CHAPTER IX
TALLWOODS
Meantime, events which might have held interest in certain circlesin Washington had they been known, passed on their course, andtoward that very region which had half in jest been named as thestorm center of the day--the state of Missouri, anomalous,inchoate, discordant, half North, half South, itself the birth ofcompromise and sired by political jealousy; whither, against herwill, voyaged a woman, herself engine of turbulence, doubt andstrife, and in company now of a savage captor who contemplatednothing but establishing her for his own use in his own home.
Tallwoods, the home plantation of the Dunwody family in the West,now the personal property of the surviving son, state senatorWarville Dunwody of Missouri, presented one of the contrasts whichnow and again might have been seen in our early westerncivilization. It lay somewhat remote from the nearest city ofconsequence, in a region where the wide acres of the owner blended,unused and uncultivated, with those still more wild, as yetunclaimed under any private title. Yet in pretentiousness, indeedin assuredness, it might have rivaled many of the old estates ofKentucky, the Carolinas, or Virginia; so much did the customs andambitions of these older states follow their better bred sons outinto the newer regions.
These men of better rank, with more than competency at theirdisposal, not infrequently had few neighbors other than the humblebut independent frontiersman who left for new fields when a dogbarked within fifty miles of his cabin. There were neighborswithin half that distance of Tallwoods, settlers nestled here orthere in these enfolding hills and forests; but of neighbors inimportance equal to that of the owner of Tallwoods there were fewor none in that portion of the state. The time was almost feudal,but wilder and richer than any feudal day, in that fief tribute wasunknown. The original landlord of these acres had availed himselfof the easy laws and easy ways of the time and place, and takenover to himself from the loose public domain a small realm all hisown. Here, almost in seclusion, certainly in privacy, a generationhad been spent in a life as baronial as any ever known in oldVirginia in earlier days. A day's ride to a court house, two daysto a steamer, five hours to get a letter to or from the occasionalpost--these things seem slight in a lifelong accustomedness; andhere few had had closer touch than this with civilization.
Tallwoods]
The plantation itself was a little kingdom, and largely suppliedits own wants. Mills, looms, shops,--all these were part of thecareless system, easy and opulent, which found support and gainedarrogance from a rich and generous environment. The old houseitself, if it might be called old, built as it had been scarcethirty years before, lay in the center of a singular valley, at theedge of the Ozark Hills. The lands here were not so rich as thewide acres thirty miles or more below, where on the fat bottomsoil, black and deep, the negroes raised in abundance thewealth-making crop of the country. On the contrary, this, althoughit was the capital of the vast Dunwody holdings thereabout, waschosen not for its agricultural richness so much as for itshealthfulness and natural beauty.
In regard to these matters, the site could not better have beenselected. The valley, some three or four miles across, lay like adeep saucer pressed down into the crest of the last rise of theOzarks. The sides of the depression were as regular as thoughcreated by the hands of man. Into its upper extremity there ran alittle stream of clear and unfailing water, which made its entranceat an angle, so that the rim of the hills seemed scarcely nicked byits ingress. This stream crossed the floor of the valley, servingto water the farms, and, making its way out of the lower end by asimilar curious angle, broke off sharply and hid itself among therocks on its way out and down from the mountains--last trace of agiant geology which once dealt in continental terms, rivers onceseas, valleys a thousand miles in length. Thus, at first sight,one set down in the valley might have felt that it had neitherinlet nor outlet, but had been created, panoplied and peopled bysome Titanic power, and owned by those who neither knew nor desiredany other world. As a matter of fact, the road up through thelower Ozarks from the great Mississippi, which entered along thebed of the little stream, ended at Tallwoods farm. Beyond it,along the little river which led back into the remote hills, it wasno more than a horse path, and used rarely except by negroes orwhites in hunting expeditions back into the mountains, where thedeer, the wild turkey, the bear and the panther still roamed inconsiderable numbers at no great distance from the home plantation.
Tallwoods itself needed no other fence than the vast wall of hills,and had none save where here and there the native stone had beenheaped up roughly into walls, along some orchard side. The fruitsof the apple, the pear and the peach grew here handsomely, and theoriginal owner had planted such trees in abundance. The soil,though at first it might have been, called inhospitable, showeditself productive. The corn stood tall and strong, and here andthere the brown stalks of the cotton plant itself might have beenseen; proof of the wish of the average Southerner to cultivate thatplant, even in an environment not wholly suitable. All about, uponthe mountain sides, stood a heavy growth of deciduous trees, atthis time of the year lining the slopes in flaming reds and golds.Beyond the valley's rim, tier on tier, stately and slow, themountains rose back for yet a way--mountains rich in their means offrontier independence, later to be discovered rich also inminerals, in woods, in all the things required by an advancingcivilization.
Corn, swine and cotton,--these made the wealth of the owner ofTallwoods' plantation and of the richer lands in the river bottomsbelow. These products brought the owner all the wealth he needed.Here, like a feudal lord, master of all about him, he had lived allhis life and had, as do all created beings, taken on the color andthe savor of the environment about him. Rich, he was generous;strong, he was merciful; independent, he was arrogant; used to hisown way, he was fierce and cruel when crossed in that way. Notmuch difference, then, lay between this master of Tallwoods and theowner of yonder castle along the embattled Rhine, or the toweredstronghold of some old lord located along an easy, wandering,English stream; with this to be said in favor of this solitary lordof the wilderness, that his was a place removed and little known.It had been passed by in some manner through its lack of appeal tothose seeking cotton lands or hunting grounds, so that it laywholly out of the ken and the understanding of most folk of theolder states.
If in Tallwoods the owner might do as he liked, certainly he hadelected first of all to live somewhat as a gentleman. The mansionhouse was modeled after the somewhat stereotyped pattern of thegreat country places of the South. Originally planned to consistof the one large central edifice of brick, with a wing on each sideof somewhat lesser height, it had never been entirely completed,one wing only having been fully erected. The main portion of thehouse was of two stories, its immediate front occupied by theinevitable facade with its four white pillars, which rose from thelevel of the ground to the edge of the roof, shading the frontentrance to the middle rooms. Under this tall gallery roof, whosefront showed high, white and striking all across the valley, layfour windows, and at each side of the great double doors lay yetother two windows. On either side of the pillars and in eachstory, yet other two admitted light to the great rooms; and in thecompleted wing which lay at one side of the main building, deepembrasures came down almost to the level of the ground, well hiddenby the grouped shrubbery which grew close to the walls. Thevisitor approaching up the straight gravel walk might not havenoticed the heavy iron bars which covered these, giving the placesomething the look of a jail or a fortress. The shrubs,carelessly, and for that reason more attractively planted, alsostood here and there over the wide and smooth bluegrass lawn.
The house was built in the edge of a growth of great oaks and elms,which threw their arms out over even the lofty gables as though inprotection. Tradition had it that the reason the building hadnever been completed was that the old master would have beenobliged to cut down a favorite elm in order to make room for it;and he had declared that since his wife had died and all hischildren but one had followed her
, the house was large enough as itwas. So it stood as he had left it, with its two tall chimneys,one at each end of the mid-body of the house, marking the two greatfireplaces, yet another chimney at the other end of the lesser wing.
Straight through the mid-body of the house ran a wide hall, usuallyleft open to all the airs of heaven; and through this one could seefar out over the approach, entirely through the house itself, andnote the framed picture beyond of woods glowing with foliage, andmasses of shrubbery, and lesser trees among which lay the whitehuts of the negroes. Still to the left, beyond the existing wing,lay the fenced vegetable gardens where grew rankly all manner ofprovender intended for the bounteous table, whose boast it wasthat, save for sugar and coffee, nothing was used at Tallwoodswhich was not grown upon its grounds.
So lived one, and thus indeed lived more than one, baron onAmerican soil not so long ago, when this country was more Americanthan it is to-day--more like the old world in many ways, more likea young world in many others. Here, for thirty years of his life,had lived the present owner of Tallwoods, sole male of the familysurviving in these parts.
It might have been called matter of course that Warville Dunwodyshould be chosen to the state legislature. So chosen, he had,through sheer force of his commanding nature, easily become aleader among men not without strength and individuality. Far up inthe northern comer, where the capital of the state lay, men spokeof this place hid somewhere down among the hills of the lowercountry. Those who in the easier acres of the northwestern prairielands reared their own corn and swine and cotton, often wondered atthe half-wild man from St. Francois, who came riding into thecapital on a blooded horse, who was followed by negroes also onblooded horses, a self-contained man who never lacked money, whonever lacked wit, whose hand was heavy, whose tongue was keen,whose mind was strong and whose purse was ever open.
The state which had produced a Benton was now building up a rivalto Benton. That giant, then rounding out a history of thirty years'continuous service in the Senate of the United States, unlike themen of this weaker day, reserved the right to his own honest andpersonal political belief. He steadily refused to countenance theextending of slavery, although himself a holder of slaves; and,although he admitted the legality and constitutionality of theFugitive Slave Act, he deplored that act as much as any. To theeventual day of his defeat he stood, careless of his fate, firmin his own principles, going down in defeat at last because hewould not permit his own state legislature--headed then by mensuch as Warville Dunwody and his friends--to dictate to him theworkings of his own conscience. Stronger than Daniel Webster, hewas one of those who would not obey the dictates of that leader,and he _did_ set up his "conscience above the law." These two men,Benton and Dunwody, therefore, were at the time of which we writetwo gladiators upon the scenes of a wild western region, as yetlittle known in the eastern states, though then swiftly comingforward into more specific notice.
Perhaps thirty or forty slaves were employed about Tallwoods homefarm, as it was called. They did their work much as they liked, ina way not grudging for the main part. Idle and shiftless, relyingon the frequent absence of the master and the ease of gaining aliving, they worked no more than was necessary to keep up asemblance of routine. In some way the acres got plowed and reaped,in some way the meats were cured, in some way the animals were fedand the table was served and the rooms kept in a semi-tidiness,none too scrupulous. Always in Tallwoods there was something athand ready to eat, and there was fuel whereby fires might be made.Such as it was, the hospitality of the place was ready. It was arich, loose way of life, and went on lazily and loosely, like thefashion of some roomy old vehicle, not quite run down, butadvancing now and then with a groan or a creak at tasks imposed.
But now, another and most important matter for our note--there wasno woman's hand at Tallwoods. The care was that of servants, ofslaves. When things grew insupportable in their shiftlessness themaster lashed out an order and got what he demanded; then soonmatters sank back again to their old state. None might tell whenthe master would ride away, and when gone none could say when hewould return. Since the death of his mother no woman's control hadruled here, nor, in spite of the busy tongues at the larger citiesabove, did there seem likelihood that any would soon share or alterthe fortunes of Tallwoods. Rumors floated here and there, tongueswagged; but Tallwoods lay apart; and Tallwoods, as commonly wasconceded, had ways of its own.
It was to these remote and somewhat singular surroundings thatthere approached, on the evening of a bland autumn day, along thewinding road which followed the little stream, the great coach ofthe master of Tallwoods, drawn by four blooded carriage horses,weary, mud-stained and flecked with foam. At the end of thevalley, where the road emerged from its, hidden course among thecliffs, the carriage now halted. Dunwody himself sprang down fromthe driver's seat where he had been riding in order to give theoccupants of the coach the more room. He approached the window,hat in hand.
"My dear lady," said he, "this is the end of our journey. Yonderis my home. Will you not look at it?"
It was a pale and languid face which greeted him, the face of awoman weary and even now in tears. Hastily she sought to concealthese evidences of her distress. It was the first time he had seenher weeping. Hitherto her courage had kept her cold and defiant,else hot and full of reproofs. This spectacle gave him concern.His face took on a troubled frown.
"Come now, do not weep, my dear girl,--anything but that."
"What, then, is it you would say?" she demanded. "It makes littledifference to me where you are taking me."
He threw open the coach door and extended a hand to aid her inalighting. "Suppose we walk up from here," he said. "I know youare tired by the ride. Besides," he added, with pride, "I want toshow you Tallwoods."
Scarce touching his hand, she stepped down. Dunwody motioned tothe driver to advance, and in spite of the protests of the maidJeanne, thus left alone within, the coach rolled on up the drivewayahead of them.
It was in fact a beautiful prospect which lay before the travelersthus arrived. The sun was low in the west, approaching the rim ofthe hills, and its level rays lighted the autumn foliage, crossedthe great trees, brightened the tall white pillars. It evenilluminated the grounds beyond, so that quite through the body ofthe house itself its golden light could be seen on the fartherslopes, framing the quaint and singular picture thus set apart.All around rose the wide cup of the valley, its sides as yetcovered by unbroken decoration of vivid or parti-colored foliage.Here and there the vivid reds of the wild sumac broke out in riot;framed lower in the scale were patches of berry vines touched bythe frost; while now and again a maple lifted aloft a fan of cleanscarlet against the sky,--all backed by the more somber colors ofthe oaks and elms, or the now almost naked branches of the lindens.
These enfolding forests gave a look of protectedness to this secretplace. They left a feeling not of discomfort but of shelter.Moreover, the grass underfoot was soft and still green. Some sortof comeliness, picturesque though rude, showed in the scantattempts to modify nature in the arrangement of the grounds. Andthere, noble and strong, upon a little eminence swelling at thebottom of the valley's cup, lay the great house, rude, unfinished,yet dignified. If it seemed just this side of elegance, yet thelook of it savored of comfort. To a woman distracted and weariedit should have offered some sort of rest. To her who now gazedupon it the sight afforded only horror. This then was the place.Here was to be her trial. This was the battle-ground.
Dunwody lingered, hoping to hear some word of satisfaction.
"The hills are beautiful, the trees are beautiful, and the sky,"she said, at length. "What God has done here is beautiful. ButGod Himself is gone."
Rage filled him suddenly. "At any rate, this is what I have andall I have," he said. "Like it, woman, or by that God! hate it!Here you are, and here you stay, until--until I die or until Godreturns. You are the only woman in it for me when you step intothat house there. You are its mistress. I
rule here. But whatyou want shall be yours at any time you want it. You can think ofnothing in the world that shall not be brought to you when you askfor it. My servants are yours. Choose from them as many as youlike."
"Slaves for your slave? You are full of kindness indeed! But Ishall never be what you delicately call the mistress of Tallwoods."
"By the Lord! girl, if I thought that would be true--if I thoughtfor one moment that it were true--" in a half-frenzy he threw outhis arm, rigid. An instant later he had lapsed into one of themoods new to him. "There is no punishment I don't deserve," hesaid. "All the time I have hurt you, when I'd rather cut my tongueout than hurt you. I've seen you, these few days. God knows, atthe hardest--me at the worst--you at the worst. But your worst isbetter than the best of any other woman I ever saw. I'm going tohave you. It's you or nothing for me, and I'm going to have you.Choose your own title here, then, Madam. This is your home or yourprison, as you like."
For a moment Josephine paused, looking around her at thesurrounding hills. He seemed to catch her thought, and smiled ather.
"Twenty miles to the nearest house that way, Madam. None at allthat other way. Every path known and guarded by my people. Nopaths at all in these hills out yonder. Wild animals in them,little food in them for man or woman not used to living wild. Youwould be helpless in one day, if you tried to get put. We'd findyou before you'd gone five miles. Don't attempt any foolishnessabout trying to escape from here. You're mine, I say. I shall notlet you go."
Yet in spite of his savagery, his face softened in the next moment."If it could only be in the right way! Look at me, look at you.You're so very beautiful, I'm so strong. There is only one rightway about it. Oh, woman!
"But come," he resumed with a half sigh, seeking in a rough way tobrush back a wisp of hair from his forehead, to join the tangledmane upon his crest; "I hate myself as much as you hate me, butit's your fault--your fault that you are as you are--that you setme mad. Let's try to forget it for to-night, at least. You'retired, worn out. I'm almost tired myself, with all this warbetween us."
She was silent as they slowly advanced, silent as a prisoner facingprison doors; but he still went on, arguing.
"Think of what you could do here, how happy we could be here.Think of what we could do, together. There isn't anything Iwouldn't try to do. Why, I could do _anything_; and I'd bringeverything I got, everything, back to you,--and set it down at yourfeet and say, 'I brought you this.' What would I care for it,alone? What does it mean to me? What glory or success do I want?Without you, what does all this world, all my life, all I can do,mean to me after this? I knew long ago I couldn't be happy, but Ididn't know why, I know now what I wanted, all along. I can dosomething in the world, I can succeed, I can be somebody now--andnow I want to, want to! Oh, I've lacked so much, I've longed somuch. Some way the world didn't seem made right. I wondered, Ipuzzled, I didn't know, I couldn't understand--I thought all theworld was made to be unhappy--but it isn't, it's made forhappiness, for joy, for exultation. Why, I can see it plainlyenough now--all straight out, ahead of me,--all straight ahead ofus two!"
"How like a man you are!" she said slowly. "You seek your ownsuccess, although your path lies over a woman's disgrace and ruin."
"Haven't you ever thought of the other side of this at all? Can'ta woman ever think of mercy to a man? Can't she ever blame herselfjust for being Eve, for being the incarnate temptation that she isto any real man? Can't she see what she is to him? You talk aboutruin--I tell you it's ruin here, sure as we are born, for one orboth of us. I reckon maybe it's for both."
"Yes, it is for both."
"No. I'll not admit it!" he blazed out. "If I've been strongenough to pull you down, I'm strong enough to carry you up again.Only, don't force the worst part of me to the front all the time."
"A gentle wooer, indeed! And yet you blame me that I can not see aman's side in a case like this."
"But in God's name, why should a man see any but a man's side ofit? Things don't go by reason, after all. The world goes, Ireckon, because there is a man's side to it. Anyhow, I am as I am.Whatever you do here, whatever you are, don't try to wheedle me,nor ask me to see your side, when there is only one side to this.If any man ever lifted hand or eye to you, I'd kill him. I'll notgive up one jot of the right I've got in you, little as it is--I'vetaken the right to hold you here and talk to you. But when you sayyou'll not listen to me, then you do run against my side of it, myman's side of it; and I tell you once more, I'm the owner of thisplace. I live here. It's mine. I rule here, over free andthrall."
With rude strength and pride he swept an arm widely around him,covering half the circle of the valley. "It's mine!" he saidslowly. "Fit for a king, isn't it? Yes, fit for a queen. It isalmost fit for you."
His hat was in his hand. The breeze of the evening, drawing downthe valley, now somewhat chilled, lifted the loose hair on hisforehead. He stood, big, bulky and strong, like some war lord ofolder days. The argument on his lips was that of the day of skinsand stone.
She who stood at his side, this prisoner of his prowess, taken byhis ruthless disregard of wish or rights of others, stood even withhis shoulder, tall, deep-bosomed, comely, as fair and fit andwomanly a woman as man's need has asked in any age of the world.In the evening light the tears which had wet her eyes were lessvisible. She might indeed have been fit queen for a spot likethis, mate for a man like this.
And now the chill of autumn lay in the twilight. Night wascoming--the time when all creatures, save ravening night feeders,feel apprehension, crave shelter, search out a haven for repose.This woman was alone and weary, much in need of some place to resther head. Every fiber in her heart craved shelter, comfort,security, protection.
Dunwody turned, offered her a hand, and led her to the wide doubledoors.
The Purchase Price; Or, The Cause of Compromise Page 9
