Laurence Hope - "Last Poems"

Frank Gee Patchin - "The Pony Rider Boys in Montana"

Richard Bradley - "The Country Housewife and Lady's Director"

Thomas D'Arcy McGee - "A Popular History of Ireland"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: Happy Hawkins

R >> Robert Alexander Wason >> Happy Hawkins




It was a fierce stab, an' Barbie went white as a sheet; but she
faced him cool an' steady. "I ain't never heard from him since the
day he left; but I trust him just the same. The hand will be his
when he chooses to claim it; or if he never comes back at all--why
the hand will still be his."

Cast Steel got on his hind legs an' struck the table till every dish
on it jumped, an' I rose a bit myself; but Barbie only curled her
little red lip. "Curse him," sez the ol' man, "curse him, wherever
he is an' wherever he goes. He has ruined my life an' he has ruined
yours; an' if he ever steps foot on this ranch again, I'll--"

"Stop!" sez Barbie, springin' to her feet. "You give me more sadness
every day I live than Dick has altogether; but for pity's sake don't
bind yourself by a threat. Wait till he comes back, an' be free to
meet him like a man, not like a thug pledged to murder."

"What do you know about him?" sez the ol' man, sittin' down. "For
all you know, he may be robbin' trains for a livin'. It would be
right in his line."

"For all I know, robbin' trains was where you got your start," sez
Barbie; an' the of man's face turned gray an' his eyes stuck out
like picture nails. He wasn't used to gettin' it quite so
unpolluted, an' it gave him a nasty jar.

"How do you know 'at he ain't livin' with the woman he kept over at
Laramie?" sez Jabez, tryin' to get the whip hand again. "How do you
know he ain't married?"

"An' how do I know 'at you ever was married--" she stopped short,
bitin' her lip an' turnin' red with shame. "I know it's well nigh
hopeless to plead with a natural bully," she sez in a new tone; "but
I do wish 'at you'd let me alone. You're destroyin' my respect for
everything. I can't stand this much longer. If I can't live here in
peace I'll have to hunt a new place to live; but as long as I do
stay here you will have to act like a man--even if you can't act
like a father. I think that in the future I shall take my meals
alone."

"I do want to act like a father, little girl. That's what I want
most of all. If you would only go back to the old times, if you
would only get this sneak out of your head"--Jabez had started in
gentle an' repentent, but the minute he thought of Dick again he
flared out white with rage--"an' you might just as well get him out
of your head, 'cause he's the same as dead to you. I hate him! I
hate every sneak; an' I hate every lie--spoken or lived, I hate a
lie!"

The ol' man leaned forward, shaking with anger, an' Barbie got up
like a queen an' walked out o' the room as though she was steppin'
on the necks of the airy-stockracy. She went to the office, an'
after a couple o' minutes I follered her, expectin' to cheer her up
a bit; but she wasn't mournin' none; she was workin' like a steam
engine, with her face cold an' white except for a little patch o'
red in each cheek; an' when she raised her eyes to mine I knew 'at
the ol' man had gone a link too far.

After me and Barbie had taken up Dick's work we had divided his
wages, an' she had a nice little roll of her own corded away. I
didn't ask no questions, but it was plain as day that she had jerked
up her tie-rope; an' the next time Cast Steel used the spurs he was
goin' to be dumped off an' she was goin' to flit the trail for
Never-again. I didn't blame her a mite; an' though I didn't pester
her with queries nor smother her with advice nor sicken her with
consolation nor madden her with pity, I did give her the man-to-man
look, an' she knew 'at all she had to do was to issue orders.

It was that very afternoon that she started to correctin' my talk
an' stimulatin' my ambition, an' tellin' me about it never bein' too
late to mend; an' while I couldn't quite decide just what she was
drivin' at I saw that when she found she couldn't trust her cinches
any longer we was both goin' to jump together. About five o'clock
she put her hand on my shoulder an' sez: "We've been mighty good
pals, Happy Hawkins; an' while you ain't parlor-broke nor city-wise,
any time 'at anybody counts on you they don't have to count over."

She walked softly out o' the office, an' I sat until it was long
after dark. I couldn't believe 'at she was desperate enough to marry
me; I could see the gulf between us plain enough, an' the higher you
are the plainer you can see the difference; but I could see that
unless Jabez changed his ways, why, the oldest man the' was couldn't
tell how far Barbie would go. I didn't think a bit of myself, I can
say that much; all I looked at was what would make her the happiest,
an' she was welcome to take my life any way she wanted. If she chose
to drag it out for fifty years, or if she selected that I cash it in
the next hour, my only regret would be that I hadn't but one life to
give her.




CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE WAYS OF WOMANKIND


Things went along purty much the same after that; but I could see
'at the ol' man sensed a new tone in things, an' he begun to look
agey. He was still gallin' on Barbie, but I couldn't help but feel
mighty sorry for him. He had paid all them years 'at she was away at
school, out o' the joy of his own heart, lookin' for his pay in the
time when she'd come back an' be his chum again, an' here they was
with a wall of ice between 'em an' nairy a lovin' glance to melt it
down.

The' come a warm spell toward the last o' the month; an' one evenin'
just as we was finishin' supper we heard a cry o' distress in a
man's voice--an' the cry sounded like "Barbie!" I reckon all our
hearts stood still, an' I reckon we all thought exactly the same
thing. In about a minute the cry came again, an' the ol' man jumped
to his feet an' pulled his gun. "If that's Silver Dick," sez he,
"I'll kill him."

Barbie had also sprung up, an' she looked him square in the eyes.
"If you harm a hair of his head I'll--I'll do some shootin' myself."

She pulled a little gun out of her bosom, an' we all stood quiet for
a moment. It was easy to see 'at she wasn't bluffin': but I'm purty
sure that Jabez an' I had different idees as to what she meant.
Jabez thought she meant him self; but he hadn't got the name o' Cast
Steel for nothin', an' a sort of a grim smile crept onto his face.
We stood still for a moment, an' then we went out together, an'
before long we heard the sound again--a long, waverin', ghostly call
in the gatherin' twilight.

We hurried along, an' purty soon we saw a man lyin' across the
trail. The ol' man held his gun in his hand, an' so did Barbie,
while I walked a step behind doin' a heap o' thinkin'. If the ol'
man killed Dick, Barbie would shoot herself; if any one stopped the
ol' man that one would take on weight exceedin' fast, unless he
crippled the of man first. I finally made up my mind that I would
try to overpower the ol' man without hurtin' him, an' ol' Cast Steel
was built like a grizzly. I didn't enjoy that walk as much as some
I've took. When we got close to the figger lyin' in the trail we all
walked a little crouchy. It looked quite a little like Dick; but
when we saw it wasn't nothin' but that fool Hawthorn with a busted
leg, we three looked like the reception committee of the Foolish
Society.

I hustled back an' got Hanson an' a couple o' the boys and an ol'
door, an' we fetched him home an' put him to bed an' sent for the
doctor--an' that was the worst luck that ever happened to ol' Dick.
You know how a woman is with anything hurt or sick; they're the same
the world over. A right strickly wise married man would have
everything broke except his pocket-book, an' then he'd be sure o'
lots of pettin'. They allus want to spoil a feller when he's on the
flat of his back. When he's walkin' around on his own feet all he
needs to do is to express a desire, an' they vetoe it on general
principles, an' after they've talked themselves dry they send out
an' get the preacher to finish the job; but when that same vile
speciment of masculine humanity gets some of his runnin' gear
damaged, why they bed him on rose leaves, feed him on honey, an',
good or bad, they give him whatever he wants. This particular feller
wanted Barbie, an' Barbie was mighty gentle with him.

Sometimes it seems to me that the only men who can understand a
woman are the men who work a lot with the dumb creatures. Take an
animal now, wild or tame, an' it hates to confess a weakness; it'll
just go on head up an' eyes flashin' till it drops in its tracks--so
will a woman. Take the fiercest female animal the' is, an' it's all
mother on the inside. Why, they're everlastin'ly adoptin' somethin'
'at don't rightly belong to 'em. Sometimes they go to work an' adopt
a little straggler that in a regular way is their daily food; an' it
ain't no step-mother affair neither, it 's the real thing.

The wild animals are the best to study, 'cause the tame ones have
been some spoiled by associatin' with man. Well, the wild animals
spend all their spare time dressin' up an' cleanin' their clothes,
an' when it ain't absolutely necessary they hate to get a toe wet;
but when it comes to love or duty, why fire, water, nor the fear o'
man ain't goin' to stop 'em; so again I sez 'at the man what can
savvy the wild animals can get purty nigh within hailin' distance of
woman, an' that's gettin' close; but you want to remember this, no
animal never tells the truth to an outsider. The principle part o'
their life is spent in throwin' folks off their trail, an' they
allus make their lairs in the most secret places. If a feller ever
gets to know 'em even a little he has to be mighty patient an'
mighty careful, an' above all things, he mustn't never get the idee
that he knows every last thing about 'em the' is to know, 'cause no
man never knows that. Some men try to estimate a woman by their own
earthy way o' doin' things. 'T would be just as reasonable for a man
who was purty wise to the ways of a pug-dog to get inflated with the
idee that he had a natural talent for hivin' grizzly bears.

But to get back to my tale: this Englishman had fallen on his feet
all right, even if the connection to one of 'em was busted up a bit.
I was around 'em a good bit, bein' forced to consult with Barbie
about things, an' I was able to piece out the method he was usin'.
He wasn't such a fool as he looked, by consid'able many rods. He
talked a heap about the sacrifice he had made for the girl back in
England, an' how much he had loved her an' how much Barbie had
comforted him, although even yet he could not forget her. Once
Barbie asked him what her name was. For a moment he didn't answer,
an' then he sez in a low voice, Alice LeMoyne. I lifted my face
quick an' gave him a look, but he wasn't noticin' me. I didn't say
anything; but I couldn't help wonderin' if this Alice LeMoyne had
anything to do with the dancer what had married into the Clarenden
family, an' then died. It was an odd name, but still I didn't reckon
the' was a patent on it.

Finally I could tell by their talk that Barbie had told him about
Dick, an' then I knew the jig was about up. He allus spoke o' Dick
in a gentle, soothin' way, makin' every excuse for him; an' this
made her think him a noble-minded feller! an' the most natural
outcome was for 'm to just bunch their woes an' cling together for
comfort. She allus used to sit by his side in the twilight, singin'
sorrowful love songs to him, an' once I caught him holdin' her hand.
You see she was just naturally hungry for somethin' to pet an' care
for; luck offered a spavined Englishman, an' she was tryin' to make
the best of it.

Jabez savvied this to the queen's taste, an' he got gentle an'
lovin' to Barbie, an' did all he could to square himself; so that
poor old Dick wasn't much more'n a memory, which is one o' the
complications absence is apt to cause after it gets tired o' makin'
the heart grow fonder.

But hang it, I didn't like this Englishman more than the law
required. The' didn't seem to be much harm to him; but he had washy
eyes, an' he was too blame oily an' gentle. I never heard him swear
all through it, an' it ain't natural for a real man to stand on his
back for eight weeks without havin' a little molten lava slop over
into his conversation. It was all I could do to keep from stickin' a
pin into him.

"Barbie," I sez one day, as innocent as an Injun, "I over-heard our
honored guest tell you that a girl by the name of Alice LeMoyne put
a crack in his heart over the water."

"Yes," sez she, with a sigh.

"It don't seem to be a popular name," sez I. "I've met lots o' women
who wasn't called Alice LeMoyne."

"It is probably French," sez she.

"It does sound like a circus, that's a fact," sez I. "Well, you
break it to him gently that Alice LeMoyne is dead. Don't ask me any
questions, but do be careful not to shock him, he seems purty high
strung."

You might as well use sarcasm on a steer as on a woman; Barbie went
up to Hawthorn with her eyes full o' pity, while I waited below an'
made up pictures o' the crockadile tears he'd pump up for her. All
of a sudden she gave a shriek. I hit the stairs, goin' forty miles
an hour, an' there was Barbie with her hands clasped, lookin' down
at the Englishman.

Well, he was enough to make a snake shriek. He was layin' there with
his head jerked back, his eyes wide open an' pointin' inwards, an'
lookin' altogether like the ancient corpse of a strangled cat. His
hands was doubled up tight, an' the' was a little froth on his lips.
I'd never seen nothing like that before, so I threw some water in
his face. That's about all the rule I know for any one who is
missin' cogs, an' I poured enough water on him to please a duck. He
didn't respond for some several minutes, an' when he did come out of
it he looked loose all over. I helped Barbie get some dry stuff
under him, an' then I went down, wonderin' what kind o' dynamite for
him they'd been in that name I'd sent up.

I tried to convince Barbie that his wires were all mixed up an' he
wasn't healthy; but she argued that it showed a loyal nature to be
so affected by mention of his old sweet-heart, an' tried to pump me
for where I had picked up the name. It looked too much like a chance
shot to me; as this guy had only been among us a few years, an' I
gathered from Bill Hammersly that the Alice LeMoyne I was springin'
had journeyed on, some several years earlier.

But the Englishman continued to repose on his bed o' down, Barbie
read to him, cooked little tid-bits for him, an' he opened up his
nature an' gave a new shine to his eyes; while Jabez--well, Jabez
was buoyant as a balloon, an' sent here an' there for nick-hacks an'
jim-cracks an' such like luxuries. He got to callin' Hawthorn
"Clarence" an' "my boy," an' kindry epithets, till even a casual
stranger would 'a' knowed the' was a roarin' in the ol' man's head
like a chime o' weddin' bells.

Hawthorn was able to crutch around a bit by the first o' May; it was
an early season, an' the' was a great harvest o' calves at the
round-up. I was in work up to my eyes, an' sort o' lost track of the
doin's except when Barbie would have the buckboard hooked up an'
come out to the brandin' ground. The weather was glorious, an' you
couldn't have blamed an Injun idol for fallin' in love, so I lost
heart an' was two-thirds mad nine-tenths o' the time.

Jabez had had a hard siege of it an' it showed. His face was lined,
his hair was white at the temples, an' the' was a wistful look in
his eyes which was mighty touchy. Barbie was more chummy with him
too, an' they was edgin' back to ol' times; but I was darn glad to
see Hawthorn finally admit that he was sufficiently recovered to
drive over an' see what had become of his own lay-out.

The very first meal that we et alone, however, showed that the old
sore wasn't plumb healed over yet. Jabez couldn't wait any longer,
so he called for a show-down as soon as our food began to catch up
with our appetite. "Has Clarence popped the question yet, honey?"
sez he.

"About twice a day on the average," sez Barbie, chillin' up a
trifle; "but I don't think he stands much chance. I like him an' he
is kind an' good; but I don't reckon I could ever marry him."

The ol' man didn't flare up, same as he would have once. He just sat
still, lookin' at his plate, an' that was the hardest blow he had
ever struck her. She asked me twice that afternoon if I thought he
was failin'.

Next day at dinner Jabez finished his rations, an' then leaned back
an' looked lovin'ly at Barbie for a minute. "Little girl," he sez,
"I know 'at you don't like to hurt me intentional; but you have give
me a mighty sight of heartaches in my time. I have allus aimed to do
what seemed best for you, an' it has generally been a hard job. I
haven't complained much; but I'm gettin' old, child, I'm gettin'
old. It's not for myself, Barbie, it's all for you, for you an' for-
-for the mother you never knew; but who made me promise to watch
over an' protect ya. I can't speak of her, Barbie; but when I meet
her out yonder I want to be able to tell her that as far as I was
able I've done my part.

"This Dick has been gone a year, an' never a word to ya to let you
know even whether he's alive or not. This ain't love, honey; he was
only after my money. Now Clarence is honest an' open; why can't you
take up with him, so 'at if I'd be called sudden I could go in
peace. It would mean a lot to me to see you in good hands, honey.
I'm afraid 'at Dick'll wait until I'm gone, an' then come snoopin'
around, like a coyote sneakin' into camp when the hunters are away.
Don't answer me now, child; just think it over careful. I've
generally let you have your own way, but I do wish you'd give in to
me this time."

Was Jabez failin'--was he? Well, not so you could notice it! Course
he wasn't quite so physically able as once; but I never saw him put
up a toppier mental exhibition than he did right then. Barbie didn't
have a word to say that afternoon until about five o'clock. Then she
suddenly looked up from some reports we was goin' over, an' sez,
"Happy, if you had gone away from me like Dick did, what would be
the only thing what would have kept you from comin' back to me?"

"By God, nothin' but death!" sez I, without stoppin' to think.

The color rushed to her cheeks as if I had slapped her; an' then it
oozed away, leavin' her white as chalk, while I bit my lip an'
pinched myself somethin' hearty. I had wanted to compliment her I
suppose, if I'd had any motive at all; but what I had done, when you
come to look it square in the teeth, was to ask her to cut an ace
out of a deck with nothin' left higher than a six spot. I ain't what
you would call inventionative; but I could 'a' done a blame sight
better'n that if I'd taken the time to think, instead o' simply
blurtin' out the truth like some fool amateur.

"Well," sez she, finally, "Dick was twice the man you are, so he
must be--dead."

We didn't say anything for some time. Vanity ain't like a mill-store
about my neck; but at the same time, whenever any one plugs me in
the face with an aged cabbage, I allus like to make a some little
acknowledgment. Of course I knew that she was handin' me one for my
fool break; but she did it in cold blood, an' if it hadn't been for
her bein' so stewed up in trouble, I'd have made her furnish some
specifications to back up that remark. Twice is a good many, but I
let it go.

She sat lost in study for a while, an' then said, mostly to herself,
"I reckon I might as well take him"--my heart popped up in my mouth
till I liked to have gagged, but she went on--"he's honest an' kind,
an' he's been true a long time to his first love. I hope he'll stay
true to her after we're married; I know I'll stay true to mine"--
then I knew she meant that fool Englishman. "Anyway, father has been
good to me," she continued, "an' I don't set enough store by my own
life to risk spoilin' his."

"I suppose that mis-shapen stray from the other side is twice the
man I am, too," sez I. She put her hand on mine an' sez in a tired
voice, "Ah, Happy, you've been my staff so far through the valley,
don't you slip out from under me too"; so I swallered hard a couple
o' times an' let it go.

She sat still a long while, lookin' out the window an' up to the of
gray mountains; and as I watched her with her lips tremblin, an' her
eyes misty, with courage winnin' a battle over pain, I saw the woman
lines of her face steal forth an' bury the last traces o' girlhood.
After a time she sez softly, "Poor ol' Dick, I wonder how it
happened"; but never one tear got by her eyelids--never one single
tear.

From that on it was plain sailin'. Barbie didn't put up any more
fight to either of 'em. She told 'em open an' fair that she would
never in the world have consented if she had thought that Dick was
still alive; but if they was willin' to take what part of her heart
was left why they was welcome to it. Jabez was pleased at any kind
of a compromise 'at would give him his own way, an' Clarence, poor
dear, wasn't a proud lot. The flesh-pots of Egypt was about all the
arguments needed to win his vote, confound him. I used to give him
some sneerin' glances what would 'a' put fight into the heart of a
ring-dove; but he was resigned an' submissive; so 'at I had to
swaller my tongue when I saw him comin', for fear I might tell him
my opinion of him an' then stamp his life out for not bein'
insulted.

The first of November was selected for the weddin' day; an' Jabez
told 'em 'at his present would be a trip to Europe an' a half
interest in the ranch. Clarence sort o' perked up his face when
Jabez told him about it; an' I thought he was goin' to suggest that
they cut out the trip to Europe an' take the whole o' the ranch. I
had the makin's of a good many cyclones in my system those days.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A MODERN KNIGHT-ERRANT


I was lonesome once. I don't mean simply willin' to sit in a game,
or to join a friendly little booze competition, or feelin' a sort of
inward desire to mingle about with some o' the old boys an' see who
could remember the biggest tales--I mean LONESOME,--the real rib-
strainin' article when a man sits in a limpy little heap with his
tongue hangin' out, a-wishin' that a flea-bit coyote would saunter
along, slap him on the back, an' call him friens.

I was out in No-man's land with just a small bunch o' mangy cows,
an' the grass so scarce I purt' nigh had to get 'em shod--they had
to travel so far in makin' a meal. It was hot an' it was dusty an'
it was dry--the whole earth seemed to reek. My victuals got moldy
an' soft an' sticky, my appetite laid down an' refused to go another
peg; 'I was just simply dyin' o' thirst, an' every single drop o'
water we came across had a breath like the dyin' gasp of a coal-oil
stove, expirin' for a couple o' fingers o' the stuff they float
universities in.

Now I'd allus supposed that the' wasn't anything left to tell me
about bein' lonesome; but when it was finally settled that Barbie
was to waste herself on that imported imitation of a hand-made
mechanical toy, I found out that heretofore I'd been only dealin' in
childish delusions. The whole Diamond Dot seemed to rest right on
top o' my soul: the air didn't smell sweet, I got so I'd lie awake
at night, food grew so fearless it could look me right in the face
without flinchin'; but one night I saw Merry England with his arm
around Barbie's waist, an' that settled it. By the time I had
regained my self-control, I was twenty miles from the ranch, an' I
knew that if I went back it would be to make arrangements for the
last sad obsequaries of Clarence the Comforter.

I had about three hundred bucks in my belt, so I wended my way to
Danders an' sneaked aboard the East-bound without attractin' the
notice of ol' Mrs. Fate or any o' the rest o' the Danders bunch. I
got out at Laramie, an' they all knew Dick an' was proud of him an'
eager to learn what had become of him. One thing else I found out,
an' that was that he had been keepin' a woman all right, an' that
she was livin' there yet; but never went out without a heavy veil,
an' the' wasn't any way short o' physical force to get to speak to
her.

I figured out that Dick wouldn't care to go back to Texas, so the
chances were that he was either in San Francisco or England. I
didn't know anything about England, so I went to Frisco. I prowled
around for a couple o' days exactly like a story-detective; an' by
jinks, I turned up a clew. That feller, Piker, was the clew, an'
when I spied him in a low gamblin' room I made some little stir
until I got him alone so I could talk to him. I hadn't hurt him
none; but I had been tol'able firm, an' he was minded to speak the
truth. He told me that Dick was in the Texas Penitentiary for life--
that he had surrendered himself up, an' that this was what had give
him life instead of the rope.

I knew the gang what had put him there, an' I knew that his chances
for gettin' out were about as good as if he was in his grave. I was
stumped an' I knew it; so I sez to Piker: "Piker, you may think that
I'm allus as gentle as I've been with you; but if this ain't the
truth you've told me I'll get your life if I have to track you bare-
footed through hell."