CHAPTER XIV
A WHIRLWIND VISIT
Joan was idling dispiritedly over her breakfast. A long, wakeful nighthad at last ended in the usual aching head and eyes ringed withshadows. She felt dreary, and looked forward drearily to inspectingher farm--which, in her normal state, would have inspired nothing butperfect delight--with something like apprehension.
Her beginning in the new life had been swamped in a series ofdisastrous events which left her convinced of the impossibility ofescape from the painful shadow of the past. All night her brain hadbeen whirling in a perfect chaos of thought as she reviewed her adventto the farm. There had been nothing, from her point of view, butdisaster upon disaster. First her arrival. Then--why, then the "luck"of the gold find. In her eyes, what was that but the threat ofdisaster to come? Had not her aunt told her that this extraordinaryluck that she must ever bring was part of the curse shadowing herlife? Then the coincidence of her nickname. It was truly hideous. Thevery incongruity of it made it seem the most terrible disaster of all.Surely, more than anything else, it pointed the hand of Fate. It washer father's nickname for her, and he--he had been the worst suffererat her hands.
The whole thing seemed so hopeless, so useless. What was the use ofher struggle against this hateful fate? A spirit of rebellion urgedher, and she felt half-inclined to abandon herself to the life thatwas hers; to harden herself, and, taking the cup life offered her,drain it to the dregs. Why should she waste her life battling with aforce which seemed all-powerful? Why should she submit to the terrorof it? What were the affairs of these others to her? She was notresponsible. Nothing in the whole sane world of ethics could hold herresponsible.
The spirit of rebellion, for the moment, obtained the upper hand. Shehad youth; Fortune had bestowed a face and figure upon her that sheneed not be ashamed of, and a healthy capacity for enjoyment. Then whyshould she abandon all these gifts because of a fate for which she wasin no way responsible?
She pushed back her chair from the table, and crossed to the openfront door.
The sun was not yet up, and the morning air was dewy and fresh withperfumes such as she had never experienced in St. Ellis. It was--yes,it was good to be alive on such a day in spite of everything.
She glanced out over the little farm--her farm. Yes, it was all hers,bought and paid for, and she still had money for all her needs and todo those things she wanted to do. She turned away and looked back intothe little parlor with its simple furnishings, its mannish odds andends upon the wall. She heard the sounds of the old housekeeper busyin her heavy, blundering way with the domestic work of her home. Shehad so many plans for the future, and every one in its inception hadgiven her the greatest delight. Now--now this hideous skeleton hadstepped from its cupboard and robbed her of every joy. No, she wouldnot stand it. She would steel her heart to these stupid, girlishsuperstitions. She would--
Her gloomy reflections were abruptly cut short. There was a rush andclatter. In a perfect whirlwind of haste a horseman dashed up, draggedhis horse back on to its haunches as he pulled up, and flung out ofthe saddle.
It was the boy, Montana Ike. He grabbed his disreputable hat from hisginger head, and stared agape at the vision of loveliness he had comein search of.
"Good--good-morning," Joan said, hardly knowing how to greet thisstrange apparition.
The boy nodded, and moistened his lips as though consumed by a suddenthirst.
For a moment they stared stupidly at each other. Then Joan, feelingthe awkwardness of the situation, endeavored to relieve it.
"Daylight?" she exclaimed interrogatively, "and you not yet out atthe--where the gold is?"
Ike shook his head and grinned the harder. Then his tongue loosened,and his words came with a sudden rush that left the girl wondering.
"Y' see the folks is eatin' breakfast," he said. "Y' see I jest cut itright out, an' come along. I heard Pete--you know Blue GrassPete--he's a low-down Kentuckian--he said he tho't some un orter gitaround hyar case you was queer after last night. Sed he guessed hewould. Guess I'll git back 'fore they're busy. It'll take 'em allhustlin' to git ahead o' me."
"That's very kind," Joan replied mechanically. But the encouragementwas scarcely needed. The boy rushed on, like a river in flood time.
"Oh, it ain't zac'ly kind!" he said. "Y' see they're mostly a low-downlot, an' Pete's the low-downest. He's bad, is Pete, an' ain't nobizness around a leddy. Then Beasley Melford. He's jest a durned skunkanyways. Don't guess Curly Saunders ain't much account neither. Hemakes you sick to death around a whisky bottle. Abe Allinson, he'ssort o' mean, too. Y' see Abe's Slaney Dick's pardner, an' they binworkin' gold so long they ain't got a tho't in their gray heads 'ceptgold an' rot-gut rye. Still, they're better'n the Kid. The Kid's soft,so we call him Soapy. Guess you orter know 'em all right away. Y' seeit's easy a gal misbelievin' the rights o' folks."
Joan smiled. Something of the man's object was becoming plain.
She studied his face while he was proceeding to metaphorically nail upeach of these men's coffins, and the curious animal alertness of itheld her interest. His eyes were wide and restless, and a hardnessmarked the corners of his rather loose mouth. She wondered if thathardness were natural, or whether it had been acquired in theprecarious life that these people lived.
"It's just as well to know--everybody," she said gently.
"Oh, it sure is, in a country like this," the man went on confidently."That's why I come along. Fellers chasin' gold is a hell of a badoutfit. Y' see, I ain't bin long chasin' gold, an' I don't figger tokeep at it long neither. Y' see, I got a good claim. Guess it's surethe best. We drew lots for 'em last night. It was the Padre fixed thatup. He's a great feller, the Padre. An' I got the best one--wher' thePadre found that nugget you got. Oh, I'm lucky--dead lucky! GuessI'll git a pile out o' my claim, sure. A great big pile. Then I'mgoin' to live swell in a big city an' have a great big outfit of folksworkin' fer me. An' I'll git hooked up with a swell gal. It'll be abully proposition. Guess the gal'll be lucky, cos I'll have such a bigpile."
The youngster's enthusiasm and conceit were astounding. Nor could Joanhelp the coldness they inspired in her voice.
"She will be lucky--marrying you," she agreed. "But--aren't you afraidyou'll miss something if the others get out to the hill before you? Imean, they being such a bad lot."
The man became serious for a second before he answered. Then, in amoment, his face brightened into a grin of confidence.
"Course you can't trust 'em," he said, quite missing Joan's desire tobe rid of him. "But I don't guess any of 'em's likely to try monkeytricks. Guess if any feller robbed me I'd shoot him down in histracks. They know that, sure. Oh, no, they won't play no monkeytricks. An' anyway, I ain't givin' 'em a chance."
He moved toward his horse and replaced the reins over its neck inspite of his brave words. Joan understood. She saw the meannessunderlying his pretended solicitation for her well-being. All her sexinstincts were aroused, and she quite understood the purpose of thesomewhat brutal youth.
"You're quite right to give them no chances," she said coldly. "Andnow, I s'pose, you're going right out to your claim?"
"I am that," exclaimed the other, with a gleam of cupidity in hisshifty eyes. "I'm goin' right away to dig lumps of gold fer to buydi'monds fer that gal."
He laughed uproariously at his pleasantry as he leapt into the saddle.But in a moment his mirth had passed, and his whole expressionsuddenly hardened as he bent down from the saddle.
"But ef Pete comes around you git busy an' boot him right out. Pete'sbad--a real bad un. He's wuss'n Beasley. Wal, I won't say he's wuss.But he's as bad. Git me?"
Joan nodded. She had no alternative. The fellow sickened her. She hadbeen ready to meet him as one of these irresponsible people, ignorant,perhaps dissipated, but at least well-meaning. But here she found thelower, meaner traits of manhood she thought were only to be foundamongst the dregs of a city. It was not a pleasant experience, and shewas glad to be rid of him.
"I thin
k I understand. Good-bye."
"You're a bright gal, you sure are," the youth vouchsafed cordially."I guessed you'd understand. I like gals who understand quick. That'sthe sort o' gal I'm goin' to hitch up with." He grinned, and crushedhis hat well down on his head. "Wal, so long. See you ag'in. Course Ican't git around till after I finish on my claim. Guess you won't feellonesome tho', you got to git your farm fixed right. Wal, so long."
Joan nodded as the man rode off, thankful for the termination of hisvicious, whirlwind visit. Utterly disgusted, she turned back to thehouse to find Mrs. Ransford standing in the doorway.
"What's he want?" the old woman demanded in her most uncompromisingmanner.
The girl laughed mirthlessly.
"I think he wants a little honesty and kindliness knocked into hisvery warped nature," she declared, with a sigh.
"Warped? Warped?" The old woman caught at the word, and it seemed toset her groping in search of adequate epithets in which to express herfeelings. "I don't know what that means. But he's it anyways--they allare."
And she vanished again into the culinary kingdom over which shepresided.
The Golden Woman: A Story of the Montana Hills Page 14
