CHAPTER IX
THE VISIT AT MURPHY RANCH
The hour hand of the clock was on three. Twenty pairs of restless eyeswatched the minute hand as it drew close, very close to twelve. Thebooks had been placed in the desks; there was a hush of attention. Thechildren sang "America," saluted the flag, and marched out of theroom. As Wathemah returned to visit with his teacher, she asked himwhat he had learned that day.
"Country love!" answered the child. As he spoke, he stepped to theflag, that hung from the staff in graceful folds, and caressed it.
"Oh, Miss Bright, Miss Bright!" shouted James Burns. "Brigham's comefur yer! He's brung his horse fur yer ter ride! Golly! But he looksfine! Come see!"
And James led the way to Brigham and the horse. Sure enough! Therethey were. The little lad, radiant with pride, the huge bay horse,lean and gaunt and hairy, bedight as never was horse before. He seemedconscious that this was a gala day, and that it behooved him to deporthimself as became a respectable family horse.
Numerous small bouquets, tied to white muslin strings, adorned hisbridle. The animal was guiltless of saddle, but there was animprovised cinch of white cotton cloth around him. This, likewise, wasadorned with butterfly-like bouquets.
"Ain't he some?" said one lad, admiringly.
"Gee! but I'd like ter ride him!" shouted another.
"Brigham dressed old Jim up just 'cause yer wuz goin' ter ride him,Miss Bright," said Donald.
To the last remark, the teacher replied:
"Ride him? I never rode bareback in my life. I am afraid to try it. Imight slip off."
"Oh, no, yer won't," said Brigham, who stood holding the horse'sbridle. The teacher pretended to be greatly scared. The company grewhilarious.
"Brigham," she said, "I am sure I can't stick on. I might go slidingover the horse's head and land in a heap. Then what would you do?"
"Pick yer up."
This reply increased the hilarity.
Donald seemed to think it would be great sport to see the teacher'smaiden effort at riding bareback.
"Jest git on, Miss Bright, an' see how easy 'tis," he urged.
"I don't know how to mount," she hastened to say. "I haven't learnedeven that much."
"Oh, that's easy enough," said a muscular little chap. "I'll showyer."
And he leaped like a squirrel to the horse's back.
"Oh, I could never do that," said Esther, joining in the laughter ofthe children.
"I'll tell yer what," said a large Scotch boy, "ye wait a bit, MissBright, an' I'll bring ye y'r chair, an' then 'twill be easy enough."
So the chair was brought, and the teacher seated herself on thehorse's back, sideways.
"Oh, ye must ride straddles," insisted Donald, "or ye'll sure falloff."
"Yes, straddles," echoed another; but Esther shook her headdubiously, and pointed to her full blue flannel walking skirt.
"Oh, that's all right," said the tallest boy, "everybody ridesstraddles here."
"Try it," urged Brigham.
So she tried it. But she was not the only passenger who rode astride.Michael and Patrick, the little Murphy twins, were helped to a placebehind her. Wathemah then climbed up in front of her.
"Is this all?" she asked, laughingly.
"I should think it was enough," said Kenneth Hastings, who at thatmoment joined the company.
As he caught Esther's eye, both laughed, and the children joined frompure sympathy.
When she recovered her composure, Esther said to Kenneth, "Nothinglacking but some white muslin harness and posies on me."
At last, amid shouts and cheers, the much-bedecked horse and his humanload started up the mountain road.
By three o'clock, the pulse of the Murphy household beat faster. Thetemperature rose to fever heat. Three-fifteen, three-thirty; still novisitors; and what is more, no signs of visitors. Every five minutes,one of the children would run down the mountain road, and returndisappointed.
"Do yer s'pose they ain't comin'?" queried Kate, who had been kept athome that day to assist in the preparations.
"Oh, yes, they're comin', I think likely," answered the hostess; "butI don't see where they're keepin' theirselves."
She frequently straightened the chairs; once more she dusted thefurniture with her clean apron; she straightened the pictures on thewalls; she brought out an old and much-prized album, sacred to Mormonprophets and elders. The broken mirror, that adorned the wall, hadbeen cleaned and decorated with tissue paper. Mrs. Murphy stood andlooked in it. She saw reflected a sharp, severe face shining like themirror.
"I wisht I had a collar," she said. "I uster wear a collar back inYork State."
Suddenly, she heard a shout from the road.
"They're comin'! They're comin'! Schoolma'am's with 'em! Quick, Maw,quick!"
There was a rush down the path, Joseph Smith leading the line.
All was expectation. The approaching horse started into a joltingtrot. As he neared the barn he began to buck. The inevitable followed.Over the horse's head went the passengers in a heap. The twins quicklyextricated themselves, and sprang up uninjured; but the two visitorslay unconscious.
"Quick, Samuel, bring water!" directed Mrs. Murphy.
In a few minutes, she dashed water in the unconscious faces, andwatched anxiously. The water soon restored Esther, who had beenstunned by the fall. At last Wathemah opened his eyes, and saw histeacher kneeling by his side. He tried to rise, but fell back with acry of pain. One arm lay limp by his side. It was evident that his armwas broken.
"Is there a surgeon anywhere near Gila?" she asked anxiously.
"There's one about fifteen miles away," responded Joseph.
"Then I'll try to set Wathemah's arm myself. Several times I havehelped my uncle set broken bones. Could you bring me some flatsplints about this size?" she asked, showing Joseph what she wanted.
"Yes, mum," answered the boy, starting on his errand.
"And some strips of muslin, and some pins, Mrs. Murphy?" shecontinued.
In a few moments the articles were ready. By this time Wathemah hadrecovered consciousness.
"You have broken your arm, dear," she said. "I am going to set it.It'll hurt you, but I want you to be brave and keep very still."
The child smiled faintly. But as she lifted his arm, he again fainted.They lifted him, and carried him into the house. Then firmly, deftly,as though experienced in such work, Esther pulled and pressed thebroken bone into place. The child roused with the pain, but did notcry out again. At last the arm was bandaged, and placed on a cushion.
"You must be very careful of your arm, Wathemah," she said, pattinghis cheek, "until the broken bone grows together."
Before the child could speak, there was a knock at the door. Thechildren rushed to open it, and there stood Kenneth Hastings.
"I came to see if the cavalcade reached here safely," he said,smiling. "I followed a short distance behind you, until--"
Here his comprehending glance grasped the situation.
"Wathemah hurt?" he asked in quick sympathy, striding to the child'sside. "I feared something might happen."
"Old Jim threw 'em," explained three or four eager voices.
Kenneth looked inquiringly at Esther.
"Were you hurt, too?" he asked in a low voice.
"I think not," she said, looking intently at Wathemah.
"I believe you _were_. Was she?" he asked, turning to Mrs. Murphy.
"She were stunned like from the fall, but was so busy settin' theboy's arm, she didn't think of herself."
"Ah." Then turning to Esther again, he questioned her.
The family observed every tone in the questions and answers.
During the setting of the arm, they had watched Esther withopen-mouthed astonishment.
"I tell yer, schoolma'am," remarked Joseph, "I bet yer life yer'll hevall yer kin do in Gila, now."
"I should think she already had enough to do," suggested Kenneth.
Here Mrs. Murphy, suddenly reali
zing that certain amenities had beenomitted, blurted out:
"This is my son, Joseph Young; my daughter, Mandy Young you've knowedalready; my son Samuel Young, my son Jacob Black, yer've knowed atschool, 'n' my daughter Kate Black, 'n' Brigham Murphy, aged six, 'n'Kathleen, aged four, 'n' Nora, aged two."
Mrs. Murphy paused. Samuel at once took the floor.
"We've knowed _you_ ever sence you come. They call you the angel o'the Gila." He seemed to swell with importance.
"A queer name, isn't it?" said Esther.
Samuel had combed his hair, and wore a clean shirt in honor of theoccasion.
"Miss Bright," said Kenneth, "I am fearful lest you _have_ beeninjured by the fall. Let me take you home."
This she would not listen to.
"Then let me call for you later in the evening and take you back withme. There may be something Mrs. Clayton can do for you." But there wasa chorus of protests.
Mrs. Murphy gave it as her opinion that the schoolma'am knew her ownfeelin's best; and it wasn't often they had comp'ny, goodness knows,especially comp'ny from back East. And Mr. Hastings should leave herbe.
Esther poured oil on the troubled waters; and Mrs. Murphy became somollified she pressed Kenneth to stay to supper.
At this juncture Patrick Senior's step was heard.
"Good avenin'," he said, heartily, making a queer little bow. "It'sproud I am ter welcome yez ter me home."
He did not take off his hat nor remove the pipe from his mouth. Estherrose.
"Kape y'r sate, Miss, kape y'r sate," he said, making a sweepinggesture. Then he gripped her hand.
"An' Mr. Hastings! It's honored Oi am ter have yez enter me humblehome."
"He's goin' to stay to supper, Pop," said one of the little boys.
Kenneth hastened to excuse himself, but Patrick would have none of it.Mr. Hastings must stay, and share the fatted calf.
Kenneth laughed.
"Which is the prodigal?" asked he, smiling towards Esther.
"The prodigal? the prodigal?" repeated Mrs. Murphy mystified, and halfresentful at Kenneth's smiles.
"Oh, that's a Bible story, Mrs. Murphy," explained Esther. "A rich manhad two sons. One son spent all he had in riotous living. When hefinally repented and came back home to his father's house, they werevery happy to see him and made a great feast for him. For this purposethey killed their fatted calf."
"I see," said Mrs. Murphy with great dignity. "An' sence we are happyto see yer and have killed our fatted hens fur yer, we'll just callyer the Prodigal."
"I always knew you were prodigal of your strength and talent," Kennethsaid merrily. "Prodigal. That's a good name for you. That was a happythought of yours, Mrs. Murphy."
Mrs. Murphy still looked mystified.
"Oi see me little girrls are plazed ter see yez," said Patrick,beaming proudly upon the little ones. Kathleen held up for hisinspection some paper dolls Esther had brought her. Then the smile onhis face broadened. He laid his pipe on the shelf and examined thedolls critically.
"Did yez iver see the loike on it, now? Shure, an' did yez say 'Thankyez' ter the lady?"
"Yep," answered Kathleen, and "Yep," echoed Nora.
"An' phwat is the matther wid Wathemah?" asked Patrick, as heapproached the little Indian.
"Got hurted."
"Broked his arm."
"Fell off old Jim."
"Miss Bright mended his arm," came in quick succession.
"Poor little lad. Oi'm sorry yez got hurted."
And the kind-hearted man patted the child on the head. He likedWathemah. But the little visitor was intent on the two little girlsand their gay paper dolls.
Esther now expressed a wish to hear some of her host's stories ofpioneer life in Arizona.
Patrick drew himself up. He felt his self-respect rising.
"Them wuz awful toimes," he said, puffing away at his pipe again; "butOi wuz young an' sthrong. The Apaches wuz on the warpath most av thetoime, an' we fellers didn't know but we'd be kilt ony minute. Weslipt wid wan oi open, an' our guns by our soides."
"It must have been very exciting," said Esther, with marked interest.
"It certain wuz exciting. It wuz bad, too, ter come back ter y'r shackan' foind y'r rations gone, or no shack at all."
"What would you do then?" she asked.
"Oh, we wint hungry till we caught fish, or shot deer."
Here he lighted his pipe again, and drew long whiffs.
"What were you doing in those days?" questioned Kenneth.
"Me business wuz always wid cattle. Sometoimes the Apaches would gooff wid some o' me cattle."
"Did you ever get them back?" asked Esther.
"Sometoimes." He smoked in silence a few minutes.
"I understand the Apaches are still treacherous," she said.
Just then she felt Wathemah's hand on her arm.
"Wathemah Apache," he said. "He no bad. He good."
"Yes," she acknowledged, smiling, "you _are_ getting to be a prettygood boy, dear." Her smile did more for the child than did the words.
"Pop," said Samuel, "them air Apaches we seen up canyon t'other day'sben skulkin' aroun'. Yer'd better carry a gun, schoolma'am."
Supper was now announced, and discussion of the Indians ceased. Theyounger children, joyfully anticipating the feast before them, hadforgotten all their mother's preliminary instructions on etiquette attable, and there was a tumultuous scramble.
"Murphy!" called Mrs. Murphy in stentorian tones as she stood witharms akimbo, "seat schoolma'am at y'r right!"
With a smile that would have done credit to the proudest son of Erin,Patrick waved his hand toward the place of honor. Patrick Junior andhis twin Michael insisted upon sitting in the same seat by theirvisitor. What is more, Michael dealt his brother a severe blow in themouth to settle his superior claims. To add to the clamor, Kathleenpressed her right to the same seat. She screamed lustily.
Mrs. Murphy, family representative of law, started towards thedisturbers of the peace. They dodged. The teacher hereupon made asuggestion that seemed to satisfy everyone, and so the matter wassettled.
"Set right down, Mr. Hastings, set right down," urged Mrs. Murphy. Heseated himself at Patrick Senior's left. They were scarcely seatedbefore Michael exclaimed, "Ain't we got a good supper!"
He sprawled on the table, looking longingly at the huge dish ofchicken potpie.
"One'd think yer never had nothin' ter eat," observed Samuel. Heseemed to think it devolved upon him to preserve the decorum of thefamily.
While the children were waiting impatiently for their turns, a nudgestarted at Mrs. Murphy's right and left. Nine pairs of elbows wereresting upon the table. Nine pairs of eyes were fixed longingly uponthe platter of chicken. Suddenly, as the parental nudge passed along,nine pairs of elbows moved off the table, and nine figures sat erect.
The family had been instructed to observe the teacher's manners attable, "fur," observed Mrs. Murphy, "there is no better way fur yer tolearn eatin' manners than to notice how folks does. Ef she sets upstraight-like, yer kin do the same. Jest watch her. Ef she takes herchicken bone in her hand, y' kin; but ef she cuts her chicken off,why, y' cut yourn off."
Finally, all were served. In the preparation for the reception of theteacher, the offspring of Mrs. Murphy had been duly instructed by herto hold each little finger out stiff and straight while manipulatingthe knife and fork. To the dismay of all, Esther did not take herchicken bone in her hand, nor did she hold her knife and forkperpendicular, nor did she hold her little fingers out at a rightangle.
The children struggled with their refractory chicken bones, as theywatched the teacher. Patrick Murphy's eyes were twinkling. But at thisjuncture, a nudge from Mrs. Murphy again passed around the table. Ninepairs of eyes were upon the knife and fork of the guest. Amanda wasfilled with admiration as she observed Esther Bright.
In talking this over afterwards, Samuel said to his sister:
"Schoolma'am wuz brung up better nor we be. Yer kin see i
t by the wayshe eats. Did yer see how dainty-like she held her knife and fork?"
"Yer don't know nuthin' about it, Sam," said Mandy. "I guess I seenher myself."
Just as the last nudge passed around, Patrick laughed outright.
"Begorra childthren," he said, "is it Frinch stoile ter eat wid y'rfingers sthuck out? Phwat ails yez?"
"Pat Murphy," said his wife, "yer never seen good eatin' manners iny'r life. I hev. Back in York State where I wuz riz, the very bestpeople in the country come to them barn raisin's."
Her sharp chin tilted upward; her black eyes grew brighter.
"Where I growed up, folks set great store by p'liteness. They allushad clean plates fur pie when they wuz comp'ny. Yes, Pat Murphy, I wuzwell trained, ef I do say it."
The visitors remained silent. Patrick grinned.
When the teacher's cup was again filled with tea, she stirred itlonger than usual, thinking, possibly, how she could pour oil ontroubled waters. Instantly, around the table nine other spoons weredescribing circles in the bottom of each cup. Again Patrick's eyeslaughed. Mrs. Murphy glowered.
The supper over, and all housewife duties of the day performed, Mrs.Murphy turned to her offspring, standing in line,--at hersuggestion,--on one side of the room.
"Schoolma'am," she said with an air of conscious superiority, "thechildern told me yer wanted 'em to go to Bible school. Now me an' mychildern has all the 'ligion as we wants. I'll show yer."
"Childern, what is y'r 'ligion?"
"Latter Day Saints," answered Joseph.
"An' who is the prophet o' the Lord?"
"Joseph Smith," piped Kate.
"An' what wuz his relevations?"
"That men should marry lots o' wives, an raise lots o' childern,"answered Jacob.
"Shure, an' did he have rivelations that women should be marryin'lots o' husbands?" asked Mr. Murphy with a chuckle.
This was an interruption Mrs. Murphy could ill brook. She was on thewarpath; but Patrick, the good-natured, now took matters in his ownhands, and spoke with firmness.
"We'll have no more Mormon talk ter-night. Childthren, set down."
They sat down. Mrs. Murphy's mouth shut like a spring trap. She washumiliated; she, a connection, so to speak, of the Commonses of"Lexity Street, York City!"
"Whin me woman there," said Patrick, "was lift wid two babies, Jacoban' Kate, twelve year ago, lift 'way off in a lonesome place in Utahby her Mormon husband, Oi felt as though Oi would loike ter go widsome dacint man, an' give this Mormon who lift his wife an' babies furthe sake of goin' off wid another woman,--Oi repate it,--Oi'd 'a benglad ter have give 'im sich a batin' as he'd remimber ter his dyin'day. He wuz kilt by the Indians. Whin Oi heerd he wuz kilt, an' knowedfur shure he wuz dead, Oi persuaded me woman here ter marry me, an'ter come let me give her an' all her childthren a dacint home inArizony.
"Oi don't want ter hear no more about Mormons. Oi know 'em root an'branch. Oi am a Catholic. Oi belave in the Holy Mither. Oi belave ingood women. Oi belave as a man should have wan wife, a wife wanhusband. Oi wants me childthren an' me woman's childthren too, tercome ter y'r Bible school. What's more, they shall come. Oi wants 'emter learn about God an' the Blissed Virgin. Y're a good woman; that Oiknow. An' yez are as good a Catholic as Oi want ter see. Yer kin jistcount on me fur support in all the good yez are thryin' ter do inGila."
Mrs. Murphy's face was suppressed fury.
The teacher spoke in a low, gentle voice:
"So you are a Catholic, Mr. Murphy. Do you know, I have always admiredthe reverent way Catholics speak of the mother of Jesus."
Then she turned to Mrs. Murphy, saying:
"I know but little about the belief of the Mormons. Some day I wishyou would tell me about it."
"Mormons are a good sight better'n Catholics," snapped Mrs. Murphy."Intelligent people should know about 'em, and what they've done furthe world. They are honest, they don't smoke, nor chew, nor drink.They are good moral people, they are."
"Yes," said Esther, "I have heard some admirable things about them."
Kenneth rose to go.
"So you'll not return to Clayton Ranch with me, Miss Bright."
He knew by the expression of her face that she preferred to go ratherthan to stay. But she spoke graciously:
"I have not finished my visit yet."
In a moment more Kenneth was gone.
Then a new difficulty arose. Who was to sleep with the teacher? Kate,the twins, and Kathleen, all pressed their claims. After listening tothe altercation, Esther suggested that it would be necessary for herto occupy the rocking chair by Wathemah, to see that he did not injurehis broken arm, and asked that she be given the privilege of watchingby him throughout the night.
Then the family withdrew. Soon Esther pretended to be asleep.Occasionally the child reached out and touched her arm to make surehis Beloved was there. Then he fell asleep.
But Esther was wakeful. Why had Kenneth come for her? Was she comingto care too much for him? How would it all end? When she at last fellasleep, her dreams were troubled.
The Angel of the Gila: A Tale of Arizona Page 9
