deputation?"

"I never saw you to worry about a point of law that fine, Adams."

"It ain't the law side of it."

"What then?"

"Well that Exeter's built a fence around me that's pig tight, horse
high and bull strong."

"How's that?"

"He says if I do it, Ault will get me an extension on my debt/'

Blair poured them both a gourd of whisky and sat down.

The next to come was Mike Stikes and then Jim Hawkins and

THE FULCRUM 361

then a few more. But the day that opened Blair's eyes the widest was
perhaps the day that Emanuel Ault walked in. Blair wished Ault had
come like the others, after dark. Instead he came in broad daylight.
When Blair opened the door he saw a few men on the porch of Hos-
mer's Store, watching. Ault said, "Yeah, I know, Blair. You don't
much like to be mixed with me. But I guess we can't help it. We're in
trouble/'

"How am I tangled with any trouble of yours, Ault?"

"You got to help me get Hope's mortgage back from that preacher,
Gershom."

"Sorry. Not interested."

"I know. But you will be."

"How so?"

"Well, you know Schaacht wants me to collect from Hope, bein' as
I'm head of the Mesopotamia Hog and Trust. Says the case is too
well known around the state. She's got to be brought in line or he'll
have trouble all over the state."

"That's his problem, not yours."

"He made it mine, Blair. He says he'll have me locked up for
criminal neglect if I don't close her out. You think he could get a
lawyer to make that stick?"

"Might."

"Well, suppose you were his lawyer against me. You think you
could make a case against me?"

Blair thought a moment. "Yeah, guess I could. But Schaacht wouldn't
put you in jail."

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Because you're no good to him in jail."

"He says I'll be an example then to the new man that he'll put in
as head of the Mesopotamia Bank which owes the United States
Bank. He says that way the new man will see to the foreclosures."

"An outsider couldn't run our bank," Blair said. "Not and fore
close against these people."

"Schaacht don't mean an outsider."

"Who then?"

"You!"

Blair leaned back and laughed. "The man is crazy. I Wouldn't take
the job."

"He says you'll have to."

3 6 2 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair laughed again. "How so?"

"He's not sayin'. He just says wait and see."

Blair slapped the table with the flat of his hand and roared. But
then the laugh faded fast as Blair faced squarely the record of Gideon
Schaacht for keeping his promises.

Ault said, "I notice you're not laughin' all of a sudden. I'll expect
you'll deliver that mortgage paper from Gershom right soon now."

Thus the town closed upon itself so fast that Ault was not five
minutes out of Blair's cabin before Mike S tikes appeared. With him
was Hussong, Hawkins, Hope Chris toff erson and five others. When
they walked in Stikes and Hope and Hawkins sat down, the others
stood up. Stikes only said, "We saw Ault comin' out of here, Jona
than."

He expected some kind of an answer to this, obviously. But he was
in no hurry. He sat there crimping the edges of a sheet of copper
with a pair of pliers.

But Blair had no answer and so made none. Without looking up
Stikes said, "We got quite a surprise when you went down there to
the big court and gave It back good to those professional lawyers. I
mean those expensive ones. They said that one you was fightin* against
gets maybe two three hundred dollars. And we heard some say you
licked him if it had been called fair. But seem' Ault walk out of your
place, well we just wondered what we're supposed to think about
that."

"You, too, Hope?" Blair asked. "You wondered, too?"

"I wasn't wondering about anything, Jonathan, until just now when
Ault told me you'd be plannin' a trip up to see Gershom pretty soon.
Naturally it set me a bit nervous."

Blair looked at Hussong. "You, too, Joe? You want to know where
I stand?"

"I thought I knew pretty close, Jonathan. Seemed to me you was
heart and soul with us, all you went through and everything. All I
know is I'm over in Hosmer's Store just now * . , these men were
there with me. I'm buying some seed from Buttrick for next spring.
Wanted to try some of that Kentucky gourdseed corn to thicken the
hogs. Just as I got it all picked out and Buttrick's agreed I should
get credit for it, up comes Ault and says something to him, quiet.
Next thing Buttrick don't want to mark me any more credit on

THE FULCRUM 363

his big book. He ain't sure I'm gonna be here to harvest it. I ask him
how come, and he points to Ault. And Ault says, 'Ask Blair/ So
here I am . . . askin'."

It was a reasonable enough statement. But Blair flared, "Why
doesn't somebody in this town try trusting somebody? You avoid
each other on the common. You sneak over to my cabin one at a
time. Time was when old Sam was here we'd bring our troubles up
right out in the open over at the tavern. A man would help another
man, and we didn't try to kill each other off."

Hussong said, "I'll admit it was better when old Sam was here,
but whose fault is it that he ain't?"

Blair turned dark. "I'll take my share of the blame, Hussong, but
you were the one went bustin' into the bank to save your own skin,
and to the devil with everybody else. Now instead of each of ya
lookin' out for your own skin, why don't ya look for a way we can
all come out of it!"

Hussong moved on Blair, but Stikes waved him back. He continued
bending the edges of the sheet of copper. "You told us a mouthful
there all right, Jonathan. But this money thing is beyond most of us.
We got to look to you to lead us out. And lately, looks as though
you might know the road. But before you get riled at us you got to
admit your Crowbar Law didn't come off so good. Started off fine,
but it backdrafted on us, and looks like it'll burn us all out. You didn't
do it right."

Blair stood up. "Do you know how it should have been done?"

"Think maybe I do."

Old man Stikes' quiet presumption left Blair speechless. "Y'see,
Blair, I think you're doin' more lately to fill old Hosmer's shoes
around here than anybody. But they're still a little too big for ya.
They got to callin' your law a 'crowbar' law. Now I'm no lawyer. But
it wasn't really any crowbar at all. To have a crowbar you got to
have a fulcrum,"

Stikes held up the pliers casually and worked them back and forth
as though studying their action himself. He squeezed a coiled strip
of copper flat.

"Now take if it was Hosmer made that law, Hosmer would have put
a fulcrum in it. Hosmer, y'might say, had a lot of crowbar laws
around here, remember? And we always did what he said, remember?
Because he knew more about crowbar laws than you do, Jonathan.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

He always had a fulcrum to work his lever against. Remember?
If you didn't stand a turn at guard watch, you didn't get to come in
the blockhouse when Rontondee come down here raidin'. And so
forth. See what I mean, Jonathan?"

There was silence in the cabin, as they watched the idea sink into
Jonathan Blair. Blair grinned. "Mike, you're a damned fine lawyer."

" 'Course I don't know how you do this." The old man was pleased.
"But you see what I mean, boy?"

"Yeah, Mike. I do."

Jonathan Blair saddled up in the dark. He pulled his stirrups up
two and a half inches shorter than usual. The bay got the point,
and raced south for the Borough of Columbus.

The way the action appeared on the first page of John C. Gardiner's
Freeman's Chronicle was not entirely fair to Jonathan Blair, due to
two facts: first, the editor could not afford to offend the men who
opposed Blair so bitterly; and second, Blair's speech was so long
that the editor ran out of lower case "e's" toward the end. Since the
United States Bank had begun refusing Franklinton Bank notes, the
Freeman's Chronicle had not been able to buy a single stick of new
type. And it was necessary to use what "e's" were available on the
paying advertisements. Yet by the careful language of the editor it
was obvious that he knew this was a story which would be copied
by every editor with whom he exchanged papers. His article said:

Fulcrum Law

The General Assembly of this state was
amazed on Thursday last to hear a long
and impassioned speech by Jonathan
Blair of Mesopotamia. Blair is the author
of the so-called Crowbar Law which re
cently attempted to evict the Bank of
the United States from the West.

Blair began his speech by announcing
that the legislature should not be de
pressed over the recent adverse decision
of Charles Willing Byrd in the United
States court at Chillicothe. He said that
the court at Chillicothe had no author
ity to pass judgment upon a law made by
this legislature. He said that at the con
clusion of his argument here today he

would ask the legislature to pass still
another law which would become the
fulcrum for the Crowbar Law.

Here Mr, Blair walked up and down
the aisle and talked so rapidly that your
editor was not able to write down all
his remarks. But he said, "I therefore
recommend that this Legislature should
declare the Bank of the United States
to be an outcast beyond the pale of Ohio
law. Every jailer in this state should
be forbidden to receive into his custody
any person committed at the suit of the
bank, or for any injury done to it. Jus
tices of the peace, judges and grand
juries should no longer take cognizance

THE FULCRUM

of any wrong committed on the property
of the bank, though it were burglary,
robbery, or arson . . . since our tax for
these services has been disallowed."

The silence in the lower house was
deafening as Mr. Blair went on with his
staggering proposal. The members
looked stricken. Mr. Blair noticed this
and he said, "Yes, I can see some of you
making faces of distaste for the benefit
of the gallery." With his hands in his
pants pockets Mr. Blair turned to look
up at the improvised gallery where sat
Miss Virginia Schaacht, Mr. Gideon
Schaacht, Mr. Riddle and Mr. Rouff.
"But let me tell you that if you miss the
opportunity to vote for the bill which I
am about to present, you have passed the
last chance to prevent the most utter eco
nomic devastation which shall ever have
descended on a region. You will return to
your homes from this session to see your
neighbors' lands and chattels knocked
down under auction hammers for pen
nies on the dollar."

When Mr. Blair sat down to listen to
the reading pf hisr so-called Fulcrum Bill,
the house remained in such a silent state
of shock that the clerk forgot to rise to
read the bill. In this paus , R pr s nta-
tiv Tr main took th floor and ask d
for adjournm nt. Th motion was b ing
nt rtain d by th sp ak r. But R pr -
s ntativ B la Hult from Coshocton
County ros and call d a point of ord r.

Th bill was imm diat ly giv n its
first r ading on Monday, i2th ult., D -
c mb r. W go to pr ss b for th
vot . But full t xt of th bill is r pro-
duc d on pag four.

Public Notice

The highest price will be paid for
genuine bank notes on Boston, New
York, or Philadelphia banks. Also for

365

other good eastern bank paper. Apply
at auction office or contact me at The
Red Lion. Elias Phillips.

Public Notice

The subscriber intends opening a
school on the sist inst. in the house
lately foreclosed on Uriah Johnson on
High Street. Courses of instruction will
be arithmetic, surveying, dialing, read
ing. Tuition must be paid in U.S. Bank
notes or in some good eastern bank
able money.

S. Jamison

N.B. None need apply but such as allow
of moderate correction when necessary.

THE SUBSCRIBER

. . . will sacrifice a good Pennsylvania
stallion, roane in exchange for $4.00 in
metal money which is desperately
needed to pay a certain debt. There is
also a fair condition coach to go with
him for $5.00 in bankable money.

Jules Standish

Notice

The following produce will be ac
cepted in payment for subscriptions to
the Chronicle at the following rates:

Whisky 14^ gal.

Dressed Deerskins 75^

But the subscribers would accommo
date the editor by paying in bankable
currency, as some of this is needed for
the purchase of new type from Pitts
burgh, particularly "e's," both capital
and small case.

Notice

Choice lands are now available at low
rates because of the necessity to fore
close many parcels in this area. Apply
to J. Riddle. In person or by mail at
the Chillicothe office of the U. S. Bank.

66 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair returned to Mesopotamia late in the night. The town was
dark and he unsaddled, fed the bay and went to his bunk.

Next morning Tim Flannerty saw Blair's bay in the shed and
therefore came into the cabin to wake up die lawyer. "Thought you'd
want to know about it, Mr. Blair. Reverend Gershom's come down.
Miss Hope got him to come down to hold a special church this morn
ing to ask that Mr. Christofferson's leg gets better."

Blair sat up. "Is it worse, Tim?"

"Yeah. Swelled up big. My old man says Mr. Christofferson is hurtin'
real bad. He saw the rams Miss Hope bought, and liked 'em fine.
Then he got worse."

Blair pulled on his pants. Tim brought his boots over.

The lawyer entered the blockhouse just as the Reverend Gershom
was finishing up. Hope sat there in the front as the others streamed
out of the church. A few o the old-timers, including the lawyer,
went up and gathered around Hope. She saw Blair and he could tell
she was glad he was there.

Gershom said, "Hope, before we go out to see Brute, I brought
something down with me for you. You might as well keep this piece
of paper. I keep worrying about if I should lose it." Gershom reached
in his inside coat pocket. Then he reached in his waistcoat pocket.

Blair noticed the first frightened look he'd ever seen on the min
ister's face. Gershom began slapping all his pockets.

"I can't find itl" he roared.

Hussong was watching with alarm also. He said, "Reverend, was
that Hope's mortgage paper? The one you brought Ault to his knees
with?"

"Yes. Yes, but I've lost it."

"Lost it, hell! Did you stay the night in Exeter's Tavern last night?"

"Yes. Yes."

"Did you lock your door?"

"Never do."

"Come on over to Exeter's Tavern," Hussong said. "That miserable
Emanuel Ault and that miserable Exeter are closer'n thin hogs on a
cold night lately. They're fixin' to make Hope the first one foreclosed
because that Schaacht's got a mean streak about her. And I'm s'posed
to be next, because if they can close me down they figure the others'll
give up easy. But I'm tellin' you I'll hang that Ault up on a slaughter

THE FULCRUM 367

hook first. I notice neither o them skunks was in church this mornin'.
Come on."

But they didn't have to go beyond the outside of the blockhouse.
Exeter stood there sheepishly. Ault stood there smugly.

Ault said, "Serve the papers on both of 'em, Exeter."

Exeter reached in his pocket nervously. "Hope, we had to do it
this way. You got to be first and Hussong second. We couldn't chance
it any other way. The church is the only place where there's no fire
arms these days. If we went to Hussong's place, we know he's got a
rifle propped through a hole by the cabin door. And Brute's that
mad in the head lately he'd shoot before he thought it out good. So
we had to do it like this."

"Do what, Amos?" Hope said.

"We got to serve the writs for the debt. You always wanted to be
treated like the rest of the men, Hope. We're all pretty tough up
here. I know you'd serve it on me if you could save your place."

Hussong said, "Did you let Ault into that tavern last night, Exeter?"

"He would have got it whether I let him in or not, Hussong. He
was gonna waylay the preacher and swipe it anyhow."

Exeter's face jarred under the glare of the big hog farmer. But he
bulled his way through. He pulled out the paper and handed it
toward Hope. "Might as well get it over with, Hope. You got to sign
that I gave you this paper . . ."

But before he had finished the sentence he was up in the air,
stretched out lengthwise and he came down on the frozen ground
with a thud like a dropped rock that made all the watchers wince.
Hussong did not let go of Exeter's arm. He flung it so that Exeter's
own hand hit him in the stomach. Hussong snatched the papers out
of Exeter's limp hand and began to tear them. As he did so, Ault
yelled, "You got the writ in your hand, Hussong! You been served!"

Hussong dropped the papers in a rage. "I'll serve you!" He
grabbed two handfuls of Ault's coat front and swung him against
the blockhouse so the wind came out of him in a grunt. But Ault
was tough physically and morally. He swung a rocklike fist at Hus
song's jaw. He missed the jaw, but struck the neck, turning the hog
farmer's face purple and his brain red. Hussong stormed at Ault.
Blair grabbed Hussong from the rear. Stikes grabbed Ault. Hussong
surged from side to side, breaking Blair's grip. But Gershom then

368 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

grabbed him. Hussong roared like a stuck boar, "You damned lawyer,
Blair! If you can't help, for God's sake get out of our way at least!"

Blair reached into his pocket and pulled out a copy of the Free
man's Chronicle. He poked a stick through it and jammed it into a
hole in the blockhouse wall.

"Read it," he said.

They crowded around the paper.

ACT TO WITHDRAW FROM THE BANK. OF U.S. THE
PROTECTION AND AID OF THE LAWS OF THIS STATE

Sec. i It shall not be lawful for any sheriff or keeper of a jail
to commit any person arrested upon a mesne process or
taken or charged in execution of the suit of the President
or Directors or the Bank of U.S.

Sec. 2 It shall not be lawful for any judge, j.p., or other officer
to receive or deliver any proof or writ or deed to which
the Bank of U.S. may be a party.

Sec. 3 Fines for sheriffs, constables, judges, notaries public or
j.p/s who violate this act will be $500 and summary re
moval from office.

Jos, Richardson

HOUSE

Allen Trimble

SENATE

Mike Stikes broke out in a grin which was a pleasure for Blair to
see. "Now ya got some real leverage, boy!"

Hussong read it aloud for Hope, who turned to Blair. "Jonathan,
that means they can't touch us, doesn't it?"

"Not unless we lose our appeal on the Crowbar Law, Hope. And it
gives us some time to think."

Hope exhaled, and her face was lighted with a relaxed beauty which
made a man want to grab hold of her and tell her she deserved it.

There was even an exhausted sort of sweet smile there which didn't
change until Tim Flannerty came running up.

"Miss Hope! He wanted ya, at the cabin!"

Hope ran stumbling toward her mount.

"No use to hurry, Miss Hope. Not now/'

Chapter 24: THE

MESOPOTAMIAN

MESOPOTAMIA had no way to measure

the thing which happened to it now. It could not be said that Meso
potamia was a place o affection. The earnestness o survival here
brought a reserve to the town, for though you shared your whisky
with your neighbor today, you might need to refuse to share your
oats with him tomorrow, or your salt or gunpowder. But in one respect
this town was a family, for though they had lashed Hank Flannerty
on the bare back thirty-nine times for larceny, they would permit no
outsider to touch Hank Flannerty, and they had once forcibly de
livered Flannerty out of the county jail.

Likewise, when one of their number was elevated by the outside
world, each Mesopotamian took unto himself a handful of the
honor. And they had had many honors. Indeed nature's own refining
process insured that any who survived this far north and west should
be greater men than elsewhere.

Mesopotamia had produced Sam Hosmer. They had produced
Thomas Woodbridge, who had developed the Mesopotamia Hog,
heaviest breed in the West to date. They had produced Mike Stikes,
whose Stikes Rifles were already known as far as The Illinois Country.
They had produced Hope Christofferson who was known across at least
three counties as the woman whose sheep were making Major Arm
strong the laughing stock of the army.

So Mesopotamia was accustomed to honor. But what happened now
to Jonathan Blair shook even Mesopotamia's complacency.

In the tavern Culpepper said, "My God!"

Buttrick said, "Not only that, the legislature insisted he be the
one."

Stikes said, "Darnation, there'll be no more five-dollar law cases
handled around here, less we get in another lawyer."

Hope Christofferson cut five inches out of the sleeves of the late
Brutus Christofferson's white shirt. She washed it and dried it in the
sun. Mike Stikes polished a piece of iron so smooth you could hardly

369

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

feel the pits, and he took it out to Hope's place. She heated it at the
hearth and she ironed the shirt. She handed it to Jonathan and said,
"When you take it off at night, hang it over a chair. Those inn
hangers will let Brute's shoulders hang off the ends too far."

"Thank you, Hope, but what about the sleeves?"

"I shortened them."

"Enough?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

She colored. "There was a time or two I had occasion to know the
length of your arm, Jonathan."

Even the new settler, Isaac Steese, the tanner, was in the spirit of it.
He came over with a fine pair of saddle bags, one side of which had
compartments for Blair's three law books.

The word even got up to the Indian town at Upper Sandusky. Fawn
stepped silently into Blair's, cabin. She handed him a light tan
rough-buck trouser belt. It was sparsely decorated with polished animal
teeth.

"From the Silver Pigeon?" Blair asked.

"No. From Mudeater. He waits for me outside the town."

Blair smiled, "Tell the Mudeater I like it. Almost as much as if it
was from you." Blair grinned.

"From me, this. The white man's goodbye." She rose to the toes of
her moccasins and kissed him on the mouth. She giggled and left the
cabin.

From Buttrick, Blair got advice. From Joe Hussong, Blair received
great tribute. "Jonathan, it's a big thing. You're like . . . why it's like
finding a full-blooded Bedford boar hid in a passle of woods pigs/'

Blair rode south across the ford wearing the colors of Mesopotamia
in leather and brass and a clean white shirt, cut to fit.

Jonathan Blair had never felt so incompetent Standing once in
Hope Christofferson's shed when Guinevere and Evangeline were both
dropping twin lambs in the same hour, the other men had been
sweating-busy and Blair had stood by stupidly, not knowing where
to turn his hand.

Today he felt that same cowlike ineptness as he stood up in the
cellar of the Capitol in the city of Washington, Republic of America.

The others stood up absently, continuing to study their papers and

THE MESOPOTAMIAN 371

confer. Even the opposing attorneys stood up automatically and con
tinued talking in whispers, not even glancing toward the great white
bench which rose at the far end of the room. The gay and chattering
guests in the gallery only subdued their small talk as much as Hope's
sheep at feeding time. There was more discipline and respect in a
Western circuit court held in a tavern. But Blair naively paid attention
to the marshal of the court.

'Teal Yea! Yea! Yea! The Supreme Court of the United States is
now in session. All persons having business before the court will be
heard! God save the United States and this honorable court!"

There was more. But Blair's eye wandered around the cellar. He
was partly disappointed that the highest justice bench in the land
was tucked in a remote corner of the cellar under the Capitol. But on
the other hand he was glad there was no overwhelming grandeur.

The small room was pie-shaped, the bench at the apex. It was
about the proper size for a county courtroom in, say, Columbus.

The place was so crowded that the judges now entered from a side
door and were helped into their robes by the clerk right in front of
everybody.

Blair immediately spotted the great man, not because of his bearing
or dress, but because of his height. John Marshall apparently stepped
on the hem of his robe and couldn't get it up over his shoulders. The
chief justice laughed among the judges as though there were no
attorneys or spectators present. The laugh encouraged Blair; it was
too hearty for an intriguer, and too spontaneous for a bigot. It was
a fair man, Blair felt.

John Marshall's iron-grey hair was tied in a blunt club behind his
head. On his way to the center seat at the bench he reached a long
arm up to rub the moisture off the cellar-type window and he appar
ently commented on the weather to Judge Story. Good God, didn't
he know the whole Western economy was about to be put into his
handl He wiped -a window with it.

Since no one paid any attention to the judges during this settling-
down process, Blair looked around behind him. A bas-relief hung on
the wall above the heads of the gallery. Justice leaned on her sword
and held the scale in her other hand. Blair looked over where the
opposing attorneys sat. They had caught him gawking about, and
they were smiling. They were very well-dressed young men, and very
self-assured. Blair looked down at his buckskin trousers. He colored

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

and glared back. But they were still looking at him, in fact with even
more interest. Suddenly he knew why, because Bolding was tugging
at his coat sleeve. Everyone else had sat down.

Since there was talking in the air even after the judges were seated,
Blair walked over to the two confident young men.

"Pardon me, could you tell me when we begin?"

The one with edging on his lapels smiled tolerantly and said, "Any
minute now."

Blair said, "I notice the marshal handed each judge some little
envelopes, and they are each writing now. Was I supposed to submit
an envelope of some kind?"

The edged lapels looked at the one with the sleepy eyelids and
grinned, then back to Blair. "You mean you don't know about the
envelopes?"

"Well, don't worry about them/' the lapels patronized him. "The
judges are answering their invitations. The court season is quite a
social affair."

Blair got through the openings for both sides. The attorney general,
William Wirt, who sat to the left of the six justices stated the case
for the Bank. Blair was studying the gallery with awe, for this was a
completely unique gallery of auditors. On Judge Pease's circuit in
the West, Blair was accustomed to a gallery in which each auditor
had already made up his mind and was violently in favor of one side
and opposed to the other. This gallery was different. It showed no
concern how the play would come out, so long as it was a good per
formance.

The attorney general droned on ". . . appealed from circuit court in
Chillicothe ... the appellants pray for a reversal o the lower court's
decree, contending it is erroneous for the following seven reasons . . ."

Jonathan Blair wondered how his seven reasons sounded to the
people in this court. Studying the two young lawyers at the far end
of the table, he could not tell They didn't even seem to be listening.

But Blair noticed that the chief justice interrupted and said, "Re
peat the appellants' sixth reason please, Mr. Wirt."

Blair was encouraged. This was his most important argument, and
John Marshall had singled it out in a flash. There would be justice
in this court, and Jonathan Blair was well prepared, through long
and laborious study.

THE MESOPOTAMIAN 373

Blair was relieved to find that he could stand up and talk. He was
extremely self-conscious, but he had prepared so well that he got
through his opening all right. Also, the sharp attention and the
unpretentious smile of the chief justice encouraged him.

He sat down when he had outlined his case, and the floor went to
the confident young man with the ribbed-silk edging on his lapels.
His opening gun seemed to blast the floor out from under Blair's
case:

"We decline arguing the right of the State of Ohio to tax the
bank, considering that question as formally determined by the
, former decision of this court in McCullough vs. Maryland, which
was supported by irresistible arguments by Mr. Henry Clay and
Mr. Daniel Webster, to which we could add no further illustration.

"But this is not like the law of Maryland, a case of taxation.
Ohio's law was enacted for the purpose of expelling the bank
from the State of Ohio, by inflicting penalties amounting to
prohibition. It inflicted penalties on the bank greater than the
bank's entire annual income. It was a confiscation . . . not a tax!

"It is obvious that if one state could in this manner expel one of
the branches of the bank from its territory, then every state may
do the same. And thus this great institution of the national
government would be destroyed by the local governments. Can
you imagine what kind of a Federal Government we would have

if it were forced to trust its states not to destroy it?"

?

Blair bounced to his feet, "You're already trusting the states not
to destroy youl Take the land tax itself. The Federal Government
derives income from selling off the public domain in the Western
states. Now, we states have an agreement with the general government
not to tax the land until after it's sold. But we have only to make
the tax law prohibitive, and the United States will not sell another
acre in the West. But we seem to have exercised that privilege with
restraint and justice. We could name a dozen other examples where
the states have only to pass a new law, and there is no Federal
Government. But we have not done this.

"Now you said the tax was designed to drive the bank out of the
state. You are quite right. But since when has > the tax not been a

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

legitimate form of protest or coercion under this democratic form
of government? I should think the Federal Government would
examine its bank and see what makes it so obnoxious to the states."

Blair sat down. He had roused the interest of the spectators. John
Marshall smiled faintly at Blair. He said, "Mr. Blair, every attorney
has his first time before this court. But would you please remember
not to address your opponents, but the bench; and hereafter wait
until the plaintiff has concluded."

The edged lapels grinned. John Marshall added, "However, do
not under any circumstances allow the rules of the court to interfere
with your enthusiasm for your side. We're here to listen to the best
that can be said, both ways."

By God, that's a good judge, Blair thought, on Monday.

On Tuesday, Blair was certain he observed a definite change in his
two young opponents. They spoke with more alacrity. This seemed to
be in direct response to a big change in the make-up of the gallery
on Tuesday.

Bolding called it to Blair's attention. "I think you must have been
making your points yesterday. The women kind of got crowded out
today. These vultures are all business. See that one next to the post
there, with the side whiskers? That's Langdon Cheves . * - president
of the whole U.S. Bank. And you see that coat in the empty seat next
to him? I guess you know who owns that, don't you?*'

"Yeah," Blair squinted at the great fur-collared coat. "That's
Schaacht's."

"That's right."

The presence of Schaacht and Cheves in the courtroom sharpened
Blair's arguments. He even felt Judges Marshall and Story leaning
forward to hear better when he said:

"The question whether the bank of U.S. is exempt from the
taxing power of the states depends upon the nature and char
acter of the bank. If it stands on the same foundation with the
mint and the post office, we admit that Ohio cannot tax it,

"But banking is a private trade. The convenience and profit of
private men is the object of any bank. It's the object of your
private banks here in Washington, same as it was the object of

THE MESOPOTAMIAN 375

my neighbors, Mike Stikes, and Tom Woodbridge, and Sam
Hosmer, and Jim Hawkins when we formed the Mesopotamia
Hog & Trust up in my town/'

Laughter burst from the gallery. But there was no laughter from
the bench. They all leaned forward, eyes on Blair.

"Now Mr. Cheves' bank here," Blair pointed to Cheves, "his
U.S. Bank, is not one whit different from the Mesopotamia Hog
& Trust."

There was more laughter. Even the great hawkish face of Gideon
Schaacht flickered as Langdon Cheves reddened.

"Except," Blair said, "that when Sam Hosmer's signature was
signed to a dollar bill, everybody knew what it stood for. But
Mr. Cheves keeps us all guessing what he's going to do next. One
day he was happy to loan us money. The next day he wanted it
all back."

Langdon Cheves glared at Gideon Schaacht. Marshall now frowned
a little at Blair, holding him down. So Blair said, "Let's build a bank,
right here in this courtroom, the way Mr. Cheves' bank was built,
and then decide if the states can tax it.

"Suppose that the individuals who are to build this bank live
not in one city, like Mesopotamia. Suppose they live in all parts
of the country and they join together for the purpose of estab
lishing a bank with a capital of $28,000,000. They collect this
capital together in the city of Philadelphia and begin trading
as bankers. Fine,

"Now, not finding sufficient borrowers for their capital in
Philadelphia they establish a branch in New York, one in Boston,
one in Baltimore, where they do a profitable business. It is per
fectly clear that the business thus transacted must be subject
to the laws of the various states.

"Now, on a given date the Federal Government decides that it
would be good to become a customer of this bank, that is, borrow

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

money. Therefore our government makes a contract with this
bank, which becomes a charter and makes the bank a corporation.

"Now, the mere creation of a corporation does not confer political
power or character. So this very same court decided in Dartmouth
College vs. Woodward, This is not my thinking, but your own."
Blair paused. "However I agree with you heartily."

Marshall smiled.

Blair was interrupted by the hasty and noisy exit from the gallery
of Gideon Schaacht. Schaacht was not a man who could move without
being noticed. And as he left now suddenly, heads swayed together
to identify him. Nor was Schaacht a man to make motion without
accomplishing something.

Blair did not know what Schaacht accomplished, but on the follow
ing morning he did notice a tremendous increase in the number of
attorneys in the gallery. They carried brief covers, and they were a
well-dressed crowd. Blair felt shabby. His shirt was now soiled, though
he had preserved it every night.

Blair came to a breaking-off place in his argument on Wednesday,
and John Marshall recognized the attorneys for the bank. Neither
of the young men rose, though. In fact, they sat there looking down
at the table, as though they were waiting for something.

During this strange pause Gideon Schaacht arrived and sat down
beside Cheves, nodding in a way that even Blair could read from his
distance to mean, "It's all arranged."

Schaacht, absorbed in the court action, left his daughter to find
her own seat.

John Marshall again asked the attorneys for the bank to proceed.
The young men looked over at Langdon Cheves and then the heavily
eyelidded one rose. He faced the bench as if he were about to speak
but he held his tongue and looked behind him, A set of loud ringing
footsteps echoed down the cellar corridors, which was what the young
attorney was apparently waiting for. As the bootfalls grew louder the
young attorney slowly sat down. The gallery leaned out to watch the
doorway.

A tall man, obviously much at home in these corridors, strode
into the courtroom. His hair was worn in a short queue with a black
ribbon. His shoulders were broad. His neck was thick and his manner

THE MESOPOTAMIAN 377

was preoccupied in the way of men who habitually step from one
policy-level meeting into another. He walked to the plaintiff's end of
the table. The two young attorneys rose. The large man asked four
or five brusque questions; his eyes demanded quick answers. Then his
glance swept across the bench and the gallery. He cut off the talk with
an impatient nod, and walked toward the apex of the courtroom.

Blair was dumfounded.

Henry Clay addressed the bench, for the United States Bank.

Henry Clay's arrival to bolster the bank's attack caused the court
to take a new look at this buckskin-clad lawyer, that he should de
serve such an opponent.

Bolding grinned and said quietly, "You've got them worried, Blair.
Plenty worried."

Blair looked over at the gallery. With his face contorted into a
question mark he sought out the serene face of Virginia Schaacht.
She smiled at him. And she brought her hand to her forehead in a
kind of salute.

Bolding observed this. "But don't get the idea you won't have to
stay on your toes," he said testily.

Blair's head snapped back to the bench.

Henry Clay worked in bold strokes. It seemed to Blair he had risen
above technicalities. He apparently had practiced before the Supreme
Court enough so that he wasn't expected to concern himself with
laws and cases. He swept grandly into philosophy, history, patriotism.

"Mr. Blair is helping us to find it unjust that the U.S. Bank be
exempt from taxation by referring us to the homey example of
his local bank in Meso . . . Mesopotomy . , ."

Chief Justice Marshall grinned and corrected, "Mesopotamia, it is,
Mr. Clay. The Mesopotamia Hog & Trust Company,"

The first tier of lawyers in the gallery smiled and nodded back at
the judge, confirming the pronunciation.

"Anyway," Clay continued, "we who have created governments,
either federal or state, know that the power to create a U.S.
Bank must infer a power effectually to protect, preserve and
sustain. A grant of the end is necessarily a grant of the means. The
bank is as much a servant of the government as the Treasury

378 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Department, and I presume Mr. Blair would not have Ohio tax
the U.S. Treasury.

"Mr. Blair claims that the lower Federal court at Chillicothe had
no right to hear the case. But if that privilege be taken away, the
bank is stripped of its power . . . and so is the nation. In fact, we
have no nation. The next step is the drawing of guns ... in fact,
that step is already here. Because the men whom Mr. Blair asks
us to protect have already drawn weapons against an agency of
the Federal Government, and I say we should perhaps not be
talking of a simple trespass and larceny, we should perhaps be
trying a case of treasonl"

Blair studied in his room at the Inn. Many lawyers had come up
to him after the day in court. Several of them brought him books
with pages marked. Blair's progress was slow because Clay had talked
so fast that he had not been able to take complete notes.

Justin Bolding entered Blair's room, accompanied and guarded by
a U.S. marshal. He said, "Jonathan, did you see page sixteen of my
notes?" Then noticing his pile of notes, still folded on Blair's bed, "No.
I see you haven't. But I got down most everything Clay said and some
good suggestions in there for rebuttal. Aren't you going to look at
them?"

Blair rolled Bolding's notes into a club with which he tapped
the back of his fist while he looked at the younger man. "Bolding, I
don't feel confident using them."

"You don't think I have any brains?"

"I'm afraid you have too many for me, Bolding, Nothing tells me
you're not Schaacht's man still. I think your speech licked me in the
Chillicothe court. I can't keep up with you/'

Bolding shrugged and pulled the marshal toward the door.

The bell on the church was ringing out eleven o'clock when Blair
answered his door next. It was a wide-eyed porter who dropped a
naval officer's sea bag, "I was told to bring this to the buckskin
lawyer."

"Who told you to bring them?"

Blair opened the bag and pulled out a white shirt, a white waist
coat, a good tweed tail coat and light grey wool trousers.

THE MESOPOTAMIAN 379

Blair threw them in the corner, and went back to work. An hour
later he went over and picked up the clothes and hung them in the
closet.

He worked late that night. When he went to bed his head was so
full of the possible attacks Mr. Clay might make that he had trouble
sleeping, and he woke with a great hunger.

He shaved hastily and went down to the common room for breakfast.
It was there that he overheard the conversation from the next room.
The two men talked like lawyers.

"The blighter makes a damned good case. But he makes it so deuced
hard for the judges to take his part. Every lawyer in the city is watch
ing, and that fool dresses himself like a pole pusher on a keel-
boat."

"Why not, if that's the way they dress out in his country? Don't
forget he's even north of Columbus."

"Well, sure, if it wasn't an act, he could borrow a coat. But he flaunts
a wild-eyed Jeffersonian costume in front of the judges ... on top
of that he admits his bank robbery was a deliberate attempt to break
down Federal authority. Marshall spent a lifetime establishing Fed
eral authority. Now Marshall's a fair man . . . but you hold up what
looks like the ghost of Tom Jefferson in front of him, and talk about
tearin' apart the Federal, while wearing wild-eyed backwoods buck
skins . . . What's the judge going to think?"

"Judges don't make decisions on clothes."

"How long have you been practicing?" asked the other attorney.

Jonathan Blair went back up to his room and took off his leather
coat. He walked into the courtroom in a tweed coat with a velvet
collar. It looked good. Blair's chest and his square shoulders filled
the coat well. But he didn't feel easy. Especially he felt uneasy when
John Marshall looked down on him in surprise, and something that
Blair took to be disappointment.

The courtroom was filled on the sixth day so that men were stand
ing around the outside edges of the room, and in the corridor leading
in. Mr. Clay talked almost unbrokenly all day. Blair made a short
rebuttal that didn't seem to injure Clay's vast, sprawling, diffuse
argument.

Blair felt that the rich cloth clothes on his own back were better
than the law which came out of him. The sleeves of the coat fitted
perfectly according to custom, but the cuffs covered so much of his

380 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lazuyer

hand that Blair felt like a short man on a tall horse. He felt ineffective,
in fact he was.

On the seventh day Jonathan Blair entered a few minutes late,
wearing his leather. Blair busied himself immediately with his notes,
and in whispered conversation with Bolding.

But those who interested themselves in the nuances of courtroom
action noticed that the chief justice looked over to observe Blair. The
justice smiled very faintly, and it seemed with some pleasurable relief.
The chief justice's smile was reflected in a ripple along the first row
of lawyers in the gallery who now felt they owned a little part of
Blair, having watched him grow up a half a notch in a single day to
the place where he knew enough to wear his own mantle.

Mr. Clay seemed aware that he was involved in no casual case.
He put on his tragical tone, "Consider then that Holding em
ployed Christofferson and Gavagan to do an illegal act. That
he is therefore jointly responsible for it is as well settled as any
principle of law. Mr. Blair, in attempting to narrow the field says
that Bolding was only executing his legal duty under the laws
of Ohio. Who then are we to hold accountable, Mr. Blair?"

Justice Marshall coughed and smiled. "Will you address the bench,
please, Mr. Clay?"

"In fact," Clay wanned to his work, "to treat this as a simple tres
pass and larceny is only a wrist slap. This was an attempt at the
total destruction of the Bank in Ohio . . which means an attempt
to expel the Federal Government and wreck the union/'

Blair rebutted vigorously. "Sirs, the question of the wreckage
of the union is not under appeal.

"But to return to the bank's ability to jail the state auditor in
the performance of his duty. Does this mean that the State of
Ohio might sue the government mail contractor for delivering
letters and jail him? I insist you must give us one or the other.

"The carriages and horses of the mail contractor is a stronger
case than that of the bank for exemption from taxes. Public
service is his first great object. Yet we may tax him. But in the

THE MESOPOTAMIAN 381

case of the bank the private trade o the company is the great
object o pursuit, and the public business is incidental and sub
ordinate. Yet we cannot tax the bank.

"The mail contractor takes the risk of a hazardous contract in
the public service, and pays taxes. But the bank, on the contrary,
receives a special pecuniary advantage resulting in profit to its
stockholders in transacting private business, and cannot be taxed.
In Mesopotamia we don't do things this way/'

The attorneys in attendance observed now that as Mr. Clay ap
proached the bench he was taking snuff with both hands, and was
generally distraught. He walked to the bench and talked privately to
Justice Marshall. Marshall in turn addressed Blair across the whole
court. "Mr. Clay requests a recess/*

Blair hesitated. Bolding whispered, "I'd grant it. Strengthen your
side/'

Blair said, "Agreed/*

During the recess two attorneys arrived at Blair's table, one from
Carolina and one from Kentucky. "Our state legislatures have sent
us to assist you, Mr. Blair/' the Kentuckian said. "We don't want to
get in the way. But put us to work. There's other states coming too,
I hear."

Jonathan Blair took great hope from this.

But after the recess his hopes fell. When counsel for the bank filed
back in, there were the two young attorneys and Henry Clay. And
now a newcomer joined the plaintiff's side. His appearance spread a
hush through the room, and then a buzz of talk. The newcomer was
serious, intense, dark haired and vigorous.

When the session reopened the side of the bank was represented
by Daniel Webster.

Chapter 25: REPUGN ANT TO

THE REPUBLIC

WHEN THE case of the United States
Bank vs. Justin Bolding, Matthew Gavagan, Brutus Christofferson et
al. closed, almost everyone in Washington was on the side of the
lawyer from Mesopotamia. He had made strong argument and good
rebuttal. He had even taught some law to lawyers; two young sleek
ones in particular had learned to beware the opponent who comes
before the bench for a small fee and big convictions.

Chief Justice John Marshall had publicly remarked on the force
of the Western lawyer's logic, and Henry Clay had personally con
gratulated him, had even walked with him three blocks toward his
inn.

Langdon Cheves and Gideon Schaacht had paid him the ultimate
tribute, by engaging Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, the most
formidable team then practicing in the capital.

But in the crowded courtroom Blair only heard snatches of the
decision over the pounding of the blood in his head.

"The court therefore feels that the United States Bank is a necessary
and proper measure for carrying on the fiscal operations of the gov
ernment . . . full pressure of the appellants' argument is felt, but . . .
nation would stand stripped, naked of defensive armor, unable to
execute its laws . . . bank is not considered a private corporation . . .
power to tax is the power to destroy . , . hence the tax law of the
State of Ohio is much more objectionable than that of Maryland
. . . therefore repugnant to the law of the Republic , . . sum of
$100,000 taken unlawfully from the bank . . . court directs restitution
thereof and . . . dissenting opinion will be read by Justice Johnson."

The justice got no further than that when Blair saw Gideon
Schaacht go into action. Schaacht leaned over to talk to a young grey-
suited man next to him, who was apparently present for this express
purpose. The young grey suit hurried out of the gallery, like a man
well fortified with previous instructions.

38*

REPUGNANT TO THE REPUBLIC 383

Blair addressed the bench. "Do you know what begins now? Do
you know what starts to happen now? Do you?"

The gavel fell. Holding and two Kentucky attorneys tugged Blair
down.

"It's started already! Now it begins!"

The marshal rapped. The chief justice said the dissent would be
read tomorrow.

As Blair struggled out of the courtroom his eye fell on the bas-relief
in the rear of the room. Though many men, strangers to Blair, crowded
around him and talked loudly, he was able to notice that the figure
of Justice in the relief was not blindfolded, and instead of holding
the scale delicately, the sculptor had her grab it with such a firm fist
that it seemed to Blair the balance could not swing either way of its
own accord.

In the tavern which was below the inn, strange hands beat on Blair's
back and jaws full of teeth entered his vision just above the rim
of his tankard. The tankard was pulled from his hand many times
and refilled by the bar man who could tell by the crowd around him
that this lawyer was a man to be well served.

He never heard the name Blair around here before; but any fool
could tell by the way they were asking him to stay on here and take
marine cases with this firm and land-grant cases for that firm, and
British war-damage claim cases for this one . . . anyone could tell this
was a lawyer you'd hear about around this town from now on.

Also, you could tell by the way he paid no attention to them and
just stared straight ahead thinking his own thoughts . . . you could
tell by that ... he was a strong man. Didn't even bother looking
pleased for all the handsome things they were saying about him and
all the fine offers they were making him.

But probably none at this table knew what was going through the
head of the lawyer. The lawyer was wondering how soon the news
would get back to a place called Hosmer Village, or Mesopotamia.

How soon would Elizabeth Hosmer know that Blair had lost old
Sam's fight? How soon would Hope Christofferson know that Brute's
last great two-thousand-dollar gesture was canceled out like an Owl
Creek Bank note? How soon would Gavagan know he was not a
collector, but an outlaw?

Blair lifted his saddle bag of law books up onto the tavern table. He
felt of the leather that Isaac Steese had oak-tanned and stitched and

384 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

tooled. How soon would Isaac Steese know that his saddle bag was
better than the lawyer?

One thing about Gideon Schaacht, he was a man. He sat now in
the side room of the Irving House facing the president and one third
of the board of directors of the United States Bank, including the
Federal representatives. But they found he was a hard man to put on
the carpet. He would not squirm and yell.

He sat erect, but not erect enough to give them much satisfaction.
His hands lay still on the arms of the chair. They did not twist or
rub the wood.

Not only that, he had seated himself at the foot of the table
opposite Langdon Cheves. And in truth if you could not hear who
was speaking, the foot of the table would look more like the head of it.
Even when being interrogated, Gideon Schaacht looked natural at
the end of the table. You could not imagine him in one of the seats
along the side, where men with more seniority and experience were
sitting in obscurity.

Langdon Cheves said, "Schaacht, you were lucky today,"

"I think you mean we were all lucky today, Mr. Cheves. If they
had driven my branch out, the rest of you wouldn't last a month
either."

"Nevertheless," Cheves said, "you were lucky. But your problem has
just started. You have mortgages on half the State of Ohio. But can
you close them? You've loaned out more of our good capital on less
convertible security, than any other two branches put together. You've
got the people mad enough that they're near ready to secede. And the
board and myself are anxious to hear your exact plans for foreclosure.
How can you get them off the land, and if you do, how can you
convert the land to cash if you drive the people out?*'

"Well, the first thing I will do is ask you to procure some Federal
manpower to help me. The second thing I will do is remind you
gentlemen that it isn't exclusively my problem. It's yours, too."

"But you created it," Cheves said. "You loaned too much, too fast.
Then you tightened up credit faster than I intended you to. Now you
have made a national martyr out of a place called Mesopotamia. Half
the city of Washington has adopted that town to its heart, and that
back-woods lawyer with it. It's become a catch word around here for
pluck. Just this morning I congratulated the hackney on his team

REPUGNANT TO THE REPUBLIC 385

getting us to the courthouse on time through the rain. He said, 'Yes,
sir. Them's Mesopotamia-style nags/ Point is, if that lawyer and that
town take a notion to resist, you won't be able to close out any other
town either. They'll all say, 'We're doing like Mesopotamia/ And
Clay says it's not at all preposterous that you have opened a battle
for Western independence. Lewis and Clark and then Burr almost
broke the West loose. You may have done it better."

"By the same token, Mr. Cheves, if I can collect in Mesopotamia, I
can collect throughout the rest of the territory with no trouble. I
intend closing out those Mesopotamia mortgages first."

"How can you do it with half the country watching Mesopotamia
now?"

"It will be done quietly and with dispatch."

"How?"

"By the selection of a certain collector, who will know just how
to handle it."

"Who?"

Schaacht seemed on the point of answering the question. But then
he said, "If I told you his name I would have to amplify endlessly.
He's here in this city, and if I'm to get him, I should get him immedi
ately. So if you'll excuse me, gentlemen."

Schaacht rose. But Cheves said, "Look here, Gideon, we're answer
able to the stockholders, and we deserve some explanation."

Schaacht knew both the risk and the power of playing a weak hand
boldly. He said, "I require a certain amount of autonomy. If you
don't care for that method of operation, perhaps one of these men
would like to replace me at the head of the Western branch of the
bank."

There being no reply he put on his hat. He left no affection behind
him. But on the other hand he left no room for meddlers.

At the tavern where Blair drank steadily now, the group of men
around his table had thinned, but it had simmered down to men of
some substance, who had specific proposals they wished to talk over
with Blair. But Blair just drank.

One thing about Schaacht, when it was time to be tough, he never
shrank from the moment. And this was the moment.

Blair first became aware of someone's approach when the chairs
began scraping back from the table. He saw a skirt opposite him,

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

and all the men standing and bending slightly at the waist. Then
beside the skirt was a pair of fine tight wool breeches. Blair's eyes
followed up to a brocaded waistcoat and on up to the hawk face of
Gideon Schaacht,

The introductions were over. Still Blair did not rise. Schaacht ex
tended a long arm and a hand across the table to Blair. "It was a good
fight, Jonathan."

Blair ignored the hand, shoving out his lower lip and drinking
from his mug. The eyes held.

"I don't blame you. You had a lot of heart in it, Jonathan, and
you lost. There's a lot say you should have won, including two
dissenting judges."

Most of the men standing around the table knew Schaacht and his
daughter. The banker genially invited them to be seated, and he sat
himself. He said, "Gentlemen, I couldn't help overhearing your pro
posals to Mr. Blair. That's why I came when I did. Mr, Blair won't
be accepting any of them, I'm sure. In respect to a tough and worthy
opponent, I myself intend to make him the best offer of all- So he will
not be staying here in Washington. He will be going back to his
well-loved town of Mesopotamia," Schaacht grinned, "which he has
made the pet of Washington."

Blair hoisted a cynical, intoxicated eyebrow. But Schaacht said,
"Yes, it'll be tough to face them, Jonathan, but you'll go back. You're
not the kind who could run away from them,"

"You don't think so, huh?" Blair drank- "Catch me dead back there.
String me to Stikes' forge, feet up,"

"It'll be tough. But you'll go back."

"Think so, huh, Schaacht?"

"I know so."

"Just how you know this?"

Schaacht reached in his breeches pocket and pulled out three small
pieces of black slate which had been chiselled into the shape of
grave markers.

"Because Mesopotamia has too much in this thing. You cost them too
much to run out now."

"Like what?"

Schaacht threw one of the miniature gravestones on the table in front
of Blair. "Like Sam Hosmer."

REPUGNANT TO THE REPUBLIC 387

Blair stared at the gravestone, but gave no answer.

Schaacht threw another one down, "Like Brute Christofferson."

Blair stared at the small slate gravestones, and reached out for one.
But he pulled his hand back quickly as another one hit the table and
danced like a half-dollar.

"Or like Hope Christofferson's Merinos that are going to pot some
where up in the woods."

A fourth one hit the table top.

"Or like the doctor you took away from the Silver Pigeon. How
many did he lose after you took his doctor away, Jonathan?"

Blair fingered a gravestone and looked up at Schaacht, "Winowa
lotta troubleda make ya poin', dinya, Mister Schaacht. Lotta trouble."

"Yeah. I did, Blair. Wanted to be sure you got it."

"Well, I gotta poin' fer you, Mister Schaa. You're the one killed
old Sam, an' Brute, an' sent 'rinos up in the woods, and took the
doctor outa Upper Sandusky. You hadna broke our money, be there
yet."

"I know the bank made some mistakes, Jonathan."

"Some mistakesl Jees Christ, listena him! Some mistakes! Ya saved
the goddamned bank and ya ruined the West. Thas trouble with
damned U. S, Bank, anyhow. Everybody raises 'em up on pedestal like
doctors or preachers or somethin'. Like they had the interests of com
munity at heart or somethin'. Fact is, you're just plain ordinary damn
businessmen, walkin' aroun' holier 'n hell. Nobody understands that.
Fact is, you don' even unnestand where money comes from. You think
it comes from some bigger bank'n yours. You're crazier'n hell. That
isn't money. Y'know where money comes from? Money comes from
when Mike Stikes takes a goddamned bar of iron and changes it into
that pair of hinges you got on your oversize front door down Chilli-
cothe. Thas what money is. Stikes makes it, you don't. And Hussong,
when he takes a li'l skinny woods pig and cross breeds it and cross
breeds it up to a big fat pig 'at can har'ly stan' up it's so fat. Thas
what money is. Wha' you know 'bout money?"

Schaacht's face held steady under the insult. In fact he said, "We're
beginning to learn about that, Jonathan. I understand more than you
think about that. But I also know the bank's job is to give Joe Hussong
time to make those three generations of pigs. We feed them until he
gets to the fat pig. I know that now."

388 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Yah, you know; the hell you know,"

"Well, at least I know enough to know that you know it. That's
why I want to hire you/*

"You! Hire mel" Blair put his head back and laughed.

"I'll pay you well."

"You got a million dollars a day to pay me, Schaacht? Thas my
startin' pay, work for you, hah!"

The others around the table watched for Schaacht's reaction. It
seemed he would take anything from this lawyer tonight,

"You'll see that you're one of the few who could handle this job
for me, Blair. I don't expect youll take it for love of me. But you'll
take it because . . /'

"Because of your beau'ful daughter? Take even more'n that,
Schaacht."

Virginia Schaacht hardly moved an eyelid.

"You'll take it," Schaacht said, "because you have always understood
that you have to have people on the land to make it worth anything.
I also understand it now."

"Whas 'at got to do with it? Wha' you think I'm gon do for you,
Schaacht?"

"You're going back up to Mesopotamia/'

"For what?"

"As my collector."

"W-h-a-t?"

"You'll be the collector for the U.S. Bank. You're the man for the
job."

Blair sobered like a shot. He rose slowly, gripping the edge of the
table. Schaacht sat with his fingers in opposite pockets of his waistcoat.

"Why you crazy misbeguided damned fool, Schaacht I"

Blair lifted up the near edge of the table and shoved the whole
over onto Schaacht. Virgina saw it coming and deftly rose and side
stepped. Schaacht was too well composed, and he thought he knew the
lawyer too well. He went down under the table and the sliding mugs
and the spillage.

Blair walked out into the cold night air.

Gideon Schaacht separated himself from the lumber and the broken
crockery. He brushed himself off, not much damaged.

BOOK III

Chapter 26: THE COLLECTOR

ALL I know is, we're fair game nowl" Joe

Hussong announced to Hosmer's Store in general and Asa Buttrick
in particular.

Buttrick read aloud a few more paragraphs from the Freeman's
Chronicle. It was the fifth account of the trial that Buttrick had read
to Mesopotamia. And they still listened hungrily where it said about
Jonathan Blair, the frontier lawyer, and how he brought Mesopotamia
into the trial.

Two people in particular grew an inch or two taller when they
heard the fine accounts of Blair. One was young Tim Flannerty, who
had always called the lawyer "Mr. Blair." Tim Flannerty had had
Blair's cabin cleaned up for him for a week now, against the lawyer's
return. Importantly, he had borrowed a few items around town which
he needed "to get Mr. Blair's place ready."

The widow, Hope ChristofEerson, also listened intently whenever an
account of the trial was read.

Hussong, however, always came back to the main point. "What good
is it? The fact is he lost. And Ault says there's a U.S. Bank collector
on his way up here now to start the dirty work. What do we do about
him?"

Buttrick said, "Our Blair has probably learned a lot since he's
away. I say hell show us what to do."

"And I say your Blair won't be back, Buttrick. If he did so fine,
he'll have himself a job of law there in Washington or down in Chilli-
cothe or Cincinnati. I say we've seen the last of him,"

Buttrick challenged this.

"All right/* Hussong put on his hat. "You can all sit around and
wait on your lawyer to come back. But I've got two hundred and sixty-
two hogs that have got to be made plans for, before this collector comes
to make the plans for me."

Young Tim said, "Mr. Blair will be back."

"How do you know, son?" the hog farmer wanted to know.

39 1

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Because ... uh ... should I tell them, Miss Hope?"

Hope was puzzled. "Why, yes, if you know for sure, Tim."

The lad polished his boot toes on the backs of his trouser legs,
"Because Miss Hope got a letter."

Hope colored as the eyes converged on her, especially Faith Hawkins'
and Camelia Flannerty's and Elizabeth Buttrick's. Elizabeth asked,
"Did you, Hope?"

"Yes."

"Well, what in thunder did he say?" Hussong roared.

"Hell be back. He's got a plan."

"You might have told us that, Hope,"

Elizabeth Buttrick's rosebud mouth distorted as she bit her lower
lip in thought. "Hope, could it be you haven't read that letter? I
mean . . . anyone of us will be glad to read it to you, Hope."

Hope's chin raised a fraction, "He wouldn't write if he weren't
comin' home . . . that is, back. And he wouldn't come back unless
he had a plan. Besides the way the letters slant on the page, it's
strong-handed and confident. He'll be back. And he'll know what
to do."

Mesopotamia looked at the floor and held its tongue. Asa Buttrick
motioned his daughter silent, but Camelia Flannerty barged right
into it, "Why don't you get it out and let us read it, Hope?"

Young Tim scolded, "A girl your age should know, Camelia. Sup
pose there was some . . . some man-woman talk in there or somethin'."

Hussong said, "It's your business about that part, Hope. But I
got two hundred sixty-two hogs that can't wait around on bashfulness
. . . not if there's a collector half way to here already."

Halfway up from Columbus Jonathan Blair felt the excitement in
the horseflesh under him as the bay surged toward familiar ground.

But the lawyer reined down, dreading the familiar. He would not
have believed any man could put him in this position. But Schaacht
had been blunt when he returned to Blair's inn the next morning.
"Either you handle the foreclosures with certain leniencies which I
will grant, or I handle them in my own way, which will be . . ." And
before Schaacht even finished Blair had visualized a train of wagons
pulling out of Mesopotamia dispossessed.

Then Schaacht showed him the advertisements the bank had already

THE COLLECTOR 393

ordered placed in eastern papers advertising bargains in already im
proved Western farms, foreclosure prices.

Blair had driven a bargain with Schaacht, a good one. But it
wouldn't sound so good in the tap room of Exeter's Tavern. Blair
couldn't even imagine himself telling them the terms. He hoped they
would throw him out of town when they did hear.

Midday brought him to Boxford's Cabin, which meant he'd come
into Mespo at dusk or after dark, which was good.

But he hadn't figured on Tim Flannerty. Even grown-ups admitted
that Young Tim was second sighted; like an animal he knew about
things he'd never seen, and when things were going to happen. These
past three days he'd taken to keeping a vigil late afternoons south of
the ford where sundown silhouetted a wagon or a rider for a moment
on the ridge. Young Tim had taken just one look at the outline of
the bay with the saddlebag bulges and the rider with the low-crowned,
broad-brimmed hat, and he was clattering bareback toward town,
yelling, "He's back."

They met the lawyer at the ford. Everyone was there. They took
him right to Exeter's Tavern, stood him to the bar, and crowded
around. The Freeman's Chronicle was pegged up over the mug rack,
the Supreme Court case well outlined in thumb prints.

For half an hour they asked him questions and told him what
they'd heard about the case. They told him about the two new settlers
who bad moved up, and then came the lull in the talk when most
questions seemed to be answered. Tim Flannerty stood there watching
as though he had made Blair with his own two hands. Hope studied
him quietly.

That's when Joe Hussong said, "Jonathan, it's good you're back in
time to help. Ault says there's a U.S. Bank collector assigned to
come up and collect or close us down. We figure you'll know what we
can do about it and who he is. Do you know him?"

The lawyer swallowed. He looked around at the circle of faces. "I
thought you knew," he said.

"Knew what?"

Blair asked, "Hope, didn't you tell them ... in my letter?"

"I told them what I figured was in it, Jonathan."

Buttrick said, "Well, Hope figured it might be private, Jonathan."
He laughed, "And a good right she'd have to think that, the way you
been moonin* after her for years."

394 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

The laughter in the room quenched quickly because it was not re
flected on the lawyer's face.
"I'm the collector/' he said.

They had never met this man before, this man who drank by himself
in the tavern every day. This was an empty man, that could look right
through you, listen to your story, and then just sit there, not answer
ing. This was a man that didn't care what you called him or what
you thought of him, apparently.

This was a stranger. This was a man that was nodding when you
were only half through talking to him. He'd heard it before. But also
this was a tough man, who never smiled, tough in the way a man can
be who has no friends to lose.

He could look Antonio Denaro right in the eye and say, "The part
you're to mark off to give back to the government you can choose
yourself. But the part you are to mark off to give to the bank is just
where I tell you. Right where I drew those lines."

"But Mr. Blair! Right in the middle you took. Take over here.
Take over there. But right in the middlel All the grapesl That is
my whole . . /'

"Right where I marked it, Denaro* Not here. Not there. Right
here."

"Why? Why the best part?"

"Because that's the way it's got to be/*

"Tarn you, Blairl" Ten years of backaches from bending over the
tender grape-shoots welled up inside Antonio Denaro and spilled
over. He wiped the paper onto the floor and spit on it. He plunged
across the table and grabbed Blair's throat, "You tarn lawyer you!"

But the lawyer had been through this many times this month and
he pelted Denaro in the exposed ribs with a fist that had learned
its power lately. Denaro's grip melted. Blair grabbed his slack arm,
spun him away from him and shoved him stumbling over the bench
into the floor.

Denaro rose slowly, drawing a splinter out of his palm. Blair picked
the paper off the floor. "Sign this, Denaro. Or worry about your own
settlement."

"Blair, I only ... I only want . . /'

"You want to pay your debts and keep your grapes, too. Sig-n it/'

Denaro signed.

THE COLLECTOR 395

Even Tim Flannerty no longer liked to come to the Blair cabin.
But his father, Hank, made him come because the lawyer paid in metal
coin.

Tim Flannerty picked up the bench and swept the place, while the
lawyer sat there studying a plat of Mesopotamia. "Mr. Blair, why
did you ... I mean old Tony Denaro, he . . ."

"He doesn't understand that hell come out of it with something
at least." The lawyer did not snap at Tim as the boy expected.
"Denaro doesn't understand that we are trying to get a new land law
passed, whereby the government will let Tony keep as much of his land
as his first three payments will cover, instead of taking it all."

"Who is going to get the law passed, Mr. Blair?"

"Gideon Schaacht."

"You mean he's on our side? Is he your friend?"

"No."

"Then why will he do it?"

"Because I've got hold of his ear, and he's got hold of mine. We're
both twisting. Understand? And the devil catches the one that loses
his grip. Understand?"

"Maybe. The grip you got is a kind of secret grip maybe, Mr.
Blair? You can't let it out?"

The lawyer threw down the plat of Mesopotamia and leaped to grab
the boy's hand. "God bless you, boyl God bless you! That's exactly
it!" Then he poured himself a drink of whisky and he was back study
ing the map of the town again.

"But how you going to make the rough ones hold still for it, Mr.
Blair? Joe Hussong and Adams and those?"

"I wish to God I knew, boy."

Day after day the lawyer sat with his whisky and his plat of Meso
potamia. And when anybody came into the cabin, which they only did
when they were called . . , summoned, then the lawyer covered up the
map.

But Tim came early one morning when the lawyer was drunk asleep,
slumped over the plat. Hadn't been to bed at all. And he saw that
the lawyer had drawn the craziest zigzag lines over the farms on the
map. He noticed a long skinny strip to be taken out of the Emerson
farm. Hard to see how you'd farm it. Then there was a circular area
marked out of the Hawkins farm. Seemed to be about where that rocky

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

hill was on the Hawkins place. He was studying the way the lines took
the heart out of the Fitchburg place when the lawyer jolted awake,
"What are you looking at, boy!" He covered the map, "Get out of
here!"

At Exeter's Tavern lately the talk was so much of Jonathan Blair,
that it was no longer necessary to name him. If a man simply said,
"he," it meant Blair. You could walk through the place and hear it
any evening. It didn't matter much who the speaker was.

"He's crazier'n hell. Overdrank hisself."

"You mean the hell he's crazy. He's gettin' his, and plenty. He didn't
sell us out cheap, you can bet on that."

"Way he's cuttin' up the farms makes no sense atall. None atall."

"I'll bet if you could see his master plat it'ud make a lot of sense.
Make so much sense in fact that he won't let anybody have a look
at it."

"That must be why he has a different one of us help him with each
survey. So's nobody gets the whole picture/'

"He sure learned surveyin* in a hurry."

"Yeah, and the son of a bitch learned it good. I tried to swoggle
him out of three acres on the bias on your place when I was helpin'
him. Caught me flat out. Made me run the line over."

"He's gettin' a good cut for hisself you can be sure. That's why he
took Denaro's grapes. He always did like grapes."

There was laughter in one corner of the tavern. "So there's Blair
standin' ankle deep in Hussong's hog wallow sightin' a survey line
over to a quarter section marker. Know what Hussong did? He drove
them hogs for the wallow on the dead run. Blair's feet was ten feet in
the air. His face was " The speaker was too convulsed to continue.

"Yeah, very funny," said Culpepper. "But you notice all the good it
did? Blair scooped the mud off and set right to work again. Y'noticed
that, too, didn't ya?"

This convulsed the group again. "And then Hussong let that saved-
up boar out of the pen and loosed him into all that mess of sows. Blair
went . . ." The shrieking laughter was the consolation prize to beaten
men.

But the laughter ended suddenly because Hussong was not beaten.
"Stop laughin'I You stand here like it was a joke. Instead of standing
around laughing, why don't you back me up! Am I the last one left
that's man enough to stand up to a damned supple-souled lawyer!"

THE COLLECTOR 397

"What are we supposed to do, Joe?" Culpepper asked. "He's got all
the right and all the law on his side/*

"What are we supposed to do?" Hussong mimicked Culpepper.
"What you're supposed to do is pay no attention to that survey of his.
Use that land just like you always have. It's yours. One man. One
man does all this to you. A little law talk and you whimper like the
culls from a ten-pig litter."

Hussong's insults were food for these men. Here was a strong voice.
Younger than most of them, Hussong was, but his neck was an arch of
muscle. His black eyes could face down a cornered boar. His chest
was heroic shaped. He rose up out of a heap of men looking like the
statue of a general that was on the front of the Scioto Gazette; and
his courage charged through a group like Exeter's special harvest-
day whisky.

"Myself, I'm goin' right ahead and plant that patch he took away
from me just like I never knew Blair. What can he do about it? Will
he pick the land up and carry it away from me? Crimus! We're not fit
to own land if we squeal so quick."

"Good talk, Hussong. But we'll see what you do when plantin' time
comes."

"Damn you, I'll plant early. Fact you can watch me. Ill go to But-
trick's store in the mornin' and pick seed. I'm buyin' that fancy big-
eared yellow he brought up from Virginia."

The word entered every cabin, except the lawyer's, by sunup.

Tim Flannerty entered Blair's cabin early.

"What do you want, boy?"

"Brought two hen eggs for your breakfast, Mr. Blair."

"I've still got the ones you brought yesterday."

"I forgot."

"Forgot?" Blair studied the boy. "What's on your mind, Tim?"

"Well, I just wondered if maybe you'd ought to go over to the store
and git a new . . ." Tim looked around the room. He hadn't figured
to the end of the sentence,

"A new what, boy? Why do you want me to go to the store?"

Tim breathed deep and shoved his jaw out, come what may. "Well
you said you had a grip on his ear."

"Whose?"

"Schaacht's."

"Yes. Go on, boy."

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Well, you said it would be devil take the one that loses the grip
first"

"Come on. What?"

"And your grip has something to do with . . . with . . ." Tim pointed
to the plat of Mesopotamia which he knew to be under Blair's
bunk.

"You never mind what my grip has to do with! Or the map, either 1"

"Yes, Mr. Blair."

"And don't come in this cabin when I'm not in it!"

"Yes, sir!"

But the morning was one of those at the break point of winter
when the snow-drained ground had dried just enough in spots to draw
a man out on his land for the first pokings at the ground. A man
would stay on his place if things were normal. So the crowd at the
store was remarked by Blair.

He saw how men stepped onto the porch of the store, looked over
at his cabin for a moment, and then stepped inside briskly. Tim had
been trying to tell him something, The lawyer thought for a while.

Blair entered the store just as Hussong shouldered the keg of
seed. He turned to the crowd. "Well, I guess you all saw, didn't you?
Step up there like men and do the same. We ... hello, Mr. Blair!
You're just in time. Seed for this spring." He tapped the keg. "Special.
Just right Buttrick tells me for that low place around the hog
wallow."

"That land doesn't belong to you any more, Joe."

"Hah! That's the point I'm makin', Jonathan. I'm gamblin' premium
seed prices that it does."

He walked deliberately to the door.

The lawyer said, "Asa, I guess you got paid in cash, didn't you?"

Buttrick didn't answer. But he looked worried.

"You better, Asa, if that seed's goin' in the ground anywhere near
that hog wallow."

Buttrick looked around at the crowd. He tried to hold his ground,
but even through the jowls you could see him swallow.

"Time that gets ankle high, it won't belong to Joe. That corn will
be harvested by the new owner. Bank will be moving in new owners,
bringing up their eastern buyers to do their choosing 'bout the time
that seed breaks crust."

"Not on my place they won't," Joe said. But he saw the sick look

THE COLLECTOR 399

on Buttrick's face. "All right, Asa, if you're so squeeze-fisted worried
about your money, I'll pay cash."

He walked back and flung down the black and white currency
of the Bank of Steubenville. Buttrick fingered them gingerly and put
them down as though they offended his nose.

"What's the matter with them, Asa?"

Buttrick handed them back to the hog farmer. "If you're payin' me
with these, Joe, I'd need a bushel of them. Maybe you don't need so
much seed, Joe."

Hussong dropped the keg. He reached into his pocket. "I hoped
you'd not drive me to it, Buttrick. But I got a point to make at any
price. I'll cut your price to a third and pay in metal." He rang an
eagle and a half -eagle on the counter, so everybody could hear. "I
guess everybody understands that when Hussong pays for seed in
metal, he'll be there to harvest it all right."

Blair stopped him at the door again, and handed him the paper on
which was recorded the boundaries of the land Hussong was to
hand back to the bank. "You're on your own, then, Joe, to deal with
the bank."

"All right, Mr. Blair. All right!" And he turned to the crowd. "Come
on. You were with me last night. Step up and buy your seed."

As the pause in the store lengthened out, it looked as though Joe
Hussong were losing.

But Hope moved toward the counter. With no facial expression and
in a monotone she said, "Joe's called us. If we meant what was said,
now's the time to back him. I'll take the same as Joe bought, Asa."

Mesopotamia watched her with hope and admiration. "I used to
think Jonathan had the way out for us. But it looks like Joe's got
more our way of doin' things. I favor we risk it with him."

"But what do you risk, Hope?" Blair asked.

"Why the same as Joe."

"No you don't." Blair forced himself. "Your mortgage paper is in
the safe hands of Reverend Gershom, isn't it?"

The men and women in the store in Mesopotamia found reasons why
they had to leave.

Chapter 27: BLAIR'S BULLION

ON Monday Mesopotamia looked to Jona
than Blair like the same old town Sam Hosmer had carved out of the
revolutionary bounty lands. But on Tuesday it looked to Blair run
down and gone to weeds.

The difference was the presence of the well-dressed downstater who
rode beside him. It brought the faults of the place into sharp focus
for the first time.

Blair had no knowledge of the soil. So he was surprised to find that
today he was offended that Jim Hawkins had failed to add his usual
four new furrows to his field this year. He hadn't even plowed up a
quarter of the old field.

Old man Fitchburg had always lengthened his furrows by three or
four horse lengths each spring. This year he stopped plowing way
short of both headlands. Adams added a little fence each year to his
pasture. This year he didn't even fix the old. This was the way men
worked the land when the ownership was in doubt,

Today Blair also noticed how quickly the men matched their fields.
Culpepper's field was growing back up to shoots and sprouts and
weeds. And Culpcpper hadn't trimmed his beard for a month, He
had lost the snakeskin queue for his hair and never replaced it. It
hung to his shoulders, unkempt. Susan Culpepper, too, was losing the
starched look that she'cl brought to Mesopotamia,

There wasn't enough planting going on to matter. Who would put
seed in the ground when he didn't know who would harvest it?

Bolding said, "Even Hope's place doesn't look so good.* 1

"Shut up," Blair said. "That's not what you're here to inspect any
how."

"Fence is falling apart."

"You forgetting she's without a man?"

"Thought you were her man/'

"Christofferson was her man. Remember? Got shot because of your
damned bank."

"She looks kind of heavy, too/'

400

BLAIR'S BULLION 401

"You ignorant bastard! She should look heavy in places now. Looks
damn nice to me."

"You mean . . . ?"

"Yes! Even with a shot leg Christofferson was man enough for that.
Which is a damn sight more than you can say."

"I didn't know,"

"You wouldn't. You don't even know what you're doing. Here
you are back working for Schaacht."

"There's a lot to be learned from Schaacht."

"Yeah. And a lot to be gained. Your woman, Virginia, was telling
me how you were going to go into law for yourself."

"I was going to. But you wouldn't sign my certificate, remember?"

"Well, I've shown you the town. Now what else did your guardian
angel want you to check?"

"Schaacht wants me to see if you've gotten the tracts measured off
that go back to the bank. I'm to see them with my own eyes."

Blair rode over the town and showed the young man every one of
the farms. He pointed out a few of the markers and then showed him
the relinquishing papers by which each man gave part of the land
back to the bank, listing the boundaries of the relinquished portions.
Without riding to every single stake it was impossible for Bolding to
see the exact shape of the tracts, but he could satisfy himself that
the acreage was correct, and he could see that the surveys had been
made conscientiously.

At the Denaro place Bolding said, "Now do you have a map of the
area, showing these tracts?"

"No,"

"No?"

"You heard me."

"Well, how can you run a thing like this without a map? I've got
to have a map."

"Then go make one. You've got the boundaries all described."

"How can I make a map from these?"

"You're a lawyer. A lawyer has to be able to do that out here, Bold
ing. You had a chance to learn when you were up here with me. But
you spent the time over with Camelia Flannerty."

Denaro sat on the steps of his hut watching them. Blair yelled,
"Tony, how come you haven't broken any ground for this year?"

Denaro iust sat and stared back.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Holding said, "You see, Blair? You going to waste another ten years
on this kind?"

Back at the cabin, Blair said, "Ail right. You've seen the lancl^l'vc
done my part. Now what about Schaacht's? The new land law?"

"Yes, you've done your part I'll tell him how well you've done
it. And I'll give him these relinquishing papers you've had signed/'
Bolding reached for the papers.

Blair pulled them back. His tone was dead weight. "I guess you
didn't understand me. Has Schaacht got the land law through, and
what proof did you bring?"

"Well, Jonathan, there's been a little . . /'

"Jonathan, nothing!" Blair rose. "He has or he hasn't. Which?"

"He hasn't. He's run into trouble. The eastern members of the house
aren't partial . . /'

"The devil with who's partial and who isn't! His bargain is to
get trie land law through 1"

"He's having trouble."

"Then get out of here! What do you mean inspecting my half of
the bargain, when you come to tell me he hasn't got his half * . /'

'I'm to bring back those papers."

"You'll bring back helll" Blair buttoned the papers inside his shirt.

Bolding stayed at Exeter's inn. Blair drank. He kept the relinquish-
ment papers under his shirt, day and night,

Blair goaded and scolded the Mesopotamians to plant, bin they
would not plant. Bolding grinned.

Blair went to Hope, Hope was good to look at lately, filled out
nicely, had a soft look to her. And in his state of near Intoxication,
Blair stared longer than even a brash man should sober*

"Hope, for everybody's sake, help. Get Flannerty to plow your field
and plant for you."

"Easy for you to say, Jonathan, But I've used up seed for feed.
Asa won't sell seed without cash. Can't blame him/'

"Mean you're not gonna do anything?'

"I'm going to the blockhouse tomorrow night when Reverend
Gershom comes to pray. That's how bad things are. You better go,
too/*

Blair went to Buttrick. "For the love of something, Asa, let that seed
out. What good'll it do dry rotting in your store?'*

BLAIR'S BULLION 403

"Makes nice talk, Jonathan. But you keep to legalizin'. I'll keep
store."

Ault, the banker, was there and he snickered. Blair said, "Yes,
laugh! But if you knew how to run a bank you'd find some way for
the people to do business!"

Ault laughed again. "I'm just waitin' for you lawyers to show me
how to do that . . . like you showed the U.S. IBank, huh, Bolding?"

Bold ing smiled.

4< I may do just that!" Blair yelled. "You think they got no money,
huh? You don* even know wh' a damned dollar isl I'll show ya. 1*11
show whole damn bunch a ya. Always said I'd show yuh wha' dollar
is, Bolding, Now's time."

Blair lurched for the door, but there was drunken purposefulness
in his lunge that choked off laughter. "Come on over the blockhouse
ri r now. RT now, I said. All of yuhl An' go on over the tavern. Get 'm
out/'

The Reverend Seth Gershom scolded his children with an extended
asparagus stalk of a finger to save them from the more vindictive
wrath of The Maker whom he held back with the flat of his other
hand. But his patience was now tried by the lawyer who feared
neither as he lumbered unsteadily down the middle aisle, fortified
against embarrassment and damnation by whisky and anger.

The lawyer sat down in the front row with his eyes levelled im
patiently at Gershom.

Gershom closed his service quickly; and before he finished his last
words Blair was walking up onto the platform. Gershom abandoned
the rostrum. Blair gripped it. He looked down over his townsmeu with
a whiskied disgust that compelled their attention.

"The women can go home," he said. "But the head of every house
will stay. 'Case you're not minded to do as I say, let me tell you
the news. Schaacht didn't get our land law through. We did our part
of the bargain. He didn't do his. That means I can give a few orders
around here, Do as I say tonight, I'll hang onto your signed relinquish-
ment papers. Any man contrary-minded, I'll turn his paper over to
Bolding tonight. Wash my hands of him. Women and kids leave now/'

There was no laughter. The women left.

Hope Ghristofferson and the widow Shane stayed.

404 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair's tone was softened, "Hope, if you're not up to it, you can go
home."

"I'll stay."

The lawyer froze up again and he was sobering fast. He said, "M ike
Stikes, how big is this blockhouse?"

Stikes looked surprised. "Forty by forty, inside sue."

"How many square feet is that?"

"Sixteen hundred, naturally."

"All right. Twelve hundred square feet. You can count on gettin'
no sleep tonight, any of you. Soon's I get through talkin' every man'll
go bring his axe and any iron nails he's got. Mike Stikcs'll supervise.
Each man'll build himself a cubicle in this blockhouse, thirty-two
square feet, outside size. Leave an aisle down the middle. If there isn't
room inside, you'll have to add on. Each man'll carve his name on his
own stall But start movin' fast because no man's going to put his head
to pillow till we're done!"

Stikes rose. "Blair, you got hold of us where we can't fight back. So
well do it. But old Sam, when he had us like that, he always let us
know what we were doing and what for* Stand up there and play Christ
if you want. But you'll get a sight more done if you let us know what
in blazes we're doinV

"Don't think you'd understand if you were told. Nobody's plamin'.
Nobody's plowin'. Nobody's adding on to their huts for the young.
Don't you know whether you lose your land or not, you got to eat;
you got to have clothes, you got to have shoes for the horses?"

"Just how are these stalls going to fix that, Mr. Lawyer?*'

"It's going to give us some damned money, that's what. So Buttrick'H
stop sittin' on good seed corn. So you'll fix the busted plows* So Hope
will let her rams stand to stud/ 1

"Don't see how this'II do it."

"No, and you won't see it any better if I explain it. But by this
time next week you're each going to see that those cubicles are filled.
Stikes, you're going to fill yours with horseshoes. Exeter, you're going
to fill yours with whisky. Understand?"

Blair noticed a certain wave of light pass over the crowd* He also
noticed a certain new alacrity in the movements.

Even those who did not understand seemed glad of the activity*
And there had not been such a clamor in the air in Mesopotamia since
the building of the blockhouse*

BLAIR'S BULLION 405

Stikes ordered men around as in the old days. Trees went down on
the common. Fires were lit for warmth, women came back with rations
in the middle of the night. The air carried the smell of new oak chips,
even some laughter, and a lot of loud talk. It did not get finished that
night, but ran on into the evening of the next day.

But as the fires were relit that night at dusk the clearing at Meso
potamia wan wider by the absence of many trees. The blockhouse was
unfamiliar from the inside and the outside.

And even before further instructions Stikes was clanking horseshoes
into his cubicle. lie ran out of horseshoes and he began throwing in
door latches and hinges.

Hope Chmtoflerson was filling hers with fleeces. Isaac Steese, the
tanner, did not have to comply because he was one of the first few debt-
free men in Hosmer Village. But he saw the sense of it, and he piled
hides three feet high in his stall. Steese leaned over backwards to co
operate with Mesopotamia, in an effort to get Mrs. Steese accepted at
this place.

Three things were against Mrs. Steese here. First, her skin had an
olive darkness which you didn't much see yet west of the Hudson except
for Denaro. Second, she was beautiful in a way that straightened the
lips of the women in town; third, she had a bright orange dress with
a thousand ruffles that kind of winked when she walked. And she wore
it every evening as soon as the meal was done. Deliberately, women
said, she thought up reasons to go to Hosmer's store as soon as she had
the flagrant dress on. However, the men reminded their wives that
every woman who saw her in the store must also have been in the
store, and a little color around town was a good thing.

As the cubicles filled up, there were arguments, too. Culpepper was
damned if he'd haul his corn in where every man could see how much
he had. Blair said, "You'll do as 1 say/'

"You're ordering me to put it in?"

"That's right/'

"By what right?"

" By this right/' Blair pointed to Bolding. "I'll hand him your re
linquishing paper before I'll argue another five minutes, Culpepper.
And glad to be rid of it."

Culpepper went for his wagon.

Hank Flannerty asked, "What am I supposed to put in mine, Blair? I
got nothing."

406 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands

"You've got your labor."

"So what's that? What do I put in the blockhouse?**

"Get that calendar off Buttrick's wall. You got two hundred ninety-
five days' worth of labor left this year. Rip off the first seventy days,
and put the rest of the calendar in the bank,"

"In the what?"

"In your cubicle."

"You mean you had me build that big cubicle just to hang a damn
calendar in?"

"Yes, and what's more, as each day goes by see to it you come in
here and mark off one day that's not available any more."

Flannerty shrugged off the stupidity of lawyers.

By the fourth day, the stalls were nearly full. Hussong said, "What
about you, Blair? What in hell are you going lo put in your stall that's
worth a damn?"

"I'm not answering to you or anybody else, Hussong/' But as he
saw the physical goods of Mesopotamia pile up in the cubicles, he
wished he had as clear-cut a contribution to this world as most every
one else. He wished he could count his, and feel it, and measure it and
weigh it on Buttrick's scales.

But he addressed himself to Bolding. "See to it every man gets a
slip for each item he puts in the bin. Stikes gets a hundred slips, each
should say, 'redeemable for one horseshoe/ "

A few overheard this conversation. Hussong protested, "Yeah, but
how do we know Stikes don't get more slips of one-horseshoe paper
than he's got horseshoes? I been through this with old Sam Hosmcr,
remember? How do we know we don't get another barrel of nails?"

"Because you're damn well going to trust me. That f s how/*

"So we trust you. What stops somebody else writin' up some more
slips that look just like the ones Bolding writes?"

The hog man's point was valid. Blair grabbed his chin*

Exeter said, "We got to have some kind of paper that there's no
more like it anywhere in town. Ault, you got any more of those Meso
potamia Hog & Trust blank notes with the wavy lines on the edge?"

"No." Ault could see what was making, and it worried him, as it
should have. "And any paper you put it on could be reproduced
by most anyone."

Buttrick said, "Let's get Mike Stikes to stamp them out on straps
of barrel-hoop iron."

BLAIR'S BULLION 407

Stikes said, "Iron's too dear. The value's to be in. the blockhouse,
not in the receipt. I see what Blair's doinV

Justin Holding was watching with a certain admiration.

There were other suggestions, but none was rascal-proof.

There was a small cackling laugh from Exeter. "If ya want some-
thin* that can't be imitated this side of the ocean/' he said, "there it
goes right now," He pointed oiE across the common.

Angelina Stecse was walking toward Hosmer's Store. She carried a
wooden bucket over her arm* Under her short coat the orange ruffles
winked and sparkled in the moonlight.

There were bass-voiced chuckles. "I'll say she can't be doubled/'

"I mean the dress," Exeter said. "There ain't one like that this side
of Pittsburgh/'

"I mean the woman/ 1 Culpepper said. "None like that either, worse
luck/'

Isaac Steese approached the blockhouse with another armload of
hides. The talk faded so fast he noticed it. Looking across the common
he guessed the reason and bristled, "Anybody here got something to
say I should hear?"

There was no answer until Steese's glare came around to the lawyer.

"Yes, Isaac," the lawyer said. "We want Angelina's dress."

Steese slammed down the hides and stiffened up, "What's the mean
ing of that kind of talk?"

"Can you get us Angelina's dress?" Blair asked. "We want to cut
it up. It's different from anything around."

"Since when is it your business if she wears a different dress? I'm
about tired of the "

Blair held up his hand, "We need a kind of certificate that can't
be counterfeited, Isaac."

The pounce went out of the tanner. "Oh/' He smiled. "Yes, it is
a very rare cloth. She got it from the . . /' his face clouded. "But cut
it up?"

"It's important, Isaac"

The tanner rubbed his bark-stained hand across the back of his
neck. "I s-e-e. Important/' He cupped his hands to his mouth. "An-ge-
Kn a!"

Thus it was that there were issued to the townsmen of Mesopotamia,
small rectangles of orange silk on which were lettered faintly in ink,
units of goods. In some cases it was handy to make large denominations.

408 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

The pieces of silk issued to Mike Stikes read: "Stikes ... 4 iron shoes,"

It happened that Stikes immediately swapped several of these pieces
of silk to Culpepper for ones which read: "Gulp. 5 bu. corn/*

When Stikes collected the corn, Blair collected a piece of Ange
lina's orange dress and took it out of circulation.

And as the squares of silk began changing hands among the cabins,
the hard-faced lawyer moved his blankets into the blockhouse and
slept there. He ordered a two-man armed watch around the blockhouse
at all times. And Stikes was in charge of seeing to it.

There was no geniality between the lawyer and his townsmen. For
his speech grew even shorter, his tone more forbidding, and he watched
over the exchange of silk slips for goods with the frigid fanaticism
of ... well, like Sam Hosmer.

But there came a day when Holding said to the lawyer, M I see, I
understand now."

And the lawyer could do without the smiles and small talk of his
townsmen, for there was planting going on in Mesopotamia.

Bolding said, "I'm supposed to take those relinquishment papers to
Schaacht so that he can line up his buyers, Blair."

"Then you better help him get his law through. Because you'll
be empty-handed until it does."

"He said I was to tell you he needed help from you on this end/*

"I should help himl"

"He said you'd know how, Blair. But I explained to him you didn't
have any connections out here that were big enough to be of any
help/'

The young man's bland remark widened Blair's nostrils and nar
rowed his eyes. "Oh, you did, did you, Bolding?"

"Certainly. If you could get to Harrison, or Burnet or old Nicholas
Longworth. Men like that. But after all, who could you contact up
here that would have any weight in Washington on this <"

"It just happens, young Mr. Bolding, that I have the best contact
in the world. The best and the biggest, and the most powerful ,
and he lives right here."

Bolding grinned. "Blair, you're drinking too much."

"There he goes right now/' Blair pointed out the door*

"Him? Why, that's only Adams/'

BLAIR'S BULLION 409

"Yep. Only Adams. But he's about to become the most important
man in the country. Adams!"

Elisha Adams sulked into Blair's cabin. The lawyer was giving
too many orders lately. Blair said, "Elisha, do you know anybody out
of town?"

"Don't think so.'*

"Think, damn it! Anybody down the Miami, the Licking, the
Scioto?"

"Did once, know a squatter up on Maumee. And one up on the
Auglai/c. One is Johnson, other is Navarre,"

Blair wrote down the names. "Anybody else? Where did you buy that
ox?"

"Man down below Boxford's Cabin, name of Maddern."

Before he was through Blair got ten names from Adams. People
outside of Hosmer Village* Adams left and Bolding said, "Can't say
I'm impressed with your influential man."

"No? You should be. Adams is about as much of a recluse as you'd
find anywhere. Yet Adams knows ten men in the territory, reaches all
the way down to Vincennes. Now if Adams knows ten men, every
body else in this town knows ten. And each of the ten men known to
each man in Mesopotamia, knows ten other men. And each of those
ten men, knows ten others. And it can go on, Bolding. On and on
and on."

"I'm not overwhelmed, Mr. Blair/' Bolding grinned.

"S'pose not, but maybe the United States Congress will be. Go over
to the store. Toll But trick I want four hundred sheets of foolscap.
Take what he has and tell him to get more. Then come back. You're
going to help me ... on behalf of Schaacht, of course."

Blair looked up in Morehead's Pleading and Practice on how to
write out a memorial to Congress. He wrote down that since over half
of the men in the West were debtors to the general government, any
attempt at wholesale foreclosures would produce resistance which
could result in violence, even civil war, at best it would create a
vagrant, destitute Western population ripe for organization into a
separate union. "Therefore, we request permission to relinquish as
much of each man's claim as he cannot pay for, with the privilege of
applying the money already paid against that part of the tract on which
he has built his improvements."

410 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands lawyer

Blair kept it short, and at the head o it he addressed a note to the
recipient, instructing him to sign the memorial as a petition and return
it to Jonathan Blair, Mesopotamia, after first making ten copies and
mailing them to ten friends, who are instructed to keep the chain
going in the same manner.

When Holding returned the lawyer sat him to his table and said,
"Copy that."

"How many?"

"Until you run out of paper."

As Bolding wore blisters on his fingers, Blair took the letters to
Mesopotamians and explained to them, and superintended the address
ing of them. Each man addressed one to ten others.

Isolated in the place called Mesopotamia, the lawyer, Jonathan Blair,
had no visual proof that he had reached out a big open hand to the
West. But if he could have visited any ten of the most considerable
towns west of the Alleghcnies he would have detected the hopeful
excitement which now began to infiltrate the vast woods.

Men who had not received a letter in ten years were surprised at
the stores and at the inns to be called to the desk and asked to pay
eight cents postage for a letter. Further, when these men opened the
letters now they found them signed by an old acquaintance. They
scratched their heads and remembered. And the letters were hope.

Storekeepers in Zanesville, Defiance, Piqua, who wrote their own
letters on ironed gun-powder packages were now asked, "How come
you don't have any writin' paper in this 'ere store? Get some."

Four times in one week the innkeeper in Dayton was asked, "How
much does it cost to get ten letters writ?

The whole merit of the scheme seemed to be the low level at which
it was aimed. These letters were not ripped open hurriedly by busy
attorneys and merchants and legislators, cynical of results and familiar
with petitions. These letters were peeled open slowly by blunt fingers
which had been carefully washed first* They were opened reverently
by men who had counted out the eight cents postage slowly, They
were read by men who studied out the message letter by letter with
the help of neighbors. They were labored over by some who were at
that moment packing their gear onto wagons to move west for a free
squat . . , men who had found out that five years* accumulation of
family and animals and land-breaking tools no longer fits onto one
wagon.

BLAIR'S BULLION 4 11

The letters seeped laboriously down the Scioto, branched across
to the Miami, the Licking, the Muskingum. They filtered north to
the Auglaize and south along Deer Creek, Darby, Paint. A few dribbled
north to the headwaters of the Maumee and then into the new settle
ment of Toledo. They simmered down the Mohican, the Tuscarawas, a
few flowed up the Cuyahoga to a little clearing at Cleveland.

They picked up volume and momentum on the Ohio River and
eddied up around the big bend and then up into Indiana against the
current of Silver Creek, Indian Creek, up the Little Pigeon, the Big
Pigeon ... up the Wabash to Vincennes.

Then up the Illinois to Peoria, Peru, and a settlement called Chicago
... a few to Kankakee.

The letters swirled heavily into St. Louis and many flooded down
into the Kentuck Country.

And the first one came back in March,

The second one came in April.

And in the month of May, postmasters from Fort Pitt to Fort
Wayne to St. Louis were asking, "How do you route a letter to a
place called Mesopotamia?"

As the summer burned through the trees, corn broke through the
crust of Mesopotamia. There was no silver in town worth counting
or stealing. And even there were fewer slips of Angelina's ruffles still
circulating because they were being turned in for goods.

But as the little orange fragments of Angelina's dress became fewer
and harder to come by, there was still some reassurance in Meso
potamia, because at least you could damn well always tell a man's
credit rating in town by the height of his pile of goods in the stall at
the blockhouse.

To the anger and chagrin of Emanuel Ault the blockhouse came to
be called the Second Mesopotamia Hog & Trust Bank. And the scraps
of Angelina's ruffles were laughingly called "Blair's Bullion." They
laughed . . yes. But the petticoat currency was the oddest kind of a
joke, A stranger passing through joined in the laughter one day. He
left two teeth on the floor of Exeter's tap room.

And it was a kind of lesson for Justin Bolding the day Blair walked
into Buttrick's store. The lawyer said, "Asa, you said you have forty-
four more letters that came in for me. So I'd owe you three and a half
dollars postage* But I've run out of silver/'

4 i<> JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Buttrick reached up for the bundle of letters. "That's all right,
Jonathan. I'll accept silk,"

Nor did the men miss the twinkle of ruffles over the hips of Angelina
Steese, for as Faith Hawkins unjustly observed, "She makes that limey
skirt swish just as bad. You'd think she wanted to turn that to money,

too.

Chapter 28: THE ESTRATS

THE return of Matthew Cavagan to Meso
potamia in the fall gave the place a semblance of old times. His
laugh boomed across the tavern and the store and the common. He
had bells now for the hames of his team, and two great red plumes
which he had made in jail.

The place had an old-time look in another way, too. In addition
to the two guards which paced around the old blockhouse to keep
the white men honest, there were now two more to keep the red
men out. There was hunger at the Indian town at Upper Sandusky,
and straggler Wyandots filtered down to Mesopotamia to beg at first,
and then to steal A man had to watch his grain and his pasture.

But Gavagan had his harness leather greased up and he gleefully
helped Blair load the fat packets of petitions in his wagon.

"These oughta show the bastards what's what! Blair, how long will
it take them Congressmen to read all of these?'*

"They'll just read a few and count the rest," Blair said*

"How'll they know you .didn't fake 'em?"

"No man alive could assemble so many different kinds of paper
and spelling."

The town watched the loading in silence. They were impressed
by the vast bulk of the letters that had poured into Mesopotamia.
But they had seen Gavagan's wagon haul disastrous wagonloads of
Blair's schemes before.

But the lawyer ran this town with a hard hand these days, worse
than old man Hosmer. Before they pulled out, he lined up Stakes

THE ESTRAYS 413

and Hussong and Hawkins. "You see there's a guard on that block
house day and night, same as always. And whenever anything comes
out of that blockhouse, you see that the right amount of silk goes out
of circulation."

"What it" you're gone through harvest?" Stikes said. "There may be
some want to put more back in the stalls . . . more than we got silk
for.

Blair unbuckled the saddlebag that Steese had made for him. He
pulled out a length of orange silk. "We still haven't used any of
Angelina's matching petticoat," he said. "You keep it locked up,
Stikes."

Denaro said, "Where did you leave the relinquish papers, Blair?"

Blair stared at him. "That's my business, Denaro. You tend the
grapes."

*"Huh," Denaro grunted. "We know what you do."

Gavagan and Stikes stopped at Boxford's clearing to ration the
horses. They were just a mile south of Boxford's when Gavagan pulled
up the horses. They were looking into the bores of two Stikes rifles.
One was held by the Wyandot called Squindatce. The other was held
apologetically, but firmly, by Mudeater.

Mudeater just stood tliere looking pained. Squindatee did the talk
ing. "The Pigeon says lawyer comes back to get corn for Indian town."

Blair did not move from the seat. "Out of the way, Mudeater. I told
The Pigeon to see that there was planting up there last spring."

"Yah. But Rontondee and The Pigeon, big fight. Not enough plant.
Lawyer helps now. Pigeon says so."

Blair pointed to the back of the wagon. "In the back. Papers.
Important papers. We take them to great white father,"

"Pigeon knows this. He says, 'the wagon goes, but the lawyer comes
back to help/ "

"But I've got to be with the wagon, Squindatee."

"One man on the wagon is enough." Mudeater walked up to
Squindatee, keeping his rifle always trained on the head of the horses.
Mudeater grunted at Squindatee a few times and then backed up
again.

Squindatce's face lighted up. "Yes, and the doctor, too. Pigeon says
the lawyer will bring back the doctor. Seven Indians are sick and eight
cheatas are sick." Squindatee raised his rifle which had slipped down.

414 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Gavagan yelled, "You're crazyl Where do we get a doctor from!
Now get out of the wayl"

He raised the reins to snap them, but Blair held his arm. "Matt,
The Pigeon doesn't make a proposition unless he's got a vice to
squeeze it with, remember?" Blair turned to Squindatee, "And what
if we drive right on through, Squindatee?"

The answer was apparently so bad it embarrassed Squxndatcc. He
looked down at his moccasins.

"Bad, Mr. Lawyer. Bad, Mr. Lawyer. Just come back/'

"Or else?" Blair riled.

"Or else the sheep, Mr. Lawyer." Squindatce kept his eyes to the
ground. Mudeater looked up in the air. "The Pigeon found the sheep.
The Indians get food, no trouble. No food, no doctor . . . we show
the major to find the sheep."

"The Pigeon lies."

"No."

"He does."

"No."

Blair looked at the pile of petitions in the back of the wagon. He
ran the flat of his hand down one side of his face.

"Squindatee, The Pigeon lies. And the Squindatee and the Mud-
eater are my friends* They will not stop the wagon. I will prove it
to you."

Keeping his eye on Squindatee, Blair motioned Gavagan forward
with the other hand. Gavagan shut off his breath and snapped the
reins. The wagon eased forward. Gavagan looked straight ahead,
glancing neither right nor left. He breathed over rigid jaws as the
wagon crawled to the top of a slight grade*

At the top of the grade Gavagan lifted the whip and cracked the
silk. The wagon thundered down the reverse slope, protected by the
rise. At the bottom of the grade there was a curve into the forest
robbing the Indians of a straight shot.

As they rolled south Blair rode easily and then uneasily. At Colum
bus he said, "I'm sure The Pigeon was bluffing. I he knew where the
sheep were, he'd have used it before."

And as they clattered through Circleville, he said, "But then maybe
he found those sheep months ago. Been savin' it for a time like this.
He's a long-sighted rascal."

At Chillicothe Gavagan's wagon attracted some notice. Citizens

THE ESTRAYS 415

recognized it. And while it was tied up in front of the Cross Keys
Tavern an ancient chatterer, a kind of chronicler of his times, ex
plained to the curious persons, "This is the same wagon. This is the
same one. And look. Look there. The bullet hole where the rifle ball
chipped the edge of the tailgate. The bullet that got that giant in the
leg. He died y'know. Yeah."

The chatterer walked all around the wagon. When he got back to
the tailgate, people were already beginning to finger the bullet hole.
And lest he be robbed of his identification with the wagon and his
ownership of the West, the chatterer continued. "I was standin' right
there off the head of Paint Street. I heard a shot. This wagon come
roarin' down the street throwin' up the dust. I knew they got him.
And I said to . ."

Blair came out of the Cross Keys and relieved Gavagan at guarding
the bundles of petitions so the wagoner could go in and eat.

The chatterer said, 'That's him! That's the lawyer that started it all.
Hey, Mister! Are you Blair?"

Young boys stepped up and fingered the hole in the tailgate of
Gavagan's wagon. And around Chillicothe that night there were games
played in which twelve-year-old soldiers fired at passing wagons.

Thus a kind of immortality had come to Brutus Christofferson, for
already the legend of Blair's Robbery was building in the West.

Blair and Gavagan bunked down for the night in the back of the
wagon on top of the petitions. They alternated watch. Their rifle?
were loaded.

The stableboy brought the message just after the eleven o'clock
bell. Blair woke Gavagan.

"Stay awake, Matt, She wants me to come to her house."

"She?"

"The Schaacht woman. I'll see what she wants."

"I know what would be good for her," Gavagan grinned.

She met Blair in the music room, and the slope of her shoulders
and the motion which turned her clothes to sculpture were justifica
tion enough for her being alive, Blair thought.

"I didn't think I'd have to send for you," she said.

"You knew we were coming?"

M O course."

"Why?"

"Part of the plan/'

416 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Whose plan?"

"Who plans best?"

"Schaacht, huh?"

"Yes."

"What's the proposal?"

"No proposal. Just an order." She held out her hand. "The re-
linquishment papers. Riddle will take them to Washington. That's
where the buyers are. They'll have a chance to look them over and
buy them there."

Blair studied her in ever-increasing amazement. But he made no
move to take the papers from under his shirt. She continued to hold
out her hand, but neither in malice nor enjoyment apparently.

"You actually thought I'd give them to you?"

"I presume you will."

He laughed. "Why?"

Her regret seemed genuine. "We've got the sheep."

He controlled himself.

"Pigeon led Ault to them. Ault led Armstrong. They're being held
on the common *i Mesopotamia now."

"Let's suppose for the moment they are." Blair hooked his thumbs
over his breeches pockets. He grinned. "Ault doesn't have Hope's
chattel mortgage,"

She nodded slowly. "Yes. Does now/'

Blair wilted some. "But under the new laws, foreclosures have to
be executed in the presence of a judge."

"That, too," she admitted. "Court comes there on circuit in four
days. Judge Pease."

"But Bolding will . . ."

"Will argue for the bank." She almost apologized.

"Your goddamned darling. Many happy returns of him!" His open
hand cause a red spot to spread on the side of her face and neck. But
she did not step back. "Tell me more about what a man he will be
some day!"

"There is nothing to tell, I'm afraid."

As they faced each other he knew she was with him. But he lashed
into her. "This time you misfigured. You'll have the sheep, but not
the relinquish papers until your old man gets the new land law
through."

THE E STRAYS 417

"You talk fine," she said without spirit, "but you'll give them to us.
You sec, it's the woman. The sheep woman,"

"She has a name/ 1 he said with pique.

"I know her name/ 1 she said with feeling. "Her child is due. She
was screaming and slapping at the soldiers. They knocked her down/'

"Who did?"

"It was an accident. They couldn't help it. She was crazy, they said,
like a wildcat/*

Virginia Schaacht had reason to back up from him. But she didn't.
And she even finished her message. "So we'll have the papers, and then
well call the army off the sheep/'

"You'll have hell!"

"Just how?"

"I'll go back and give your boy some pointers in the law/*

She smiled, barely. "She's lucky/'

"She?"

"The sheep woman/'

He took her by the shoulders. "Could I trust you just once - . .
for a favor?

She was a stranger for the moment, swaying close to him, her eyes
closed. "Would you please/' she whispered,

"See that Guvagan gets to the right place in Washington with these
petitions, It's in your old man's interest, anyway/'

"Fit see to it, so help me. I'll go with him. 1*11 follow him in the
light surrey/*

She was up on tiptoes, offering him a hungry face. And Blair was

no log,

Blair reached toward the Cross Keys. But he went two blocks out of
his way. There was a brick house on one corner. No lights were on.
Blair's knuckles beating on the door brought no answer. But when
he began pounding with a rock, a light flared quickly inside. There
was glass in the windows. A colored man answered the door, saying,
"The doctor is retired. He will see you in the morning, sir."

"He'll see me tonight!"

"Are you sick, sir?"

"Yeahl Sick and tiredl Get him up!"

"No, sir, my orders are . - /'

418 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

But Blair was inside the house, starting up the stairs. He had found
action is the best argument. The colored man said, "All right, sir.
I'll get him. Wait."

Brooks stood in the nightshirt wiping sleep from his face. He regis
tered very little surprise. Blair looked around the house in appraisal.
"Doing pretty good, aren't you, Doctor? You're quite a doctor now/ 1

"No better than before." He looked at a framed certificate. "But
now there's a paper to prove it."

"And Chillicothe pays twice as much to have its hand held by a
man that writes *M.D.' after his name, huh, Doctor?"

Brooks also inspected his own house now with approval, "That's
right."

"So you settle where the pains are small and the fees are high."

"I did my share of the other kind."

"Not quite. You've got one more job to do up north, for Mesopo
tamia and for the Indians."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes."

"What makes you think so, Blair?"

"Because we figure we bought you that M.D. sign, Doctor, And we
figure we got shortchanged."

"I don't. Now if you'll let me sleep."

"Ill help you sleep well nights, Doctor. I'll ease your conscience for
you." Blair reached for Brooks' arm. But the young doctors muscles
were hard and slippery. All Blair got was a handful of nightshirt*
And as he yanked the doctor towards the door t Brooks belted him in
the chest. The colored man yelled, "I got him, Doctor Brooks!"

And a pair of big knuckled, pink palmed sledge hammers thudded
down onto Blair's wrists, springing his grip.

Blair was outnumbered. "AH right, Brooks! I'll remember you to
the folks who paid your tuition."

The lawyer hurried to the Cross Keys Tavern, He explained hur
riedly to Gavagan. Within the hour Blair rode north on the best-
winded pony he could rent. At sunrise a puzzled Matt Gavagan roiled
his wagon east toward the capital of the Republic, escorted by a surrey
which struggled along in his ruts. When the ruts became more severe
the wagoner more often turned his head to see the lovely dress jostling
along behind him. However his enjoyment of the sight was shortened
by the increasing truculence of the good-sized house man who drove

THE ESTRAYS

the surrey* Without saying a word the houseman made it apparent
in his first fifty miles that he had a good opinion of Miss Schaacht and
a poor one of Gavagan; and he would back up either of these opinions
if necessary.

There was surprise around the entire store when Jonathan Blair
stepped into Hosmer's Store where Judge Pease was hearing the fore
closure proceedings against the chattels of the widow of Brute Chris-
tofferson.

It was not a court. That is, the court was momentarily functioning
under the statute as revicwing-board for the foreclosure. But it looked
like a court because of the remarkable man, Pease. He sat at the
moment in front of Huttrkk's counter between the sugar barrel and
the rolled calico. But the way he sat, square, but relaxed, with both
boots on the floor, he appeared to be sitting between the flag and a
marble pillar. Most of all every man felt assured that that great slash
of a mouth would call the case as he saw it, and how he saw it would
be good enough.

The panel of citizens called for under this proceeding were ranged
along the north wall. The west and south walls supported Mesopo
tamia who leaned against them.

Hope ChristofFcrson sat alone on a bench on the south. Emanuel
Auk squatted on his haunches on the north wall, fingers interlaced and
moving constantly.

Justin Balding stood composed before Judge Pease.

He looked up from his brief in amazement upon Blair's entry. But
Pease said, "Proceed*"

Holding said, "This then is the chattel mortgage signed by Miss
Hope at the time of her loan from the Mesopotamia Hog & Trust,
which mortgage is now signed over to the United States Bank , . .
and presented for collection on this day. Would you inspect it, sir?"

Holding followed procedure to the letter. He had obviously been
to some preparation for this.

Pease read it quickly. He lifted his glasses in Hope's direction. "Your
standard mark, Mrs. Christofferson?"

"Yes/*

The paper was in two halves and burned on one edge. The judge
handed them back to Bolding. "Proceed/'

"You have inspected the animals listed on the mortgage, which are
now under guard on the common, Judge Pease, Therefore Mr. Ault

4 s>o JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

and I would like to spare the widow any further disturbance by
quickly executing the instrument. Jf you will sign it, sir?

Pease reached tor the two halves of the instrument again. He said,
"Your claim seems to be in order, Mr. Holding. However, 1 presume
six of the wethers and four of the young ewes and all the lambs are
progeny of the animals covered by the instrument and are not subject
to it."

"That would be a most liberal interpretation of the instrument.
Judge Pease, in favor of the debtor, especially since only three of the
animals are named, and the rest are lumped under the words 'pure
bred Merinos owned by' . . . and so forth. Yet we will not oppose
that view."

"Next point/' the judge continued. "Is the debtor represented by
counsel or does she speak for herself?*'

Hope Christoffcrson rose and walked forward. But she stopped
when a male voice said, "Debtor is represented by counsel!"

Blair stepped forward, studying the floor. He lately walked a court
room very much at ease. Without looking up he said, "Debtor denies
the claim of the bank for the following reasons, "

He walked back and forth a minute, his arms behind his back, He
accurately judged the extent of the judge's patience, and consumed
every second of it for thinking-time. When he opened up, he opened
explicitly, distinctly and with enough boredom to indicate that the
right so obviously lay with his side that it was somewhat insulting to
take his own and the judge's time.

"Our young opponent for the bank has made a serious error, sir.
He has seized the wrong sheep."

There was a sharp intake of breath around the room.

Bolding was on his feet by reflex. Blair paused to let him speak.
But the young man had risen before he knew what to say, and Blair
let him be caught thus awkwardly for a moment* Then* 44 I leave it to
you, sir, but I don't think we are so much required to prove they have
seized the wrong ones, I believe they must prove they have sci/ed
the right ones."

Pease scratched his chin, and narrowed his eyes.

Bolding was on his feet. "This is ridiculous! Not one single person
in this town has even once suggested that these are the wrong Merinos,
least of all Miss Hope, who has been handling them, stroking them,
even feeding them . . , like long-lost pets/*

THE ESTRAYS

"The law permits the debtor to make his best case, Mr. Holding,"
Pease said. "Because the debtor has not raised the point before, does
not preclude raising it now. However, since the debtor does raise the
point, it is appropriate for him to make proof. Proceed/*

Blair walked to Hope and leaned over her. Bracing his hands on
his knees he talked quietly to her. She rose and left the store.

Blair said, "We are bringing in our witnesses, sir."

"Witnesses?**

The crowd craned to look out the door, and there were smiles as
Hope led in every ram in the Hock.

Holding addressed Pease* "Sirl Are we to have a circus in the courtl"

Pease studied the animals, answering absently, "This is not a court,
Mr. Holding, And it seems to me reasonable that to identify a chattel,
we must examine it."

When silence set in, the rams huddled in the center of the store.
The round, heavy-wooled heads pivoted nervously and the black faces
peered out as blankly anxious as first-time witnesses the world over.

However, Galahad sensed the attention converging on Blair. He
lowered his neck and moved slightly to Blair, the others following.
The ram stopped then and cocked his head to watch Blair's mouth work
and his hands move*

The lawyer said, "Since Judge Pease has thrown us the burden of
proof, I will ask counsel for the bank to identify the ram named In
tins instrument, Aaron/*

Holding protested, "Well, ds*nm it, I never said I knew Aaron from
. , /' Holding looked at the mortgage, ". . . from Galahad. I'm
just representing the bank. 1 '

"Emamicl Ault/* Blair said, "kindly identify me the ram named
Aaron,"

Ault rose, rubbing the top of his head, "Well, I ..." He stam
mered and looked at the judge. But the judge sat impassive watching
the sheep.

The men in the store looked at each other and leaned forward,
studying the rams. Some put their heads together and whispered.

With her finger on her lips, Elizabeth Buttrick studied the rams In
rapt absorption. Absently the finger left her mouth and pointed.
Young Tim Flanncrty slapped the older girl's hand down so hard it
startled a cry from her* Ault whirled, but too late* The finger was
back on her lips, her eyes contrite.

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands lawyer

Ault studied the crowd. But they were careful not to let their eyes
even linger long on one sheep.

Ault circled the sheep in the silent store. As he circled, the rams
fidgeted and turned to follow him with their eyes, clustering tighter.
From the center a big bold yearling stuck his head high and bleated
at the banker.

Ault walked over beside Hope and called, "Aaron!" But since all
the rams looked back at him, he got no indication. No ram broke
from the pack.

Ault walked to the opposite side of the room, and while walking
away from the rams he called, "Aaron!" He turned quickly. The
comedian yearling broke from the group and sallied toward Auk.
He stopped part way and studied Ault. Ault pointed to him. "That's
Aaron."

Judge Pease said, "Correct, Mrs. Christofferson?"

"No. Most everyone in this room could tell you Aaron is no year
ling. He sired most of my flock."

Bolding looked stricken, Ault mad.

Blair looked at Pease, hoping he'd gone far enough. Pease wiped
his glasses. "I'm satisfied that ram is not the sire named Aaron, Mr.
Blair. But I cannot conclude that Aaron is not in there somewhere. 1 '
Pease put on his glasses and faced the reviewing group of citi/cns*
"You men are sworn to tell the truth. On oath; you there, is the ram
called Aaron in this stand of rams?"

Hussong bawled out, "Hell no, Judge. The ram Aaron is dead!"

"How do you know, sir?"

"I heard from Gavagan that Blair wrapped the ram, Aaron, around
the neck of Gideon Schaacht Cold, dead, stiff. In fact, y'might say
It was Aaron started all the trouble. Least the wrapping of him around
Schaacht's neck."

The judge did not smile. But his glasses needed wiping again. He
said, "Then, Mr. Ault, you were apparently not aware that Aaron was
not even in the witness ... in this group?"

Ault did not answer.

Bolding was on his feet. "One ram doesn't prove it, sir,"

"I would say you were right." The judge addressed Blair, 'This re
viewing board requires further demonstration of your contention that
these are not the Merinos named in the instrument."

THE ESTRAYS

Blair approached cautiously now. "Yes, sir. I ask Mr. Ault to identify
the ram, Galahad/*

There was a sucking of breath around the room. Hope did not look
at the sheep.

Ault approached again. He was intimidated this time. He called the
name Galahad, though not loudly. When he did the spirited comedian
broke out of the huddle again. Ault raised his arm at the ram, who
ducked back in the pack.

Blair attempted now to dismiss quickly. "So you see, sir, we claim
these are not the sheep in the instrument. These are estrays which
the bank has picked up/*

Young Balding was bright, though, and his brain had been whirl
ing. He demanded now that Hope prove she had ever owned these
animals, Hope said, "If you'll take that lively yearling and turn him
over, you'll find him tooth-marked twice, inside front leg. He was a
twin and hard to wean* The ewe toothed him twice/'

It was done and it was so. But Bolding was only seeking time. He
said to Blair, **Sir would you loan me your copy of the estray statute?"

Blair hesitated. Pease said, "The law is common property, Blair."

Blair went out to his saddlebag and brought in his book. Bolding
studied it while they took out the sheep, and his face lighted up like
found money*

He advanced on the judge with such confidence as stopped the
hearts o the townsmen, "We stand corrected, Judge Pease. What we
have here are definitely estrays, and we concede to the debtor's counsel
that we must proceed under the law for estrayed animals. Under
Section three of the law ive therefore put these estrays up for auction
to the highest bidder. Under Section four, all bids must be in currency
satisfactory to the taker-up. And in this case that will be United States
Bank notes/*

Bolding sat down, Ault winked his congratulations. Hope's face
paled. Hussong and the others leaned forward. They burned at the
calmness of Jonathan Blair at this moment. A mere boy had put it
over him.

But Blair moved slowly as if in thought. Judge Pease had a dislike
for the setting of traps in the courtroom. Blair wished to conceal the
trap which he had just snapped shut.

But there was small chance of it. Judge Pease already had his fore-

424 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

head in his right hand. He didn't even need to listen to know what
Blair would say.

"Does Mr. Holding stand unretractable on considering ^ u ' sc animuk
as estrays, and the bank as the taker-up?" Blair was slack-\oiccci and
humble.

"Absolutely, sir!" Bolding made it good and strong.

"Then the debtor will abide by the creditor's own interpretation/'
Hussong slapped his leg in anguish at such defeat. But Blair continued,
"And if Mr. Bolding will consult Sections 5 and (i of the statute he
has chosen on estrays, Mrs. Christoflerson cites the part winch says,
I believe . . ." Blair pulled his ear struggling to remember the exact
words of the statute which he had voted on himself. "But if the owner
can prove property and pay feed charges, the taker-up is obliged to
turn the estrays over to the owner, allowing the owner forty days in
which to raise the fee^l fees, reward money and cost of estray notice. If
during this forty-day interval the owner shall find that the taker-up has
abused, changed uie marks, failed to feed, water and shelter, or in
any way reduced the value of the * stock, the taker-up is liable to
action."

Bolcling's jaw went slack.

Blair now addressed Ault. "My client, Mrs. Christofferson, will re
quire the full forty days to raise the feed fees, Ault, You and
Major Armstrong will be held strictly accountable for the health and
condition of the animals during that period. I suggest you see to their
fodder immediately."

Judge Pease was seen to wipe his glasses still again.

Hope Christofferson was not seen removing the plugs of cloth from
the ears of the vexed and impatient Galahad.

Hank Flarmerty, with an extra-straight face, explained to Major
Armstrong in immense detail how the sheep should be husbanded by
the bank for the next forty days, including, "And don't forget, Major,
the Duchess there is due to drop her lambs 'bout day after tomorrow.
She likes to be inside a shed when she does it, isn't that right, Miss
Hope?"

Hope's hand covered her smile. She nodded*

Major Armstrong's face raised to the heavens and his eyes closed in
a devoutly profane supplication which imperiled the salvation of
every lawyer, sheep and banker within regimental jurisdiction.

THE ORPHAN 425

Hank added, "And Lady Elaine there is due. Twins likely. She's
quite skittery. Maybe one of your men could . . . Major, are you
listening?"

Chapter 29: THE ORPHAN

JDOLDING, it must be said, was a man to

press his advantage if lie won, but he did not whimper when he lost.
He made his appearance in the tavern to face out the smiles of the
victors* The grin on his face was costing him out of his soul, but he
kept it pasted on good and wide.

"Well, you put it over me, Blair!"

Blair looked up briefly from the table in the tavern and then re
sumed counting the orange silk slips. He turned to Stikcs in pique.
"There's slips out circulating for six barrels of pickled pork, but there's
only five barrels in the blockhouse, Stikes! How come?*'

"Hell, Jonathan. Hussong has got the sixth slip and he said hell
bring the sixth har'I in tonight* Why should we run back and forth
with the slips when he's bringin' the bar'l in a couple hours?

Blair flared. "Stikes, I told you not for two hours or two minutes
are there to be more slips out than there is goods in the bank! You
forgetting that's what happened to the first bank?"

"Yeah, but Hussong wouldn't do anything with the slip until he
brought in the . . /*

"No? You forgetting Hussong was willing to risk gun fire in Hos-
mcr*9 store to get the lock off a barrel of silver?"

"As I remember, it wasn't Hussong that killed old man Hosmcr."

Stikes rose to go after Hussong. Blair told Holding to sit down.

The loungers in the bar studied the lawyer truculently. Immediately
after the trial over Hope's sheep they had set up a free one for him
at the mug rack. But he had said, "Don't have time. Want to see you,
Mike, about the count on those silk slips."

Culpepper had said, "Aw, c'mon, Jonathan, sure you got time for
one drink of whisky to kind of celebrate."

426 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Latoyer

But Blair had said, "Nope. And by the way, Culpepper, I see you
cut some fence posts off that piece that you're going to relinquish to
the bank. They're not yours to cut."

The lawyer went out of his way, it seemed, to keep hh distance. All
right, if a man wanted distance in this town, he f d get a lavish of it.

It riled them to see any man talk that way to old Mike Stilus, too,
But it made them swearing nervous to see a man sit down now to
whisky at the same table with the lawyer he just recently opposed,
Bolding.

And who in hell was he anyway that he should hold them by the
ears with those relinquishment papers riding under his shirt next to
his skin?

Culpepper shoved his empty mug and his voice the length of the
bar, "Don't have much time for the common people any more, does
he? Not when he can drink with one of his own kind/*

Blair said, "Bolding, I need some help. Throw in with me. With
the nasty job ahead of us, you'll learn a lot of law with me."

"I'm learning more opposite you, Blair," the young man grinned.
"As for going in with you * . /' he waved his hand around the inn.
"Why? What have you got out of it?"

Blair looked around, too. "Yeah." He looked at the back of his
hands. "Well, what you going to do then?*'

"Head back to Schaacht, tell him I got whipped, and ask for my
next assignment/'

"Which will be?"

"To bring those eastern buyers back here, to buy up the relin
quished lands/'

"Uh-huh." Blair looked his age,

Bolding stood up. He slapped Blair on the shoulder, "So we*!! have
another go-around then, Jonathan. Ill get an education out of you
yet"

Bolding's worldly departure was splintered by his being butted in
the belly accidentally by Tim Flannerty who plunged through the
door into the tavern.

"He's comingl He's coming across the ford right now!"

"Who?" Exeter wanted to know.

"Young Docl The stony-faced one. He's coming on a horse right
nowl"

THE ORPHAN

"Brooks? Y'mean Brooks?"

Exeter busied himself pouring the doctor a charge from the small
keg in the back.

Bolding looked over at Blair in wonder.

Doctor Saul Brooks stepped through the door and looked around.
Exclamations greeted him, and Exeter held out the mug of whisky.
The doctor smiled, but the smile was fleeting and preoccupied. He
by-passed the proffered whisky and walked over to Blair. He wore the
new medical certificate in his carriage, Blair noticed. He wore it, too,
in the direct speech o a man who has discovered his own value to the
world . , in good eastern currency.

"You wanted me up here, I've come to give you three weeks of
work."

"Doctor, I want to thank you for . , /'

"You said the Indians were bad off with hunger sickness. Let's get
started up there."

Blair now matched the young man's abruptness. "No, Brooks.
They've got trouble bad up there. But they kind of used up their
chances, far as we're concerned. We want you to see to Hope Christ-
offerson's babe/ 1

*T1I get the Indians done first/ 1 Brooks said. "And come back in
time for Mrs, Ghratofferson, Babies aren't as serious as hunger sick
ness anyhow/*

But Exeter had heard it, and the loungers walked over to the doctor
and the lawyer. Adams was spokesman, "No, Doctor, you don't go up
to the Indian town. You got work to do right here. Start out at my
place. Kid's got the thick neck/'

And they led him out-

For the next three days they kept the doctor so busy he hardly ate.

The doctor stopped in at Hope's all three days. On the third day he
came to Blair's cabin. "Blair, I think you'd best come help me with
Mrs. Cliristofferson/'

"Me?" Blair was alarmed.

"Don't flatter yourself. You wouldn't be any help that way. But I
want her to move into Exeter's Inn for the next few days. It could
be any time now. And there'd be no way for her to let me know . . .
being way out there/'

"You explain that to her?"

JONATHAN BLAIR; Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Of course. She says she's got the Merinos back safe now. And with
those soldiers tending to them, she won't leave the place. Says .shell
take no more chances/'

"Uh-huh."

"But she's got to learn that being near the doctor is more im
portant than sheep, and she's got to get in here."

Blair rose from his table. "Thing or two 111 have to he telling you,
Doctor. You wouldn't understand about the sheep. But I'll just put
it this way. If that's the way she wants it, it's a lot more fitting in this
case the doctor goes to the patient . . . instead of the oilier way
around."

Brooks flattened his lips against his teeth and sighed. "You've got
twenty days coming to you. Guess you can have it the way you want
it. But if I'm going to get up and ride out to her place every two
hours, I'm going to use your horse."

"You don't quite get me, Doctor. You're going to $!**<*}) out there
. . . until it's time."

Blair went out with him.

Hope said, "Jonathan, I like the doctor fine. But . . uh * this
is a new thing for me. And I'm mostly in the habit of coming at new
things alone . . . sort of at my own pace."

"This is one time you're not going to be alone/* Blair said, **The
doctor will see to your baby."

"Well, Jonathan, I think the doctor knows his trade . . * especially
with that new certificate . , . but . . . uh, he's a man, and . . , uh
... I thought maybe I'd have Angelina Steese come out and see to
me."

"Angelina's never had a child. Maybe never even been present. If
it must be a woman, we've got some here that know enough they
could instruct the doctor. Why don't you pick one of them?"

"Well ... uh ... I've not been in on the womanly things in this
town so much . . . I . . . I guess if that was the choice I'd take the
doctor. But I'd feel strange, having him in the house here-

"Then he won't be in the house. He'll be in the shed."

Brooks' eyebrows went up, but he didn't say anything.

"When the time comes," Blair said, "you light a candle in the
window, the doctor will do the rest."

t Blair took Brooks by the arm and started to leave, but he turned
back, "Hope, you do know how to tell?"

THE ORPHAN 429

'Tvc heard how it is."

Blair riggc-cl a bunk for Brooks in the shed.

At dusk on the sixth day after Saul Brooks' arrival, Blair was in
his usual seat in the tavern when he noticed Exeter reach up behind
the cup rack for his barrel hoop sledge, while keeping his eye on the
front entrance. Same time lie was aware of Adams reaching up over
the hearth for the rifle there.

Blair looked at the door which was opening. The height of the
doorway was tilled by the frame of Chief Silver Pigeon. With his hand
still on the door he stepped inside experimentally, but with apology
to no man.

The tall Indian kept his eye on the sledge which came now end over
end through the air. Pigeon calmly closed the door just enough to
prevent the sledge flying out into the night. The door killed it, so
that it plopj>ed lightly into Pigeon's waiting hand, by the handle at
that.

The Pigeon refused Exeter the honor of anger. From the doorway
he addressed Blair. "I come only to say, you arc a good man, lawyer.
I come to say the Indians are sorry we did not believe you would
bring us tiie doctor, but you did."

Blair's jaw dropped.

"I come to say we are glad you talked good enough to keep the
sheep for Miss Hope*"

"What in hell are you talkin' about?" roared Culpepper. "You got
no doctor! Brooks is out at Hope's house right now."

"No. Blair sends the medicine doctor for us. We got him. Pigeon
tossed the sledge gently back to Exeter, who only recovered from
amazement in time to prevent it mashing his face.

The Indian was gone.

Culpepper hammered his mug on the bar in glee and laughed, "Can
you figure the gall of that dumb Indian thinking . . ." But he stopped
abruptly, as the suspicion hit all corners of the room simultaneously.

They funneled out through the door; and the chase began.

The Mesopotamians had learned not to follow Indians unless they
had numbers. For this foray they had so many in the party that it
left the village short-handed. They had been gone a day and a night
and a day looking for the doctor* Blair was awakened by Stikes to

430 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lautyer

stand his second turn at guarding the blockhouse while the moon was
about an hour before sinking.

He walked groggily to the blockhouse when he heard a chinking on
stone over by the burying yard. He lowered hi* rifle out in front of
him, clicked the hammer back and walked slowly toward the burying
ground. He saw a white garment busy there. He studied it until it
focused, "Angelina!"

She stood up,

"What are you doing out, Angelina?"

But he saw right away. Beside the big grave marker of Brutus
Chris toff erson was a small slab of slate,

"It's what Hope wanted me to do," she saicl. "It's over/'

"Get Isaac to stand my turn at guard, Angelina. I'll go out"

"No. Better not now.

"Does she hurt?"

"Not in the body, I go back now/'

The Mesopotamians returned from the hunt by noon. They had
had so many in the party that they'd not even had to warm a single
rifle barrel. They had the doctor in tow. Above and beyond that,
though, and perhaps as valuable, they brought back eight deerskins
full of potatoes and squash which the Indians had stolen from
Hawkins.

They brought back, too, a warning. The Indians from whom they
had taken the doctor and the potatoes were the leanest, most unlaugh-
ing Wyandots they had ever seen, not even barring before the war*

The meeting to set up a new guard system against the infiltrating
Wyandots was arranged for three nights hence to allow time to get
down to Boxford's Cabin and to get settlers up from that settlement
which was also losing stuff to the vagrant Indians, They could help.

When the meeting took place, Jonathan Blair's opinion was not
much wanted in this matter. But lately you didn't dare not listen to
Blair. Now that he was meaner than sin and carrying those relin
quish papers in his shirt, you didn't cross him much, not unless you
could get some backing-up.

So they had to let Blair speak. And what he said was, "Seems to me
we're forgetting what old Sam would have said to do. Here you sit,
making plans to patrol the area. Armstrong urges you to it because
that's his training. But old Sam would have said that costs too much.
He would have said, 'Give 'em a little corn, a few potatoes. It's a cheap

THE ORPHAN

way to buy back your scalps.' A patrol may protect you for a week,
but what about next week, and next winter? Come spring we can go
there and show them how to plant . ."

He was Interrupted by a voice from the door, "White lawyer already
showed us how to plant/*

The men in the store whirled to the rear and began to rise, but
they were halted by the strange sight in the doorway. The Silver
Pigeon stood like an apparition from Tecumseh. But in his arm was
no rifle, no knife, A better weapon, perhaps.

His arm cradled a bundle of beaver fur, shaped into a sack. Across
the top of it was a panel of bleached deerskin sewn heavily with
colored beads of the kind found commonly in any Indian trader's
supply kit, The deerskin flap moved convulsively from some pressure
underneath it.

The Pigeon addressed Blair as he advanced slowly toward him.
"We ask far corn, We get none, We ask for medicine doctor. We get
none. Would you like to be Silver Pigeon, who cannot feed his own
people? Cannot cure his own sick ones? Would you like that, lawyer?"

The Pigeon walked straight up to Blair, commanding every ear in
the place. " Well, you are going to find out if you would like it, lawyer.
Right now you will find out/*

He held the beaver bundle out to Blair, "Now let us see you take
care of your own!**

Blair stood puzzled,

"Ya$ , . , take it! The Fawn says the lawyer should take it* Take
care of Jt! M

The Pigeon pulled back the flap four inches. Every neck in the store
stretched to look, and the rest of the men rose to see. But it was not
necessary. For above the rim of the beaver fur everyone in the store
could sec the tmy tight-clenched red fist as big as a walnut which now
quivered in hungry rage*

Blair went white.

"The Fawn fa very sick, very weak. No doctor. No food. So you show
us now* Here, take him. The lawyer is maybe more smart than Indians.
Take him. See how it feels to watch it happenl"

The Pigeon was gone. And Blair faced it, as he had never seen it
before . * . hunger , . primeval, demanding, urgent beyond belief.
Hunger was not a thing to be planned against this night. Hunger was
not a thing to ari^nge guards for and plant crops for.

432 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Hunger was right now.

By midnight Jonathan Blair had a new respect for the mm in the
village, some of whom had faced this thing before* Jim Hawkins had
four children, Fitchburg five. He reali/ec! he had Hu-d halt of a
lifetime without knowing the meaning of the question, "How is the
baby?"

Suddenly this cliche ceased to be small talk. "How is the bain?"
The answer could be panic. The question belittled emy human
concern. You could not follow such a question with trivia like "Eiow
did John Marshall decide the bank case?"

Jonathan Blair put down the hollow stra\v through which he had
tried to pour milk; suddenly he understood many things* Many things
more he did not understand.

Tim Flannerty returned to Blair's cabin.

"Did you find him, boy?"

"No, sir. Nobody's seen Dr. Brooks/*

"Look again. And hurry,"

"No more places to look, Culpepper thinks the Indians grabbed
him off again while we were in the meeting, And he's sore at you
about it. Says it's part your fault , . * for letting them think the
doctor was for them."

"Huhl"

"And Mr. Blair . . . uh . - ."

"What? What!"

"Uh ... he also said, it wouldn't matter if you could find the doc
He said there's nothing to do."

"He's crazy."

"Mr. Culpepper's raised a deal of colts."

When dawn grayed in, the babe was limp from hungry crying. Vet
occasionally over an hour's time it mustered strength to furiously
demand life of this world in a red-faced spasm of imperialism. But the
only part of the world that was listening was Jonathan Blair and Tim
Flannerty,

"He's gone limp again, Mr. Blair. Let f s try the soaked cloth again,
sir/'

Blair soaked the shred of linen in milk. But the babe would have
none of it.

"He knows that's not right for him," Blair said, "Won't take it."

The milk-soaked cloth annoyed the child and it cried.

THE ORPHAN

"Now! His mouth is open now!'* Tim said. 'Try the mug again."

Blair tipped the mug so a thin stream of milk poured out. The babe
closed its mouth and sputtered,

"He knows that's wrong, Put more wood on the fire, Tim."

Blair broke off a crumb of broad as small as his fingers would nip.
But the babe would not open its mouth.

"What did Adams say again about the goat's milk? I said never mind
the fire! What did Adams say . . /'

"I told you five times, Mr. Blair, there is none/*

"Damn him!* 1

"He can't make the goat . /'

"Where is Cameita with tine . . . Jesus, look!"

The babe's transparent face turned livid so it seemed the blood
would burnt through the paperthin skin, Blair scooped him up and
ran out of the cabin with no shirt on.

He burst into Stikes' house, Stikes said, "J onat fom> did you hear
they got the doctor again? 11

"Never mind that! Help me."

Polly Stilu'% said* f *It never worried you before, Jonathan/'

They had nothing to suggest which he hadn't already tried.

Two doors in Mesopotamia did not even open to Jonathan Blair,

Culpepperls door opened. But he took one look at the beaver sack,
and pointed to the burying yard, "That won't even begin to make it
even as far as this house is concerned. The sooner the better/'

Throughout the day Blair was constantly referred to the burying
yard and to the stolen doctor.

By nightfall the lawyer was beside himself. And the most intolerable,
unbelievable part of it to Blair was to watch out his front door and
observe that while his effort was failing by the minute, Mesopotamia
was going right on with its meeting this night to arrange for a better
guard system, They walked slowly across the common to Exeter's
Tavern * , . casually!

The child bad stopped crying hours ago. The crying had been a knife
in the ribs, but this was worse. Blair walked over to look down into
the beaver bag. The silent, tiny, dark eyes delivered a concussive jolt
to Blair's neck flesh. His miniature wrath smoldered out against the
outrage of starvation , . . and stupidity. But the little hornet carried
such a man-sized anger that it drained his strength and closed his eyes.

"By God * . . you're a manl And we need menl"

434 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Blair closed the beaded deerskin flap and snatched up the fur as
gently as haste permitted. As he ran across the common to the tavern
he held it arms length in front of him to lessen the shock of his
running.

At the tavern he tucked the bag under his arm and stalked among
the tables straight up to the front where a four-inch platform had been
built for Gershom's sermons.

Boxford stood there this moment explaining why Boxford's Cabin
men should not have to guard the road which came south from Meso
potamia.

The percussion entrance of the lawyer hung Boxford in the middle
of a sentence. He stepped back in wonder as the lawyer reached the
platform and whirled on the crowd.

"I hope you're satisfied! Look at himi"

He tipped the babe up and pulled back the flap. "Take a good look!
Too weak to move!"

Blair's voice softened to sarcasm. "Seems funny. All the kids we've
had in this town . . . none of you know what to do! Or so you say!
But I don't think you're that ignorant. I tried everything. Look at him!
Just look is all I ask. And do something."

A feminine voice from the back called out, "There's some of us don't
know what's burnin' you, Jonathan." It was Hope. "What's ailing the
child? A case of fever?"

"No! A case of starving!"

"Well, we're not that hard put we can't feed a ..." Something
stopped Hope. She colored. "Are you saying that the babe . . /' But
she rose slowly from her bench and walked forward.

As she crossed the long distance to the platform her cheeks were
burning, her face a struggle between diffidence and determination.

"It just came to me what you're saying,"

She reached over and opened farther the beaded-doeskin flap on
the fur hood. "I'm not practiced in the matter. But for that he shouldn't
go without."

She studied the child and then Blair, who stood stupidly,

"There's not time to stand around, it looks, Mister."

Blair snapped back to usefulness. With one hand he grabbed a chair
and yanked it beside her. Hope turned it about facing the window and
away from her townsmen. "I'd as leave you'd be a shield, Jonathan.,"

Blair stepped behind her chair* She sat down, somewhat like a

THE ORPHAN 435

queen. Blair gave his back to Mesopotamia and placed one hand on
her shoulder.

The base of her throat blushed as her fingers nimbly freed the laces.

He handed the child over her shoulder.

Jonathan Blair stood silent, seeing for the moment the wondrous
great scheme of things and the great beauty of Mrs. Hope Christ-
offerson.

He was unaware of the shuffling of feet as Mesopotamia moved out
of the inn.

Though the town had the grace to leave the inn, they obviously did
not go far. Because when the youngest Wyandot in the Northwest
broke the silence with a shockingly happy laugh that ended in a hiccup
as old as man, it was echoed back from outside in sudden laughter and
then a resumption of adult voices beyond the door of the inn.

The widow Christofferson handed the babe up proudly and gently,
not to spoil her good work. And the lawyer held him in one hand ,and
in turn raised the woman up by the arm with his other hand.

Her eyes were on the fur hood, and the lawyer's eyes were on her.
She became mindful of tying her laces which was made awkward by
his arm around her waist, inclining her towards him the slightest . . .
which, if she were aware of it, she did not seem to resist. "What was
meant for my Swede's son," she said, "seems to do finely for a Wyandot."

She concentrated on the babe, which was somewhat pointless as
already its eyes closed and its breath rippled the fur of the hood in
sleep.

And now that it was over, the shyness returned to Hope, which the
lawyer cured not by releasing her, but by pressing her against him so
dose that she could not see his face.

There were now certain things in which many of the women of
Mesopotamia believed the shepherdess could use instruction. Therefore
she began now quite frequently to receive callers. They were friendly
women and they were agreeably surprised at the extreme neatness of
Mrs. Christofferson 's cabin, even envious of the fine linen on her pillow
cases.

However, this interest in pillowcases had no direct effect on develop
ments in the Northwest, unless it could be that there was something
about the contrast between the snowy lace of the pillow and the
hrktlv charcoal black hair of the Indian with the uncompromising

436 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

little black eyes that made even Faith Hawkins kneel down by Hope's
lap and reach out a finger to be seized by the vicious little fists.

In the broader sense, there was something about the cantankerous
old-mannish bags under the eyes o the babe that made even Elizabeth
Buttrick take a suddenly odd view of a hundred years of warfare
between settlers and the original red proprietors of the land.

In his small way it could even be said that this insignificant and
truculent Wyandot accomplished a job of representation that was
failed by Tecumseh, White Eyes, Tarhe and Blue Jacket. For the
widow Christofferson's conversation gradually took on a pattern.

"I s'pose there's more lambs up there like this put to range before
they're weaned."

Angelina Steese said, "Yes, Dr, Brooks said the women are in
straights. Lucky to save one out of four. No proper food."

Faith Hawkins said, "They're not used to planting. What planting's
done is by the women. But the ones expecting can't see to it very well."

"Seems against nature to lose so many/' Hope said, "when they're
such a trouble to the dam to get them this far."

"Wouldn't take a lot of food," Elizabeth Buttrick said, "to see them
through till next harvest . . . say if it was divided up among all of us
and the Boxford's Cabin crowd. Least enough for the women."

Which was how it happened that Cul pepper's dump wagon began
making the rounds among the cabins in the clearing of Mesopotamia,

Culpepper looked as though he had bit into a wormy walnut. But he
turned where Hope Chris tofferson told him to turn and stopped where
she told him to stop. He waited while she climbed down off the wagon
and went into each cabin. And the wagon was seen to go out the
west road past the Hawkins place and turn up the Harrison road
toward Upper Sandusky, the Indian town . . , heavily laden.

Chapter 30: THE

FORECLOSURE

THE WORD came in October. Schaacht was

coming up to Mesopotamia. He was bringing with him his cashier,
Riddle. And he was bringing a handful of eastern buyers who were
anxious to buy immediately and settle. He was bringing also power of
attorney to buy foreclosed land for many more eastern buyers in
response to his eastern campaign.

The news came into the store by Asa Buttrick who had been to
Columbus, and it swept through Mesopotamia on the lips of Faith
Hawkins like hail before harvest.

And it reflected onto Jonathan Blair like excommunication. They
had lulled into thinking it would never happen. But now the woods
became busy.

Antonio Denaro dug up every other grape vine in the vineyard.
Stanley-the-Slasher was busy marking every merchantable black walnut
tree in his stand for immediate cutting and hauling. When he began
cutting he needed a lot of help, snaking them out of the relinquished
tract.

Blair moved back out of the way of Slasher's axe swing. "Slasher,
you got no right cutting timber on the relinquished tract. Doesn't
belong to you."

"Huh!" Slasher's axe bites jarred the ground under their feet.

Slasher bit through the core. "Stand back, Blair! Or you'll get your
brain bashed inl" The walnut crashed down spewing dried leaves and
flinging dead branches and forest debris. It bounced once and settled,
letting another eighth acre of open sky break into the part of the forest
which now belonged to the United States Bank.

Over on the Culpepper place, Culpepper was digging a trench just
inside the boundary of the tract he was relinquishing. The trench led
across into the part Culpepper expected to retain. Two dozen hollow
logs lay beside the trench and a pile of small stones laboriously hauled
up from the ford in the river where he had gathered them.

438 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Quit staring, Blair! Ill explain it to you/'

"You don't need to, Culpepper. I can see you're covering up that salt
spring and running it underground over to the part you're keeping."

"You're damned right, bright boy. Now either get out of here or grab
hold of those logs and help."

"It's illegal, Culpepper."

"Illegal my foot! Why should I give Schaacht the best salt spring in
town!"

"Because that's part of the relinquished tract."

Culpepper straightened up and held his mud-covered arms akimbo.
"All right then explain me this, Mr. Lawyer. How come you took my
salt spring away from me and ya left the one on Hope's place in the
area she's keepinV

Blair didn't answer.

"Yah! I thought so! We like Hope all right. But it sure stinks the
way you divided things up. Looks like now a man's got to be Mr.
Blair's special friend . . , or he'll lose his shirt." Culpepper made as if to
take off his shirt. "Here, you want it, Mr. Lawyer? Take it!" He pursued
Blair, holding out the shirt. "Take it, Mr. Lawyer, you got everything
else!"

Blair walked away, putting up an umbrella of silence against Cul-
pepper's rain of insults.

"But I guess you wouldn't need my shirt, would you, Lawyer? I guess
you're gettin' taken care of pretty good. We know how it is, Blair. Hell
of a thing when a man that does nothin' but read law books, and talk
pretty and writes pretty ends up ownin' a whole town that was built
by men that didn't have time to sit and readl"

Over on the Fitchburg place Aaron Fitchburg had a big fire burning
at night in the uncleared woods which he was turning back to the bank
He had borrowed two small horse carts and he and his sons wer<
stripping the rich four-inch mulch of black soil off the forest floor
hauling it up onto his truck patch and squash field.

The town crawled with activity and Jonathan Blair couldn't stop it

Saul Brooks had come down from the Indian town. He was kep
busy tending sprained backs, cut hands and bad blisters.

"What are you doing to these people, Blair?"

"What the hell do you care!" Blair exploded. "You've given us ou
twenty days. Now get on back to your paying customers in Chillicothe,

"I will as soon as I get Fitchburg's dislocated hip set back in place."

THE FORECLOSURE 439

"Huh, is that a week's work?"
"Just about/'

In Asa Buttrick's store Joe Hussong was about to roar like a bull.
Tony Denaro was about to bawl. Judge Pease was there according to
the foreclosure statute. Gideon Schaacht announced that he had been
unable to get the new land law through the government, the one for
which Blair and all these men had written petitions. He had left
Bolding in Washington to continue the effort. But meanwhile he
intended to take what was coming to the bank. He was under severe
criticism by the bank board for not doing it sooner.

And Jonathan Blair was apparently knuckling under.

Schaacht said, "The relinquishment papers, please, Blair. You got
them?" Riddle reached for them for Schaacht.

Blair didn't move.

"Well, have you got them?"

"Yeah. You got the receipts?"

"All right, all right. Riddle will make out the receipts. Let's have the
relinquishment papers."

"Sure. When I see the receipts."

Schaacht sighed. "All right." He motioned Riddle to comply.

The business of preparing the receipts took some time, Blair showing
him what names they should be made to, and Riddle each time
cautiously referring to the original mortgage.

Handing over the relinquishments was a ticklish business, too, the
way Blair handled it. He demanded that the settler have his hand on
the receipt before he would turn over the relinquishment paper to
Schaacht. The settlers snatched the receipts from Riddle with hate.

When the exchange was complete, Schaacht and Riddle studied the
papers carefully for several minutes. Then Schaacht smiled and his
face softened. "Jonathan, you've done a fine, thorough job, just as
Bolding reported. Good work." He turned to Ault. "This is what you
should have been able to do, Ault."

To Blair, in the presence of his townsmen, this was the kiss of witches.
He clamped his jaw and looked at the floor. But Schaacht wouldn't
quit. "Good work deserves good pay. You earned yourself a bonus."

Blair flattened his lips and faced it out.

Schaacht motioned to Riddle who counted out a pile of bills and
carried them over to Blair, grinning.

44 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Hussong's voice boomed out over the store. "Now ain't that just
dandy, folks? Wouldn't want Jonathan not to make out, would you?"

The settlers remained in the store to enjoy Blair's humiliation. They
had paid for the privilege, plenty.

Schaacht said, "Everything is in good order. Now I'd like to select
parcels to fill the orders of men who are buying these tracts. Have you
got a plat of the town, Blair, that shows how these lands lie?"

Blair silently reached in his pocket and pulled out a key. He handed
it to Tim Planner ty.

Tim Flannerty returned in a moment with a large four-by-four-foot
plat of the town. The lines of the original farms were fading brown
ink. And while the ink of the boundaries had faded, the old parchment
itself had darkened so that the whole was indistinct. Yet over this
background of vagueness, the relinquished tracts were marked with
jet black charcoal so that they stood out in sharp relief.

"Hahl" An exclamation escaped Amos Exeter involuntarily.

The contrasting colors were so striking, that to a man familiar with
Mesopotamia it struck almost like the ringing of a great gong . . what
Blair had done. His selection of lands for relinquishment, taken as a
whole, made a strange pattern indeed.

Tim Flannerty was not unaware of the role he was playing. When
he erected the map on the counter of the store he did it with a certain
bounce, strut and splash. He leaned it against the pile of packaged
gunpowder on the counter. Then grabbing two of Buttrick's scale
weights to keep the plat from slipping, he planked one down on each
side of the map with an clat which was a blowing of trumpets.

He winked at Blair, to get credit for knowing what was going on; and
he stepped out of the way.

Around the store faint grins appeared, timorously at first, as they
studied the map. Exeter elbowed the stern-faced Jim Dolk and
whispered something, and the Dutchman's granite face lighted.

Culpepper's jaw dropped as he moved closer to the map, examining
it in unbelief.

Mike Stikes was standing near the map. Keeping his eyes on it he
reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of calipers which he
applied to the scale at the bottom of the plat and then to a specific
farm on the map.

Schaacht seemed unaware of the stir in the room. He looked at the
plat with apparent pleasure, "Blair, they look nice and neat. I'm glad

THE FORECLOSURE 441

to see they're mostly all well shaped. I was afraid you might try to slice
me out a lot of odd shaped triangles and crescents. That's why I wanted
to study the relinquish papers carefully. But I see you've done a neat
job of it. In fact, as soon as you can get ready, I want you to pack up
and move down to Coshocton. Want you to do the same thing down
there."

"No. I'm through, Schaacht."

"What!"

"I'm through."

"More money you want?"

"No. Just not interested."

Schaacht was not a dull-witted man. He read in Blair's attitude and
in his stance the relief of a man who had had a job to do, and who had
finished it well, and was glad to be out of it. He sensed in Blair a kind
of victory, which alerted him to mind the attitudes of the others in
the room.

As Schaacht studied the settlers he saw not so much hate as he saw
a few minutes before. He saw whimsy trying to break out on their faces.

Alarm darkened his face like pulling a curtain.

He stood up, "What's gone wrong here!"

Schaacht raked the room with threatening eyes. "Riddle, something's
fouled here. Find out whatl"

Riddle was a man who based his decisions on facts, signatures, correct
mathematical totals. He could not understand how Schaacht, who
ignored all of this kind of evidence, could be president of the bank
instead of himself. Yet he knew that Gideon Schaacht, who operated on
hunches, whims, the change in a man's tone of voice, the smallest
nuances of human behavior, was more often right than himself. There
fore Riddle began to look for trouble. But he didn't know where to
look.

It was Gideon Schaacht who walked up to the plat of Mesopotamia
and studied it with growing alarm.

"Blair!"

Blair stood still, but the settlers observed a certain tenseness in him.

"Blair!"

Blair didn't move. But Riddle went scuttling over to be of help.

"Riddle! Why didn't you notice this when you gave out those
receipts!"

"Notice what?"

442 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Look at that pattern of lands he turned over to us. What do you
see?"

Riddle looked desperately, but he was not a man to understand land,

"Don't look at individual tracts, Riddle. Back off and look at it all."

Riddle complied, but saw nothing.

"How would you get into this one, for example?"

Riddle looked at the long narrow relinquished section which ran
square across the middle of the Hussong, Denaro and Adams farms . . .
but stopped short of the roads on both ends. It was an island of land
completely surrounded on both sides and both ends by the lands of
now hostile farmers. No entrance, no egress.

"And these here along the river! Surrounded on three sides by the
property of the relinquishing farmers!"

"They're open on the river side/' Riddle said.

"Yes. Sure. On the river side. So who can we sell them to? House-
boaters? Can you find a customer for farms that you get to by canoe?"

Schaacht studied the map.

"And here we've got several divided by the river. Can you find me
customers for farms this size that are split by a river?"

Schaacht studied the pattern more. He found the patchwork quilt
to be the most ingenious scheme imaginable for rendering good land
undesirable.

"Blair, you won't get away with this!"

"I have, Gideon."

"You can't keep me out of those lands. You've got to give me a right-
of-way in there."

"Let's put it this way," Blair said. "You can try to make us give you
a right-of-way."

Schaacht whirled on Judge Pease, "Tell him he's got to give me a
right-of-way in there, Pease!"

"It's about like he said," the judge answered. "You can try to make
him if you want."

Schaacht strode to Blair. "Now look, talk plainer!"

"Sure," Blair said "Right-of-ways, like any other incorporeal hered
itaments, have so far been held not to pass without a specific grant
in writing. I have so far found two cases where they were denied where
the land was completely surrounded by the grantor's land because the
conveyance showed that no grant of right-of-way was intended.

"You can also have a right-of-way by proving previous uninterrupted

THE FORECLOSURE 443

usage for twenty years. But that would be hard," Blair explained. "You
can also have a right-of-way by specific grant from the owner of abutting
property. You'd have to ask these men about that/'

Schaacht looked around at the circle of faces. Hussong crossed his
arms, leaned back and grinned at Schaacht. Culpepper did not let the
lighting of a Conestoga prevent him from returning Schaacht's stare.
Buttrick hooked his thumbs over his belt. Schaacht grabbed Blair by
the shirt front. His three years in charge of Western finance were
peeling off a little of his control.

"There's other ways, Blair! Ill get a right-of-way!"

"Yes, there are other ways. There's an easement of necessity. But
burden of proof is on you. And I'd just like to handle the other side
of the case. Particularly on your river properties where you can get
in by boat."

Schaacht laid his high cranium in his bony hand which wiped down
to his chin. But the face that came out from behind the hand was a
more controlled, more powerful face than the one that went in,
Schaacht had recovered from the shock, and he was dangerous as always.
He even grinned. "All right, Blair. You're smart." He looked around
the room, still grinning. They answered his grin with a degree of
sportsmanship and fellowship. For Gideon Schaacht could be an ap
pealing man. He would press an advantage when he had it. Everybody
knew that. But he didn't whimper when he lost. That showed through,
too. And Mesopotamia understood that kind of a man. Understood
and respected.

"You're all pretty smart," Schaacht smiled. "You take care of each
other. You're alert. You should be a good investment."

In testament to the power of Gideon Schaacht you could feel that
store moving out to him, getting a chair ready for him, clearing a
space for him at their bar. Blair worried.

"How about using some of that ability to help me out now? I've
been fair with you I think," Schaacht said. "But what am I going to do
about these properties? How can I sell them if I can't get to them?
They're useless to me."

Blair said, "No, they're not, Schaacht."

"How not?"

"Well, since you can't get at them, we could probably be persuaded
to work them for you ... on shares for a while. Be a good thing for

444 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

the bank to be in the farming business so you'd understand a thing
or two about the West . . . i you're going to stay/'

"But I'd be stuck with it forever, I could never get out of it. I could
never sell these lands."

"Yes you could."

"How?"

"If you understood anything about the country you'd see you have
the best group of prospects any man could ask for."

"Where?"

"Well, I imagine Tony Denaro would be happy to buy his grapes
back from you, if you take good care of them while they're yours."

Denaro lighted up.

"And Hussong would probably buy back his hog wallow from you
In a year or two or three ... if your price is right. And Culpepper, he'll
probably buy back that land from you with the salt spring on it in a
year or so, if your deal is honest,"

Blair waved his hand around the room. "These are your best
customers right here, Schaacht, Time you woke up to it. Here are men
that know enough about farming so they can borrow money from
your bank and make good enough use of it to pay you back your
interest just out of the crumbs left over. They can make more money
from a given hundred dollars than you can. That is, they could before
you ruined their currency for them/'

Riddle, who was sensible of having made no contribution for
Schaacht all afternoon, tried now to recoup. Recognizing the new
giant in the room he went over close to Blair. With the air of a man
who is going to make everything all right, he said, "Now Mr. Blair,
let's all sit down around a table and work out a . * ."

But Tim Flannerty said, "Mr. Blair, it's time now. He was squallin'
like heck when I was over for the plat."

"If we could just sit down," Riddle continued with annoyance,
"and work out . . ."

* BJair put his hand on Tim Flannerty's head and started for the
door. "You work it out, Mr. Riddle. I have an urgent appointment."

Blair and the boy walked slowly out of the store. Mrs. Hope
Christofferson blushed and left the store a few minutes later.

Jonathan Blair had no medals to show the world. He did not have
the largest hog ever seen north of Cincinnati, as Joe Hussong did. He

THE FORECLOSURE ***

did not have the largest ear of corn grown north of Columbus, like the
one Culpepper had nailed up over his hearth. He did not have a name
that stood for something, like the word Stikes had come to mean
"rifle."

But on this day he received a kind of medal, though he was not
present to see it. Schaacht turned to Joe Hussong and he said, "Hus-
song, you seem to have quite a bit of 'say 1 i n matters up here, let's
step over to the map and talk this over."

"Won't do any good, Mr. Schaacht."

"Why not?"

"We could talk. But up here we don't make any moves until we talk
to our lawyer. And he just left."

In the city of Washington a bright young man named Justin Bolding
was being questioned by the congressional committee on public lands.
The questions were put to him largely by Rufus King of New York
State. And the young man answered boldly with answers which showed
a natural knowledge of his subject and some study besides. He said,
"Gentlemen, the fact is you have everything to gain by allowing the
Western farmers to relinquish what they can't pay for and retain a
piece of ground equivalent to the payments they've already paid in.
You saw the petitions that our Mr. Blair forwarded. That only scratches
the surface. Foreclose these men and you'll have a vagrant, wandering,
squatting population of angry men. In fact, you might even have a
new country on the other side of the Alleghenies.

"And they don't owe you anything either. You've already realized
thirty-four million dollars in land sales in Ohio alone. And you took
nine million acres of Ohio land to give away as Revolutionary Bounty
Lands. So the West really paid for your army in the rebellion."

Bolding watched Rufus King carefully, so as not to overdo it. But
he saw the great man nodding. King wanted him to go on. He did.

"Now I'm not suggesting that the Congress of the United States
follow the lead of Gideon Schaacht, sir . . ."

"You may make that suggestion," King said, "God knows they need
somebody's lead."

". . . but Mr. Schaacht is also creditor to the same people who owe
you. Now he has decided to take back a small portion of the debtor's
ground. Leave the fanner enough to get back on his feet. It's an
enlightened policy which . . ."

446 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

King harrumphed. "However, don't unduly labor us with the merits
of Mr. Schaacht. It just could be Mr. Schaacht is pulling himself out
of a hole he never should have dug for himself. But go on."

"Point is," Bolding said, "if you should decide to foreclose, the
government's Land Office would nullify a policy which already is in
effect by the government's bank. The right hand cancels out the
left . . ."

"Yes, yes," King said. "We see that. True, true. Point is, is Schaacht
doing right? Be blunt, boy. Does Schaacht know what the hell he's
doing out there? Answer me straight way, boyl"

Justin Bolding thought about his answer. Bolding had grown a lot
in the last four years. He never was a babe in anybody's political woods.
But now at a young age he was an old hand in the duel of departmental
government, and he could find his way around political corridors as
fast as they renovated the building. He was already long beyond and
above the amateur intriguer who falls easily into a subtle invitation to
murder a reputation.

He had advanced to the discovery that the eyebrow raiser who
invites name slaughtering, for the moment is anxious to hear it; but
tomorrow shuns the slanderer like any other murderer.

Bolding had taken the seminar so he knew that unqualified defama
tion and unqualified praise aite both discounted 50 per cent.

He was even up to the place where he was about discovering that the
trickiest answer, though the hardest to handle, was the petrified trutti.
He had run the course all the way back to that.

He said, "Put it this way, Mr. King, No eastern banker knew what he
was doing at first. They were all learning. But Gideon Schaacht had the
boldness to learn fast, and use what he learned, regardless of orders
from Philadelphia and Washington. Now when he recalled those
loans abruptly, he had not yet learned enough. He's trying to make up
for it now. And he's man enough to do it. This Schaacht Land Bill
is part of his attempt."

Rufus King clapped Bolding on the back so it stung. "Makes sense,
boy. I want you to go down and tell the House what you just told us,
when we make our report."

As they left the room King said, "Now, mind you say it without
wavering, and good and loud." And when they were alone in the hall

THE FORECLOSURE 447

the older man said, "And ... uh ... I'll see to it somehow that the
director o the bank knows you may have saved his job."

Taverns and cloak rooms around Washington buzzed with talk about
the brilliant young man from the West, named Justin Bolding, who
was trying to get a bill through the Congress. It was casually referred
to as "that Bolding Bill."

Up on the east road out of Mesopotamia a recently familiar ritual
was taking place on the Emerson farm, now referred to as the Christ-
offerson place.

It interrupted a strange conference in the shed. Major John Arm
strong of the Western regiment was accustomed to hold tight rein on
his unit. But on this afternoon he was holding the foreshanks of a
heavy-wooled ewe who was never called by name any more, but who
was privately believed to be the ewe, Guinevere. The major held the
sheep awkwardly as though he were proposing marriage under force
and hoped to be rejected.

The widow Christofferson was saying, "So have your men shear closer
to the skin like this, Major*"

To the secret entertainment of a former Corporal Mulvane and a
former Corporal OTallon, she cut off a hank of fleece and held it for
the major to see.

He said, "But how in the . . . how do we get the animals to stand
still for . . ."

But he was interrupted now by the important entrance of Tim
Flannerty who said, "Time, Miss Hopel In fact, past time/'

The major said, "Just one minute. Now . . ."

But the widow seemed to forget about sheep. With a certain em
barrassment, which the ex-corporals found lovely to watch she left
abruptly.

Guinevere landed, plop, on her knees. The major rose and dusted
his own off in disgust.

Hope Christofferson received the beaver-fur bundle almost auto
matically and swept gracefully toward the cabin.

Blair and Tim Flannerty stopped at the door, and the widow
Christofferson paused a moment to say, "Jonathan, it looks like you
butted them clean head on this time. And won out."

"Too early to say, Hope. Gideon Schaacht is not to be played with.

448 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

And he hasn't left town yet. He's talking about pinning me with the
part of the hundred thousand dollars that was missing. The part that
Brute got and some that Pigeon got."

Forgetfully he started to enter the cabin with her. But the gently
closing door reminded him, and he waited outside with Tim.

Chapter 31 : THE ATTOURNET

LEADERSHIP has always depended upon

the ability to call men up to big work. Gideon Schaacht could do
that. Leadership also requires the courage to crush when necessary*
Gideon Schaacht had that courage, also*

It was short of midnight when Tim Flannerty and Jonathan Blair
were preparing Young Chief for a trip out to the Ghristofferson place.
Schaacht entered. With him were Major Armstrong and ex-corporals
Mulvane and O'Fallon.

Schaacht was direct. "Blair, you've become a strong man. I flatter
myself I made you that way. But now I need you. You're going to
undo this little trap you sprung on me here. If you think I'm going
before the board in Philadelphia and wring my hands and say I
was beaten by a handful of farmers and a woods lawyer north of
Columbus, you're crazy. You're on my side whether you like it or not."

"No, Schaacht I'm through."

"I don't mind paying well. Together well put order into the West,
and we'll take a fair return for the job."

"Count me out, thanks." And to Tim Flannerty, "I think that's
enough blankets, Tim. He'll suffocate."

Schaacht said, "Damn you, Blair, do you think I come empty-
handed? You getting so big you forgetting who you're dealing with?"

"No, sir. I wouldn't turn my back a minute." Blair grinned and
said, "Tim, tuck his hands inside and make him keep them in there.
It's cold out."

"Well, I'm sorry you make me do it this way* But if you won't
come with me willingly, I guess I'll have to go back to the old way.

THE ATTOURNEY

I suppose you have occasionally wondered why the bank never*pressed
charges for the unreturned portion of the hundred thousand dollars.
Well, we were saving that . . . for now,"

Blair sucked air.

"Consider yourself under arrest for the larceny of five thousand
dollars which was not returned to the U. S. Bank. If you wriggle out
of that, I'll sue for the interest on the entire hundred thousand while
it was in your hands. And I'll keep you rotting in the Chillicothe jail
until you holler for uncle Gideon."

Blair appeared not to hear. But he heard every word. He was not
sure he wanted Tim Flannerty to hear any more. He told Tim to
leave.

Schaacht said, "Armstrong, you want a lieutenant-colonel's leaf . . .
get Blair to the Chillicothe jail. Miss this time and you'll be the
highest-ranking permanent mess officer in the Army."

Armstrong turned to Mulvane. "Mulvane, you want your stripes
back?"

"Yes, sir/ 1 Mulvane paused, "But I don't know if I want them this
bad."

Armstrong didn't bat an eye. He said, "O'Fallon?"

OTallon moved toward Blair eagerly. Mulvane blocked him with
an arm. 'All right, damn it. It might as well be me."

Blair said, "Just a minute, gentlemen. You still need a warrant to
arrest a man."

Schaacht grinned and reached in his pocket. "Did you think we'd
overlook that?"

Blair licked his lips. He turned to Armstrong. "All right if I put
out the fire? I guess we'll be gone awhile."

Armstrong nodded. Blair stooped to the fire. There was a pile of
wood ashes six inches deep. Blair shovelled them up and walked to
the door to shovel them out.

Suddenly he whirled and hammered the shovel against the support
pole. Ashes as fine as powder filled the cabin and the eyes and nostrils
of the men in it. He instantly snatched up the fur sack.

Blair was gone.

450 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

most unsoldierly tour of duty ever inflicted upon any unit in the
West. Part of Gideon Schaacht's skill in life was to use the motives
of other men to activate his own plans. And he believed that not many
more hours could pass before Jonathan Blair would try to break
through to the cabin of the shepherdess. When he did, Armstrong's
men were there.

Armstrong waited.

"He's near here, you can be sure of that. He might even be within
hearing distance right now."

Mulvane said, "Major, on that order of yours to fire if he won't
halt, you meant fire close, didn't you?"

In an extra loud voice Armstrong said, "Fire close, belli Fire to hit,
Mulvanel Or you'll be groomin' bosses till the end of your hitch!"
He leaned close to Mulvane and lowered his voice, "Didn't you hear
me say he might be close enough to hear?"

Mulvane clapped his hand to his mouth. Armstrong was not angry.
He was strangely thoughtful. He kept his voice low. "But I'll tell you
one thing, Mulvane, How you fire is up to you. But if he slips through
your damn fingers, I'm not foolin' about the horse part. I'm not even
sure how I'd fire myself until it happens. I know one thing, though,
I'm not gonna grow over-age-in-grade because of this damn lawyer.
How 111 aim. depends on how he moves. My rifle is loaded with a
seven-finger charge."

The night was long in the circle of sentries around the Christ-
offerson cabin.

It was long for the woman inside the cabin, too. She sat before her
fire, upset and restless. Blair had come bursting in here earlier this
evening, out of breath. He had Young Chief under his arm, and he
had a kind of desperation in his eyes. He had said, "Hopel No ques-
tionsl I want you to marry me tonight, and come with me ... nowl"

"Now just a minute, Jonathan I ..."

"No 'just-a-minutes/ Hopel Nowl"

"Why? Why marry? And why right now?"

"The reasons don't sound so good. Just come/* he ordered.

But Hope Christoffierson had not survived in the big woods this
long by jumping whenever a man yelled.

"Jonathan, you didn't ask me if I wanted to marry you, which I'd
have liked if you had. But, even if I wanted, it wouldn't be decent to

THE ATTOURNEY 451

"Hope! What are you saving yourself forl What are you living for?
Sheep?"

"Merinos. There's a difference."

"Look, Hope ... all I know is I want you. Will you just once trust
me to ..."

But he had stopped and listened carefully at the door. He had then
quickly reached for the bundle of fur that was Young Chief, and
started out.

"Jonathan, if there's trouble, leave himl"

Blair had paused to look at the babe in a moment of hesitation.
"No. He stays with me." And he was gone.

Shortly after his departure, Hope Christofferson had become aware
of the noise outside. Opening the door she saw the silhouettes of the
soldiers and she heard Mulvane's voice, "He went this wayl"

They knew the open cabin-door was a question, and Mulvane
yelled, "The little black ram, ma'aml He got loosel"

Hope started toward the shed, but Mulvane yelled, "Never mind.
We got him, Miss Hope."

She saw the soldiers move toward the shed, and Boss came running
back into the cabin. She sat by the fire. That was over an hour ago.

Yet the night seemed alive somehow. Jonathan was running from
something all right. There was whisky on his breath, though. And
his talk was whisky sounding.

Boss paced the floor. Hope opened the door and stood there looking
out Nothing moved, and yet it was as though the woods teemed with
action and called to her.

On the following morning Hope Christofferson was surprised to see
that Armstrong had such a large number of men at work around the
sheep shed. And there were some spread out around the cabin finding
various things to do. "Like to keep the men busy, Miss Hope," the
major said. "If you don't mind."

The sun was two hours high when Hope started to hitch up the
cart to go in to Hosmer's Store. Armstrong was at her side with gal
lantry. "We'll hitch up, Miss Hope. Or better yet, I got a man going
in to the center. Can we fetch whatever you were going for?"

And on the same morning, up in the Indian town of Upper San-
dusky, Gideon Schaacht painted an inviting picture of revenge for the

452 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

chief of the Wyandots. He wouldn't have needed to make it so com*
plete. The chief was getting the idea very clearly, and his tongue wet
his dark lips, savoring it a little.

Schaacht said, "So we'll want you to testify, Silver Pigeon."

The Pigeon smiled, concentrated on carving a length of hickory,
said nothing.

"All we ask," Schaacht explained, "is that you say that Blair came
up to the Indian town and took the hundred thousand dollars. Tes
tify, that's all/'

Rontondee was standing there. He held out his hand to Schaacht,
Schaacht unpocketed a handful of Spanish milled dollars that glis
tened. Rontondee grabbed them. Pigeon reached slowly over to snatch
them. He tossed them like hickory shavings at Schaacht's feet. Ron
tondee started to stoop. Pigeon's glance straightened him up. Silver
Pigeon knew how to make a white man boil.

"All you have to do is testify, Pigeon!"

"No good to testify. The lawyer has learn to fight back/' Silver
Pigeon said. "A man like that, he should be , * , he should be an
Indian."

Schaacht stooped to pick up the silver and he motioned to the two
soldiers who accompanied him. They mounted and rode south.

Pigeon rose, and keeping his eyes on their receding backs, he mo
tioned with his knife hand to Rontondee. "Horses!"

And down in Mesopotamia, Gavagan was back. Matt Gavagan was
accustomed to being the center of things when he came back into town
after being out in the world. He brought back the few exciting things
that came into Mesopotamia. And he brought back news of conditions
downstate. But never had Matthew Gavagan brought back such a
cargo of intelligence as today,

To the group in front of the store he was repeating his experiences
in Washington, By his own telling of the story Matt Gavagan did not
come out unheroically. But having so well credited himself he was
generous with credit where else it was due.

". . . so this young Bolding, he stood right up there in front of
those law makers like a soldier, and he told 'em* He told 'em plenty/'

"The point is, Matt," Buttrick interrupted, "did the law go
through?"

One rule Gavagan enforced was to tell his own story at his own

THE ATTOURNEY

pace, "So when he sat down, there was clapping even. I was watching
from up in that catwalk they got, like the rifle ramp in the blockhouse.
And then they thanked Holding for what he had to say. And then the
head man there, up on the big throne chair there, he said he thought
they should support Mr. Schaacht in this big effort of his by voting
in favor of the Schaacht land law."

"The Schaacht land lawl"

"I'm comin' to that. This Holding, he marches right up there. I
changed my mind about him. He marched right up there in front of
everybody and he whispers in this man's ear awhile. There's nodding
and talking back and forth. And then the head one there, he said,
'Mr. Bolding tells me he is certain that Mr. Schaacht would want this
bill known as the Blair Land Law. That's that lawyer that started
that petition going through the territory, the one that blew in here
by the wagon load and turned this chamber into a blizzard of paper
that day/ Then there was laughing, and the man said, 'H.B. 713,
the Blair Land Law/ And then right away begins the 'ayes' and
'nays/ and it was a sight to see I'll tell ya/'

And when the settlers of Mesopotamia went out of Buttrick's store,
known as Hosmer's Store, they left taking big steps that day . . . until
Gavagan said, "Hey, where the hell is Blair, anyhow?"

On the second night Hope Chris toff erson stirred up the fire and
stared at it. In the same way that she often rose in the middle of the
night to look in the shed knowing that she would find a sick ram,
so she felt drawn to the outside tonight. There were good reasons
Blair should have been back by now. There was a sharp wind, and
she threw on a log which flared up.

Out in the woods the attorney saw the orange windows in the
Christofferson cabin glow brighter. It helped him silhouette the ring
of sentries which stood between him and the Christofferson place.
He knew, too, that if he ever got past the ring of sentries that same
cabin light would help the sentries silhouette him.

He had made a complete circle around the cabin, and found that
Armstrong had it completely ringed. Nor did the sentries stand still.
They used a modification of Armstrong's combing technique. Each
soldier walked casually clockwise in the circle until he met the next
man. After making contact on that leg he walked back counterclock-

JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

wise until he met his neighbor in that direction. It was a casual,
sauntering, constantly moving circle. Blair could occasionally hear the
brief interchanges as sentries met and parted.

"Anything?"

"Nothing."

"Might keep an eye on that draw there. Good cover for him if he
tried to get through."

"Yeah. Been watchin'."

"Poor bastard must be freezinV

"Yeah, and the kid, too."

Blair saw one of the soldiers break off and walk to the cabin. The
door opened. The soldier entered. Apparently they would watch from
the inside, too.

The bundle in the lawyer's arms began to vibrate. Blair recognized
the signals. It would wind up like that for a few moments. Then it
would cut loose in a screech. He hurried back into the woods, and
he clamped it to his chest to drown the noise. But the strident treble
seemed to the lawyer to pierce above the winds. He wondered if it did
or if it only seemed that way because it reverberated through his ribs.

But as suddenly as it began, the cry ceased, and the fur bundle was
limp in a kind of silent anger. Blair crept back as close as he dared
to the outside of the circle of sentries.

Inside the cabin the young soldier said, "The major thought I ought
to come sit with you, Miss Hope."

"Oh? Why?"

"Said I just ought to. Guess they heard noises outside. Maybe some
of those red ones are down stealin' again. Anyway he said I should be
with you. I'll be no trouble, Ma'am. Stay over here in the corner,"

Hope looked at his equipment. "The major has you all armed
tonight?"

"Yes, Ma'am. 'Case of Indians, like I said."

Hope thought about this. She opened the cabin door and looked
out. She could not see into the dark. But she could hear the susurrant
circle of sentries in constant motion under the wind. To the young
man, she said, "What's the commotion?"

"Just men walking, Mrs. Christofferson, Major put us on the alert
around the house." He added quickly, "Oh, and watching the sheep,
tool Especially."

THE ATTOURNEY

Hope closed the door and went back to the fire. More than sentries
were stirring out there.

Except for the wind blasting across the top of the chimney, the
room was silent. Hope had a sense of time going by, life in fact. Blair's
words came back to her, "What are you saving yourself for?" And
there was a yearning in Mrs. Christofferson. Nor was it a vague un
defined longing. Though it was mixed with a languishing sense of
wasting herself, it came mixed with a strong picture of the face of
Jonathan Blair. There was frost on his breath from the heat of it this
cold night, as she saw it. His lips were drawn back, breathing, hard
against exertion. The eyes held a kind of perpetual query about man
kind. The jaw lately had a certain "be damned to you then."

These things she saw, and more. She saw now in a different light
Armstrongs offer this morning to send to the store for her. She saw
differently the chasing of the black ram last night. Blackie had never
got loose before. If he did, he was the kind that others would have
followed. And Boss would have been barking.

On this particular night it seemed important to Mrs. Christofferson
to be ... well, to be.

She looked over at the soldier who sat in the corner watching her.
But as the flame flared up she noticed how you could hardly see the
corners of the room. Looking away from the fire into the gloom, the
soldier was not visible.

A sentry on the outside of the house would have the same problem.
If he looked away from the light into the darkness his horizon would
be pulled in to a few feet in front of his face.

It was at this moment that Hope Christofferson rose and took, from a
brass mug certain pedigree letters, having to do with sheep. She put
these in her pocket.

The soldier alerted.

Next Hope lighted a candle at the hearth.

The soldier rose, suspicious.

"I'll just be saying good night," she said to him as she went into
the other room with the candle.

It was Jim Hawkins who was on duty in the cupola of the block
house that night; and he was the first civilian in Mesopotamia to see
the red glow in the sky out over the east road,

He hammered upon a certain large bell which had come into

456 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Mesopotamia's possession a few months ago from Chillicothe. It was
only a few minutes until cabin windows lighted up. Hawkins heard
Denaro fire off his rifle. Then fainter, he heard Adams relay the shot
out the west road. And shortly he heard the faint answering explosion
of Fitchburg's rifle way up on the northern edge of the clearing.

It was thirty minutes before the men of Mesopotamia were moving
toward the red glow over the trees to the east, carrying shovels and
rifles, not knowing which they'd need.

The young soldier was alarmed for Mrs. Christofferson. "You better
get any valuables out, Mrs. Christoffersonl"

But Mrs. Christofferson stood in the doorway looking out beyond
the ring of sentries, trying to pierce the ring of black. She held onto
the door frame to brace against the wind which riffled her short hair
and swirled on inside to fan the fire which was eating along the bot
tom of the cabin. Preoccupied with her staring she called over her
shoulder, "Get the rifle and the cook pans out, and the linen." But
she did not sound as though it were of first concern.

Armstrong's voice could be heard over the wind. "Get back to your
posts! Nobody relieved you! I sent four men to the fire. Don't another
man leave off from this circle! This is the time to keep your eyes open!"

But as they looked away from the fire the blackness was blacker yet.

Armstrong's voice came and went on the wind. "Just the kind o
thing he would ... be alert . . . remember the bell trick . . and
same thing . . . hell be moving in somewhere along the circle right
now . . . and when the confusion starts don't you move an ...
unless . . . and any man that . . . groom the hosses the rest of your

lifel"

Of the townsmen, Isaac Steese the tanner, was first to reach the
burning cabin. He had with him a pair of wet hides for smothering
flame. He arrived out of breath. But Hope said to him quietly, "Never
mind the cabin. As the men come, have two or three go stand around
each soldier. Blair's trying to get through, I think/'

"Shouldn't we check the fire?"

"No."

The well seasoned cabins of old settlers burned fastest. And Hope
was early in this country. As the flames ate the cabin down, the sen
tries were surprised at a strange phenomenon which began to take
place. Mulvane noticed that Adams and Fitchburg and Denaro stood
around him, with calm faces. "Put out the fire you damn fools! What

THE ATTOURNEY 457

you standin' here lookin' at me for! The Old Man won't let me
move. But you could at least . . ."

Adams folded his arms on his chest. "No law against us just standin'
here with ya, is there, Mulvane?"

"Can't you see the cabin is ..."

"Yeah. We see."

And suddenly Mulvane saw a lot, too. As he looked around the
circle he saw that each sentry was receiving the attention of two or
three Mesopotamians, who just stood and talked with the sentries.

The cabin burned down.

Towards it walked a man who came in out of the woods through
the circle of sentries who were now engaged in conversation with the
men of Mesopotamia. He carried a fur bundle. The howling wind
occasionally lowered enough to defer to several verses of the most
poetic and tuneful profanity ever to grace the lips of a Western field-
grade officer. The major's sentries stood surrounded while the lawyer
walked unmolested toward the blazing cabin.

In a panic Armstrong felt the major's leaves growing permanently
into his shoulders. He swung his rifle up and yelled, "Halt!"

Blair looked back, but he continued walking. "Halt! Dammit, halt!"

Armstrong leaned his cheek to the stock of his piece. But the tendons
In the back of his knees were stung by the knife edge of Adam's hand.
The rifle exploded into the sky. Armstrong lay flat on his back.

The town did not wish to go back to sleep. Amos Exeter opened
up the tavern for their accommodation at this late hour. Young Chief
slept in his fur, oblivious and exhausted, and at last . . . unhungry.

Faith Hawkins was assuring Hope Christofferson that there was
plenty of room for her at the Hawkins house until her cabin could
be rebuilt. Hope was listening but not closely. For in the jumble of
tavern noise another voice was saying, "Hope, Young Chief and I
take hardly any room. I was hoping to offer you my house."

As these things are sensed, the room quieted down and men looked
over from their mugs. "Starting tonight," added Blair.

There was no answer from Hope. Blair stumbled on. "You asked for
reasons before. I can give reasons enough, if you'd want to hear them.
And the cabin's ready right now."

Tim Flannerty said, "111 build a new fire in the hearth." But he
waited to see if it would be needed.

458 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

Faith Hawkins rose from the tavern bench and drew herself up,
"What about the girl's privacy?"

Blair said, "I guess you didn't take me right. I don't mean for her
to have privacy. I've already asked Jim Dolk. He's ready and waiting;
and he's studied the marriage out of his justice-of-the-peace book."

Hope colored and rose and the women of Mesopotamia saw at that
time a Hope Christofferson which the men had always seen.

"I said it seemed too soon, Jonathan, for Brute/'

Tim Flannerty said, "But it's late for Mr. Blair, Miss Hope. Already
grey hair by his ears."

Gavagan barged in where most anyone feared to tread. "Jonathan,
that young Bolding and me were talking. You trained him up pretty
good. We were talking about the part of the money that didn't get
turned back and how that Schaacht might nail you for it and have
Hope tell how much Brute got. But he says, 'there's one way out.
A woman can't testify against her kin.' "

"But that isn't the reason, Hope," Blair said.

The room was silent for painful seconds.

Hope Christofferson looked over at Young Chief's fur sack.

" 'Course, I did start the family in a way, Jonathan," she said.
"And I'm one likes to finish a job that's begun,"

The lawyer moved slowly so as not to worry her, but he moved
steadily to show he meant to hold her to it. His hand around her
waist pulled her to him, and her head bent back.

They held it right there, and right then, Mesopotamia leaned for
ward on the benches straining, trying to help Jim Dolk over the un
familiar words. But even without all that help it sounded good be
cause Tony Denaro's soft violin gave Dolk's steady voice a kind of
official tone nobody had noticed before. And the presence of a squad
of disarmed and truculent United States troops added dignity to the
proceeding.

Denaro's fiddle stopped abruptly on a slightly discordant note as
the ceremony was interrupted by the opening of the tavern door.
Chief Silver Pigeon stepped over the threshold, flanked by Squindatee
and Mudeater. His face was severe. But he looked over the activity,
and sat down on the end of one of the benches with curiosity and
dignity, Mudeater and Squindatee squatted on the floor. Denaro
resumed his fiddle guardedly.

THE ATTOURNEY 459

James Dolk, justice of the peace, came to the place where he said,
"And if there be a person who knows good reason why these two
should not be joined, let him speak now or forever ..."

"I speak!"

Mesopotamia turned to face the standing figure of Chief Silver
Pigeon.

Dolk was nonplussed. But his face asked the question. The Pigeon
said, "For a man to have a woman he should be man enough to keep
life in the young. That is a man's job. What right is it for ... "

But the chief was interrupted by a muffled protest from the beaver
sack. Pigeon's eye was attracted to the hearth where he saw the sack
rock and shake from the angry tempest inside. The Silver Pigeon's
great dark face lighted up in a grin.

"I will sit down. It is good."

On the morning of the fourth day, Saul Brooks seemed unaware of
the recent concerns of the men of Mesopotamia. He looked at the
town narrowly as a doctor looks, which is as it should be.

"Blair, you've got to get Hussong to dry up that hog wallow. Our
fever will drop off the day that wallow dries up. It drains down
southerly. And there are springs below it that are feeding an eighth
of these cabins."

But Blair looked at the town narrowly, as a lawyer looks. He said,
"Brooks, you've given us our twenty days. Why don't you get on back
to your Chillicothe?"

"Don't worry. The sooner the better."

"When then?"

"I'll be riding out of here the minute I get the remedy for Mrs.
Hosmer's shakes."

"Huh . . . she's had that ten years off and on already. Could be
ten years more yet."

Like any doctor hearing a layman's diagnosis, Brooks made no reply.

A couple hundred trail miles to the south at the town of Chilli
cothe in the office of the U.S. Bank, Gideon Schaacht surveyed the
young man named Bolding who stood opposite him. Schaacht planked
his boots on the table and he said, "When you get him down here,
have them double the guard on the jail house."
"But I'm not going to bring him back, sir."
"You said you were going to Mesopotamia to see him."

4 6o JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

"Yes, sir. But I'm still going up to get his signature on my law certifi
cate, sir/'

Schaacht's feet came off the table, "What!"

The young man flinched a little, but he stood his ground silently.

"Why?" Schaacht demanded. "Why his signature?"

"Well ... uh ... just happen to think someday that'll be a good
name to have signed to a man's law certificate."

"'Hah! Whatever you want, then. Just be sure you get him down
here, and locked up tight/'

"No, sir. I'm not bringing him back, sir."

Schaacht was so tall that when he got up out of this chair as he
did now, it seemed he would never stop going up. He leaned across the
table and opened his mouth as if to yell, but the words came out
just above a whisper in painful restraint. "Would you repeat that
please, Mr. Bolding?"

"Uh . . . yes, sir. I'm not bringing Blair back. I have decided that
it is impossible to prove charges of theft or anything else against him
concerning the fraction of the hundred thousand dollars which was
not returned/'

"You w-h-a-tl"

"Not at least, sir, without risking counter charges against my own

family/'
Schaacht's whisper dropped to a dangerous inaudibility- "Your

what?"

"That is my future family, I hope, sir. You see she actually carried
the money over the threshold into the custody of the State of Ohio.
She is very much a party to it/'

"She?"

Bolding moved away from the table closer to the door. "Your
daughter, sir."

Schaacht stood there bracing himself on the table and swaying back
and forth in such a pantherlike silence that Bolding put one foot
outside the doorway before closing the interview with, "You see what
I mean, sir? A law student could be proud to take his preceptorship
under a man like that. Tact I guess you took a couple lessons your
self/'

Michael Stikes did not sit on Blair's bunk now that this was a mar
ried man's house. He stood. He wiped his hands on his apron and

THE ATTOURNEY 461

then reached into an inside pocket. He pulled out the bounty land
warrant he'd got for serving under Harrison in the late English war,

"Jonathan, I hate to bother you with this any more/'

"What is it, Mike?"

"Now that you got them red devils moved up on the reserve, I
figure it's all right to take claim under this warrant. I got a piece in
mind up there I'd like to stake out. Figured I'd sell it and get some
money to buy some plate iron over at Yellow Creek furnace."

"Why?" Blair asked.

"Lot of the men are screamin' for new plow blades for spring.
New scythes, new axes, wagon bolts, new grub hoes. Never saw so
much activity. Gonna be a lot of new sod turned up here next spring.
Lot o it. Gonna be more plantin' and buildin' and diggin' start here
than you ever saw . . . now that a man knows who owns the ground.
And it all takes iron."

"Good, Mike." Blair lighted a conestoga cigar. "That's mighty good.
Yes. Ill process your warrant."

"Point is, Jonathan, I don't like to trouble you with it. But I want it
processed good. Don't want any of those five-dollar lawyers."

Blair grinned.

"Now I know your fee would be a dang sight more'n I could raise,
Jonathan. But I figured I got somethin' here that might even it up
fairly close."

S tikes handed over a piece of wrought iron work. It was lettering,
and it was also a kind of degree. One of the words was misspelled. But
the letters were beautifully wrought. Blair looked at it in several
different lights. "You mean I should put it up on the trail in front
of the cabin, Mike?"

"That was the idea of it, Jonathan. Figure you'll be needing it
now."

"But nobody much would see it. That road only goes south to
Boxford's Cabin and north to Upper Sandusky, Mike."

"That's one way to look at it."

"How else?"

"Well, in a way of windin' around, it goes between Cincinnati and
Detroit, So y'might say we're sittin' smack in the middle of the
Republic."

Blair reached out a hand to the lanky blacksmith. "Mike, one thing
about you, you see clear."

462 JONATHAN BLAJR: Bounty Lands Lazvyer

Blair took the sign outdoors, but the blacksmith snatched it out of
his hands. "I'll mount it. You wouldn't likely get it straight."

Which is how it happened that travelers between Boxford's Cabin
and Upper Sandusky ... or between Cincinnati and Detroit, how
ever you look at those things . . . became accustomed to seeing a fine
wrought-iron sign in front of one of the cabins. It read:

"J. BLAIR Attourney at Law*'

ADDENDA

Territorial Historical Society Quarterly Vol. 65, Number II

ITEM:

The Territorial Historical Society has ordered atid received for sale
sixty dozen Jonathan Blair commemorative dinner plates from the
Kettlecreek Kilns. The design and conventional border on the plates
are in maroon on a white background. Etchings of the Blair High
School, Blair Legion Post #25, the old Blair cabin and the Pittsburgh
Iron Works are worked into the border design. On the backs appear
the following interesting biography of Jonathan Blair:

Practice began in circuit court 1803

Sub-agent Indian Affairs 1817-22

State legislature 1817-22

President, Second Mesopotamia Hog & Trust Bank 1822-26

Circuit Judge i827-(uncertain)

Proceeds from the sale of the plates were planned at the last meeting
of the society to be used for new books for the Blair Memorial Law
Library at the university. However, Mr. John Youngchief Blair II
proposed to the contrary that the funds be used to establish a law
scholarship for the benefit of young men among the 730 Wyandots
now living on the reserve in Oklahoma, the grant to be known as the
Silver Pigeon Law Scholarship.

It was decided that this would be voted upon at the next regular
meeting.

Meanwhile, Mr. Fred Buttrick announced that he has on display at
the loan desk of the Second Mesopotamia Hog & Trust two pieces of
the currency made from the petticoat of Angelina Steese. He said he
would like to obtain a few more pieces and will pay better than col
lector prices for any in good condition.

SAULINA S. BROOKS
Editor, The Society Quarterly
and Secretary of the Society
November, 1954

463

464 JONATHAN BLAIR: Bounty Lands Lawyer

NOTE: The professional or occasional historian may quickly recognize in this
story the manipulations of an attorney named Charles Hammond and the cir
cumstances surrounding the court case known as Osborne vs. U.S. and he may
wonder why the writer has given the case another name. But upon reflection,
he will be the first to admit that unless there is space for the whole Hammond
story, the truth is too brash for fiction. For those who wish to read it in the bold,
faded handwriting of the original cast, their correspondence is listed below. And
if the reader has becc^me interested in following the American silver certificate
beyond Mesopotamia, he will find it in the following works which, though not
intending to comprise a comprehensive bibliography, make an interesting begin
ning place:

The Hammond Papers at the Ohio Archaeological and Historical Society,
Columbus, Ohio. Letters: Hammond-Wright, Hammond-Brown, Hammond-Henry
Clay, Hammond-Worthington.

C. C- Huntington, Banking and Currency; R. Carlyle Buley, The Old North
west; R. C. H. Catterall, Second Bank of U.S.; Earnest L. Bogart, Taxation of
Second Bank of U.S. by Ohio; Gouge, Paper Money and Banking; Gouge, History
of Banking; Frederic L. Paxson, Frontier Finance; H. M. Utley, Wild Cat Banking,
Michigan; Liberty Hall, Jan. so, 1817, Defense of the Cranville Bankers; Gallatin,
Considerations on the Currency; John Bach McMaster, Vol. IV, History of U*S.;
Ohio House and Senate Journals, 1816-1822; Annals i6th Congress, and Session, Vol.
II, VII; Memoirs of Gorham A. Worth; Wheaton, Vol. 9, sec Osborne vs. U.S.;
Jacob Burnet, Notes of Settlement of Northwest Territory; Harvard Law Review,
I (1887), XXXI, (1917-18); Laws and Treaties,. Vol. II; Niles f Vol. XVII; A. J.
Baughman, History of Wyandot County; Harmon, Sixty Years of Indian Affairs;
Swanton, Indian Tribes of North America; P. J. Treat, The National Land System;
Carl Wittke, History of Ohio, especially Vol. H; William T. Utter, The Frontier
State; F. P. Weisenburger, A Life of Charles Hammond; Laws of Ohio, Vol. XIX;
Laws of Illinois, Michigan, Indiana t Pennsylvania (1817-1,828).

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: For editorial and critical assistance with the entire manu
script and over the whole distance day by day: my wife, Dorothy Ann Ellis, and
my partner, Frank Siedel. For a detailed written critique of the first third of the
manuscript: Leo Trefzger with whom I work. For specific ideas and facts em
bodied in this work: Lee Templeton, Janet Hofstetter and Fred Lipp, with whom
I'm proud to work. For research assistance: Mrs. Arline Colgrove, Cleveland
Public Library and others in the history department headed by Miss Bonna Root.
Also members of the staffs of the Ohioana Library Association and the Ohio
Archaeological and Historical Society. For carefully reading three-quarters of the
manuscript with attention to the legal aspects: Richard Weygandt.

WM. 0, E.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

WILLIAM DONOHUE ELLIS grew up in Concord, Massachusetts,
seat of the Rebellion, where history came from the lips of old-timers
sitting on the sunny side of the Minute Man statue at Old North
Bridge and from the records in the old homes of Emerson, Thoreau,
Alcott, and Hawthorne,

With industry if not skill he polished off his first novel at age twelve;
has been writing ever since. Upon graduation from college he was
drafted and commanded a rifle company of the 77th Division in the
invasions of the Marianas and Philippine Islands. Wounded by
rnachine-gun fire at the battle for Ormoc Corridor on Leyte, he was
evacuated for a series of surgery to hospitals, where he resumed writ
ing.

After five years of service Ellis went to Cleveland to join Beaumont
& Hohman, an advertising agency, and to free-lance. One year later
he began writing documentary radio and TV programs, industrial
reporting and industrial motion picture manuscripts.

In that same endeavor today, Mr. Ellis is president of Editorial
Services, Inc., of Cleveland.

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