CHAPTER XX
THE ABILITIES OF MRS. RANSFORD
Joan was smiling happily, watching the waging of a droll littlefarmyard warfare. Just now her life was running very smoothly, and theshadows of memory were steadily receding. She had almost forgotten thefew unpleasant moments when she had first beheld the repellentugliness of Devil's Hill nearly a week ago. Since then nothing hadoccurred to raise fresh alarm, and memory, with that pleasant knackinspired of perfect physical health, had gently mellowed and lostsomething of its power to disturb.
It was a curious scene. The farm was still, so still, in the glowingafternoon heat. The cattle were out in the pastures filling themselveswith the succulent grass and dozing the long daylight hours away. The"hired" man was out with the team, breaking a new patch of prairieland in the interim between the haying and harvesting. The hogs weregently snuffling in their pens, and a few hens and cockerels wereamiably flirting whilst scratching about amongst the barn litter inthat busy, inconsequent manner so suggestive to the human mind ofeffort for the sheer delight of being busy.
It was a scene such as she had often dreamed of, and something whichvery nearly approached her ideal.
Here, in one corner of the yard, where she stood, sun-bonneted toshelter her face from the burning attentions of the summer sun,leaning idly against a water barrel standing at the corner of thebarn, she watched the farmyard comedy which was rapidly threatening todisturb the general peace. A large hen with a late-hatched brood ofchicks, whose colors suggested the polygamous conditions under whichher matrimonial affairs were carried on, with feathers ruffled andcomb flaming, with head lowered and beak agape, was angrily defying anabsurd-looking pig which had scarcely passed its sucking age.
They had met quite suddenly round the corner of the implement shed.For the moment they stood disconcerted, while the agitated hen cluckedalarm at her offspring. The pig, squealing in a high treble, wasstanding with snout twitching and front feet apart, a picture ofidiotic confusion. Perhaps the hen, with the superior feminineknowledge of her age, understood something of the situation, andappreciated the young porker's inability. Anyway, she took theinitiative in aggression, and, vainly struggling to cover her ratherriotous brood with outspread wings, cackled furiously and prepared forthe onslaught which secretly she knew was not forthcoming.
The porker's mind seemed to be in a whirl of doubt, for he lookedvainly from side to side to find some adequate means of escape. Hissense did not carry him sufficiently far to prompt him to turn tailand bolt for safety. He just stood there and continued his helplessbaby squealing. This was all the old hen needed to drive her toextremities. Realizing his weakness she gave one fluttering spring,scattering her chicks in all directions, pecked the pig's noseviolently, turned something like a somersault as she landed on theground, gathered herself together, and incontinently fled, leavingher brood to care for themselves. Thus the pig was left looking afterher with an expression in its silly eyes that suggested to the girlnothing so much as an amazed wonder as to what the fuss was all about.
Joan stood convulsed with laughter. The pig interested her vastly morethan the hen, and she waited the further working of its stupid mind.But she was disappointed. Its momentary confusion had passed, and,lowering its pink snout, it groveled on in search of offal, thedelights of which its young mind was just awakening to.
She had moved away to pass on toward the house when she was startledby the sound of a harsh laugh close behind her. She turned and foundherself staring into the grinning face of Montana Ike.
She was angry and not without a qualm of apprehension. This man hadbecome a constant caller at the farm at all sorts of odd andunexpected moments. And his attitude was such that she thoroughlyresented him. In his vaunting, braggadocio manner he had assumed asort of proprietary interest in her and her affairs.
The moment she faced him, his confident attitude became morepronounced.
"Comic, ain't it?" he suggested. Then he added, as though to assureher of his appreciation: "Nigh as comic as a cirkis."
But all Joan's delight in the scene was gone. Her beautiful eyes weresparkling angrily. She made up her mind then and there to be rude tothe man. She would not have him about the place.
"What do you want?" she inquired bluntly.
The boy's grin remained, but his furtive eyes opened a shade wider.
"Wot do I want? Gee! You're feelin' friendly." Then he put on a mannerhe intended to be facetious. "An' me left my patch o' pay-dirt, an'all, to pay a 'party' call. Say, Miss Golden, that ain't sassiety waysin this yer camp."
His attempt at pleasantry went for nothing. Joan, studying the manclosely, saw that his face was flushed, and, even at that distance,she could smell the drink he had been imbibing. She must get rid ofhim, but it was not so easy to her gentle nature. However, she took afirm stand.
"Maybe not," she said coldly. "But when people make 'party' calls theygenerally do it at convenient times. I'm very busy."
The man laughed in the harsh manner she disliked and rather feared.
"Kind o' seemed busy when I got around. Y' see you was sure that busyyou didn't hear my hoss comin' along, you never see me git off him an'leave him back ther', an' me come along over an' stand watchin' youdoin' nuthin' fer nigh fi' minutes. Oh, you're sure busy!"
Joan flushed. She knew she had lied, but to be told so by this man wasinfuriating. She made no attempt to further disguise her feelings.
"I said I was busy," she cried deliberately. "Surely that should besufficient."
But the man had no intention of accepting his dismissal.
"It jest depends wot a feller's come around for," he said, no whitdisconcerted. "Mebbe you won't find you're busy when you heard what Igot to say." He laughed immoderately. Beasley's whisky was at work,and he had no fear for the purpose in hand.
Suddenly he dived a hand into his hip-pocket and drew out the billsthe saloon-keeper had paid him.
"Look at them," he cried in a voice that was high-pitched withelation. "Ther's dollars an' dollars ther', but 'tain't nuthin' towot's to come. Say, I got another cache o' gold waitin' back ther' atmy shack, but I ain't handin' it to Beasley," he went on cunningly."Oh, no, not me! I'm a business guy, I am. I hold that up, an' all therest I git from my patch, an' I'm goin' to cash it in Leeson Butte, atthe bank, fer a proper exchange. See? Oh, I ain't no sucker, I ain't.An' a feller needs a heap o' dollars, treatin' his gal right."
Joan hardly knew how to deal with such a situation. Besides, the nowobvious condition of the man alarmed her. However, he gave her noopportunity to reply. For, delighted with his own talk, he went onpromptly--
"Now I tho't a whole heap since I got this wad. A wad like this takesyou thinkin', that is, ef you ain't a low-down rattle-brain like Pete,or a psalm-smitin' son-of-a-moose like that feller, Buck. Course theyain't got no sort o' savvee, anyways, so they don't count nuthin'. Butwi' a feller like me things is diff'rent. Now, this is what I gotfixed. Y' see you can't have no sort of a time in this yer camp, butit's diff'rent in Leeson Butte. Guess we'll get a buggy from the campan' drive into Leeson. Ther's dance halls ther', an' they run a decentfaro joint at a place I know. An' they sell elegant rye, too. Wal,we'll git that buggy, an' git fixed up reg'lar in Leeson, an' have abully time, an' git right back to here an' run this yer farm betweenus. How's that?"
"I--I don't think I understand."
Joan's alarm grew. This man was deliberately proposing to marry her.Supported by the nerve his half-drunken condition inspired, his senseswere so inflamed that he took the whole matter for granted. She lookedinto his sensual young face, the hard eyes, and at the loose lips thatsurrounded his unclean teeth, and something like panic seized her.However, she knew she must not show her fear.
But he was waiting. And in reality her reply came without anyhesitation. She shook her head.
"You've made a mistake," she said decidedly but gently. "I have nointention of marrying anybody." Then, taking her courage in bothhands, she permitted something of her dislike an
d contempt to creepinto her manner. "It seems to me you take a great deal too much forgranted. You come here when you think you will, wholly uninvited, and,from the first, you hint broadly that you regard me as--as the personyou intend to marry. That is presumption, to put it mildly, and I haveno use for people who--presume."
She moved as though to return to the house. But Ike, all hisconfidence suddenly merged into a volcanic heat, reached out a hand todetain her. His hand came into rough contact with the soft flesh ofher shoulder, and, shaking it off, she faced him with flaming eyes.
"Don't dare to do that again," she cried, with bosom heaving. "Go,leave this farm instantly. Remember you are trespassing here!"
Her anger had outweighed all her alarm, even, perhaps, all discretion.For the man was in no mood to accept his dismissal easily.
"So that's it, is it?" he cried with a sudden hoarseness. "Oho, mylady! We're putting on airs," he sneered. "Not good enough, eh?Presuming, am I? An' who in blazes are you that you can't be touched?Seems to me a decent honest citizen's jest as good fer you as fer anyother gal, an' my dollars are clean. What in thunder's amiss?" Thenhis heat lessened, and his manner became more ingratiating. "See here,Golden," he went on persuasively, "you don't mean that, sure! Wot'sthe matter with me? I ain't weak-kneed, nor nuthin'. I ain't scared o'no man. I'd scrap the devil ef you ast me. An' say, just think wot weken do with the dollars. You'd make a real upstander in a swell house,with folks waitin' around on you, an' di'monds an' things. Say, I'mjest bustin' to make good like that. You can't jest think how muchgold ther' is in my patch--an' you brought it along with you. You giveit to me--your luck."
There was something almost pathetic in his pleading, and for a briefmoment a shade of sympathy softened the girl.
"Please don't persist, Ike," she said almost gently. "Still, I cannever marry you. It's--it's--absurd," she added, with a touch ofimpatience she could not wholly keep back.
But that touch of impatience suddenly set fire again to the man'sunderlying intolerance of being thwarted.
"Absurd, is it?" He laughed with a curious viciousness which once moredisturbed the girl. "Absurd fer you to marry me," he cried harshly."Absurd fer you, cos I ain't got no smarmy eddication, cos I ain'tdressed in swaller tails an' kids, same as city folks. Oh, I know!You're a leddy--a city-raised leddy, an' I--I'm jest a prairie hog.That's it. You ain't got no use fer me. You jest come along right herean' laff, an' laff at us folks. Oh, you needn't to say you hav'n't!"as she raised a protesting hand. "Think I'm blind, think I'm deaf. Me!Say, you shown it right along jest so plain ther' wer'n't no need totell it in langwidge." He broke off for a moment as though his angerhad robbed him of further speech, and Joan watched the growing purposein his hot eyes. Her own face was the color of marble. She wasinwardly trembling, but she stood her ground with eyes stonily cold.She made no attempt to speak now, or defend herself against hisaccusations. She knew it would be useless. Only she longed in her mindfor the presence of Buck to protect her from the insult she felt to becoming. Nor was she mistaken.
The man's pause gave way before the surge of his anger.
"See here," he suddenly cried, as though he had just arrived at adecision. "I ain't an easy man to laff at, as the folks around hereknows. Ther' ain't no man around here can laff at Montana Ike, an' Idon't guess no gal wi' red ha'r's goin' to neither. See?" He glancedswiftly round the farm. There was no one in sight. Suddenly one greathand shot out and he seized the girl by the arm in a crushing,powerful grasp and dragged her to him.
"You guess you ken laff at me," he cried, seizing her with both handsand holding her in spite of her struggles. "Wal, you ken laff afteryou kissed me. You ken laff, oh, yes! when I tell the folks you kissedme. Seems to me the laff'll mostly be with me."
He drew her toward him while she struggled violently. Then sheshrieked for help, but she knew the only help she could hope for wasthe wholly inadequate help of her housekeeper. She shrieked Mrs.Ransford's name with all her power, while the man's face came nearer.It was quite hopeless; she knew she could not defend herself. And thehalf-drunken man was laughing as though he enjoyed her terror.
She felt his hot breath on her cheeks, she closed her eyes to shut outthe sight of his grinning face. He released his hold with one hand andflung his arm about her waist. She fought with might and main,shrieking with all the power of her lungs. She suddenly felt theimpress of his hot lips on her cheek, not once, but a dozen times.Then of a sudden he released her with a bitter oath, as the shriekingvoice of Mrs. Ransford sounded close by, and the thwack of a heavybroom fell upon his head and shoulders.
"I'll teach you, you miser'ble hoboe!" cried the old woman's stridentvoice as her powerful arms swung her lusty broom aloft. "I'll teachyou, you scallawag!" Thwack fell the broom, and, releasing Joan, theman sought to protect his head with his arms. "I'll give you a doseyou won't fergit, you scum o' creation!" Thwack went the broom again."Wait till the folks hear tell o' this, you miser'ble, miser'ble cur!"Again the broom fell, and the man turned to flee. "You'd run, wouldyou? Git a fork, Miss Joan!" With a surprising rush the fat creaturelunged another smash at the man's head with her favorite weapon.
The blow fell short, for Ike had made good his retreat. And curiouslyenough he made no attempt to disarm her, or otherwise stand his groundonce he was beyond the range of her blows. Perhaps he realized theimmensity of his outrage, perhaps he foresaw what might be the resultto himself when the story of his assault reached the camp. Perhaps itwas simply that he had a wholesome terror of this undoubted virago.Anyway, he bolted for his horse and vaulted into the saddle, gallopingaway as though pursued by something far more hurtful than a fatfarm-wife's avalanche of vituperation.
"Mussy on us!" cried the old woman, flinging her broom to the groundas the man passed out of sight. "Mussy me, wot's he done to you, mypretty?" she cried, rushing to the girl's side and catching her to hergreat bosom. "There, there, don't 'e cry, don't 'e to cry for ascallawag like that," she said, as the girl buried her face on hershoulder and sobbed as though her heart would break. "There, there,"she went on, patting the girl's shoulder, "don't 'e demean yerselfweppin' over a miser'ble skunk like that. Kiss yer, did he? Kiss yer!Him! Wal, he won't kiss nobody no more when the folks is put wise. An'I'll see they gets it all. You, a 'Merican gal, kissed by a hog likethat. Here, wipe yer cheeks wi' this overall; guess they'll surefester if you don't. Ther', that's better," she went on as Joan,choking back her sobs, presently released herself from her bear-likeembrace.
"It's my own fault," the girl said tearfully. "I ought never to havespoken to him at all. I----"
But Mrs. Ransford gave her no chance to finish what she had to say.
"Wot did I tell you?" she cried, with a power of self-righteousness."Wot did I tell you? You ain't got no right to git a hob-a-nobbin'with sech scum. They're all scallawags, every one of 'em. Men!--say,these yer hills is the muck-hole o' creation, an' the men is themuck. I orter know. Didn't I marry George D. Ransford, an' didn't Iraise twins by him, as you might say, an' didn't I learn thereby, an'therewith, as the sayin' is, that wi' muck around there's jest one wayo' cleanin' it up an' that's with a broom! Come right into the house,pretty. You're needin' hot milk to soothe your nerves, my pore, pore!Come right in. Guess I'm a match fer any male muck around these hills.Mussy on us, what's that!"
Both women started and stood staring with anxious, terrified eyes downthe trail which led to the camp. Two shots had been fired almostsimultaneously, and now, as they waited in horrified silence, two moreshots rang out, echoing against the hills in the still air withominous threat. After that all was quiet again.
Presently the strained look in the farm-wife's face relaxed, and sheturned to her charge.
"That's him," she cried, with a swift return to her angry,contemptuous manner. "It's him showin' off--like all them scallawags.Come right in, missie," she added, holding out her hands to lead thegirl home.
But her kindly intention received an unexpected shock. Joan brushedher roughly aside, and her l
ook was almost of one suddenly demented.
"No, no," she cried in a voice of hysterical passion. "You don'tunderstand. You can't understand. Those shots--oh! It is my fate--mycurse. I must go!"
And she fled down the trail in the direction whence the sound hadproceeded--fled, leaving Mrs. Ransford staring stupidly after her, aprey to utter bewilderment.
The Golden Woman: A Story of the Montana Hills Page 20
