by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER XVI. "DON'T GET EXCITED!"
Lovers, it would seem, require much less material for a quarrel thanpersons in a less exalted frame of mind.
Good Indian believed himself very much in love with his Christmas angel,and was very much inclined to let her know it, but at the same timehe saw no reason why he should not sit down in Miss Georgie'srocking-chair, if he liked, and he could not quite bring himself toexplain even to Evadna his reason for doing so. It humiliated him evento think of apologizing or explaining, and he was the type of man whoresents humiliation more keenly than a direct injury.
As to Evadna, her atmosphere was that of conscious and magnanimoussuperiority to any feeling so humanly petty as jealousy--which isextremely irritating to anyone who is at all sensitive to atmosphericconditions.
She stopped outside the window long enough to chirp a commonplacesentence or two to Miss Georgie, and to explain just why she couldn'tstay a minute longer. "I told Aunt Phoebe I'd be back to lunch--dinner,I mean--and she's so upset over those horrible men planted in theorchard--did Grant tell you about it?--that I feel I ought to bewith her. And Marie has the toothache again. So I really must go.Good-by--come down whenever you can, won't you?" She smiled, and shewaved a hand, and she held up her riding-skirt daintily as she turnedaway. "You didn't say goodby to Georgie," she reminded Grant, stillmaking use of the chirpy tone. "I hope I am not in any way responsible."
"I don't see how you could be," said Good Indian calmly; and that, forsome reason, seemed to intensify the atmosphere with which Evadna choseto surround herself.
She led Huckleberry up beside the store platform without giving Granta chance to help, mounted, and started on while he was in after thepackage--a roll not more than eight inches long, and weighing at leastfour ounces, which brought an ironical smile to his lips. But she couldnot hope to outrun him on Huckleberry, even when Huckleberry's nose wasturned toward home, and he therefore came clattering up before shehad passed the straggling outpost of rusty tin cans which marked, byimplication, the boundary line between Hartley and the sagebrush wastesurrounding it.
"You seem to be in a good deal of a hurry," Good Indian observed.
"Not particularly," she replied, still chirpy as to tone andsupercilious as to her manner.
It would be foolish to repeat all that was said during that ride home,because so much meaning was conveyed in tones and glances and in staringstraight ahead and saying nothing. They were sparring politely beforethey were over the brow of the hill behind the town; they were indulgingin veiled sarcasm--which came rapidly out from behind the veil and grewsharp and bitter--before they started down the dusty grade; they werenot saying anything at all when they rounded the Point o' Rocks and heldtheir horses rigidly back from racing home, as was their habit, and whenthey dismounted at the stable, they refused to look at each other uponany pretext whatsoever.
Baumberger, in his shirt-sleeves and smoking his big pipe, lounged upfrom the pasture gate where he had been indolently rubbing the nose of abuckskin two-year-old with an affectionate disposition, and wheezed outthe information that it was warm. He got the chance to admire a verystiff pair of shoulders and a neck to match for his answer.
"I wasn't referring to your manner, m' son," he chuckled, after hehad watched Good Indian jerk the latigo loose and pull off the saddle,showing the wet imprint of it on Keno's hide. "I wish the weather was ascool!"
Good Indian half turned with the saddle in his hands, and slapped itdown upon its side so close to Baumberger that he took a hasty stepbackward, seized Keno's dragging bridle-reins, and started for thestable. Baumberger happened to be in the way, and he backed again, morehastily than before, to avoid being run over.
"Snow blind?" he interrogated, forcing a chuckle which had more thesound of a growl.
Good Indian stopped in the doorway, slipped off the bridle, gave Keno ahint by slapping him lightly on the rump, and when the horse had goneon into the cool shade of the stable, and taking his place in his stall,began hungrily nosing the hay in his manger, he came back to unsaddleHuckleberry, who was nodding sleepily with his under lip sagging muchlike Baumberger's while he waited. That gentleman seemed to be once moreobstructing the path of Good Indian. He dodged back as Grant brushedpast him.
"By the great immortal Jehosaphat!" swore Baumberger, with an ugly leerin his eyes, "I never knew before that I was so small I couldn't be seenwith the naked eye!"
"You're so small in my estimation that a molecule would look like ahay-stack alongside you!" Good Indian lifted the skirt of Evadna'sside-saddle, and proceeded calmly to loosen the cinch. His foreheadsmoothed a trifle, as if that one sentence had relieved him of some ofhis bottled bitterness.
"YOU ain't shrunk up none--in your estimation," Baumberger forgot hispose of tolerant good nature to say. His heavy jaw trembled as if he hadbeen overtaken with a brief attack of palsy; so also did the hand whichreplaced his pipe between his loosely quivering lips. "That littleyellow-haired witch must have given yuh the cold shoulder; but youneedn't take it out on me. Had a quarrel?" He painstakingly brushed someashes from his sleeve, once more the wheezing, chuckling fat man whonever takes anything very seriously.
"Did you ever try minding your own business?" Grant inquired with muchpoliteness of tone.
"We-e-ell, yuh see, m' son, it's my business to mind other people'sbusiness!" He chuckled at what he evidently considered a witty retort."I've been pouring oil on the troubled waters all forenoon--maybe I'vekinda got the habit."
"Only you're pouring it on a fire this time."
"That dangerous, yuh mean?"
"You're liable to start a conflagration you can't stop, and that mayconsume yourself, is all."
"Say, they sure do teach pretty talk in them colleges!" he purred,grinning loosely, his own speech purposely uncouth.
Good Indian turned upon him, stopped as quickly, and let his angervent itself in a sneer. It had occurred to him that Baumberger was notgoading him without purpose--because Baumberger was not that kind ofman. Oddly enough, he had a short, vivid, mental picture of him and thelook on his face when he was playing the trout; it seemed to him thatthere was something of that same cruel craftiness now in his eyes andaround his mouth. Good Indian felt for one instant as if he were thattrout, and Baumberger was playing him skillfully. "He's trying to makeme let go all holds and tip my hand," he thought, keenly reading him,and he steadied himself.
"What d'yuh mean by me pouring oil on fire!" Baumberger urgedbanteringly. "Sounds like the hero talking to the villain in one ofthese here save-him-he's-my-sweetheart plays."
"You go to the devil," said Good Indian shortly.
"Don't repeat yourself, m' son; it's a sign uh failing powers. You saidthat to me this morning, remember? And--don't--get--excited!" His rightarm raised slightly when he said that, as if he expected a blow for hisanswer.
Good Indian saw that involuntary arm movement, but he saw it fromthe tail of his eye, and he drew his lips a little tighter. ClearlyBaumberger was deliberately trying to force him into a rage that wouldspend some of its force in threats, perhaps. He therefore grew cunninglycalm, and said absolutely nothing. He led Huckleberry into the stable,came out, and shut the door, and walked past Baumberger as if he werenot there at all. And Baumberger stood with his head lowered so that hisflabby jaw was resting upon his chest, and stared frowningly after himuntil the yard gate swung shut behind his tall, stiffly erect figure.
"I gotta WATCH that jasper," he mumbled over his pipe, as a sort ofsumming up, and started slowly to the house. Halfway there he spokeagain in the same mumbling undertone. "He's got the Injun look in hiseyes t'-day. I gotta WATCH him."
He did watch him. It is astonishing how a family can live for monthstogether, and not realize how little real privacy there is for anyoneuntil something especial comes up for secret discussion. It struck GoodIndian forcibly that afternoon, because he was anxious for a word inprivate with Peaceful, or with Phoebe, and also with Evadna--if it wasonly to continue their quarrel
.
At dinner he could not speak without being heard by all. After dinner,the family showed an unconscious disposition to "bunch." Peaceful andBaumberger sat and smoked upon that part of the porch which was coolest,and the boys stayed close by so that they could hear what might be saidabout the amazing state of affairs down in the orchard.
Evadna, it is true, strolled rather self-consciously off to the head ofthe pond, carefully refraining, as she passed, from glancing toward GoodIndian. He felt that she expected him to follow, but he wanted first toask Peaceful a few questions, and to warn him not to trust Baumberger,so he stayed where he was, sprawled upon his back with a much-abusedcushion under his head and his hat tilted over his face, so that hecould see Baumberger's face without the scrutiny attracting notice.
He did not gain anything by staying, for Peaceful had little to say,seeming to be occupied mostly with dreamy meditations. He nodded,now and then, in response to Baumberger's rumbling monologues, andoccasionally he removed his pipe from his mouth long enough to replywith a sentence where the nod was not sufficient. Baumberger droned on,mostly relating the details of cases he had won against long odds--casesfor the most part similar to this claim-jumping business.
Nothing had been done that day, Grant gathered, beyond giving the eightclaimants due notice to leave. The boys were evidently dissatisfiedabout something, though they said nothing. They shifted their positionswith pettish frequency, and threw away cigarettes only half smoked, andscowled at dancing leaf-shadows on the ground.
When he could no longer endure the inaction, he rose, stretched his armshigh above his head, settled his hat into place, gave Jack a glance ofmeaning, and went through the kitchen to the milk-house. He felt surethat Baumberger's ears were pricked toward the sound of his footsteps,and he made them purposely audible.
"Hello, Mother Hart," he called out cheerfully to Phoebe, pottering downin the coolness. "Any cream going to waste, or buttermilk, or cake?" Hewent down to her, and laid his hand upon her shoulder with a caressingtouch which brought tears into her eyes. "Don't you worry a bit, littlemother," he said softly. "I think we can beat them at their own game.They've stacked the deck, but we'll beat it, anyhow." His hand slid downto her arm, and gave it a little, reassuring squeeze.
"Oh, Grant, Grant!" She laid her forehead against him for a moment, thenlooked up at him with a certain whimsical solicitude. "Never mind ourtrouble now. What's this about you and Vadnie? The boys seem to thinkyou two are going to make a match of it. And HAVE you been quarreling,you two? I only want," she added, deprecatingly, "to see my biggest boyhappy, and if I can do anything in any way to help--"
"You can't, except just don't worry when we get to scrapping." His eyessmiled down at her with their old, quizzical humor, which she had notseen in them for some days. "I foresee that we're due to scrap a gooddeal of the time," he predicted. "We're both pretty peppery. But we'llmake out, all right. You didn't"--he blushed consciously--"you didn'tthink I was going to--to fall dead in love--"
"Didn't I?" Phoebe laughed at him openly. "I'd have been more surprisedif you hadn't. Why, my grief! I know enough about human nature, I hope,to expect--"
"Churning?" The voice of Baumberger purred down to them. There he stoodbulkily at the top of the steps, good-naturedly regarding them. "Mr.Hart and I are goin' to take a ride up to the station--gotta send atelegram or two about this little affair"--he made a motion with hispipe toward the orchard--"and I just thought a good, cold drink ofbuttermilk before we start wouldn't be bad." His glance just grazed GoodIndian, and passed him over as being of no consequence.
"If you don't happen to have any handy, it don't matter in the least,"he added, and turned to go when Phoebe shook her head. "Anything we canget for yuh at the store, Mrs. Hart? Won't be any trouble at all--Oh,all right." He had caught another shake of the head.
"We may be gone till supper-time," he explained further, "and I trustto your good sense, Mrs. Hart, to see that the boys keep away from thosefellows down there." The pipe, and also his head, again indicated themen in the orchard. "We don't want any ill feeling stirred up, youunderstand, and so they'd better just keep away from 'em. They're goodboys--they'll do as you say." He leered at her ingratiatingly, shot akeen, questioning look at Good Indian, and went his lumbering way.
Grant went to the top of the steps, and made sure that he had reallygone before he said a word. Even then he sat down upon the edge of thestairway with his back to the pond, so that he could keep watch of theapproaches to the spring-house; he had become an exceedingly suspiciousyoung man overnight.
"Mother Hart, on the square, what do you think of Baumberger?" he askedher abruptly. "Come and sit down; I want to talk with you--if I canwithout having the whole of Idaho listening."
"Oh, Grant--I don't know what to think! He seems all right, and I don'tknow why he shouldn't be just what he seems; he's got the name ofbeing a good lawyer. But something--well, I get notions about thingssometimes. And I can't, somehow, feel just right about him taking upthis jumping business. I don't know why. I guess it's just a feeling,because I can see you don't like him. And the boys don't seem to,either, for some reason. I guess it's because he won't let 'em get rightafter those fellows and drive 'em off the ranch. They've been uneasy asthey could be all day." She sat down upon a rough stool just insidethe door, and looked up at him with troubled eyes. "And I'm gettingit, too--seems like I'd go all to pieces if I can't do SOMETHING!"She sighed, and tried to cover the sigh with a laugh--which was not,however, a great success. "I wish I could be as cool-headed as Thomas,"she said, with a tinge of petulance. "It don't seem to worry him none!"
"What does he think of Baumberger? Is he going to let him take the caseand handle it to please himself?" Good Indian was tapping his boot-toethoughtfully upon the bottom step, and glancing up now and then as aprecaution against being overheard.
"I guess so," she admitted, answering the last question first. "Ihaven't had a real good chance to talk to Thomas all day. Baumberger hasbeen with him most of the time. But I guess he is; anyway, Baumbergerseems to take it for granted he's got the case. Thomas hates to hurtanybody's feelings, and, even if he didn't want him, he'd hate to sayso. But he's as good a lawyer as any, I guess. And Thomas seems to likehim well enough. Thomas," she reminded Good Indian unnecessarily, "neverdoes say much about anything."
"I'd like to get a chance to talk to him," Good Indian observed."I'll have to just lead him off somewhere by main strength, I guess.Baumberger sticks to him like a bur to a dog's tail. What are thosefellows doing down there now? Does anybody know?"
"You heard what he said to me just now," Phoebe said, impatiently. "Hedon't want anybody to go near. It's terribly aggravating," she confesseddispiritedly, "to have a lot of ruffians camped down, cool as youplease, on your own ranch, and not be allowed to drive 'em off. I don'twonder the boys are all sulky. If Baumberger wasn't here at all, I guesswe'd have got rid of 'em before now. I don't know as I think very muchof lawyers, anyhow. I believe I'd a good deal rather fight first andgo, to law about it afterward if I had to. But Thomas is so--CALM!"
"I think I'll go down and have a look," said Good Indian suddenly. "I'mnot under Baumberger's orders, if the rest of the bunch is. And I wishyou'd tell Peaceful I want to talk to him, Mother Hart--will you? Tellhim to ditch his guardian angel somehow. I'd like to see him on thequiet if I can, but if I can't--"
"Can't be nice, and forgiving, and repentant, and--a dear?" Evadna hadcrept over to him by way of the rocks behind the pond, and at everypause in her questioning she pushed him forward by his two shoulders."I'm so furious I could beat you! What do you mean, savage, by letting alady stay all afternoon by herself, waiting for you to come and coax herinto being nice to you? Don't you know I H-A-ATE you?" She had him bythe ears, then, pulling his head erratically from side to side, and shefinished by giving each ear a little slap and laid her arms around hisneck. "Please don't look at me that way, Aunt Phoebe," she said, whenshe discovered her there inside the door. "Here's a horrible you
ngvillain who doesn't know how to behave, and makes me do all the makingup. I don't like him one bit, and I just came to tell him so and bedone. And I don't suppose," she added, holding her two hands tightlyover his mouth, "he has a word to say for himself."
Since he was effectually gagged, Grant had not a word to say. Even whenhe had pulled her hands away and held them prisoners in his own, he saidnothing. This was Evadna in a new and unaccountable mood, it seemed tohim. She had certainly been very angry with him at noon. She had accusedhim, in that roundabout way which seems to be a woman's favoritemethod of reaching a real grievance, of being fickle and neglectful andinconsiderate and a brute.
The things she had said to him on the way down the grade had rankled inhis mind, and stirred all the sullen pride in his nature to life, andhe could not forget them as easily as she appeared to have done. GoodIndian was not in the habit of saying things, even in anger, which hedid not mean, and he could not understand how anyone else could do so.And the things she had said!
But here she was, nevertheless, laughing at him and blushing adorablybecause he still held her fast, and making the blood of him race mostunreasonably.
"Don't scold me, Aunt Phoebe," she begged, perhaps because there wassomething in Phoebe's face which she did not quite understand, and somistook for disapproval of her behavior. "I should have told you lastnight that we're--well, I SUPPOSE we're supposed to be engaged!" Shetwisted her hands away from him, and came down the steps to her aunt."It all happened so unexpectedly--really, I never dreamed I caredanything for him, Aunt Phoebe, until he made me care. And last nightI couldn't tell you, and this morning I was going to, but all thishorrible trouble came up--and, anyway," she finished with a flash ofpretty indignation, "I think Grant might have told you himself! I don'tthink it's a bit nice of him to leave everything like that for me. Hemight have told you before he went chasing off to--to Hartley." Sheput her arms around her aunt's neck. "You aren't angry, are you,Aunt Phoebe?" she coaxed. "You--you know you said you wanted me to bepar-TIC-ularly nice to Grant!"
"Great grief, child! You needn't choke me to death. Of course I'm notangry." But Phoebe's eyes did not brighten.
"You look angry," Evadna pouted, and kissed her placatingly.
"I've got plenty to be worked up over, without worrying over your loveaffairs, Vadnie." Phoebe's eyes sought Grant's anxiously. "I don't doubtbut what it's more important to you than anything else on earth, but I'mthinking some of the home I'm likely to lose."
Evadna drew back, and made a movement to go.
"Oh, I'm sorry I interrupted you then, Aunt Phoebe. I suppose you andGrant were busy discussing those men in the orchard--"
"Don't be silly, child. You aren't interrupting anybody, and there's nocall for you to run off like that. We aren't talking secrets that I knowof."
In some respects the mind of Good Indian was extremely simple anddirect. His knowledge of women was rudimentary and based largely uponhis instincts rather than any experience he had had with them. He hadbeen extremely uncomfortable in the knowledge that Evadna was angry,and strongly impelled, in spite of his hurt pride, to make overtures forpeace. He was puzzled, as well as surprised, when she seized him by theshoulders and herself made peace so bewitchingly that he could scarcelyrealize it at first. But since fate was kind, and his lady love nolonger frowned upon him, he made the mistake of taking it for grantedshe neither asked nor expected him to explain his seeming neglect of herand his visit to Miss Georgie at Hartley.
She was not angry with him. Therefore, he was free to turn his wholeattention to this trouble which had come upon his closest friends. Hereached out, caught Evadna by the hand, pulled her close to him,and smiled upon her in a way to make her catch her breath in a mostunaccountable manner.
But he did not say anything to her; he was a young man unused todalliance when there were serious things at hand.
"I'm going down there and see what they're up to," he told Phoebe,giving Evadna's hand a squeeze and letting it go. "I suspect there'ssomething more than keeping the peace behind Baumberger's anxiety tohave them left strictly alone. The boys had better keep away, though."
"Are you going down in the orchard?" Evadna rounded her unbelievablyblue eyes at him. "Then I'm going along."
"You'll do nothing of the kind, little Miss Muffit," he declared fromthe top step.
"Why not?"
"I might want to do some swearing." He grinned down at her, and startedoff.
"Now, Grant, don't you do anything rash!" Phoebe called after himsharply.
"'Don't--get--excited!'" he retorted, mimicking Baumberger.
"I'm going a little way, whether you want me to or not," Evadnathreatened, pouting more than ever.
She did go as far as the porch with him, and was kissed and sent backlike a child. She did not, however, go back to her aunt, but ran intoher own room, where she could look out through the grove toward theorchard--and to the stable as well, though that view did not interesther particularly at first. It was pure accident that made her witnesswhat took place at the gate.
