Red Klover

Front matter

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Class

Rook 1 'Zi

Chapter I

Mr. Kutly Deep Badd first got a squint of this ruff and stormy old planet over in the mountainous regions of Eastern Kentucky— an environment well suited for developing hard and rugged charac¬ ters; in fact, no other kind of characters could long survive in such strenuous surroundings. Here Nature is penurious and it takes hard grubbing and eternal vigilance and continuous struggle to keep in advance of the gaunt and hungry Wolf of Want. Only those best fitted for the race got by and left their footprints on the hard and jagged soil. Books and school-houses were few and far apart in this relentless region at the time of the events I am relating, but circuit-riders (pioneer sky-chauffeurs ), tobacco, dogs, rifles and moon¬ shine whisky were current everywhere. While the natives of this hard and rugged region were lacking ill book-learning and the re¬ finements and camouflage of modern society, they were not a bit lacking in pride, deep affection, bravery and loyalty.

An insult was usually taken up and settled right on the spot, and the one who was quickest with his gun or Bowie-knife had the satisfaction of attending the other’s funeral. Kut’s father did a lit¬ tle primitive farming on the side and a good deal of moonshining on the hack , and his young son naturally followed in the footsteps of his ancestor, and by the time he was eighteen there were few men who were his equal with the ever-ready rifle and pistol. Kut was 6 feet and 3 inches up as the bee buzzes, and very angular and muscular. His muscles were hard like bands of steel. After his nineteenth year he seldom weighed less than 225 in the shade. He soon acquired the reputation of being the best wrestler, foot-racer and all-around athlete in his naborhood; but when it came to the sex immediately opposite, Kut was cohsiderable of a coward; in fact, most any little old piece of calico could scare him back into the brush by shaking her apron at him and saying “Boo!” However, when he was about eleven he met his calico Waterloo at the ruff log school-house of the Roaring Winds naborhood. His inamorata was a pretty and petite little blonde with a wealth of golden-bronze hair, features that Na¬ ture exhausted all her skill in fashioning, and a pair of those strange and mystic lavender-moonlit eyes that had a soft and rippling thrill.

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They seemed like the shadowed ripples of a mountain brook flirting with the wild flowers that dream along its banks. They were those quiet, sleepy, volcanic eyes that just waltz right up to you on the Southzvind , step on your heart with both feet, and then stand there and make sweet and provoking faces at your soul. She possessed hands and feet that were as dainty and delicate as a canary cricket; but her mouth was large and her lips were that ripe and dangerous sort that make men forget their wives and defy Hell. Her move¬ ments were sinuous and graceful like a vagrant sunbeam remaining to kiss the flowers a soft and lingering good-night. Her name was Canary Fern Woods, and she was the idol and only child of her father—the Rev. Lascellus Pendleton Woods, from—well, nobody knew where, as the reverend gentleman and his little moonbeam of a dauter had always refused to discuss their genealogy with their nabors. The Rev. Woods was a man of more than ordinary education and was a powerful exhorter and natural leader. He was fairly well liked in the naborhood of Roaring Winds; but still there were many in the country thereabout who did not fully trust him— notwithstanding his deep piety and apparently upright life — due, probably, to the fact that he was too silent on where he came from before mysteriously appearing in the Roaring Winds naborhood and beginning his ministry of the gospel of Christ. It is an in-bred and ineradicable instinct of these mountain people to be leary of all strangers and new-comers; so a quiet and persistent watch was kept on the Rev. Woods.

Canary was only a little waif about five years of age when she and her reverend ancestor quietly rode down the peaceful Plum Valley late one September afternoon on a dilapidated and sorrylooking specimen of a brindle and pepless Western pony, and ap¬ plied for lodging at the hillside log cabin of the Badd family. As hospitality is an unfailing trait of these simple and honest mount¬ aineers, the travelers were bidden to “ flight and rest their saddle,” and to “come right in and have a bite to eat and a sip o’ cider.”

Chapter II. GETTING SETTLED

The next morning the reverend gentleman told his host that he liked the looks of the country thereabouts, and expressed his intention of remaining and becoming one of them. The elder Mr. Badd “ ’lowed the naborhood needed a man o’ God powerful bad,

THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. g

as no circuit-rider had visited them for nigh onto foh’ year, and their morals were not what they ought to be.”

The news soon spread all over the Roaring Winds naborhood, and with the help of the nabors it was only a short while until the Rev. Woods and his pretty and fascinating little dauter were very comfortably domiciled in a modest little two-room log cabin down at the edge of Plum Valley and near the forks of Jumping Creek—a wild and restless little mountain streamlet that came tumbling down from the wooded hills and fought its way among, the rocks and fallen trees, and thus the name—Jumping Creekt Their cabin was located in a beautiful and picturesque spot thawas well calculated to appeal to the “Call of the Wild ” in any na¬ ture—and Canary had an abundance of this “Call of the Wild” in her make-up.

The following winter the hardy mountaineers built a ruff log church, which was also utilized on week-days for a school-house. Here the Rev. Mr. Woods preached Sarahvation to the unrepentant on Sundays, and taught school on week-days—to the few country lads who could be inveigled into the school-house for that laudable purpose; however, the most of them would rather go hunting or fishing than attend school; but after the ruff lads got a glimpse of Canary, it was wonderful what an appetite for “lamin’” they de¬ veloped, and the keen rivalry among them to curry favor with Ca¬ nary. As the Badds were the first ones to take in this little elf and her distinguished father and befriend them, it was only natural that Kut would have the inside track and quite a start of the other boys. At the time the Woods came to the Roaring Winds nabor¬ hood Kut was a little past eleven years old, but mighty big and powerful for a lad of his years. As Canary was only a little tot, not quite six yet, Kut did ndt shy at her, as was his usual habit when calico was flaunted in his shy and awkward face; so the little girl grew right into his big ruff heart, as it were. It at once became apparent that Kut was destined to becoriie Canary^ Prince Charm¬ ing. Of course, the other boys were more or less jealous of Kut, and one day, after school had been dismissed, a big raw-souled Irish boy, who was a year older than Kut, insisted on walking home with Canary, as her father had to remain at the school-house for an hour or so to prepare some lessons for the morrow; to this the child ob¬ jected, and told him to go on about his business arid let her alone; but as Pat had more of the bully than the gentleman in his make¬ up, he felt very sore over being so flatly and firmly repulsed, and

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wanted revenge on her—so he at once began to snow-ball her so hard it made her cry. As it happened, Kut was absent from school that day and was not on hand to champion his little inamorata; however, he learned of it early next morning and was on hand in good time to settle accounts with Pat.

The pupils were all on hand when Patrick arrived, and had been duly informed of the episode of the evening before. “What are you going to do about it?” inquired Bud Hawkins; “for you know Pat Gorman is a year older than you are and can eat you alive!” “Sure thing!” chipped in Phil Mayo; “by the time Pat gets thru with Kut his face will be so cut up and bruised Canary won’t care to look at him any more.” These remarks and several more like them were enuff to cause Kut to make up his mind— even if he had not already done so. Fear was an element entirely unknown to Kutly Badd’s nature, and it made no difference to him at all how much older or bigger his antagonist might be: it was a question where his honor and manhood were at stake. As soon as Patrick arrived, Kut pulled off his coat and walked up to him and quietly asked:

“Pat, why did you insult and hurt Canary last night?”

“Coz I wanted to, you big duffer—an’ what yer goin’ to do about it?”

“Whack! biff! bang!—that’s what I’m going to do about it!” and before Pat knew what had hit him Kut was on top of him and they were both grappled in a life-and-death struggle for the mas¬ tery. It was nip and tuck for about five minutes, and then Kut wrenched his right arm free from Pat’s death-grip and dealt his antagonist such a right-hand swing on the chin it put the Irishman over on Sleepy Island, where he remained for nearly an hour. With the assistance of the teacher and several of his pals, he was finally revived and sent home for the day; but he could never again be prevailed upon to attend the school while Kut Badd was there.

It was quite evident that Canary was much brighter ment¬ ally than any of the children of the naborhood, and when this fact finally dawned on Kut it fired him with a new zeal to get a good education so he might be more worthy of his little sweetheart.

After the fight at the school, Canary felt very proud of her champion, and a warm friendship endured between them that soon developed into real love on both sides. “I’m so glad you whipped that nasty ol’ boy, Kut,” whispered Canary to him one evening a week later when the two were lazily strolling home together and

II The Outlaw And Suffrajet

playing hands like old-timers. “You won’t ever let any of them hurt me—will you, Kut?” and she gave him a look that lassoed his soul with a rainbow. “They’d better not try it unless they can lick me!” and their hands gripped tighter than ever.

Chapter III. THE MINISTER’S MYSTERIOUS CALLER

After about two years of the Rev. Wood’s ministry, he received a ruff and uncouth caller late one Friday evening, who requested the dominie to accompany him to administer to the last wants of a man who “was slipping his cable and preparing to bump the bumps.”

“Where is your friend, my good man?” the reverend inquired.

“Not far from here—erbout foh’ mile from here, over on Misty Mountain,” rejoined the stranger.

“All right, my friend; lead on and I will lend your sick com¬ rade any assistance within my power.”

After a long and devious path, they finally arrived at a little hut well hidden away far up on the side of Misty Mountain—a place that would indeed be hard to find unless one had a guide. The stranger at once pushed the cabin door open with the muzzle of his rifle, after giving a peculiar whistle that was a cross between a whippoorwill’s call and the “ Bob White” of a native quail.

“Come right in, brother!” piped a thin and nervous -voice from an inner apartment, which served as a sleeping- and living-room combined and which was separated from the outer room by some tanned skins and blankets. The outer room served as a kitchen and storage-room, for it contained all sorts of implements and groceries. “Iam real glad to see you, sir,” continued the voice, and at the same time held out a thin and hairy hand to the minister, which the lat¬ ter warmly grasped and held for a minute, while the two men gazed steadily into each other’s eyes.

“I am glad to meet you, my poor sick brother, but sorry to find you in this condition,” returned the Rev. Woods.

“I have never had the pleasure of hearing you preach, and no doubt I need to, but somehow or other I have always put off going till now—and now it’s too late. I have a short story to relate and then I want you to do me a favor if you will; but before I begin I desire that we be entirely alone , for I have some things to say that are only for your ears.”

“All right, Sam,” said the stranger, and he immediately got up and with his rifle in his hand walked out and sauntered off down the mountain side.

After they were alone, the sick man began: u Brother Woods, I expect a man in your calling is used to receiving confidences and is supposed to keep them inviolate?”

“Yes, brother, we often receive confidences and death-bed con¬ fessions, and I have never, violated a confidence reposed in me by a dying man,” calmly and reassuringly returned the man of God.

“Well, then, about two weeks ago the boys got on a little bender over at the Still, and I got a bullet thru my bowels as a souvenir of the occasion. As there are no doctors within reach of this lonely spot, I have had to trust to luck to pull thru without them; but I now realize that I only have a few hours left me in this world, and while I know you can do nothing for me, I want you to write a let¬ ter for me to my wife and little ones back in 01 ’ Varginny. I had to leave that State a short while ago on account of the Revenoos, and they are watching my family and kindred so closely I have not dared to communicate with them; besides, I can neither read nor write, nor can any of the men I know here — the moonshiners in these hills. Over in 01 ’ Varginny I killed two of the cussed houn’s, but I had to do it in self-defense; so, you see, if they had ever caught me, I would have to dance at the end of a rope—and bein’ somewhat religious, I never did believe much in dancin’.”

Then Sam halted for breath, for he was growing very weak. He confessed all his sins and told where the Still was located and gave the names of all the men connected with it, and then dictated a short letter to his wife and children back in Virginia. After the minister had written and sealed the letter and promised to mail it, and had sworn to never reveal what the moonshiner had told him, Sam held out his hand and bade the minister good-bye. Then he reached under his bunk and pulled out a leather wallet containing about $300; this he handed to the minister, and told him to pay himself out of it for the visit and then forward the rest of it to his wife. Soon after the minister had the wallet in his pocket the stranger emitted that same peculiar whistle he had used on bring¬ ing the preacher to the cabin. He was bidden to enter, and then Sam said to him:

“Pete, I want you to escort our good brother here back to where he can find his way home, and then I want you to round up some of the boys and come back here and plant me in the side of the mountain.”

THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET .

“All right, pard; your wishes shall be respected. ” And then Pete and the minister took their leave of Sam; but they hadn’t got twenty feet away from the cabin when a pistol-shot reverberated on the night air. They rushed back, and found that the moonshiner had concluded not to "await a slow and torturing death from his wounds, but had pushed himself over the brink of the Probably.

Chapter IV. A MIDNIGHT RAID ON THE STILL

About six months after the death of Sam, the Revenues mad e a raid on the Still with which Sam had been connected, but the birds had received a tip in some mysterious way, and were far away when the officers found and destroyed the Glory-Juice Plant. There were many and diverse opinions in the naborhood as to how the hated Revenues got their information—but, of course, nobody ex¬ cept one man really knew—and it is to be presumed that he was not talking for publication.

A WEDDING PARTY OVER ON TURKEY RIDGE.

About a year after the raid on the moonshiners’ Still, a very happy and flustered young man appeared at the parsonage and in an awkward and embarrassed way asked the Soul-Chaser if he would go with him over on Turkey Ridge and splice a couple of young hearts that “wor jest a-dyin’ uv love o’ one anuther.”

“Sure I’ll go, my boy, for it is right in line with my work to help make people happy.”

After a long and winding ride of about 15 miles, they at last came to a little log cabin that sat back in a small clearing of hazel brush and scrub oaks. “’Light, parson, and come right in,” stam¬ mered the young man. On entering the parson found a beauti¬ ful and blushing slip of a young girl about sixteen and a sad-looking young-old woman about thirty-five—the girl’s mother.

“Where is the bridegroom?” asked the parson in some aston¬ ishment, for he saw no evidence of a man about the place.

“Oh!” blushed the young man who had conducted him thither, “I guess I be ther lucky devil, parson; so perceed and let’s have it over with as soon as possible.”

The splicing was brief and satisfactory to all parties concerned, and then a tall and fierce-looking man appeared from out the Great Nowhere, it seemed. He bowed rather gingerly and coolly to the man of God, and then announced that he was to act as the min-

RED KLOVER.

ister’s guide and convoy back home. As the shades of night had already fallen, they at once set out for the parson’s home — but, strange to relate, the person never reached his home, and his dauter and nabors never heard of him again. It just seemed that the earth had opened up and swallowed him —religion and all.

Canary, who was then about nine years old, went over to live with the Badd family—which consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Badd, Kut, two brothers and a little sister who was a cripple. It seemed as tho the whole Badd family were very much attached to Canary and did all in their power to make the little waif and orphan happy and contented. Of course, the child was very disconsolate over the sud¬ den and mysterious disappearance of her “ Daddy,” as she fondly called him. She could not understand why everyone was so sure he was dead and would never return. For a long time the poor child clung to the belief that he had lost his way in the hills and would soon return to her. Canary was the only one who believed that way, and the nabors would often remark (when she could not hear them) that the reverend soul-saver had very thotlessly ex¬ changed the information he received from Sam with the execrated Revenues for a pot of mazuma—his “thirty pieces of silver .”

Chapter V. KUT AND CANARY GROW UP TOGETHER

After the mysterious disappearance of the reverend soul-chaser, Canary and Kut were inseparable companions, and during the few winter months they attended the sessions at the old log school-house together, and all thru the summer evenings they pursued their studies together out in the shade of the old apple trees on the Badd homestead.

Kut worked hard and saved every penny he could spare for buying books, clothes, etc. To a small county-seat town about 25 miles distant he would go twice a year to buy books and supplies and find a market for their surplus horses, cattle, hogs, chickens and other farm products. On one of these trips to the county-seat Kut met two young and fine-looking fellows who had just started a bank in the town—the first bank the town ever had. The horsebuyer who purchased a span of young mules from Kut gave the boy a check on the bank in payment for the animals. This was the mountaineer’s first experience with banks and checks. The bankers asked him what he intended to do with the $300 he had just received for his mules, and Kut replied that he was saving it up to get married on. They very kindly told how risky it was to keep so much money around the house and painted in vivid colors the danger of keeping money around the house, etc. “Why not deposit it here in our bank, where it will be safe, and receive in¬ terest on it besides? Then when you need any money you can write a check for the amount.” This seemed good to the unsophis¬ ticated mountaineer, and he left the major part of the $300 with the kind and suave banker, Mr. Ralph Brinkley , and his brotherpartner, Mr. Glen Brinkley. After making a few purchases, he re¬ turned home whistling and singing some of the old love-tunes cur¬ rent in his native hills. He was fondly dreaming of Canary and counting up the time until she would be old enuff to become Mrs. Kutly Deep Badd—how big and sweet it sounded when strung to¬ gether in that fashion! and then to think that she would be all his forever —and he would ever be her devoted lover-husband. The hu¬ man mind has ever enjoyed counting its chickens before they’re hatched. Kut not only needed money to marry on, but it had ever been his ambition to save up enuff to pay off the mortgage on the old place and to provide for his parents in their sunset days. A laudable ambition, to be sure. The following May Kut had con¬ siderable live-stock and other farm products he wished to convert into dollars. He had told Canary all about his other trip to the county-seat, and his meeting with the nice and courteous gentlemen at the bank, of his' depositing his money with them, and showed her all the mysteries and intricacies of properly filling out a check and signing it; so on this trip Canary coaxed him into letting her accompany him, for, said she:

“I can ride horseback and help you drive the stock just as good as any man; besides, I’m dying to attend a theater and see all the pretty things that Nell Hopkins tells me they have at the county-seat. Kut dear, you know I’ve just never been nowhere!”

“All right, little sweetheart; you shall go with me, and we will stay all night and attend the theater and see all the sights and then come back in the evening, when the dear old moon will candle the way for us.” .

So it wa s settled that Canary should accompany him with the stock next week. After Kut had sold his stock and produce, he and Canary went to the bank to deposit the money they would not need for their immediate needs. Mr. Ralph Brinkley was alone in the bank when Kut and Canary arrived, and on recognizing Kut his face broke into a sweet and cordial smile as he reached his hand thru the “Teller’s Window” and warmly grasped and shook Kut’s big tanned paw.

Kut did not offer to introduce Canary, but after he had con¬ cluded his business, Mr. Brinkley asked tentatively: “Is this your little sister, Mr. Badd?”

Kut was greatly embarrassed, and after blushing furiously and floundering around for a few seconds, stammered out: “No, she ain’t my sifter —she—she is—is —Miss Canary Woods , the minister’s dauter.”

“Ah! Miss Woods, I’m delighted to meet you,” smiled Brinkley, and he made her a profound bow and came from behind the railing to shake hands with her. “Is this your first visit to our little city?”

He was evidently very much taken with the “minister’s dau¬ ter,” as Kut had very diplomatically introduced her; but Canary was very much embarrassed by his extreme suavity and attentions, and at once started for the door, remarking to Kut that she wanted to go over to the big store and see the pretty new hats; whereupon Kut bade the banker good-day and followed his little love up the street.

“I don’t like that man,” pouted Canary.

“Why not?” asked Kut in real surprise; “he seems awfully nice and polite.”

“I don’t know why —only I don’t like him.”

Chapter VI

KUT THRASHES THREE “BAD MEN” FROM BEAR TRACK GULCH AND LOSES BOTH HIS PARENTS.

Kut and Canary worked hard on the old homestead and in the evenings, on Sundays and rainy days they diligently pursued their studies together; so in a few years they both had acquired quite a good education—especially from the standpoint of the Roaring Winds naborhood. Canary’s rare and dainty beauty and innate loveliness increased with the years—much to her lover’s pride and delight; but such a bright and shining light would naturally attract other insects; therefore Kut had many rivals to outwit and vanquish.

At a dance given by one of Kut’s nabors, three “Bad Men” from over in the Bear Track Gulch diggings invited themselves to attend and participate in the festivities. They had evidently vis¬ ited some Still before coming to the hoedown, for when they ar¬ rived at Mr. Howai i’s their condition was at once apparent to ev««y-

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THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET.

one except themselves. The biggest and boldest of the three pushed his way in and swaggered out on the floor and attempted to take Canary away from Kut, with whom she was then waltzing. No, Kut didn’t do a thing to him and his two companions, who staggered to their pal’s assistance; at least, you wouldn’t think he did if you could have seen their faces and eyes the next morning. They had the appearance of having played an engagement with a bunch of bob-cats, a saw-mill, a cyclone and a hay-baler. They looked like a bunch of Y. M. C. A. rookies on a ferryboat who had tried to sail across No Man’s Land in a Ford. After this little episode, the other swains gave Canary a wide berth—especially when Kut was around.

Kut continued to make semi-annual trips to the county-seat, and Canary often accompanied him, but she would never be pre¬ vailed upon to enter the bank again. After a few years more, Kut’s bank account had reached quite respectable proportions, and Cana¬ ry had arrived at her eighteenth birthday—the time set for her mar¬ riage with Kut. On their next trip to the county-seat in the early part of December they went over to the County Judge’s office in the court-house and were quietly united in marriage. They con¬ cluded to remain in town for a few days to make the purchases for their new home and a few Christmas presents for the family and rel¬ atives back in the hills. On the preceding day they got in town so late in the afternoon with their stock that by the time it was disposed of the bank had closed for the day, and as it was Saturday, Kut and his bride had concluded to remain over till Monday or Tuesday; so he gave the bank no further attention—especially as he had about $20 in cash on his person, which would be plenty for their imme¬ diate needs; besides, he was too absorbingly happy to think of any¬ thing but his blessed little wife. Can we blame him?

A BANK FAILURE—HELL’S TO PAY.

On the following Monday morning, when Kut went around to the bank, he found a wild and highly excited crowd surging around its doors and completely filling the interior—where the bookkeeper wildly tried to make the citizens understand that the Messrs. Brinkley had not shown up, and that when he unlocked and started to open up and lay the cash out in its proper drawers, he discovered there was no cash to lay out—except a few dollars in nickels and pennies. He had no idea what had become of it, for the doors had not been tampered with, and everything seemed in order.

At Saturday noon Mr. Glen Brinkley left town to visit an aunt i8

RED KLOVER.

in a near-by town, and would return on the noon train Monday. Mr. Ralph Brinkley had locked up on Saturday at about 4.30 p. m. and went to the barber-shop to get a shave, as usual, and then started for his rooms, which were located in a private home on the outskirts of the town. The family where he roomed were all up town that evening and did not return till after 9 o’clock that night, but did not trouble themselves to ascertain whether their roomer was in his apartments or not; anyway, he was not definitely missed until about noon the next day, when his landlady went up to clean up his rooms, and then she discovered that he had not slept in his bed Saturday night. His belongings, except a handbag and a suit¬ case, were there; but he never returned, and the blame was soon laid at his door. His brother Glen returned on the noon train Mon¬ day, as expected, and he was prostrated on learning that his ras¬ cally brother Ralph had looted the bank and “23d” himself into the Great and Vast Somewhere. It did not take the people long to satisfy themselves that Glen had nothing whatever to do with the episode. Poor Kut and Canary were sure enuff up against it, for every dollar they owned (except about $20 they had with them) was in the bank —“where it would be safe and at interest ! 11