3stalwarts

by Unknown

  Her voice was vibrant. She touched it again with her finger-tips.

  “It’s in me, the sound of it. Driving all day long. I’d like to see it piling on a log. Driving it down.”

  “It’s not much to see.”

  “The sound of it is hurtful.”

  “Stand back in the shadow, Norah.”

  “Why?”

  “Quick. Unless you want to get found.”

  “What would happen?”

  “Stand there. Don’t talk.”

  She was obedient under his hand, but his grip tightened, till he felt her wince.

  A bar of light was put forth from the shanty as the door opened. A gust of voices came forward with it. One of the men was singing.

  “The dogs began to bark, And I peeped out to see, A handsome young man a-hunting; But he was not hunting me.”

  They could not see who sang. But Jerry recognized the two figures in the doorway.

  “That’s Andrews,” he whispered. “He’s a redemptioner— runaway, I guess.”

  The two men stepped out into the edge of night and were lost.

  Norah was very still.

  Then she whispered, “Who’s the other one?”

  “He’s a cobbler. His name is Harley Falk. He made a pair of shoes for Cosmo Turbe.”

  “Oh.”

  “What are you shivering for?”

  “It’s the damp. It must be hard to work in the damp. To smell the mud.”

  “We do get sick of it.”

  “Shh. They’re coming back. The cobbler’s going away. See his white horse.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Shh. Softer, Jerry. No.”

  “What are you feared of? You were bold enough two minutes past.”

  The voice of the man who was singing carried tonelessly towards them. He sang as if even his song made no difference.

  “Do you know that cobbler?” Jerry asked suddenly.

  “No.”

  “Then what are you frightened of?”

  “The head of the horse, Jerry. When he crossed the door. Did you see it? The light in his eyes?”

  “He’s a blind white horse.”

  “Yes. White!”

  Her hand fluttered in his. They were still. Falk was in his wagon and he now drove it down the road beyond the barrack. Andrews walked beside the wheel. They stopped out of hearing of the barrack, just opposite the piler. Their low voices came in snatches.

  “Find out, then,” said Falk. “I’d like to know what he’s doing.”

  “I’ve already found out pretty well. There’s a girl at Corbal’s.”

  “Oh. What about her?”

  “That’s to ask. It’s pretty plain, I’d say. But I aim to get the particulars.”

  “Well, I’m glad to know. You can have the particulars.”

  “Where are you going now?”

  “Back to Montezuma.”

  “Well, it’s your own business.”

  The wagon moved off down the road. One of its wheels needed greasing. Norah and Jerry by the piler, Andrews by the corner of the barrack, listened to its going. For a long time it seemed to make no progress through the darkness. Then the sound of it went out.

  Andrews moved slowly to the door. He lingered there. They could see his eyes staring towards them. They held their breaths. But at last a voice shouted:—

  “Shut that door, can’t you? You’ve let in half the bugs in Monroe County.”

  He went in.

  “Let’s go back,” Norah whispered. “Quick, Jerry.”

  “He’s gone in. It’s all right now.”

  “Jerry, come quick.”

  She urged him with her hands; she was like a moth in the darkness beating him with hands for wings.

  “Jerry, please.”

  He humored her; but as they walked along the road, the warm summer air became bleak in his face. What was Harley Falk talking about? There was something wrong with that man. He’d scarcely noticed him round the barrack these last three days; he never talked to him. “What does he want to know about me for?” he thought. And then he remembered how he had warned Mary that he didn’t like the cobbler. It bothered a person, being spied on. He tried to puzzle it; but the road kept swimming up to meet him.

  “You acted just as if you knew him.”

  “I didn’t. Honestly. I was afeared.”

  “But you weren’t afraid when we went down.”

  “I was afeared when I saw his horse. The white eyes. They looked right at me. Jerry, I felt all naked in that horse’s eyes.”

  He laughed shortly.

  “Well, you’re all right now.”

  They were coming out in Corbal’s meadow. The mill roof was frosted with a silver dew, the pond a looking-glass for stars. She drew a long breath.

  “Yes. I feel safer here. With you along, Jerry.”

  She kept the path beside him, pressing against him. She turned her face below his shoulder and looked up. Her face was pointed by the starlight, her eyes dark.

  “What’s the matter, Jerry? You’re troubled.”

  “You troubled me, Norah.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Was he the man that left you in the cabin?”

  He thought he could see even in the dimness the line across her face.

  “No. No.” She laughed. “I must have had a silly on me. And you are silly to mind it. Look. Corbals are asleep.”

  “No. I’m going back.”

  “No, don’t. It’s unhealthy there.”

  “I’m going back.”

  “You act so strange.”

  “I feel queer.”

  “Oh, please come in. Come in and see me upstairs through the dark.”

  “No.”

  She pleaded silently.

  “Go on in, Norah.”

  She gave a little sigh.

  “Jerry, you’re not mad with me? You’ll still take me down to Henslow’s woods?”

  “Yes, yes, yes. Anything. But go to bed.”

  She stole away.

  He waited while she closed the door. He heard her light steps slowly mount to her room. Then he started back along the path.

  It was dark in the woods. The lights in the shanty were out when he came into the Irondequot Valley. He waited a moment beside the crossing frame, for he felt very tired.

  “Hello, Mr. Fowler.”

  A man moved out from the shadow of the kitchen end.

  “What are you doing up so late, Andrews?”

  “Calomel night— against the ague.” He chuckled softly. “You look as if you’d better have some.”

  “I’ve not caught it.”

  “It’s a fine night out, ain’t it? When it gets late the bugs fly back into the woods. A man can take his comfort.”

  “It’s a nice night.”

  Men were snoring in the barrack. A wave of human scent drew past Jerry. He stole across to his bunk and stretched himself out on it. In the darkness he saw Cosmo Turbe rise up on his elbow, watch Andrews enter, and nudge Piute. They whispered. Jerry thought, “Everyone talks secret here.” But he didn’t care.

  “Mr. Bates, I want to get away. Can’t you get someone else to finish here?”

  “What’s the matter, Fowler? You’ll finish up next month.”

  “I’m sick of it.”

  Mr. Bates looked at him dryly.

  “I guess we all get sick of it in spells. Four years of mauling through this country makes anybody sick. You’re no worse off than the rest of us.”

  “My wife’s expecting,” Jerry said lamely.

  “I didn’t know that, Jerry. When?”

  Jerry hung his head.

  “October.”

  Bates laughed shortly.

  “That’s time enough. It’s your second, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but …”

  “We’ve all got buts, Jerry. It’s not long. A month at most. Hang on. Look here, boy. I could stay here if I had to, but that would keep me off the rest of my line. It would me
an a month redoubled in time lost. Just because you got panicky. This thing is too damned ticklish for us to do that. They’re feeling very chancy down in Albany. Especially now, because we’ve got their agreement for an earth embankment. Stone’s ordered already. The southern tier of noodles are just waiting for a chance to stop us, now, God damn them!”

  “Who’s going to lay it up?”

  “That perks you up, eh?”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. One man has given better figures than any we’ve had. He’s coming up here soon. If we’ve got the flooring done it will encourage him. I think he’s some friend of Dancer Borden’s down in Galen.”

  “I’d like to go away,” repeated Jerry.

  “Listen. You think you’re getting a hard deal here. Think of old Geddes tramping through this country ten years ago. Wild woods most of it. But he cleared every foot of it for his level-sights. He wore a bucket on his back with a smudge in it to keep off the bugs. He didn’t even have a tent. And you complain. Fowler, if you quit on me, I’ll spread it all around.”

  “Go ahead. What’s to prevent me walking right out any time?”

  “Not a thing. Go on. Get out.”

  Jerry stared at the flooring he was laying. His arms felt dead. His wrists were overthick. His forehead bothered him as if his hatband had been cast in lead. His fists were like balls. But on the piler winch, Cosmo Turbe was bawling, “Active, Piute! Real active!” And Bemis stood with his hammer ready to tip up the paul. He made the knock. The hammer roared and hammered home. The shock came through the flooring against Jerry’s feet and jarred him to his teeth. But Bemis rubbed his hands and judged the inches. “Just a little way, boys.” They let the hammer fall a short one. “Dainty,” said Piute. “It’s leveled dainty, Mr. Bemis.” And Bemis said with a kind of modest twitch of his important buttocks, “Shucks. I could drive a feather with her, without bend or break.”

  “I’ll stay, Mr. Bates.”

  “Good boy… .”

  “I’ve been away a considerable, ain’t I, Jerry?”

  Issachar Bennet grinned at him.

  “You haven’t changed horses anyway,” said Jerry.

  “No. I’ve got fond of Daisy. Say, you don’t look very well.”

  “I feel queer,” Jerry admitted.

  “Well, come on up to Corbal’s tonight.”

  “Yes, I was coming anyways.”

  “Been often? How is she?”

  “I’ve been there right along. Too often, maybe.”

  Bennet sympathetically clacked his tongue.

  “She’s fine, though.”

  Bennet looked out over the work. His hatchet face was wrinkled with distaste.

  “It’s quite a job by the look of it, Jerry.”

  “I’m sick to death of it.”

  “I don’t wonder. I couldn’t stand working in one place. I had to quit on my last congregation. Baptists. It’s hard being Baptist— keeping dry.” His eyes twinkled in the tiny wrinkles. “But I done so good I didn’t think they’d let me go until I promised to preachify at the camp-meeting.”

  “You’re going?”

  “Well, I’ve passed my word. The rest lies in the Lord.”

  “Norah is possessed to go. I said I’d go along with her.”

  “We might travel down together.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s going to be a mighty time.” He gathered up the reins. “Well, I’ll push on, and you come up tonight.”

  Jerry quit work at sundown. The last pile was in and the cribbing lacked but a few timbers. It was good, stout workmanship. Old Josey had been hauled up on the bank with tackles, and now she lay collapsed; as though with her last blow her soul had given out.

  He carried his tools to the barrack. The cook brought out his basin of hot water. He stripped himself and washed by the sunny doorway. The men were sprawling on the ground, waiting for supper.

  “How much longer are we going to be here, Mr. Fowler?”

  “Only a few days more.”

  Jerry lathered himself with the yellow bar and scrubbed his hands and face. He rubbed himself all over with a coarse towel. His skin felt dry and full of tiny pricks.

  “Piute?”

  Piute looked up from the manicure he was performing with a copper nail.

  “I’m going to be away over the Sunday. I put you in charge. Some of the men are going to get restless.”

  Piute grinned.

  “A couple of them might. Can I have Cosmo for my leftenant?”

  “Anyone you like.”

  He smiled at Cosmo’s flat frog’s grin. He was getting fond of these two men.

  “What do you want us to do, Mr. Fowler?”

  “There’ll be Josey to load on for Bemis. I don’t know where he’s going with it, but he leaves tomorrow. Then stack the other piles. And after that you can dig out the earth on either side of the flooring. Level it flush with the floor level. You won’t strike quicksand.”

  “Sure,” said Piute. “The boys hate digging. But we’ll get it done in no time, won’t we, Cosmo?”

  Cosmo nodded.

  “Real active.”

  Jerry dressed himself in his homespun coat and pants, combed back his hair, and put his razor in his pocket. The men still sprawled before the door.

  “Oh, Piute, if Bates brings orders to move on the gang, you can let ‘em go. Don’t argue with him. But you two might as well stay.”

  He walked along the track. An unearthly stillness in the evening woods bore down upon him. The cicadas had cut off their shrilling a little while ago; but his ears still buzzed with them. He tried to clear his head of dizziness. As he walked, all his senses stretched before him for the coolness of Corbal’s quiet valley. This was the kind of evening on which, if she felt kind, Norah would soothe and comfort him. He longed to get to her, but he could not hurry. And he wondered if Bennet’s being there would bother her. He felt himself that nothing in the world could bother him. He wondered if she would come to meet him as she sometimes did.

  When he rounded the corner that turned down for the meadow, he lifted his eyes to see if she was sitting on the beech-tree stump. He saw her there. But she was not sitting. Small and birdlike she stood upon the stump, and two gentlemen on horseback were talking down at her. They had their hats in their hands.

  Jerry’s eyes took in the horses. They were blooded beasts, one bay, one black. They tossed their double bits and moved their forefeet lightly; and the low slanting sunlight dappled their shining hides with leaf-marks.

  Jerry looked up at the men’s faces. One he had never seen; but he who talked to Norah sat his beast with indolent grace. And in his oval face and possessive eyes Jerry’s tired head found something familiar.

  Then the man laughed clearly, so that his horse moved under him and had to be reined back with a wrist of dovelike steel. But Jerry placed the laugh. “Go lightly,” it seemed to say. “Look about you, see, and have. But do go lightly.” He felt the blood in his face resenting Norah’s answering mirth. She laughed with a clear, light passion of excitement; her small red lips opened; her body seemed to lift and sway; and Jerry saw the faintest flush in Dancer Borden’s olive cheek as he made a bow.

  Borden’s companion was a square-faced man with a rusty beard trimmed close. His cold discerning eyes spied Jerry first. His horse slid imperceptibly sidewise and he touched Borden’s elbow with a gloved forefinger.

  Dancer Borden and Norah turned together. Her face was flushed bright pink; her mouth still quivered half demurely; but her eyes were flashing black.

  “Oh, Jerry, I was waiting for you.”

  “I’m a little late,” he said in a dull voice. But he looked at Dancer Borden.

  Borden’s eyes traveled from him to Norah and returned to him. He reached down to hold out a slim, gloved hand.

  “It’s the carpenter. I remember you— you came to dinner. How are you, Fowler?”

  Half the greeting seemed an explanation for his companion. Jerry looked
over to the cold eyes and was surprised to find them understanding.

  “I’ve seen your work.” He did not offer to shake hands. “It’s good work.”

  That was all he said, but his eyes twitched toward Norah.

  Norah stood at Jerry’s side, and Dancer Borden gracefully curved his mount to face them both.

  “We were talking as we came along,” he explained. “And our horses chose this path before we noticed. This lady has been setting us right.”

  He made a bow.

  “Thank you.” He spoke to his companion. “We ought to move along, if you’re going to meet Bates there tonight.”

  Both men doffed their hats again. Their little spurs stabbed at their horses. They cantered off— straight-backed; one wore blue and one wore green. The dust rose up from the dainty shoe-plates of their horses. The sun flecked gold and green upon their flanks.

  Jerry felt Norah’s hand upon his wrist.

  “Oh, I’m glad you’ve come.”

  Her small face was lifted towards him. Her cheeks were glowing. Her eyes looked longer; and the lids half veiled them.

  Her voice was vibrant.

  “I waited and waited and I thought you’d never come, Jerry.”

  “Has Issachar Bennet got here?” he asked heavily.

  “Yes. He came a little while past noon. He’s been talking with Corbal. He’s a nice old man, I think. He’s fond of you, Jerry.”

  “Did he tell you of the camp-meeting?”

  “Yes. He said he was going down. He said he’d take us.”

  She put her hands together before her dress, and her eyes sparkled. She had strange ways, he thought.

  “Oh, Jerry. I’m so glad.”

  They walked together slowly towards the mill.

  “Do you feel tired, Jerry?”

  Her voice was kind. His heart lifted a little. She would be kind.

  “Yes, I feel tired tonight.”

  “Let’s sit a while, here on the bridge. It’s cool here and I like to sit close to the water when it’s still this way. Look, Jerry, you can see the lizards swimming in the weeds. That red one, and there’s one with spots like little gold currencies all over him. I’ve heard that trout get spots from eating lizards.”

  The pond was glass-like. It did not feel the lightest wind… . But the arrowheads along the shallows quivered in the water’s motion.

  “Are you awfully tired, Jerry?”