The Wrong Woman (18 page)

However difficult it might be to name his particular function in the social
organism, he had certainly made a place for himself; and it was wonderful, as
time went on, how large that place grew to be. Any woman, when her husband is
away from home, is likely to face situations which make sudden call for a Man.
In a neighborhood where husbands and hired men were frequently away at the
ranch, this state of affairs was always breaking out somewhere, and Jonas,
occupying his prominent position as next door neighbor to everybody, and being
naturally adapted to act in that capacity, was always the Man. His very
geographical situation was sufficient to turn the mind towards him, but the
particular reason for that heliotropism on the part of his feminine neighbors
was that he was an easy man for a woman to ask. Being asked, he always served
her in a spirit of masculine banter and then went away as if he had enjoyed the
joke. Thus she could be grateful for his neighborly turn without feeling herself
under any painful state of obligation. Naturally his custom grew. One moment he
would be mending a yoke or plaiting a lash, the next moment he would be clapping
himself on a broncho to outdodge an escaped bull, or dashing up the road to put
out a prairie fire before it reached the stable; he could lift a stove or drive
a nail or spade up a little place for flower seed; he could do any one of these
things in about a minute and then have time to sit down and have a good
neighborly visit. Possibly his familiarity with cookstove affairs had brought
him nearer to woman's point of view. He looked like a Texas Ranger, and was just
as generally useful, but in a more domestic way. And yet he had been good with a
six-shooter. So times change; and men with them.

Altogether, he might be best described simply as Jonas Hicks; his position
being one that he naturally fell into. And he filled the position of Jonas Hicks
the same as if he were a policeman or a priest or a fire department. In time of
trouble it was only necessary for a woman to ask. Indeed, his trade with woman
grew to such proportions that he had been obliged, on more than one occasion, to
cancel an engagement with a man in order that he might do something for his
wife. And he stated the case in just about that way.

Chivalry is not entirely a thing of the past. It is a virtue which grows wild
in Texas. When it is domesticated with the ox, and pursues the even tenor of
everyday life, it is a most useful institution.

With all this talk of ours, it is doubtful if we have brought the oxen a mile
on their way. At this point we shall go on ahead.

It will be easy enough to reach the next chapter before he does.

Repeatedly, Janet had misjudged her fellow man's motives and had to correct
her theory of him. It was, however, his own fault. He had a way of going ahead
without making explanations. He seemed deficient in that sort of guile which
would prompt a man to forefend suspicion of his motives, or else he did not
think it necessary, or, worse still, did not care; and so his "high-handedness,"
as it had at first appeared to her, took sinister color from her unusual
situation and his too easy advantage. Now she had about arrived at the
comfortable conclusion that Steve Brown was simply one who saw what ought to be
done and did it.

His acts had a way of doing their own explaining, uninterpreted by him, so
that, as they sorted together in that prairieful of time, he became a less
difficult study; and by the time she had thus learned him she found herself in a
most comfortable case. He was really a very simple sort of man to understand,
after all. While he had been very alarming at first she had come to see into his
mental state, and she liked, or at least had grown accustomed to, his faults.

His lack of talkativeness had made the process seem rather slow at first, and
she had felt that more talk would have helped; but now she had begun to think
differently. She had thought him wanting in tact, but the fact of the matter was
that he did not need it. He did better without it. She reflected, however, that
his qualities were of the kind that would easily remain undiscovered by other
women. One had to know him. He had been quite a revelation to her, perfectly
simple. It was no longer he that seemed strange to her, but rather the adventure
itself,especially when she reflected that it happened such a little while ago.
He seemed to date back farther than that; indeed, her knowing of him did not
seem to be a thing of any date at all. And yet he owed his existence, so far as
she was concerned, to that mere chance and her sudden dash out into the
distance. It is strange how things happen.

What had been his history up to the time that had happened? This question had
passed across her mind and brought with it a shade of doubt; but it soon lost
itself in his real presence; he was simply Steve Brown.

She felt that she knew him. And now, on this evening, when he had entertained
her with his explanation of the ways of sheep, there came a pause. After a while
he rose to tend the fire, which had burnt low. He scraped the embers together
and put on the wood, and then, having sat down again, he told her, rather
deliberately, that on that day he had caught her horse.

He had not broached this subject during all this time. And at supper, before
they became so interested in talking, there had been plenty of opportunity. He
went on to explain that he had not caught the horse exactly; he had rather got
it without the trouble of catching. The animal had been so willing to form his
acquaintance that it had only been necessary to lay hold of him.

"And where is he now?" She was puzzled.

"I put him in an old sheep corral near the place I got him. I 've been
thinking I ought to go and get him to-night. That is, if you are not afraid to
stay alone."

Why had he not informed her of this before
? Would not any one
naturally have done so? Here she was in this place all on account of the escape
of her horse; and yet he had not told her about this. There was something
strange here. Could it be that he would stoop to deceit!

Janet immediatelywhat she would not have believed she would dobrought him
to an accounting.

"Mr. Brown," she said sternly, "why did you not tell me of this before?"

"Well, Miss Janet, the point-blank truth is that I thought I would rather
spend the evening here."

He blenched perceptibly as he said it. Janet, seeing him now in a state of
mild propitiation, became suddenly aware of the schoolmistress tone in which she
had made him own up; and as he considered what way to answer, she was more at a
loss than he was.

"And besides," he added, with more assurance, "I intended to go for him after
you had gone to bed and say nothing about it. You might be afraid if you knew I
was not aroundthough there is n't any danger of anything. But just now I got to
thinking it over and when it came to the point, I did not like to go away
without your knowing it. I thought I ought to tell you."

"Ohthat was it!"

"You see I did n't have any rope or bridle along when I caught him; so I just
put him in the corral. And I could n't bring him home by the forelock when I had
my arms full of lambs. I caught him just before noon. If he waited till I got
around to him again in the regular course of herding, he would be pretty bad off
for a drink."

This statement of the case decided her at once. As far as her own needs were
concerned, she could not ride the horse without a saddle even if she dared mount
him again, which she would not; but when she considered the animal's thirst she
decided to set her night fears aside.

"No; of course you could not bring him home that way. If you wish to go for
him I can stay here. I am not at all afraid."

"There is n't really anything to be afraid of," he said, rising. He paused a
moment, regarding her seriously. "I
could
go for him in the morning
before I take the sheep out. But you see I would have to start so early that it
would still be night anyway."

"Oh, I shall not be afraid at all, Mr. Brown. There is nothing to be afraid
of."

This was how it happened that Janet, a while later, was sitting alone gazing
at the North Star. She was looking at that star in particular because Steve
Brown had called her attention to it by way of proving that he would be able to
find his way back to her. At intervals her eye let go of the star and came back
to the fire.

"
I thought I ought to tell you.
"

Why ought? If there was no danger at all, and he felt that she would be
afraid, why did he change his mind? This interested her. For a time the darkness
was neglected. Evidently he had planned this and had no doubts. If a woman is
afraid to be alone in the dark, and there is no danger at all, the most
considerate course is to go away when she is sleeping. He had his ideas of
dealing with women. Why then had he found any difficulty in doing it with her?
"I thought I
ought
to tell you."

She had said she would not be the least bit afraid. And so she was notat
first. Before long, however, the Night insisted upon being seen and heard. Space
and darkness began to demand human attention. Unable to do otherwise, she looked
up and contemplated the big blackboard of night, and especially the North Star,
to which the front stars of the Dipper served as a pointer. And very soon she
was wholly engaged upon the silence.

It is no small thing, if you are not used to it, to occupy a lone prairie at
night. You face the absence of the whole human race. The ominous stillness
centres upon you with all the weight of Past, Present, and Future. You are
sitting up with the universe. And while you sit there, and keep watch, you feel
like the last survivor. Night burns her solemn tapers over the living and the
dead; there is now room for anything to happen.

Suddenly and without warning, an awful outburst of language sprang from the
very throat of Night and claimed the starry silence for its own. It was a clap
of language which, coming so unexpectedly, seemed to make the stars all blink at
once. Then fell a hush much deeper than the silence of before. There was a
moment of suspense; then a sharp gunlike report which seemed to crack the
silence but not to break it. Again the threatening voice soundedthis time
nearer and more violent.

Janet sprang to her feet and made for the shacknot forgetting, fortunately,
the lamb. Being inside, she dropped the lamb on the bunk and shut the door.

She had noticed in the corner that morning a narrow roof-board which might
have been used to hold the door shut; she felt for it at once. When she had it
in her hands, at last, she put one end against the door and braced the other end
against the wall opposite where it met the floor. The board was so long that it
would not go low enough to catch securely against the door. She managed,
however, by pressing down hard on its middle, to spring it tightly into place.
There being nothing further to be done, except to keep as still as possible and
hope for the best, she proceeded to do so.

The lamb being less discreet, lifted its voice and called out for its mother.
There was an answering cry from the corral, after which there seemed to be
promise of quiet. Janet held her breath and got what reassurance she could out
of the fact that she was surrounded by walls, between the shrunk boards of which
the glare of the fire showed in vertical streaks. As it was pitch dark inside,
she could see nothing of her protecting structure except in so far as it had the
appearance of being a cage of fire.

The threatening voice advanced by stages, coming surely on. Presently she
could hear the tramp of many feet, accompanied by the clanking of chains. There
was a dull knocking of heavy wheels. There was the sharp crack of the whip-lash
again, a quicker trampling of hoofs, a louder sound of wheels and chains and a
still louder vociferation of commands. Janet could hardly have felt less
confidence in that shack if it had been the heavy artillery that was coming into
positionwhich it sounded very much like. There some sort of evolution performed
and a command to stop; then all was silent again. For a space, Janet heard
nothing.

Then a sound of footfalls told her that he was coming nearer. The door was
tried. When it did not open he pushed it harder. It gave a little at the top,
but, to her great relief, the brace held. After a little she heard his measured
tramp again. And again there was silence.

Janet, unable to endure the suspense, put her eye to the knot-hole. The
intruder, a tall piratical-looking figure, was standing between her and the
fire; she could see his general build in black. From the side of his face there
protruded a terrible moustache.

The man, after a period of silent thought, went and fetched some wood. He was
going to take possession of the fire. Janet kept her eye to the knot-hole. When
he had the fire burning better, he straightened up and wandered round to the
other side of it. At this, the sinister silhouette, acting as a sort of
dissolving view, came out in favor of the old maxim that "there is a bright side
to everything." It was no less a person than Jonas Hicks. Little Jimmie Wanger's
"Misser Donas!"

"Misser Donas dimme pop,"Janet's mind took a jump to this. Morning and night
she had heard the sentence reiterated by the diminutive Jimmie, the
interpretation of which was, according to Rosie, that Mr. Hicks had at one time
presented Jimmie with a ball of pop-corn. It was the only sentence Jimmie's mind
cared to communicate. As it was the only thing in life worth mentioning, he
brought it out upon every occasion; thus it had become recorded on her mind with
phonographic unforgettableness, and when she saw Mr. Hicks through the knot-hole
his act of benevolence repeated itself in the same words. The sight of this
benefactor in the guise of a cursing desperado made a clash among the ideas in
her mind; but Jimmie's sentence came out on top.