The Wrong Woman (20 page)

"He must have been very fond of his mother."

"Thought as much of her as if he had picked her out himself. But as I was
going to tell Towards the last when she was down sick and pretty near faded
out, she seemed to think he was n't any more than a little boy that had just
grown up big. She always did seem to have pretty much that idea anyway; and he
never let on but what he was. As long as he fetched and carried for her, and
never got into any danger except when he kept it secret, I don't suppose she
ever exactly noticed when he did grow up. And when she died you could see that
she was worried about what would become of him. I went for the doctor when she
died. Steve got out a fast horse and I made some pretty quick time. When I got
the doctor to the house I went into the room with him; and you could see she was
n 't going to hold out much longer. She seemed to know it too. The last thing
she said that night was, 'Good-bye, Stevie; don't go and join the Rangers.'"

"And what did he say?"

"He told her he would n'tjust as honest as if it was all so. That satisfied
her and she shut her eyes again, and that was the way she went. 'Good-bye,
Stevie, don't go and join the Rangers.'"

"He did n't usually tell her everything?" said Janet reflectively.

"Not till he saw fit. Old Steve was pretty much the same way. If it was
anything she 'd worry about, he 'd do it first. Then sometime when it was all
over, he 'd let the cat out of the bag. The old man sort of spoiled her; and
Steve just naturally took hold the same way."

"They always did tell her, then?"

"Sooner or later."

"He struck me as a man that wasrather fond of his mother."

"He thought she could n't be beat. She pretty near run him and old Steve;
they were two of a kind. They would n't 'a' dared to do anything if she was
against it. I guess that was the reason they went ahead on their own hook on
anything she might worry about. They were afraid she 'd say no, I guess."

"Then she really did have something to say, after all," suggested Janet.

"She twisted them around her finger pretty much as it was. And that's where
Steve misses her. He's used to being run. He's lost. About a week after she was
buried he took her picture down out of the parlor and hung it up nearer the
kitchen where he could see it every day."

"But," exclaimed Janet, "I thought you said he hardly ever went into the
house!"

Jonas took a moment for consideration. Then he put his hand to his hip pocket
and felt around in it. Not finding what he was looking for, and being evidently
at a loss, he cast his eyes about on the vacant ground. Presently his eye lit on
Janet's yellow oil-coat. He reached out and took it, and having folded it
somewhat like a cushion, so that its back presented a smooth surface, he again
made search of his various pockets. When he had hunted down the elusive
lead-pencil he moistened it on his tongue and set to work deliberately to draw
on the slicker. The result of his work was simply a square.

"That," he said, "is Steve's house."

Moistening the pencil again, he drew another square, somewhat smaller, so
that it just touched the other square corner to corner.

"That's the kitchen," he explained.

Again he drew a square; this one touching corners with the kitchen so that it
faced the side of the house.

"That's the milk-house," he said.

The three squares, one large and two smaller ones, being thus joined at the
corners, made a space between them. This space, surrounded on but three sides,
seemed to be open towards the road.

"Now, this place in between here," began Jonas, "is out of doors. But it
ain't really out of doors at all, because it has got a roof on it and has a
floor. It ain't a room exactly nor it ain't a porch. It's a sort of an inside
porch or an outside room. Now, the open side of this place faces the road; but
it is n't open to the road at all, because there is a lattice-work there covered
with vines. This lattice"he wet the pencil and set it to work again"this
lattice that closes this place runs out from the side of the house, but it does
n't join to the corner of the milk-house, because you see that would close this
place all up so that you could n't come in from outside. It comes a distance
away from the corner of the milk-house; and that makes a door so that you can go
out into the yard without going through the kitchen. So you see, you can go into
this inside place without going through the house at all."

Janet drew closer, the better to study the plan.

"Yes; I see how that is," she said.

"Well, now," he continued, "these three parts of the house have each got a
door opening into this inside placethe dining-room door, and the kitchen door,
and the milk-house door. And right here beside the dining-room door is a bench
where Steve washes up, and a looking-glass. And right on the other side of this
door is where he hung her picture. That's how it is that he hardly ever goes
into the house at all and he 's got her picture right in there where he does his
work. He cooks some in Aunt Lucy's kitchen, and eats and sets here. Aunt Lucy
has got a new place to work."

"I understand perfectly well now what you meant, Mr. Hicks. It is perfectly
plain."

She had rather awkwardly accused him of getting his tale tangled; and now
that he suddenly brought the whole weight of this explanation to bear upon the
point at issue, she felt a new striking-in of her shame. She hoped that if there
was to be any further explanation it would not be in this particular connection.

"Now," said Jonas, wetting his pencil and setting to work on the interior of
the house, "right here in the main house is a long dining-room. And a hall runs
from this dining-room right straight through onto the front porch. You can set
right here at the head of the table and eat and see everything that is passing
on the road. And there is a cool draught right through. Off to the right of this
hall is the parlor."

Jonas wetted the pencil unusually and worked it busily in the corner of the
parlor till he had made a very black and shiny little square. Janet leaned
farther over to watch him.

"And this here," he announced, "is the piano."

Janet resumed her erect position.

"It is a very convenient house in some ways," she said. "It has certain
advantages for a warm climate."

"It 's all figured out," said Jonas.

He made a dot by holding the pencil straight down and twirling it round. This
was about the middle of the "inside place." Janet leaned over and became
interested again.

"Now," he continued, "suppose it is a rainy day. Right here in the middle of
this inside place is a chain pump. You don't have to go outside for anything. Or
suppose it is a hot day. And maybe there is a big company dinner to get. You can
set here by the lattice where it is cool and breezy,the Gulf breeze comes right
in that place by the milk-house,and keep track of what's going on in the
kitchen. You don't have to go right into the kitchen once in a week if you don't
want to. But it's a good thing to keep an eye on Aunt Lucy or the best of them.
They 're likely to hand out half of the provisions to the rest of the niggers.
You see it's fixed so that it don't make any difference whether it's rainy or
hot, or whether you 've got company clothes on or not. You can set right here
with your knitting and see into the kitchen or out to the roadbut people going
past on the road can't see you."

"It is an outside kitchen without the disadvantages of a separate building,
is n't it! And it looks like a part of the house, too."

"So does the milk-house. When you come out of the side door of the
dining-room the milkhouse is right in front of you. And to your right is the
kitchen door. Everything 's handy. Old Steve used to be a great hand for
company. And I guess Steve B. is likely to turn out just as bad. So you see
these are all three joined at the corners and this place between is all floored
and roofed over, and there is a lattice and vines where you can see out onto the
road. And it's nice and cool. You can set right here in the shade and tend to
everything."

Having submitted the plans to her contemplation awhile Jonas withdrew the
slicker as if he were considering any possible improvements.

Janet, being tired by her constrained position in viewing the work,for she
had not moved entirely round to his side of the supper,straightened up and
spent the interval in a new survey of the stars. It rested her neck. As on the
previous nights it was clear and spacious. There were stars and stars. The
biggest and brightest stood out in unison; in between them and hanging far off
in space were so many others that all confusion seemed straightened out in the
unity of the infinite. It was all very beautifulheaven is not disorder, after
all. And yet a coyote, complaining in the distance, seemed to set the world to a
false note. Her mind seemed tangled in light as her eye, following the stars,
was led along the devious invisible lines from one to another. She had a feeling
as if she would like to look up the definition of "you" in the dictionary.

When she came back to earth again, Jonas was sitting there awaiting her
return. One would almost think he was waiting for an answer.

Janet looked at her watch. It was twenty minutes after tenbut she did not
know whether it was right or not.

"I hope I have n't been keeping you up, Miss Janet," said Jonas. "Whenever
your time comes to turn in, go right along. Don't consider me company."

"Oh, it was n't that; I was just wondering what time it is. Do you suppose,
Mr. Hicks, that he will have any difficulty finding that horse and getting it
back here? I should think he would get lost."

"How long has he been gone?"

"A little over an hour."

"Oh, that ain't bad. You can't lose Steve."

"No, of course not. I thought it was longer."

"What time is it?"

"Twenty minutes after ten by my watch. But I don't really know what time it
is."

"Well, there ain't much use knowin'. Time is queer anyway on a prairie.
Sometimes it takes a considerable while for it to go past. And then again, as
the other fellow said, 'Time is shorter than it is long.' Maybe if you are
sleepy you 'd better go to bed."

"WellI believe I will. I don't suppose I had better wait any longer. Will
you find a place to sleep? Maybe you will want to use my slicker."

"Oh, I 'm all right. I 'll just chase away these cattle and roll in under the
wagon. And if you should hear me serrynadin' you with a horse-fiddle after a
while, don't be scared. That's me snoring. I 'm what they call a sound sleeper."

"Good-night, Mr. Hicks."

"Same to you, Miss Janet."

The sun, lifting his countenance above the horizon that morning, centred his
whole attention upon a pair of polished brass-bound hubs. The rest of the scene,
grass and flowers "in unrespective same," formed a mere background on the
general plane of existence while the sun beamed upon the brassdelighted, no
doubt, to find an affinity in this unexpected place.

We accentuate the detail slightly, our reason being that Janet, whenever she
had occasion to tell how it all happened, was sure to make mention of the brass
hubs. Unconscious as she may have been of it at the time, the hubs commanded the
scene and formed the shining high-light of memory's picture; and as the years
passed they took on a still brighter polish.

The hubs belonged to a snug-looking Rockaway buggy. Hitched to the buggy was
her own horse, which was tied to a post of the corral. The gate of the corral
was open and the sheep were gone. Jonas's outfit was gone too; there was nobody
in sight.

As she stood looking and wondering, Steve emerged from the gully; and having
saluted her in his usual manner he began to explain to her how the change was
wrought. When he returned late that night and found that Jonas Hicks was in
charge, he saw his way clear to solve her transportation problems. As a horse
without a saddle would hardly do for her, he remounted and rode almost to town
on the main road, where he borrowed a buggy. Getting back again he found that
the much-expected herder had put in his appearance with a man to help him; the
two were now out with the sheep. The wagon had not arrived because the bed with
sheep-stalls was out of repair; a second helper would come with it later in the
day and in the meantime Jonas would follow the flock with his wagon and two yoke
of oxen.

As to Mr. Pete Harding, that delinquent, instead of being conscience-smitten
by his long absence, had returned as one who is the bearer of glad tidings, the
burden of his song being that he had been most surpassingly drunk. Steve, taking
into consideration that the man, being now satisfied with his achievements and
the proud possessor of a headache, would settle down to the simple life with all
the more interest, let him off without a word of reproof. And besides, Mr.
Brown, though he did not say so, was grateful to the man for having stayed away
as long as he did.

Thus Steve Brown was free to do as he pleased. He would himself take Janet to
her destination at the county-seat; and if she would allow him to,he seemed to
lose all his usual self-confidence at this point in his relations toward her,he
would wait there until she had taken the examination. And then, if she were
willing, he would take her wherever she wished to go. Janet, protesting mildly
against putting him to so much trouble, accepted the offer.

"That's the best thing for us to do," he said.

So it was decided; and when breakfast was over and the hieroglyphic oil-coat
had been stowed under the seat of the buggy, Janet's horse got the word to go.

Not without regret, nor certain light allusions to the state other feelings,
did Janet part company with the shack and the now familiar prairie. The shack
had been a house to her, and one whose roof and walls had held her in the very
closest relations; and besides, though she did not say a word about this, it was
the only residence she had ever met which she could possibly imagine herself
saving up enough money to buy. This was one of its secrets.