CHAPTER XV
THE HOME-COMING
Six weeks of all she had ever hoped for, dreamed of, in the lean yearsof heart starvation. The complete devotion of a strong man, a man whoheld a place in the world she knew. Every luxury wealth could purchaseat her disposal, even to satiation. Her every whim ministered to, andeven anticipated. This was something of the ripe fruit literallyheaped into Elvine's lap. She had longed for it, schemed for it, andProvidence had permitted all her efforts complete success.
Now, with those six weeks behind her, she gazed upon the balance-sheet.She looked for the balance of happiness. To her horror it was blottedout, smudged out of all recognition. Oh, yes, the figures had beenentered, but now they were completely obscured.
It was the last stage of her journey to her new home. It was a journeybeing made in the saddle. Their baggage, a large number of trunksloaded with the precious gleanings from the great stores during thehoneymoon, had been sent on ahead by wagon. There was nothing, so faras could be seen, to rob the home-coming of its proper sense ofdelight. Yet delight was more than far off. Elvine was a prey to ahopelessness which nothing seemed able to relieve.
Summer was not yet over, although the signs of the coming fall were byno means lacking. The hard trail, like some carefully set outterra-cotta ribbon upon a field of tawny green, took them through aregion of busy harvesting. The tractors and threshers were busilyengaged in many directions. Great stacks of straw testified to theample harvest in progress. Fall ploughing had already begun, andhigh-wheeled wagons bore their burden of produce toward the distantelevators. Then, too, human freight passed them, happy, smilingfreight of old and young, whose sun-scorched faces reflected somethingof the joy of life and general prosperity prevailing.
A radiant sun looked down upon the scenes through which they passed.It was the wonderful ripening God almost worshipped of these people wholived by the fruits of the earth. Jeffrey Masters understood it all,and reveled in the pleasant senses it stirred. For he, too, lived bythe fruits of the earth, although his harvest was garnered in the fleshof creature kind.
Elvine looked on with eyes that beheld but saw nothing of that whichinspired her husband. Remembrance claimed her. Too well sheremembered. And gladly would she have shut out such sights altogether,for more and more surely they crushed her already depressed spirits toa depth from which it seemed impossible to raise them.
Nor was her beautiful face without some reflection of this. Her smilewas ready for the man at her side. She laughed and talked in a mannerso care-free that he could never have suspected. But in repose, whenno eyes were upon her, a lurking, hunted dread peered furtively out ofher dark eyes, and the fine-drawn lines gathered about her shapelylips, and seriously marred the serenity of their youthful contours.
She had one purpose now, one only. It was to ward off the blow whichshe knew might fall at any moment when she reached her new home. Thethreat of it was with her always. It drove her to panic in the dark ofnight. It left her watchful and fearful in the light of day. At alltimes the memory of her husband's words dinned through her brain likethe haunt of some sickening melody.
"Now I only hope the good God'll let me come up with the man who tookthe price of his blood."
It had been spoken coldly. It had been spoken with an intensity ofbitterness that left an impression as hard as flint. The tone had sether shuddering. Then the look in those cold blue eyes when at last shehad turned confronting them. No, there had been no mercy in them. Nomercy, she told herself, for--anybody.
At that moment she had known that the earth could hold no future peacefor her. She felt that Fate had passed sentence on her, and she waspowerless to stay its execution. Her husband demanded vengeance uponthe man who had accepted the price of his brother's blood.
For the moment she had been stunned. Then had risen up in her adesperate courage. She would fight. She would fight for herself, shewould fight for the love which all unbidden, all undesired, had come toher. Then, in the end, if defeat should overtake her, she would, yes,she could, submit to the punishment his hand should mete out to her.
Strangely, from that moment her love for this man seemed to increase athousandfold. He grew in her heart a towering colossus of worship.The primitive in her bowed down before his image ready to yield to hislightest word, while, by every art, she was ready to cajole and fosterhis love.
It was all she knew, understood. It was the woman in her who possessedno other weapons of defense. She loved him, she desired him, thennothing was too small to cling to with the wild hope of the drowning.When the day came that he should turn and rend her soul she couldsubmit. But until that day she would cling to every straw that offered.
While the scenes through which they were passing preoccupied the man,the silence of the wide plains left Elvine to her fears. The greatbreadth of the world about her added to her hopelessness. And after asilence which had become unduly protracted, she took refuge in talk forwhich she had no real desire.
"It's beautiful, but--oppressive," she said, and the words were theinspiration of genuine thought.
But the man was like one who has spent a world of love and devotionupon carving a beautiful setting and is now about to complete his workby securing in place the crowning jewel. He had no room for anyfeeling of oppression. He shook his head.
"Say, Evie," he cried, "I just can't allow you the word 'oppressive.'I just can't. Look--look right out there toward the hills we'remaking. Take the colors as they heap up to the distance. Every shade,I guess, from green to purple. It makes me feel good. It gives meroom to stretch myself. It sort o' sweeps away a whole heap of fustycity smells, and gives us something a deal more worth breathing. It'sa man's place. And it's full of man's work. Guess Providence got busyan' set it all out for us. Providence guessed we'd have to use it.But Providence didn't just guess how far crazy human nature really was.She didn't foresee we'd gather around in the musty dump-holes we callcities. She didn't figure on our tastes for the flesh-pots, and theindulgence of the senses she'd handed us. But then Providence knowsher power to fix us right when she feels that way." Then he spread outhis arms with an inexpressible suggestion of longing. "Say, I'mcrazy--plumb crazy to get the first peek at that dandy home I've hadfixed for you."
The woman's eyes sought her husband's with a smile that was a caress.
"You're good to me, Jeff," she said. Then she added: "So good." Hersmile deepened. "You'd hand me the world with--with a fence around it,if I asked. Why? Why are you like that?"
It was the love in her seeking reassurance. Nor was she disappointed.
"Why?" The man laughed. And the sound of it was good to hear. It wasdeep, and seemed to come from the depths of his soul. His blue eyesshone with a world of devotion. "Guess I love you--just that," hesaid. Then he pointed at the distant hills. "I can't tell you all Ifeel, Elvie," he said, "but get those hills. See them. There, thatpeak, sitting right up over its fellows, with a cap of snow on it Idon't guess the sun could ever melt. That's thousands of feet up. I'dsay man's foot was never set there, nor bird's, nor animal's either.Well, if that peak was a throne it 'ud give you pleasure to occupy,why, I guess I'd just go the limit to have you sit there."
Elvine was gazing at the mountain crest, but she was not thinking ofit. She was thinking of the love which the extravagant wordsexpressed, and she was wondering at the bigness of it. She was caughtin its power, and it thrilled her with an even greater appreciation ofher danger. What would be the result upon such a nature as this man'swhen--he knew?
"I believe you would," she said, her eyes coming back to the strong,flushed face. Then she added: "Now."
"Now?"
There was a quick lifting in the man's fair brows. There wasincredulity in his tone. To him it seemed impossible, the implieddoubt in her final word.
"I don't change easy, Elvie," he protested. "I kind of get thingshard. It's my way, and it's no doing of mine. Life's a full-sizedp
roposition, and I don't guess we can see far through it. But I can'timagine a thing that could come before you in my thoughts."
"I'd like to think that. I'd like to feel that," Elvine returned. Shewas smiling up into his eyes. "You see, Jeff, I was kind of thinking.We're young now. We've been together just six weeks. Maybe you'll getused to me later. Men do get used to women till they become sort ofpart of the furniture. Oh, I guess their love goes right on, but--butthey wouldn't feel like starting in to fence in the North Pole, or--orhitch up Niagara to their wife's buggy just because she fancied thatway. Say, Jeff, when I lose your love I just lose everything in theworld. You--you won't ever let me lose it, will you?"
Jeff shook his head, and smiled in the confidence of feelings.
"Don't ever talk that way. Don't ever think like that," he urged her.Then, as their horses ambled side by side up the last gentle inclinebefore they dropped down to the great plain of the Rainbow Hill Valley,which was the setting of the Obar Ranch, he drew nearer and reached outone arm and gently encircled her waist. "Guess you're feeling like mejust now, Evie. Do you know what I mean? We're getting home.Home--yours and mine. Well, say, that home is in my mind now, and it'sfull to the brim of thoughts of you. You're in it--everywhere. You'repart of it. You're just part of me. I can't see any future withoutyou. It don't seem to me there could be any. I don't doubt. I guessthe thought of it don't scare me a thing. Maybe with you it'sdifferent. Maybe you're scared such happiness can't last. But I tellyou it can--it will. You're with me now and always, and I can't see ashadow that could come between us."
"None? No, none, none!"
The woman forced conviction into her final denial, and, for a moment,she permitted herself to yield to the reassuring embrace. Then shestarted up and released herself.
"Oh, Jeff!" she cried. "I just pray all the time that nothing shallever rob me of your love. Night and day I pray that way. If I were tolose you, I--I think nothing else would much matter."
The man smiled with supreme confidence. They had reached the top ofthe hill, and he set his horse into a canter.
"You're just going to live right on--for me, sweetheart," he cried."Be yourself. Just yourself. The frank, honest woman I know and love.If ever the shadows you fear come to worry us, they'll have to be ofyour own creating. We have nothing to fear from the future, nothing atall. We'll just drive right on down the clear trail of life. It'sonly in the byways there's any ugly dumps. Look!" He suddenly flungout one arm, pointing ahead where the great Obar plains rolled awaytoward the hills below them. "That's the ranch. There. That onethere is Bud's homestead, and the other to the right's your--our home.Say, it's good to see--mighty good!"
* * * * * *
Nan gazed upon the result of her labors and decided that it was good.Bud was observing her in his unobtrusive way. They were together inthe new parlor of the home which Jeff had had reconstructed under Nan'smost careful supervision.
The girl had put forth her greatest effort, greater even than sheherself realized, for it had been inspired by a desire that Jeff andhis wife should never realize the pain and bitter disappointment shehad endured.
Now, as she surveyed each detail in her final tour of inspection, sheconvinced herself that nothing, nothing she could think of had beenforgotten. Even the city-bred Elvine could find no fault with anydetail of it.
She and Bud were standing side by side rather like two children gazingin awed wonder at some undreamed of splendor suddenly discovered in afamiliar playground, every square foot of which they had believedthemselves familiar with.
"I--don't think I've forgotten a thing," Nan said, in a tone subdued byher weight of responsibility.
"Not a thing," agreed Bud, with a perfect disregard for anyconsequences his statement might have.
He was utterly unchanged. He had made no preparation to receive thebride and bridegroom in their home. He was just the cattleman nothingcould change him from. His gray flannel shirt was agape over hissunburned chest. His leather chapps creaked as he moved, his viciousspurs clanked. Then, too, the curling iron-gray hair of his bared headwas innocent of all extra combing. With Nan it was different. She hadstriven to rid herself of every sign of the prairie to which shebelonged. She was dressed with consummate care. Every jealous feelingof the woman in her had cried out for her rights, and those rights werethat her successful rival should be unable to sneer at or pity her.
The result was a delightful picture that filled Bud's heart withadmiration. And for perhaps the thousandth time he silentlyanathematized the blind folly of the man who had wilfully cast his eyesin another direction.
Nan seated herself in one of the luxuriously inviting armchairs, whileBud insinuated his huge form on to the polished surface of a largecentral table.
"You know, Daddy, I sort of feel like a feller who's guessed the rightanswer to a question he hadn't a notion of. Maybe you won't get justhow I mean." The smile in her pretty eyes changed to a deepseriousness. "You know when I was a little teeny girl all mud andoverall, that never could keep me within measurable distance of beingclean, you used to talk to me just as if you were speaking yourthoughts aloud. Guess it was about the time poor Momma died, or maybesoon after. I kind of remember you were squatting Indian fashion onthe veranda of our shack, I'd been busy in the hopes of drowning myselfin a half dry mud hole, and had mostly succeeded in absorbing more ofthe dirt than seemed good for a single meal. Guess I must have startedto cry, and you'd reached out and grabbed me, and fetched me up on yourlap, and were handing me a few words you reckoned to cheer me up with.Do you remember them, my Daddy? I don't guess you do. I didn't till awhile later, and then I didn't figure out their meaning till I went toschool. You said, 'Tears is only for kiddies an' grown women. Kiddiesmostly cry because they don't understand, an' grown women because theydo. Anyway, neither of 'em need to cry, if they only get busy an'think a while. Ther' ain't a thing in this life calls for a tear froma living soul, not even a stomachful of moist mud, 'cos, you see,ther's Someone who fixes everything the way it should go, an' it's theright way. So we'll jest give you a dose of physic to help boost theshow along.'" She glanced round her with smiling eyes at thetastefully arrayed furnishings of the parlor. "This has been the doseof physic I gave myself, and--and I feel better for it. I had the mud,and, why, the tears came just as they did before. Maybe if I'd beenable to think right I wouldn't have shed them. But I just couldn'tthink right then. But I've thought since, and the physic's helped me.Do--do you think he'll like it all?"
The contemplative gaze of her father was full of gentle amusement.
"Sure he will--if he ain't changed any."
Nan shook her head.
"Jeff couldn't change. Even marriage couldn't change Jeff. You see,Jeff's got notions of life which are just part of him. Maybe he'llsoften some in ways and things, but his notions'll remain, and they'llstand right out in all he does."
But Bud remained without conviction.
"A good woman can set a big man hunting a halo," he said. "An' I allowhe's li'ble to find it, if she don't weaken in her play. But a badwoman--why, I guess a bad woman can send him down quicker than mostthings in life, once she tucks herself into a corner of his life depot."
"But Jeff would never fall in love with a bad woman." Nan protestedswiftly, an odd little pucker of anxiety gathering between her brows."I--I'm sure his wife's a good woman."
"An' I ain't any sort o' reason to think diff'rent."
"But you do think--that way."
Nan's understanding of her father was wide. It could scarcely havebeen otherwise, since he had been her sole companion for so many years.
But Bud was to be drawn no further.
"Ther' ain't no accounting fer how folks think when they ain't out on ajoy trip," he grumbled, as he moved across to the open window, andstood gazing out over the trail from the northeast. Then all furtherdiscussion was abandoned in a small wave of excitement. H
e waspointing down the trail.
"Say, they're coming right along now. An'----"
But Nan was at his side. Something of the color had faded out of hercheeks, and she clung to her father's arm as she gazed along the narrowwinding road. Her breath was coming rapidly. For all her courage, nowthat the moment of great trial had arrived, she felt very weak, veryhelpless.
Bud understood. He released his arm from her nervous clasp, and placedit gently about her shoulders. "It's Jeff setting the gait," he said."I'd say he's crazy to get home." Then he added as though to himself:"Guess I'd as lief seen her on the lead."
But Nan gave no heed to his words. The soul of the girl was in hereyes, which were full of a deep terror and yearning. She had schooledherself for this meeting How she had schooled herself! And now itseemed beyond her powers to live up to that schooling.
Never for a moment did she withdraw her gaze. It was held fascinated,perhaps against her will. They came on, riding at an almost racinggallop, and finally drew up with their horses fighting against therestraining bits.
Bud and Nan were on the veranda. Bud's attitude was one of almost shyreserve. Nan was smiling a welcome such as a moment before would haveseemed quite impossible. But her schooling had finally triumphed inthe crisis, and her loyalty to her generous love had vanquished everybaser feeling. It was her hands which clasped those of the city womanbefore she sprang lightly from the saddle. It was her steady voicespoke the first words of welcome.
"Say, you sure must be tired with your journey," she said. "Come rightin to--your new home."
Bud had averted his eyes the moment she began to speak. He could notwitness that greeting. His courage was unequal to it. Instead hegreeted Jeff in his own fashion, as though nothing unusual had occurred.
"Nan's got everything through for you same as you asked. After you'veeaten, why, I guess we'll need to make some talk. Things have beenmoving, boy. Guess we'll need to get busy."
Nan had taken Elvine into the house, and one of the barn-hands waswaiting to take the horses. Jeff leaped from the saddle. Once in thecompany of his partner, with all the atmosphere of the world to whichhe belonged about him, all the excitement of his home-coming seemed todrop from him. He even seemed to have forgotten that this was thefinal great event of his new life--the bringing of his bride to thehome he had prepared for her. But Nan's estimate of him was right.Jeff's was a nature that could not be changed, even by his marriage.His love, his marriage, Elvine; these things were, in reality, merelyepisodes. Delightful episodes. Before all things his work claimed him.
"You mean the--rustlers?"
The two men were facing each other on the wide veranda. The trailingwild cucumber vines tempered the blaze of sunlight and left theatmosphere of the veranda cool. Jeff mopped the beads of perspirationfrom his forehead under his wide hat, which had been thrust back on hishead.
"That's so." Bud's eyes were following the horses as they moved awayin the wake of the barn-hand.
"It's pretty bad?"
"An' gettin' worse."
Bud's eyes came back to his partner's face. They gazed steadily intoit.
"Can't you tell me--now? Evie's in there with Nan," he addedsignificantly.
Bud shook his head.
"It's a big yarn, an' needs time. But----" He paused, searching theother's face.
"Go right on."
Jeff read through the pause. He waited, his lips firmly set.
Bud cleared his throat.
"I've got to say these things later if I don't say 'em now, Jeff, boy.What I need to tell 'll make you sore, an' I don't guess it's the bestsort o' welcome making you sore at your home-comin'. It's the worst ofthe yarn anyway, an' I kind o' feel it's best spitting out the worstright away. We're up against a gang, a slick gang, organized right,same as----"
He hesitated. But the younger man seemed to have no similar scruples.
"The gang my brother ran."
Bud nodded.
"Some of 'em got clear away--that time."
"And you figure after giving things time to get forgotten they'vegathered up a crowd of toughs and started in on this district?"
"It seems that way."
"How?"
"System," Bud declared sharply. "They're takin' a steady toll of us,an' other folks in the district. We trailed 'em to the hills,an'--lost 'em. Say, if we don't handle 'em it means----"
"Something like ruin for the--Obar."
Jeff's manner was shorn of any equivocation. He spoke with almostruthless force, but the coldness of tone was incomparable with thesteely light in his blue eyes.
After a moment's silence he turned away. He stood looking back overthe trail he had just left, and Bud regarded his keen profile, waiting.He felt there was nothing more for him to say at the moment.
At last the other turned in his quick, decided fashion as the sound ofthe women's voices reached them from within the parlor.
"Will you stop and eat with us?" he asked bluntly.
Bud shook his head.
"Not now, Jeff, boy. This is your home-coming."
"Yes. Well, I'll get around your place to-morrow morning, Bud. We canmake big talk then."
The Forfeit Page 15
