Tamawaca Folks
A
Summer Comedy
By JOHN ESTES COOKE
Publishers
THE TAMAWACA PRESS
U. S. A.
Copyrighted 1907 by
G. J. WILSON
List of Chapters
PAGE
I The Lawyer 9
II Jim 18
III Wilder 31
IV Just Girls 53
V Getting Acquainted 66
VI Found Out 80
VII The Meeting 96
VIII Something Doing 114
IX Developing the Negative 122
X Jim Gets a Raise 135
XI Rough-housing 152
XII Mrs. Herringford's Party 161
XIII Reconciliation 172
XIV Of Course 184
Tamawaca Folks
EXPLANATIVE.
The author begs to state that whatever is contained in this modest
volume has been written in a spirit of the broadest goodfellowship, and
with malice toward none. He has met odd and entertaining people in all
quarters of the world and has brought them together in "Tamawaca Folks"
merely that he might weave them into his little romance, and with no
thought of being in any way personal. Therefore, since these are many
and variant types and can have no individuality for that reason, the
writer begs his reader not to attempt to fit any of the fictitious
characters to living persons, lest your neighbor try to fit one of
my masquerade costumes to you--which would be an impertinence I am
sure you would not like. The temptation, I admit, is natural, because
the people portrayed are all human and even their composites have
prototypes in nearly every locality. But desist, I entreat you.
Tamawaca exists, and is as beautiful as I have described it. I chose it
as the scene of my story because I once passed an entire summer there
and was fascinated by its incomparable charm. The middle West has no
spot that can compete with it in loveliness.
TAMAWACA FOLKS
CHAPTER I.
THE LAWYER.
When Jarrod finally sold out the Crosbys he had a chance to breathe
freely for the first time in years. The Crosbys had been big ranch
owners and herders, mine owners, timber and mill owners, bankers,
brokers, bucket-shop manipulators and confirmed bull-dozers and
confidence-men. They played the game for big stakes always and won by
sheer nerve and audacity.
Jarrod was their lawyer and they kept him in hot water every minute.
They had a habit of rounding up other folks' cattle, cutting other
people's timber, jumping claims, tapping mines and misbehaving
generally. And Jarrod had to straighten out these misdeeds and find a
way to keep his clients from behind the bars.
Old man Crosby, who had been shot in the hip in a raid, ran the Bank of
Oklahoma, and ran it so crookedly that Jarrod was often in despair. No
one would believe a Crosby under oath, while Jarrod was acknowledged
by even his enemies to be square as a die and fair as the scales of
justice. So his position was extremely difficult. He saved the Crosbys
from their misdeeds for years, by dint of hard work and constant
diplomacy, and at last, when a thousand penalties confronted them and
could not be staved off much longer, the lawyer managed to sell for
them their entire holdings and induced them to retire from business in
general and lawlessness in particular.
When it was all over Jarrod went home to Kansas City, nodded to his
wife, looked curiously and with some interest at his children, and
then sat down in an easy chair and sighed. It was all new and strange
to him--this being "at home"--and he wasn't sure at first whether he
liked it or not.
Mrs. Jarrod liked it, though, and made much of him, so that gradually
his uneasiness wore off and he settled down meekly to the practice
of law in general. Four or five hours a day he spent in his office,
listening to the unimportant grievances of common folks and striving to
keep his nerves from jumping.
He hadn't thought to feather his nest, yet the Crosbys had
good-naturedly tossed a lump of money at him and he had accepted it.
But a nervous man must keep busy, even when those same nerves operate
to keep him cold and quiet as an alternative to dancing and yelling
like a madman. So Jarrod "held on to himself" and tried to enjoy his
devoted family and the petty details which were all that remained
of a business too long neglected to serve those wild Crosbys. The
reaction had set in following his recent months of hard work, and
before many days he felt himself both physically and mentally exhausted
and knew that unless he deliberately created a diversion his run-down
constitution would be likely to involuntarily create one that he
wouldn't like.
As fate would have it, on a balmy spring day he met an old friend--a
Dr. Brush--who was a prominent and highly respected clergyman. Said the
doctor:
"You need a change, Jarrod. Why don't you go to some quiet, pleasant
summer resort, and loaf until fall?"
"Where can I find such a place?" asked Jarrod.
"Why, any of the Lake Michigan resorts are desirable--Tamawaca, Bay
View, Charlevoix or Petoskey. I've been to Tamawaca a couple of summers
myself, and like it immensely. It isn't so fashionable as Charlevoix
and Petoskey, but it is the most beautiful place I have ever seen, bar
none."
"What's there?" enquired Jarrod, listlessly.
"Lake Michigan, to begin with; and Tamawaca Pool, which is really a
lovely inland lake. You'll find there good fishing and bathing, a noble
forest running down to the water's edge, pretty cottages nestled among
the trees, lots of ozone, and quiet till you can't rest."
"Eh?"
"I mean quiet so you _can_ rest."
"It sounds promising," said Jarrod. "Guess I'll go. My wife remarked
yesterday we ought to escape the summer's heat on the children's
account. This idea will please her--and it pleases me. I used to fish
when I was a boy. And hunt. How's the hotel, Brush?"
"Bad as possible. Take a cottage. That's the only way to enjoy life."
"How can I get a cottage?"
"Oh, ask Wilder, when you get to Tamawaca. There are always cottages to
rent. But stay! you might take Grant's place. He's a St. Louis man, and
I understand his cottage is for rent. I'll write and ask him, if you
like."
"Do, old fellow. And thank you very much."
He went home and told Mrs. Jarrod, who was delighted with the plan.
"Where did you say it was?" she asked.
"On Lake Michigan, somewhere. I forget the name of the place."
"How do you get there?"
"I didn't enquire."
"And whose cottage are you going to rent?"
"Why,--it belongs to a man in St. Louis. Dr. Brush knows him."
Mrs. Jarrod asked no more questions, but she straightway put on her
bonnet and called upon Mrs. Brush. In an hour she knew all that was
necessary about Tamawaca.
The clergyman got a reply, in course of time, from Grant of St. Louis.
His cottage was in Wilder's hands to rent. Jarrod must see Wilder about
it as soon as he got to Tamawaca. It was all furnished and ready to
move into.
"Who is Wilder?" Jarrod asked his friend.
"Wilder! Oh, I forgot you don't know Tamawaca," said Dr. Brush.
"Therefore you don't know Wilder. Wilder is Tamawaca."
"I see," returned Jarrod, nodding.
"Oh, no you don't. You _think_ you see, I've no doubt. But there is
only one Wilder upon earth, and perhaps that is fortunate. You've been
in with those pirate Crosbys for years. Well, Wilder is the Crosby--in
other words the pirate--of Tamawaca. See now?"
"He runs things, eh?"
"Yes; for Wilder. A charming fellow, by the way. Looks like a cherub,
and acts like----"
"You interest me," said Jarrod, brightening. "I'm glad I'm going to
Tamawaca."
A few days later the Jarrods--bag and baggage, parents and
children--travelled up to Chicago and landed in the morning at the
Auditorium Annex. A little fat man stood before the counter in front of
Jarrod and winked saucily at the clerk. His face was moon-shaped and
rosy, guiltless of whisker, and bore an expression at once gentle and
whimsical.
"Gimme the best room you have," he called out, while scribbling his
name on the register.
"Ah, a twenty-dollar suite?" asked the clerk, cheerfully.
"Hear me out!" retorted the little man. "Gimme the best room you have
for four dollars a day."
"Oh," said the clerk, his jaw dropping. "Here, front! show the
gentleman up to 1906. Any baggage, sir?"
"Just my wife," sighed the little man, with another wink, and a stout
lady of ample proportions grabbed his arm and whisked him away. She
didn't seem at all offended, but laughed pleasantly and said: "Now,
George, behave yourself!"
Jarrod looked at the register. The little fat man had written: "Geo. B.
Still, Quincy, Ill."
The Jarrods shopped during the day, and bought themselves and the
children cool things for summer. In the evening they went down to the
river and boarded the big steel steamer that was to carry them to their
destination.