Money Magic: A Novel

by Hamlin Garland

  CHAPTER X

  BEN FORDYCE CALLS ON HORSEBACK

  Ben Fordyce and his affianced bride rode home talking of the Haneys."Aren't they deliciously Western!" she said.

  "Mrs. Haney certainly is a quaint little thing," he replied, quitesoberly; "she's like a quail--so bright-eyed, and so still. I think herdevotion to her old husband very beautiful. She's more like a daughterthan a wife, don't you think so?"

  "They're great fun if you don't feel sorry for him as I do," Alicethoughtfully responded. "They say he was magnificent as a gambler. Headmitted to me to-night that he longed to go back to the camp, but thathe had promised his wife and mother-in-law not to do so. I never ran agambling-saloon, but I can imagine it would be exciting as a play allthe time, can't you? Here, as he said to me, he can only sit in the sunlike a lizard on a log. It must seem wonderful to her--having all thismoney and that big castle of a house. Don't you think so? Wasn't shereticent! She hardly uttered a word the whole evening. Some way I feelsorry for them both. They can't be happy. Don't you see that? It isplain she doesn't love him as a wife should, while he worships her. Whenshe's away he is helpless. 'I'm no gairdner,' he said, pathetically; 'Iwas raised on the cobble-stones. I wouldn't know a growin' cabbage froma squash.' So you see he can't pass his time in gardening."

  Ben's reply was a question. "I wonder if she would ride with us?"

  "Perhaps we would do better not to follow up the acquaintance, Ben. It'sall very interesting to meet them as we did to-night, but they areimpossible socially--that you must admit. If there is any possibility ofour settling down here I suppose we must be careful to do the rightthing from the start."

  Ben was a little irritated by this. "If I'm to settle here as a lawyer Ican't draw social distinctions of that sort."

  "Certainly not--as a lawyer. Of course, you ought to know Haney; but forme to ride or drive with Mrs. Haney is quite a different matter.However, I don't really care. She attracts me, and, so far as I know, isjust a nice little uncultivated woman. We might call on her in themorning, and see if she can go with us. It will commit us; but really,Ben, I am not going to drag Eastern conventions into this fresh bigcountry. I'm willing to risk the Haneys."

  "I'm glad you take that view of it," said Ben.

  * * * * *

  Bertha was in the yard when they rode up to the gate next morning.Dressed in a white sweater and a short skirt, and holding biscuits for ahandsome collie to snatch from her hand, she made a charming picture ofyoung and vigorous life. Her slim body was as strong and supple as thedog's, and her face glowed like a child's. Haney, sitting on the porch,was watching her with a proud smile.

  Alice glanced at her lover with admiration in her eyes. "What a gloriouscreature she really is!"

  Seeing visitors at her gate, Bertha came down without confusion to saygood-morning, and to ask them to dismount.

  Ben, with doffed cap, replied by saying: "We've come to ask you to ridewith us."

  Bertha looked up at him composedly. "Haven't a saddle, and I don't knowthat any of our horses are broken. But come again to-morrow, and I'llhave an outfit."

  "There's no time like the present. Let me ride down to the barn andbring one up," volunteered Ben.

  "Don't need to do that, I'll 'phone. I didn't really expect you," sheexplained. "Get off and come in a few minutes, and I'll see what I canhustle together for an outfit. I haven't rode a lick since I leftSibley."

  Ben helped Alice to dismount, and Bertha led her to the house while hetethered the horses.

  "What a superb place you have here!" exclaimed Alice. "It is one of thebest in the city."

  "We bought it for the porch," calmly replied the girl. "The Captainlikes to sit where he can see the mountains. I'm not entirely done withthe outfitting yet, but it beats a barn."

  Haney rose as they drew near, and smilingly greeted his visitors. "Ishould be out gatherin' the peanuts and harvestin' the egg-plants, butthe dinner last night, not mentionin' Congdon's pink liquor, kept meawake till two."

  "Moral: Stick to Irish whiskey--or Scotch," laughed Ben.

  "I will. These strange liquors are not for strong men like ourselves."

  Ben took a seat at his invitation, while Bertha went in to 'phone for ahorse and to "dig up" a riding-skirt. Alice was eager to see theinterior of the house, but held her curiosity in check by walking aboutthe beautiful garden, which ran to the very edge of a deep ravine. Thetrees hid the base of the mountain peaks, whose immitigable crags tookon added majesty from the play of the delicate near-by branches againsttheir distant rugged slopes.

  "You have a magnificent outlook here, Captain Haney."

  "'Tis so, and I try to be content with it; but it's hard for one who hasroamed the air like a hawk all his life to be content with ridin' awooden horse. I couldn't endure it if it weren't for me wife."

  His big form rested in his chair with a ponderous inertness which was atelltale witness to his essential helplessness. His left hand stillfailed to participate in the movements of his right, and yet, as heshowed, he could, by special effort of will, use it. "I'm gaining allthe time--but slowly," he went on. "I want to make a trip back up to themines, and I think I'll be able to do it soon." He put aside his owntroubles. "And you, miss, I hope the climate is doing you good?"

  "Oh, indeed, yes," she brightly responded. "I feel stronger every day."

  Ben at the moment experienced a sharp pang of uneasiness and pain, forAlice was looking particularly worn and thin and yellow; and when Berthareturned, flushed with her haste, the contrast between them was quite asdistressing as that between the withered, dying rose and the opening,fragrant bud. The young man's heart rose to his throat. "We have waitedtoo long," he thought, and resolved to again urge upon her a newtreatment which they had discussed.

  "Come in and see the house," said Bertha, in brusque invitation. "Itisn't ship-shape yet. I wanted to do it all myself, but I find it's abig proposition to go up against. It sure is. But I like it. I'd likenothing better than running a big hotel--not too big, but just bigenough. I tell the Captain that when our mines 'pinch out' I'll go toDenver and start a hotel."

  She was quite communicative, but not at ease as she led them from roomto room. Her manner was rather that of one seeking to concealtrepidation, and her fluency seemed a little out of character.

  In fact, she was trying to make the best possible impression on thesepeople, whose sincere interest she felt; but with Ben's eyes fixed uponher so constantly, and a knowledge of Alice's delicate wit to trouble,she was more deeply embarrassed than ever before in her life. It was nother habit to blush or stammer, and she did not do so now, but she wascarried out of her wonted reticence.

  "As I say, we bought the place for the porch. I didn't realize what Iwas being let into--if I had I might have shied. We're practically lostin the place. Except when some of the people come down from camp, we'realone. My mother helps out some, but she's up at the ranch a good deal."She opened the library door, and led the way before an easel, on whichstood a huge canvas. "Here's the picture Mr. Congdon is paintin' of theCaptain. I wanted him taken with his hat on, but Mr. Congdon said no,and his word went. I don't know whether I like this or not. It's got metwisted."

  Congdon had been after psychology rather than costume, that was evidentat a glance, for the clothing counted for little in the portrait. Out ofthe shadow the face peered sadly, yet with a kind of ferocity, too--alook which made Alice Heath recoil from the man. In a certain way theartist had taken advantage of Mart's helplessness and loneliness. He hadcaught the sadness, sullenness, and remorselessness of his sitter ratherthan his gay, good-tempered smile. The face of this man was concernedwith the past, not with the future; and yet on its surface it was a goodlikeness, as Ben said, and had both power and distinction. "I think it acracker-jack piece of work," he ended.

  Bertha replied: "I suppose it is, and yet I can't see it. I'd rather itlooked the way the Captain used to when he came down to the Junction.I'm sorry to have his s
ickness painted in that way."

  "That can't be helped. These artists are queer cattle; you can't drive'em," Ben remarked.

  Bertha smiled. "He wants to paint me now. 'Not on your life' says I.'You'd be doing double stunts with my freckles, and I won't stand forit.'" She laughed. "No sir-ree, I don't let any artist tip my frecklesedgewise just to see how flip he is at it. I like Mr. Congdon, but Idon't trust him--he's too much of a joker."

  Thereupon she led the way to the second floor, and showed them thefurniture, which was mostly very costly and very bad, and at last said:"The third story is pretty empty yet. I don't know just what I'm goingto do with it." She was looking at Alice. "I wish you'd come over andhelp me decide some day."

  "What fun!" cried Alice, speaking on the impulse. "I'd like to verymuch."

  "You see," Bertha went on, "my folks have always been purty poor, andI've lived in jay towns all my life; and when I came here I didn't knowany more about life in a city than a duck does of mining. I had it allto learn, and they's a whole lot yet that I don't know." She smiledquaintly, then grew sober. "And what's worse, I haven't any one to tellme--except Mr. Congdon, and he's such a josher I don't trust him. He didgive me a few points on the library, which ain't so bad, we think; butall the rest of it I had to dig out myself, and it's slow work. But Iguess we better go down; my horse will be here in a few minutes." Then,with lowered voice, she added: "I can't stay out but a little while. TheCaptain dreads to have me leave him even to go down-town. I hadn't oughtto go at all."

  Ben began to perceive a real slavery in her life, and reassured her."I'm glad you're coming. It will do you good, and it will be a pleasureto us too. We'll only be away an hour."

  As they returned to the porch, Bertha put her hand on Haney's shoulder,in the manner of one man to another, saying: "I'm going for a littleride with these people, Captain, if you don't mind."

  "Not a whiff," he answered. "I'll be here when you come back." Again asubtle cadence in his voice so belied his smile that Alice's heartresponded to it.

  Bertha's horse proved to be a spirited animal, but she mounted him withthe ease and celerity of a boy--riding astride, in the mountain fashion."I haven't a long skirt," she carelessly remarked to Alice. That was allthe explanation she offered, and Ben thought he had never seen anythingmore alert, more graceful, than her slim figure poised alertly in thesaddle, her face glowing, her hair blown across her face.

  Alice, a timid rider, admired them both from her position, which wasalways behind, though they tried to accommodate their pace to hers. Apang of envy that was almost jealousy pierced her heart as she looked atthem--so young, so vigorous, and so blithe.

  "I should be sitting with Captain Haney on the porch," she thought, withbitterness. "I am out of place here."

  The words which passed between Bertha and her cavalier meant little, buttheir glances meant much. It was, indeed, a fateful ride. The liking,the deep interest, born of their first meeting, swept irresistibly intoadmiration. Their faces turned towards each other, youth to youth, asnaturally as flowers swing towards the light.

  They fell into argument over saddles, over the difference between hismanner of riding and her own. Her speech, so direct, so full of quaintslang, enchanted him, and Alice soon found herself the third party. Andwhen they were for pushing into a gallop she acknowledged herself aclog. Concealing her disgust of herself under a bright smile, she calledout: "Why don't you people gallop ahead, and let me jog along at my owngait?"

  "Oh no," replied Ben, "we don't want to do that. Are you tired?" Hebecame anxious at once.

  "No, no! Please go! Mrs. Haney wants to race--I can see that; and I'dreally like to see her ride--she sits her horse so beautifully."

  "Very well," Ben acquiesced, "we'll take a run ahead, and come back toyou."

  Thereupon they set off, Bertha leading in a rushing gallop up a fineroad which wound along a ravine, towards the top of a broad mesa. Alice,with slack rein in her small hand, rode slowly on in the vivid sunlight,a chill shadow rolling in upon her soul. As young as her lover in years,she nevertheless seemed at the moment twice his age. Everythinginterested him. Nothing interested her. He was never tired mentally orphysically, and his smooth, unwrinkled face still reflected the morningsunlight of the world. "He is still the boy, while I am old and wrinkledand nerveless," she bitterly confessed.

  When they returned to her at the top of the mesa, flushed and laughing,her pain had deepened into despair. Up to that moment she had checkeddisease with a belief that some day she was to recover her health, thatsome day her wrinkles would be smoothed out and her cheeks resume theiryouthful charm; but now she knew herself as she was--a broken thing. Thedivine glow and grace of youth would never again come to her, while thisvigorous and joyous girl would grow in womanly charm from month tomonth. "She is going to be very beautiful," she admitted; and even inthe midst of her own discouragement she could not but admire Bertha'sskill with the horse. She rode in the manner of a cowboy, holding herhands high and guiding her horse by pulling the reins across his neck.Ben was receiving lessons from her--absorbed and jocular.

  At the top of the mesa they all halted to look away over thelandscape--a gray-green, tumbled land, out of which fantastic red rocksrose, and over which, to the west, the snowy peaks loomed. Ben drew adeep breath of joy. It seemed that the world had never been sobeautiful. "Isn't it magnificent!" he cried. "I like this country!Alice, let's make our home here."

  She smiled a little constrainedly. "Just as you say, dear."

  "Why shouldn't we, when the climate is doing you so much good?"

  The horse that Bertha rode was prancing and foaming, eager for a renewalof the race, and Ben, seeing it, cried out: "Shall we go round by thehanging rock?"

  "I'm willing!" answered Bertha, her eyes shining with excitement.

  Alice shook her head. "I think I'll let you young things go your owngait, and I'll poke along back towards home."

  Ben rode near her, searching her face anxiously. "You're not tired--areyou, sweetness?"

  "No, but I would be if I took that big circuit. But never mind me, Ilike to poke."

  "Very well," he answered, quite relieved, "we'll meet you at thebridge." And off they dashed with furious clatter, leaving her to slowlyretrace her lonely way, feeling very tired, very old, and very sad.

  Bertha was perfectly, perilously happy. It was almost her first escapefrom the brooding care and weight of Haney's presence. She felt as sheused to feel when speeding away on swift gallop to the ranch with somecompanion as care-free as herself. Since that fateful day when hermother fell ill and Marshall Haney asked her to marry him, she had notbeen permitted an hour's holiday. Even when absent from her husband hermind carried an inescapable picture of his loneliness and helplessness,and no complete relaxation had come with her temporary freedom. Thisday, this hour, she was suddenly free from care, from pain, from alluneasiness.

  She considered this feeling due to the saddle and to the clear air ofthe morning. "I will ride every day," she declared to Ben, with shiningface, as they drew their horses to a walk. "I don't know when I'veenjoyed a ride so much. I can't see why I haven't been out before. Iused to ride a good lot; lately I've dropped it."

  "We'll call for you every morning," he replied. "As Alice gets stronger,we can go up into the canons and take long rides."

  "I'll tell you what we'll do," she said; "we'll let her ride in the cartwith the Captain, and take our dinner, and we'll all go up the NorthCanon some day, and eat picnic dinner there."

  "Good idea," he said, accepting her disposition of Alice without evenmental dissent. "That will be jolly fun."

  They planned this and other excursions, with no sense of leaving any onebehind or of cutting across conventional boundaries. Their nativehonesty and innocence of any ill intention prevented even a suspicion ofdanger, and by the time they joined Alice at the bridge they were onterms of intimacy and good-fellowship which seemed to rise from years oflong acquaintance. Ben had promised to help her select a hors
e, and shehad agreed to bring the Captain to call on Alice, who was staying withsome friends not far away.

  This change in Bertha's manner extended to Alice, who returned it inkind. The guilelessness which shone from the young wife's clear eyes wasunmistakable. She was growing handsome, too. The flush of blood in hercheeks had submerged her freckles, and Alice began to realize how thepoor child's devotion to Marshall Haney had reacted against her nativegood health. "She is but a child even now," she thought.

  Haney was sitting on the porch where they had left him, the collie athis feet, but at sight of them returning he rose and hobbled slowly downthe walk, his heart filled with tenderness and admiration for his wife.He had never ridden with her, but he had once seen her mounted, and oneof his expressed wishes had been that he might be able to sit a saddleonce more and ride by her side.

  "Come in and stay to dinner!" he called, hospitably, and Bertha eagerlyseconded the invitation.

  But Alice replied: "I'm pretty tired; I think I'll go home. You can stayif you like, Ben."

  Ben, smitten with sudden contrition, quickly said: "Oh no; I will gowith you. I'm afraid you've ridden too far."

  She protested against this, for Bertha's relief. "Not at all. It's agood tiredness. It's been great fun."

  And with promises of another expedition of the same sort they rode away,while Bertha and Haney remained at the gate to examine the new horse.

  As little Mrs. Haney re-entered the house with her husband the dayseemed to lose its magical brightness, and to decline to a humdrum,shadowless flare. The house became cold and gloomy and the day empty.For the first time since its purchase she mentally asked herself: "Whatwill I do now?" It was as if some ruling motive had suddenly beenwithdrawn from her life.

  This empty, aching spot remained with her all through the day, even whenshe took Haney for his drive down-town, and only disappeared for a fewmoments as they met young Fordyce on the street. It troubled her as shereturned to the house, and she was glad that Williams came in to takesupper with them, for his talk of the mine diverted her and deeplyinterested her husband.

  Williams eyed his boss critically. "You're gainin', Captain. You'll soonbe able to make camp again."

  "I hope so, but the doctor says my heart's affected and it wouldn't besafe for me to go any higher--for a while."

  Williams smiled at Bertha. "Better send the missus, then. The men allhave a great idea of her. They say she's a kind of mascot. McGonnigleasks me every time what she thinks of our new shaft. I've a kind ofreverence for her judgment myself. They say women kind o' feel their wayto a conclusion. Now, I'd like her to pass judgment on our work in _TheDiamond Ace_."

  "I'd like to go up," said Bertha. But, in truth, she was no longerthinking of the mine: she was considering how she might make her tablelook as pretty as Mrs. Congdon's. Her first dissatisfaction with her ownway of life filled her mind. "I must have some of those candles," shesaid to herself, while the men were still intent upon the mine. Herfirst step towards social conformity was at this moment taken.

  She felt herself akin to these people, and this assertion, subconsciousand unuttered, brought something between Marshall Haney and herself. Itwas not merely that she was younger and clearer of record, but she wasperfectly certain that with education she could hold her own with theCongdons or any one else. "If my father had lived, I wouldn't be theignoramus I am to-day." But she had no plan for acquiring the knowledgeshe needed other than by reading books. She resolved to read every day,though each hour so spent must be taken from her husband, now piteouslydependent upon her.

  He managed his morning paper very well, but when she read aloud to himhe almost always went to sleep.