Ridgway of Montana (Story of To-Day, in Which the Hero Is Also the Villain)

by William MacLeod Raine

  CHAPTER 24. A GOOD SAMARITAN

  Yesler, still moving slowly with a walking stick by reason of his greenwound, left the street-car and made his way up Forest Road to the housewhich bore the number 792. In the remote past there had been somespasmodic attempt to cultivate grass and raise some shade-trees alongthe sidewalks, but this had long since been given up as abortive. Anair of decay hung over the street, the unmistakable suggestion ofbetter days. This was writ large over the house in front of whichYesler stopped. The gate hung on one hinge, boards were missing fromthe walk, and a dilapidated shutter, which had once been green, swayedin the breeze.

  A woman of about thirty, dark and pretty but poorly dressed, came tothe door in answer to his ring. Two little children, a boy and a girl,with their mother's shy long-lashed Southern eyes of brown, clung toher skirts and gazed at the stranger.

  "This is where Mr. Pelton lives, is it not?" he asked.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Is he at home?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "May I see him?"

  "He's sick."

  "I'm sorry to hear it. Too sick to be seen? If not, I should like verymuch to see him. I have business with him."

  The young woman looked at him a little defiantly and a littlesuspiciously. "Are you a reporter?"

  Sam smiled. "No, ma'am."

  "Does he owe you money?" He could see the underlying blood dye herdusky cheeks when she asked the question desperately, as it seemed tohim with a kind of brazen shame to which custom had inured her. She hadsomehow the air of some gentle little creature of the forests defendingher young.

  "Not a cent, ma'am. I don't want to do him any harm."

  "I didn't hear your name."

  "I haven't mentioned it," he admitted, with the sunny smile that was aletter of recommendation in itself. "Fact is I'd rather not tell ittill he sees me."

  From an adjoining room a querulous voice broke into their conversation."Who is it, Norma?"

  "A gentleman to see you, Tom."

  "Who is it?" more sharply.

  "It is I, Mr. Pelton. I came to have a talk with you." Yesler pushedforward into the dingy sitting-room with the pertinacity of abookagent. "I heard you were not well, and I came to find out if I cando anything for you."

  The stout man lying on the lounge grew pale before the blood reacted ina purple flush. His very bulk emphasized the shabbiness of the stainedand almost buttonless Prince Albert coat he wore, the dinginess of thelittle room he seemed to dwarf.

  "Leave my house, seh. You have ruined this family, and you come togloat on your handiwork. Take a good look, and then go, Mr. Yesler. Yousee my wife in cotton rags doing her own work. Is it enough, seh?"

  The slim little woman stepped across the room and took her place besideher husband. Her eyes flashed fire at the man she held responsible forthe fall of her husband. Yesler's generous heart applauded the loyaltywhich was proof against both disgrace and poverty. For in the pastmonth both of these had fallen heavily upon her. Tom Pelton had alwayslived well, and during the past few years he had speculated in venturesfar beyond his means. Losses had pursued him, and he had looked to thesenatorship to recoup himself and to stand off the creditors pressinghard for payment. Instead he had been exposed, disgraced, and finallydisbarred for attempted bribery. Like a horde of hungry rats hiscreditors had pounced upon the discredited man and wrested from him theremnants of his mortgaged property. He had been forced to move into amere cottage and was a man without a future. For the only profession atwhich he had skill enough to make a living was the one from which hehad been cast as unfit to practise it. The ready sympathy of thecattleman had gone out to the politician who was down and out. He hadheard the situation discussed enough to guess pretty close to thefacts, and he could not let himself rest until he had made some effortto help the man whom his exposure had ruined, or, rather, had hastenedto ruin, for that result had been for years approaching.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Pelton. If I've injured you I want to make it right."

  "Make it right!" The former congressman got up with an oath. "Make itright! Can you give me back my reputation, my future? Can you take awaythe shame that has come upon my wife, and that my children will have tobear in the years to come? Can you give us back our home, our comfort,our peace of mind?"

  "No, I can't do this, but I can help you to do it all," the cattlemanmade answer quietly.

  He offered no defense, though he knew perfectly well none was needed.He had no responsibility in the calamity that had befallen this family.Pelton's wrong-doing had come home to those he loved, and he couldrightly blame nobody but himself. However much he might arraign thosewho had been the agents of his fall, he knew in his heart that thefault had been his own.

  Norma Pelton, tensely self-repressed, spoke now. "How can you do this,sir?"

  "I can't do it so long as you hold me for an enemy, ma'am. I'm ready tocry quits with your husband and try a new deal. If I injured him hetried to even things up. Well, let's say things are squared and startfresh. I've got a business proposition to make if you're willing tolisten to it."

  "What sort of a proposition?"

  "I'm running about twenty-five thousand sheep up in the hills. I'vejust bought a ranch with a comfortable ranch-house on it for a kind ofcentral point. My winter feeding will all be done from it as a chiefplace of distribution. Same with the shearing and shipping. I want agood man to put in charge of my sheep as head manager, and I would bewilling to pay a proper salary. There ain't any reason why thisshouldn't work into a partnership if he makes good. With wool jumping,as it's going to do in the next four years, the right kind of man canmake himself independent for life. My idea is to increase my holdingsright along, and let my manager in as a partner as soon as he shows heis worth it. Now that ranch-house is a decent place. There's a prettygood school, ma'am, for the children. The folks round that neighborhoodmay not have any frills, but--"

  "Are you offering Tom the place as manager?" she demanded, in amazement.

  "That was my idea, ma'am. It's not what you been used to, o' course,but if you're looking for a change I thought I'd speak of it," he saiddiffidently.

  She looked at him in a dumb surprise. She, too, in her heart knew thatthis man was blameless. He had done his duty, and had nearly lost hislife for it at the hands of her husband. Now, he had come to lift themout of the hideous nightmare into which they had fallen. He had come tooffer them peace and quiet and plenty in exchange for the future ofpoverty and shame and despair which menaced them. They were to escapeinto God's great hills, away from the averted looks and whisperingtongues and the temptations to drown his trouble that so constantlybeset the father of her children. Despite his faults she still lovedTom Pelton; he was a kind and loving husband and father. Out on therange there still waited a future for him. When she thought of it alump rose in her throat for very happiness. She, who had been like arock beside him in his trouble, broke down now and buried her head inher husband's coat.

  "Don't you, honey--now, don't you cry." The big man had lost all hispomposity, and was comforting his sweetheart as simply as a boy. "It'sall been my fault. I've been doing wrong for years--trying to pullmyself out of the mire by my bootstraps. By Gad, you're a man, SamYesler, that's what you are. If I don't turn ovah a new leaf I'd oughtto be shot. We'll make a fresh start, sweetheart. Dash me, I'm nothingbut a dashed baby." And with that the overwrought man broke down, too.

  Yesler, moved a good deal himself, maintained the burden of theconversation cheerfully.

  "That's all settled, then. Tell you I'm right glad to get a competentman to put in charge. Things have been running at loose ends, because Ihaven't the time to look after them. This takes a big load off my mind.You better arrange to go up there with me as soon as you have time,Pelton, and look the ground over. You'll want to make some changes ifyou mean to take your family up there. Better to spend a few hundredsand have things the way you want them for Mrs. Pelton than to move inwith things not up to the mark. Of course, I'll put the house in th
eshape you want it. But we can talk of that after we look it over."

  In his embarrassment he looked so much the boy, so much the culpritcaught stealing apples and up for sentence, that Norma Pelton'sgratitude took courage. She came across to him and held out both hands,the shimmer of tears still in the soft brown eyes.

  "You've given us more than life, Mr. Yesler. You can't ever know whatyou have done for us. Some things are worse than death to some people.I don't mean poverty, but--other things. We can begin again far awayfrom this tainted air that has poisoned us. I know it isn't good formto be saying this. One shouldn't have feelings in public. But I don'tcare. I think of the children--and Tom. I didn't expect ever to behappy again, but we shall. I feel it."

  She broke down again and dabbed at her eyes with her kerchief. Sam,very much embarrassed but not at all displeased at this display offeeling, patted her dark hair and encouraged her to composure.

  "There. It's all right, now, ma'am. Sure you'll be happy. Any motherthat's got kids like these--"

  He caught up the little girl in his arms by way of diverting attentionfrom himself.

  This gave a new notion to the impulsive little woman.

  "I want you to kiss them both. Come here, Kennie. This is Mr. Yesler,and he is the best man you've ever seen. I want you to remember that hehas been our best friend."

  "Yes, mama."

  "Oh, sho, ma'am!" protested the overwhelmed cattleman, kissing both thechildren, nevertheless.

  Pelton laughed. He felt a trifle hysterical himself. "If she thinks itshe'll say it when she feels that way. I'm right surprised she don'tkiss you, too."

  "I will," announced Norma promptly, with a pretty little tide of color.

  She turned toward him, and Yesler, laughing, met the red lips of thenew friend he had made.

  "Now, you've got just grounds for shooting me," he said gaily, andinstantly regretted his infelicitous remark.

  For both husband and wife fell grave at his words. It was Pelton thatanswered them.

  "I've been taught a lesson, Mr. Yesler. I'm never going to pack a gunagain as long as I live, unless I'm hunting or something of that sort,and I'm never going to drink another drop of liquor. It's all right forsome men, but it isn't right for me."

  "Glad to hear it. I never did believe in the hip-pocket habit. I'velived here twenty years, and I never found it necessary except onspecial occasions. When it comes to whisky, I reckon we'd all be betterwithout it."

  Yesler made his escape at the earliest opportunity and left them alonetogether. He lunched at the club, attended to some correspondence hehad, and about 3:30 drifted down the street toward the post-office. Hehad expectations of meeting a young woman who often passed about thattime on her way home from school duties.

  It was, however, another young woman whose bow he met in front ofMesa's largest department store.

  "Good afternoon, Miss Balfour."

  She nodded greeting and cast eyes of derision on him.

  "I've been hearing about you. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

  "Yes, ma'am. What for in particular? There are so many things."

  "You're a fine Christian, aren't you?" she scoffed.

  "I ain't much of a one. That's a fact," he admitted. "What is it thistime--poker?"

  "No, it isn't poker. Worse than that. You've been setting a deplorableexample to the young."

  "To young ladies--like Miss Virginia?" he wanted to know.

  "No, to young Christians. I don't know what our good deacons will sayabout it." She illuminated her severity with a flashing smile. "Don'tyou know that the sins of the fathers are to descend upon theirchildren even to the third and fourth generation? Don't you know thatwhen a man does wrong he must die punished, and his children and hiswife, of course, and that the proper thing to do is to stand back andthank Heaven we haven't been vile sinners?"

  "Now, don't you begin on that, Miss Virginia," he warned.

  "And after the man had disgraced himself and shot you, after allrespectable people had given him an extra kick to let him know he muststay down and had then turned their backs upon him. I'm not surprisedthat you're ashamed."

  "Where did you get hold of this fairy-tale?" he plucked up courage todemand.

  "From Norma Pelton. She told me everything, the whole story frombeginning to end."

  "It's right funny you should be calling on her, and you a respectableyoung lady--unless you went to deliver that extra kick you wasmentioning," he grinned.

  She dropped her raillery. "It was splendid. I meant to ask Mr. Ridgwayto do something for them, but this is so much better. It takes themaway from the place of his disgrace and away from temptation. Oh, Idon't wonder Norma kissed you."

  "She told you that, too, did she?"

  "Yes. I should have done it, too, in her place."

  He glanced round placidly. "It's a right public place here, but--"

  "Don't be afraid. I'm not going to." And before she disappeared withinthe portals of the department store she gave him one last thrust. "It'snot so public up in the library. Perhaps if you happen to be going thatway?"

  She left her communication a fragment, but he thought it worth actingupon. Among the library shelves he found Laska deep in a new volume ondomestic science.

  "This ain't any kind of day to be fooling away your time on cook-books.Come out into the sun and live," he invited.

  They walked past the gallows-frames and the slag-dumps and theshaft-houses into the brown hills beyond the point where green copperstreaks showed and spurred the greed of man. It was a day of springsunshine, the good old earth astir with her annual recreation. Theroadside was busy with this serious affair of living. Ants and crawlingthings moved to and fro about their business. Squirrels raced acrossthe road and stood up at a safe distance to gaze at these intruders.Birds flashed back and forth, hurried little carpenters busy with thespecifications for their new nests. Eager palpitating life was thekey-note of the universe.

  "Virginia told me about the Peltons," Laska said, after a pause.

  "It's spreading almost as fast as if it were a secret," he smiled. "I'mexpecting to find it in the paper when we get back."

  "I'm so glad you did it."

  "Well, you're to blame."

  "I!" She looked at him in surprise.

  "Partly. You told me how things were going with them. That seemed toput it up to me to give Pelton a chance."

  "I certainly didn't mean it that way. I had no right to ask you to doanything about it."

  "Mebbe it was the facts put it up to me. Anyhow, I felt responsible."

  "Mr. Roper once told me that you always feel responsible when you hearanybody is in trouble," the young woman answered.

  "Roper's a goat. Nobody ever pays any attention to him."

  Presently they diverged from the road and sat down on a great flat rockwhich dropped out from the hillside like a park seat. For he was stillfar from strong and needed frequent rests. Their talk was desultory,for they had reached that stage of friendship at which it is notnecessary to bridge silence with idle small talk. Here, by some whim offate, the word was spoken. He knew he loved her, but he had not meantto say it yet.

  But when her steady gray eyes came back to his after a long stillness,the meeting brought him a strange feeling that forced his hand.

  "I love you, Laska. Will you be my wife?" he asked quietly.

  "Yes, Sam," she answered directly. That was all. It was settled with aword. There in the sunshine he kissed her and sealed the compact, andafterward, when the sun was low among the hill spurs, they went backhappily to take up again the work that awaited them.