THE PARTITION OF HEARTS DESIRE
_Concerning Real Estate, Love, Friendship, and Other Good and Valuable
Considerations_
"You see, it's just this-a-way," began Tom Osby, the morning after
Curly's osteopathic horse saga; "I've got to go on up to Vegas after a
load of stuff, and I'll be gone a couple of weeks. Now, you know, from
what we heard down at Sky Top about this railroad, a heap of things can
happen in two weeks. Them fellers ain't showin' their hands any, but for
all we know their ingineers may come in any day, and start in to doin'
things."
"They've got to make arrangements first," replied Dan Anderson.
"That's all right; and so ought we to make arrangements. We seen this
place first. Now, Dan--" and he extended a gnarled and hairy
hand--"you've always done like you said you would. You took care of me
down there to Sky Top. I want you to keep on a-takin' care of me,
whether I'm here or not. Now, there's my house and yard, right at the
head of the cañon, where they've got to come if they get in. That little
old place, and my little old team, is about all I've got in the world.
If old Mr. Railroad comes up this _arroyo_, what happens to me? You
tell 'em to go somewheres else, because I seen this place first, and I
like it. Ain't that the law in this country? Ain't it _always_ been
the law?"
Dan Anderson nodded. He held out his hand to Tom Osby and looked him
straight in the eye. "I'll take care of you, Tom," he promised.
"Then that'll be about all," said Tom; "giddup, boys!"
In some way news of the early advent of the railroad had gotten about in
Heart's Desire, and Dan Anderson found talk of it on every tongue, talk
very similar to that of Tom Osby. Uncle Jim Brothers, owner of the
one-story hotel and restaurant, the father and the feeder of all Heart's
Desire when the latter was in financial stress, was the next to come to
him; and Uncle Jim was grave of face.
"See here, man," said he, "how about this here new railroad? Do we want
it, or _do_ we? Seems to me like we always got along here pretty well
the way things was."
Dan Anderson nodded again. Uncle Jim shifted from one large foot to the
other, and thrust a great hand into the pocket of one trouser leg.
"All I was going to say to you, Dan," he went on, "is, if it comes to
takin' any sides, we all know which side you're on. You're with _us_.
Now, there's my place down there, where you've et many a time with the
rest of the boys. You've helped me build the tables in the dining
room--done a lot of things which makes me feel obliged to you." (Ah!
lovable liar, Uncle Jim, who could feed a man broke and hungry, and still
let him feel that the operation was a favor to the feeder!) "Now, I just
wanted to say, Dan, I was sure, in case any railroad ever did come
cavortin' around here, you'd sort of look after the old place. Will you
do that?"
"Of course he will," broke in Doc Tomlinson, who had strolled down the
street and overheard the conversation. "Dan Anderson, he's our lawyer.
We've got him retained permanent, ain't we, Dan? Now, there's my old
drug store--ain't much in it, but it's where I settled when I first driv
into the valley, and I like the place. Ain't no railroad going to boost
me out without a scrap."
Dan Anderson turned away, sick at heart. For three days he kept to his
cabin on the far side of the _arroyo_.
But if hesitation sat on the soul of any man of the community, if doubt
or questionings harassed the minds of any, there was no uncertainty on
the part of the management of the railroad, whose coming was causing this
uneasiness. One day Dan Anderson was startled to hear a knock at his
door, and to see the dusty figure of Porter Barkley, general counsel of
the A. P. and S. E., just from a long buckboard ride from the head of the
rails. With him came Grayson, chief engineer. Dan Anderson invited them
in.
"Well, Mr. Anderson," said Barkley, "here we are, close after you. We're
following up the right-of-way matters sharp and hard now. We can't hold
back our graders, and before the line gets abreast of this cañon, we've
got to know what we can do here. Now, what can you tell us by this time?"
"I can tell you, as I said, the status of every town lot and every mining
claim in this valley," replied Dan Anderson. "It's all simple so far as
that is concerned."
"How about that town site? Grayson, here, is ready to go ahead with the
new plat. If you never had any town site filed, how were real-estate
transfers made?"
"There never were any transfers made. There has not been a town lot sold
in ten years."
"Real estate just a little dull?" laughed Barkley, sarcastically.
"We hadn't noticed it," said Dan Anderson, simply.
"But how about your courts? Next thing you'll be telling me there wasn't
any court."
"There never was, except when we acquitted a man for shooting a pig. I
was his counsel, by the way."
"Nor any town election?"
"Why should there be?"
"No government--no nothing? for five years?"
"Over twelve years altogether, to be exact. I'm rather a newcomer
myself."
"No organization--no government--" Barkley summed it up. "Good God!
what kind of a place is this?"
"It's Heart's Desire," said Dan Anderson. No man of that valley was ever
able to say more, or indeed thought it needful to say more.
Porter Barkley gave a contemptuous whistle, as he turned on his heel,
hands in pockets, his bulky form filling the doorway as he looked out.
"So you were a lawyer here," he said. "You must have had rather more
leisure than law practice, I should think."
"It left me all the more time for my reading," said Dan Anderson,
gravely. "You've no idea how much a law practice interferes with one's
legal studies." Barkley looked at him, but could discover no sign of
levity.
"Well, there is one thing mighty sure," said he, shutting his heavy jaws
tight; "this valley is, or was, open to settlement under the United
States land laws."
"Certainly," assented Dan Anderson. "The first men in here were mining
men from every corner of the Rockies, and they knew their business. All
these mountains were platted, and 'adversed,' and litigated. Then,
before the second discoveries, and before any coal veins were located on
the other side of the valley, the gold veins pinched out. Everybody got
broke, and nearly everybody got up and walked away. Meantime, the courts
had only been sitting over at Lincoln once in a while--when Billy the Kid
allowed it. I'll have to admit that things were a trifle tangled as to
title."
"Well, I should say so!" Barkley was irritable, Grayson, the engineer,
silent and smiling.
"There was so much room after the mining boom broke, that nobody cared
for a town lot. Every fellow just picked out the place he liked, built
where he liked, and went in as his own butler, chambermaid, and cook.
"You are seeing this country now, gentlemen," he went on, "pretty much as
God made it, and as Coronado saw it three hundred years ago. I deprecate
any undue haste on your part. We've been three hundred years in getting
this far along. We've done very well without either a town site or a
city council."
Barkley was utterly unable to comprehend either Dan Anderson or Heart's
Desire. "This is the absolute limit!" he rapped out. "At least we'll
end this now. Come on, Grayson, we three'll go out and have a look at
the place, and see what is the best way to lay out the streets. I
suppose, Anderson, you can tell us how we can get title under government
patent--mineral lands--coal lands--desert lands--homestead--whatever we
can dig out the quickest?"
"Oh, yes," said Dan Anderson, "but don't dig too deep, or you may run
against a land grant from Ferdinand and Isabella to some well-beloved
_hidalgo_ whose descendants may now be herding sheep on the Pecos, or
owning the earth along the Rio Grande. Cabeza de Vaca may own this
valley, for all I know. Maybe Coronado owns it. _Quien sabe_? We only
borrowed the place. We thought that probably Charles IV, or Philip II,
or whoever it was, wouldn't mind very much, seeing that he's dead anyhow,
in case we returned the valley in good condition, reasonable wear and
tear excepted, after we were dead ourselves. Of course, this railroad
coming in complicates matters a good deal. Do I make all this clear to
you, gentlemen? I never did see a place just like this, myself."
"No?" snapped Barkley.
"So we called it Heart's Desire."
"We'll call it Coalville now," retorted Barkley.
They passed out into the bright sunlit street of Heart's Desire.
Stern-browed Carrizo, guardian through centuries of calm and secrecy,
gazed down on them unwinking. Dan Anderson looked up at the grim
sentinel of the valley, and mockery left his speech. He looked about at
the wide and vacant spaces of the little settlement, lying content,
secure, and set apart, and a horror came upon his soul. He was about to
be a traitor, a traitor to Heart's Desire! Law--title--security--what
more of these could these men bring to Heart's Desire than it had long
had already? What wrong here had ever been left unrighted? Truth, and
justice, and fairness, and sincerity, those priceless things--why, he had
known them here for years. Were they now to be made more obvious, or
more strong? He had believed his friends, had had friends to believe;
would these walking at his side be better friends? These men of Heart's
Desire, these simple children who had left the smother of civilization to
seek out for themselves a place of strength and simplicity, these strong
and fearless giants, these friends of his--had he not promised them that
they would be safe in his hands? Hitherto there had never been a traitor
among all the men of Heart's Desire. Was he, their accepted friend, to
be the first? Dan Anderson passed his hand over a forehead suddenly
grown moist. He dared not look up at the chiding front of old Carrizo.
"I was saying," said Porter Barkley, turning from the taciturn engineer
as they walked along the hillside, "that this place seems to have been
laid off with a circular saw. I can't see any idea of streets at all."
"There is a sort of a street along the _arroyo_," said Dan Anderson,
dully. "There never were any cross streets. The boys just built where
they felt like it."
"And great builders they were! I didn't know men ever lived in such
places. What's that joint there?" He pointed out a ruined _jacal_ of
upright mud-chinked logs, now leaning slantwise far to one side. "Was
that a house, too? It hasn't even a chimney,"
"That was the residence and law office of a former supreme judge of the
State of Kansas," replied Dan Anderson. "He didn't need any chimney.
You've no idea how useless a chimney really is. He never stopped to cut
any wood, but just fed a log in through the front door into the fire, and
let the smoke go out the window. He had a pet wildcat that shared his
legal studies--oh, I admit that some of our ways may seem strange to you,
just fresh from New York."
"But didn't you live in New York once yourself?"
"Yes, once."
"What made you come away?"
"Objected to, as irrelevant, immaterial, and incompetent; and objection
sustained," replied Dan Anderson. "The first thing I learned in this
country was not to inquire about any man's past. That's a useful thing
for _you_ to learn, too."
Porter Barkley, accustomed to dominating those around him, flushed red,
but managed to suppress his rising choler for the time. "And by the way,
what's that old shell over there, across the ditch?" he asked.
"I regret your irreverence," said Dan Anderson. "That's the New Jersey
Gold Mills. Eighty thousand of Eastern Capital went in there at one
time. They didn't understand the ways of the country."
"Humph! Well, it's a more practical layout you've got in here this time.
You can gamble that Ellsworth and our gang are not going to sink their
roll here, by a long ways, unless they get something for it."
"You'll get a run for your money, in all likelihood," remarked Dan
Anderson.
"As I said, now, Grayson, don't pay any attention to this gully here,"
went on Barkley. "We'll fill this ditch and put in drains at the
crossings, and run the main street north and south. We'll take the
ramshorn crooks out of this town in about two days, when we get started."
"I see no reason why we could not run the cross streets at right angles,"
said Grayson, the constructive. "Of course, we'll catch a good many of
these buildings--" he hesitated, pointing at the time to Doc Tomlinson's
drug store.
"The corner of this fence would be inside the line of the main street,"
he went on, sighting along his lead pencil to the angle of Whiteman's
corral. It was the very spot where Dan Anderson had sat in council with
his cronies many a time. He bit his lip now as he followed the gaze of
the engineer.
"How about the stone house down the _arroyo_?" asked he of Grayson.
This was Uncle Jim Brothers's hotel, sanctuary for the homeless of
Heart's Desire, a temple of refuge, a place where the word "Friendship,"
unspoken, never written, was known and understood among men gathered from
all corners of this unfriendly world.
"That would have to go," replied Grayson.
"As to that shanty down below, at the head of the cañon," growled
Barkley, pointing to Tom Osby's adobe, "that's going to be the first
thing we'll tear down, street or no street. We need that place for our
depot yard, and we're going to take it. Besides, there was something
about that Osby fellow I didn't like when we met him over at Sky Top.
He's too damned independent to suit me."
Dan Anderson straightened up as though smitten, his face a dull red. The
dancing heat mist blurred before his eyes. He said nothing. They turned
presently and strolled down toward the foot of the _arroyo_. Barkley
pushed his hat back on his furrowed forehead.
"There is a lot in this thing for me, Andersen," said he, "and there'll
be a lot in it for you. Have you got any claims of your own in here?
Mineral, I mean?"
"Of course," Dan Anderson replied. "We all have claims. This is the
only valley in the West, so far as I know, where there is good coal on
one side, and paying gold quartz on the other. But that's the case here.
We haven't overlooked it."
Barkley whistled. "I wouldn't ask a better show than you'll have here,"
said he, contemplatively. "The only wonder to me is that some one hasn't
broken into this long ago."
"There might be some few difficulties," suggested Dan Anderson.
"Difficulties! What do you care about that? We'll wear 'em out, pound
'em out, break 'em up, I tell you. We're the first ones to find this
country--"
"Except maybe Coronado, De Vaca and Company."
"Who were they?"
"The same as you and me," replied Dan Anderson, enigmatically. "Ask the
mountains."
"Oh, rot!" said Barkley. "I'll tell you, once for all, I'm not
interested in dreams or foolishness. Now, if you want to go in with us,
that's one thing. If you don't, we want to find it out mighty quick."
"You might do worse," said Dan Anderson. "The other lawyer is worse than
myself. At times I suspect him of being lazy."
"Well, well, let's get together," urged Barkley, impatiently. "Now,
Grayson thinks it will take about three hundred and fifty acres for the
first plat, without additions; we'll supersede the old Jack Wilson
patent. He's dead, you say? Never left a will, or any heirs? Never did
get his town site platted and filed? Well, he never will, now. You go
with Grayson to-morrow and run out these lines quietly, and help him get
an idea of the best mining claims on both sides of the valley, too.
There'll be plenty for you to do."
Dan Anderson nodded, but made no comment. Many things were revolving in
his mind.
"Meantime," concluded Barkley, "I've got to get back down the line to
meet Mr. Ellsworth. We'll come up again. You can readily see that we've
got to have a town meeting before very long. Get things in line for it.
Will you attend to this?"
"Yes," replied Dan Anderson, slowly and musingly; "yes, I'll attend to
it."
Barkley looked once more upon the impassive face of his local counsel,
and departed more than ever puzzled and exasperated. He liked Dan
Anderson as little as he understood him. "I'll handle him, though," he
muttered to himself. "There's a way to handle every man, and I rather
think that this one'll come to his feed before we get done with him."