CHAPTER III
BERTHA YIELDS TO TEMPTATION
Bertie looked older and graver when Haney entered the Eagle Hotel, andhis heart expanded with a tenderness that was partly paternal. Sheseemed so young and looked so pale and troubled.
She greeted him unsmilingly and calmly handed him the pen with which toregister.
"How are you all?" he asked, with genuine concern.
"Pretty bum. Mother gave out this week. It's the heat, I guess. Hottestweather we've had since I came to town."
"Why didn't you let me know?"
She avoided his question. "We're too low here at Junction. Mother oughtto go a couple of thousand feet higher. She needs rest and a change.I've sent her out to the ranch."
"You're not running the house alone?"
"Why, cert!--that is, except my brother's wife is taking mother's placein the kitchen. I'm runnin' the rest of it just as I've been doin' forthree years."
He looked his admiration before he uttered it. "You're a wonder!"
"Don't you think it! How does it happen you're down to-day? You saidSaturday."
"I've sold out--signed the deeds to-day. I'm out of the liquor tradeforever."
She nodded gravely. "I'm glad of that. I don't like the business--not alittle bit."
He took this as an encouragement. "I knew you didn't. Well, I'm neithersaloon-keeper nor gambler from this day. I'm a miner and acapitalist--and all I have is yours," he added, in a lover's voice,bending a keen glance upon her.
The girl was standing very straight behind her desk, and her face didnot change, but her eyes shifted before his gaze. "You'd better go in tosupper while the biscuit are hot," she advised, coolly.
He had tact enough to take his dismissal without another word or glance,and after he had gone she still stood there in the same rigid pose, buther face was softer and clouded with serious meditation. It waswonderful to think of this rich and powerful man changing his whole lifefor her.
Winchell, the young barber, came in hurriedly, his face full ofaccusation and alarm. "Was that Haney who just came in?" he asked,truculently.
"Yes, he's at supper--want to see him?"
"See him? No! And I don't want _you_ to see him! He's too free with you,Bert; I don't like it."
She smiled a little, curious smile. "Don't mix it up with _him_, Ed--I'dhate to see your remains afterwards."
"Bert, see here! You've been funny with me lately." (By funny he meantunaccountable.) "And your mother has been hinting things at me--and nowhere is Haney leaving his business to come down the middle of the week.What's the meaning of it?"
"It isn't the middle of the week. It's Friday," she corrected him.
He went on: "I know what he keeps coming to see you for, but for God'ssake don't you think of marrying an old tout and gambler like him."
"He isn't old, and he isn't a gambler any more," she significantlyretorted.
"What do you mean?"
"He's sold out--clean as a whistle."
"Don't you believe it! It's a trick to get you to think better of him.Bert, don't you dare to go back on me," he cried out, warningly--"don'tyou dare!"
The girl suddenly ceased smiling, and asserted herself. "See here, Ed,you'd better not try to boss me. I won't stand for it. What license haveyou got to pop in here every few minutes and tell me what's what? You'tend to your business and you'll get ahead faster."
He stammered with rage and pain. "If you throw me down--fer that--oldtout, I'll kill you both."
The girl looked at him in silence for a long time, and into her braincame a new, swift, and revealing concept of his essential littleness andweakness. His beauty lost its charm, and a kind of disgust rose in herthroat as she slowly said, with cutting scorn:
"If you really meant that!--but you don't, you're only talking to hearyourself talk. Now you shut up and run away. This is no place forchewing the rag, anyway--this is my busy day."
For a moment the man's face expressed the rage of a wild-cat and hishands clinched. "Don't you do it--that's all!" he finally snarled."You'll wish you hadn't."
"Run away, little boy," she said, irritably. "You make me tired. I don'tfeel like being badgered by anybody, and, besides, I'm not mortgaged toanybody just yet."
His mood changed. "Bertie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be fresh. Butdon't talk to me that way, it uses me all up."
"Well, then, stop puffing and blowing. I've troubles of my own, withmother sick and a new cook in the kitchen."
"Excuse me, Bert; I'll never do it again."
"That's all right."
"But it riled me like the devil to think--" he began again.
"Don't think," she curtly interrupted; "cut hair."
Perceiving that she was in evil mood for his plea, he turned away sosadly that the girl relented a little and called out:
"Say, Ed!" He turned and came back. "See here! I didn't intend to hurtyour feelings, but this is one of my touchy days, and you got on thewrong side of me. I'm sorry. Here's my hand--now shake, and run."
His face lightened, and he smiled, displaying his fine, white teeth."You're a world-beater, sure thing, and I'm going to get you yet!"
"Cut it out!" she slangily retorted, sharply, withdrawing her hand.
"You'll see!" he shouted, laughing back at her, full of hope again.
She was equally curt with two or three others who brazenly tried to buya smile with their cigars. "Do business, boys; this is my day to sellgoods," she said, and they took the hint.
When Haney came out from his supper, he stepped quietly in behind thecounter and said: "I'll take your place. Get your grub. Then put on yourhat and we'll drive out to see how the mother is." The girl acknowledgeda sense of relief as she left him in charge and went to her seat in thefar corner of the dining-room--a relief and a dangerous relaxation. Itwas, after all, a pleasure to feel that a strong, sure hand wasout-stretched in sympathy--and she was tired. Even as she sat waitingfor her tea the collapse came, and bowing her head to her hands sheshook with silent sobs.
The waitresses stared, and young Mrs. Gilman came hurrying. "What's thematter, Bertie; are you sick?"
"Oh no--but I'm worried--about mother."
"You haven't heard anything--?"
"No, but she looked so old and so worn when she went away. She ought tohave quit here a month ago."
"Well, I wouldn't worry. It's cooler out to the ranch, and the air is sopure she'll pick up right away--you'll see."
"I hope so, but she ought to take it easy the rest of her days. She'sdone work enough--and I'm kind o' discouraged myself."
Slowly she recovered her self-possession. She drank her tea inabstracted silence, and at last she said: "I'm going out there, Cassie;you'll have to look after things. I'll get some of the boys to 'tend theoffice."
"You're not going alone?"
"No, Mart Haney is going to drive me."
"Oh!" There was a look of surprise and consternation in the face of theyoung wife, but she only asked, "You'll be back to-night?"
"Yes, if mother is no worse."
Haney had the smartest "rig" in town waiting for her as she came out,but as he looked at her white dress and pretty hat of flowers and tullehe apologized for its shortcomings--"'Tis lined with cream-colored satinit _should_ be."
She colored a little at this, but quickly replied: "Blarney. Anybody'dknow you were an Irishman."
"I am, and proud of it."
"I want to take the doctor out to see mother."
"Not in this rig," he protested.
She smiled. "Why not? No, but I want to go round to his office and leavea call."
"I'll go round the world fer you," he replied.
The air was deliciously cool and fragrant now that the sun was sinking,and the town was astir with people. It was the social hour when the heatand toil of the day were over, and all had leisure to turn wonderingeyes upon Haney and his companion. The girl felt her position keenly.She was aware that a single appearance of this kind was equivalent to an
engagement in the minds of her acquaintances, but as she shyly glancedat her lover's handsome face, and watched his powerful and skilled handsupon the reins, her pride in him grew. She acknowledged his kindness,and was tired and ready to lean upon his strength.
"When did your mother quit?" he asked, after they had left the townbehind.
"Sunday night. You see, we had a big rush all day, and on top of that,about twelve o'clock, an alarm of fire next door. So she got no sleep.Monday morning she didn't get up, Tuesday she dressed but was toomiserable to work, so finally I just packed her off to the ranch."
"That was right--only you should have sent for me."
She was silent, and her heart began to beat with a knowledge of thedemand he was about to make. She felt weak and unprotected here--in theoffice they were on more equal terms--but she enjoyed in a subconsciousway the swift rush of the horses, the splendor of the sunset, and thequiet authority in his voice--even as she lifted eyes to the mesatowards which they were driving he began to speak.
"You know my mind, little girl. I don't mean to ask you tillto-morrow--that's the day set--but I want to say that I've been cleaninghouse all the week, thinkin' of you. I'm to be a leading citizen fromthis day on. You won't need to apologize for me. I've never been adrinking man, but I have been a reckless devil. I don't deny that I'veplanted a wide field of wild oats. However, all that I put away fromthis hour. 'Tis true I'm forty, but that's not old--I'm no older than Iwas at twenty-one, sure--and, besides, you're young enough to make up."He smiled, and again she acknowledged the charm of his face when hesmiled. "You'll see me grow younger whilst you grow older, and so wanday we'll be of an age."
Her customary readiness of reply had left her, and she still sat insilence, a sob in her throat, a curious numbness in her limbs.
He seemed to feel that she did not wish to talk. "If you come intopartnership with me you need never worry about the question of bread orrent or clothes, and that's worth considerin'--Which road now?"
She silently pointed to the left, and they drew near the foot of thegreat mesa whose level top was cutting the sun in half.
The miner was filled with grateful homage. "'Tis a great world!" heexclaimed, softly. "Sure, 'tis only yesterday that I found it out, andlifting me head took a look at the hills and the stars for the firsttime in twenty years. 'Tis a new road I'm enterin'--whether you come tome or not."
All this was wonderful to the girl. Could it be that she was capable ofchanging the life of a powerful man like this? It filled her with asense of duty as well as exaltation, an emotion that made a woman ofher. She seemed suddenly to have put the hotel and all its worrimentsfar, far behind her.
Seized by an impulse to acquaint her with his family, Haney began totell about his father and his attempts to govern his five sons. "We weredevils," he admitted--"broncos, if ever such walked on two legs. Wewouldn't go to school--not wan of us except Charley; he did prettywell--and we fished and played ball and went to the circus--" Hechuckled. "I left home the first time with a circus. I wanted to be alion-tamer, but had to content meself with driving the cook wagon. ThenI struck West, and I've never been back and I've never seen the old mansince, but now I've made me pile, I think I'll go home and hunt him upand buy him new spectacles; it's ace to the three-spot he's using thesame horn-rimmed ones he wore when I left."
Bertha was interested. "How long did you stay with the circus?"
"Not very long. I got homesick and went back, but the next time I left,I left for fair. I've been everywhere but East since. I've been inColorado mostly. 'Tis a good State."
"I like it--but I'd like to see the rest of the country."
"You can. If you join hands with me we'll go round the ball together."
She did not follow this lead. "I've been to Denver once--went on one ofthese excursion tickets."
"How did you like it there?"
"Pretty good; but I got awful tired, and the grub at the hotel was theworst ever--it was a cheap place, of course. Didn't dare to look in thedoor of the big places."
"You can have a whole soot of rooms at the Royal Flush--if you will."
Again she turned away. "I can't imagine anybody rich enough to live atsuch hotels--There's our ranch."
"Shy as a coyote, ain't it?" he commented, as he looked where shepointed. "I'd prefer the Eagle House to that."
"I love it out here," she said. "I helped plant the trees."
"Did you? Then I want the place. I want everything your pretty handsplanted."
"Oh, rats!" was her reproving comment, and it made him laugh at his ownsentimental speech.
The ranch house stood at the foot of the mesa near a creek that came outof a narrow gorge and struck out upon the flat valley. It was a littlehouse--a shack merely, surrounded by a few out-buildings, all looking astemporary as an Indian encampment, but there were trees--thriftilygreen--and some stacks of grain to testify to the energy and goodhusbandry of the owner.
Mrs. Gilman was lying in a corner room, close to the stream whichrippled through the little orchard, and its gentle murmur had been acomfort to her--it carried her back to her home in Oxford County (Stateof Maine), where her early girlhood had been spent. At times it seemedthat she was in the little, old, gray house in the valley, and that herfather's sharp voice might come at any moment to break her deliciousdrowse.
Her breakdown had been caused as much by her mental turmoil as by herovertaxing duties. She was confronted by a mighty temptation (throughher daughter) at a time when she was too weak and too ill to carryforward her ordinary duties. To urge this marriage upon Bertha would beto bring it about. That she knew, for the girl had said, "I'll do it ifyou say so, mother."
"I don't want you to do it if you'd rather not," had been her weakanswer.
Bertie entered quietly, in a singularly mature, almost manly way, andbending to her mother, asked cordially, "Well, how are you to-day?"
The sick woman took her daughter's hand and drew it to her tear-wetcheek. "Oh, my baby! I can't bear to leave you now."
"Don't talk that way, mother. You're not going to leave me. The doctoris coming out to see you, and everything is going all right at thehouse, so don't you worry. You set to work to get well. That's yourlittle stunt. I'll look after the rest of it."
Bertie had never been one to bestow caresses, even on her parents, andher only sign of deep feeling now lay in the tremble of her voice. Shedrew her hand away, and putting her arm about her mother's neck pattedher cheek. "Cassie's doing well," she said, abruptly, "and the girls arefine. They brace right up to the situation, and--and everybody's nice tous. I reckon a dozen of the church ladies called yesterday to ask howyou were--and Captain Haney came down to-day on purpose to find out howthings were going."
The sufferer's eyes opened wide. "Bert, he's with you!"
"Yes, he drove me out here," answered the girl, quietly. "He's come foran answer to his proposition. It's up to us to decide right now."
The mother broke into a whimper. "Oh, darling, I don't know what tothink. I'm afraid to leave this to you--it's an awful temptation to agirl. I guess I've decided against it. He ain't the kind of man youought to marry."
She hushed her mother's wail. "Sh! He'll hear you," she said, solemnly."There are lots o' worse men than Mart Haney."
"But he's so old--for you."
"He's no boy, that's true, but we went all over that. The new fact inthe case is this: he's sold out up there--cleared out his saloonbusiness--and all for _me_. Think o' that--and I hadn't given him a wordof encouragement, either! Now that speaks well for him, don't youthink?"
The mother nodded. "Yes, it surely does, but then--"
The girl went on: "Well, now, it ain't as though I hated him, for Idon't--I like him, I've always liked him. He's the handsomest man Iknow, and he's treated me right from the very start. He didn't come downto hurry me or crowd me at all, so he says. Well, I told him I wouldn'tanswer yet awhile--time isn't really up till to-morrow. I can takeanother week if I want to."
Th
e mother lay in silence for a few moments, and then with closed eyes,streaming with hot tears, she again prayed silently to God to guide hergirl in the right path. When she opened her eyes the tall form ofMarshall Haney towered over her, so handsome, so full of quiet powerthat he seemed capable of anything. His face was strangely sweet as hesaid: "You must not fret about anything another minute. You've but tolie quiet and get strong." He put his broad, soft, warm, and muscularhand down upon her two folded ones, and added: "Let me do fer ye as Iwould fer me own mother. 'Twill not commit ye to a thing." He seemed tounderstand her mood--perhaps he had overheard her plea. "I'm not askinga decision till you are well, but I wish you would trust me now--I coulddo so much more fer you and the girl. Here's the doctor, so put thewhole thing by for the present. I ask nothing till you are well."
If this was policy on his part it was successful; for the poor torturedmother's heart was touched and her nerves soothed by his voice, as wellas by the touch of his hand, and when they left the house she was inpeaceful sleep, and the doctor's report was reassuring. "But she musthave rest," he said, positively, "and freedom from care."
"She shall have it," said Haney, with equal decision.
This bluff kindness, joined to the allurement of his powerful form,profoundly affected the girl. Her heart went out towards him inadmiration and trust, and as they were on the way home she turnedsuddenly to him, and said:
"You're good to me--and you were good to mother; you needn't wait tillto-morrow for my answer. I'll do as you want me to--some time--notnow--next spring, maybe."
He put his arm about her and kissed her, his eyes dim with a new andsoftening emotion.
"You've made Mart Haney over new--so you have! As sure as God lets melive, I'll make you happy. You shall live like a queen."
Money Magic: A Novel Page 3
