by Bret Harte
hurried words with hiscompanions, and then disappeared with them, leaving her alone.
Her first sense of relief from their company was, I fear, stronger thanany other feeling. After a hurried glance around the deserted apartment,she arose, shook out her dress and mantle, and then going into thedarkest corner supported herself with one hand against the wall whilewith the other she drew off, one by one, her slippers from her slim,striped-stockinged feet, shook and blew out the dust that had penetratedwithin, and put them on again. Then, perceiving a triangular fragmentof looking-glass nailed against the wall, she settled the strings of herbonnet by the aid of its reflection, patted the fringe of brown hair onher forehead with her separated five fingers as if playing an imaginarytune on her brow, and came back with maidenly abstraction to thedoorway.
Everything was quiet, and her seclusion seemed unbroken. A smile playedfor an instant in the soft shadows of her eyes and mouth as she recalledthe abrupt withdrawal of the men. Then her mouth straightened and herbrows slightly bent. It was certainly very unmannerly in them to go offin that way. "Good heavens! couldn't they have stayed around withouttalking? Surely it didn't require four men to go and bring up thatwagon!" She picked up her parasol from the bench with an impatientlittle jerk. Then she held out her ungloved hand into the hot sunshinebeyond the door with the gesture she would have used had it beenraining, and withdrew it as quickly--her hand quite scorched inthe burning rays. Nevertheless, after another impatient pause shedesperately put up her parasol and stepped from the shanty.
Presently she was conscious of a faint sound of hammering not far away.Perhaps there was another shed, but hidden, like everything else, inthis monotonous, ridiculous grain. Some stalks, however, were troddendown and broken around the shanty; she could move more easily and seewhere she was going. To her delight, a few steps further brought herinto a current of the trade-wind and a cooler atmosphere. And a shortdistance beyond them, certainly, was the shed from which the hammeringproceeded. She approached it boldly.
It was simply a roof upheld by rude uprights and crossbeams, and opento the breeze that swept through it. At one end was a small blacksmith'sforge, some machinery, and what appeared to be part of a smallsteam-engine. Midway of the shed was a closet or cupboard fastened witha large padlock. Occupying its whole length on the other side was awork-bench, and at the further end stood the workman she had heard.
He was apparently only a year or two older than herself, and clad inblue jean overalls, blackened and smeared with oil and coal-dust. Evenhis youthful face, which he turned towards her, had a black smudgerunning across it and almost obliterating a small auburn moustache. Thelook of surprise that he gave her, however, quickly passed; he remainedpatiently and in a half-preoccupied way, holding his hammer in hishand, as she advanced. This was evidently the young fellow who could "doanything that could be done with wood and iron."
She was very sorry to disturb him, but could he tell her how long itwould be before the wagon could be brought up and mended? He could notsay that until he himself saw what was to be done; if it was only amatter of the wheel he could fix it up in a few moments; if, as he hadbeen told, it was a case of twisted or bent axle, it would take longer,but it would be here very soon. Ah, then, would he let her wait here, asshe was very anxious to know at once, and it was much cooler than in theshed? Certainly; he would go over and bring her a bench. But here shebegged he wouldn't trouble himself, she could sit anywhere comfortably.
The lower end of the work-bench was covered with clean and odorousshavings; she lightly brushed them aside and, with a youthful movement,swung herself to a seat upon it, supporting herself on one hand asshe leaned towards him. She could thus see that his eyes were of alight-yellowish brown, like clarified honey, with a singular look ofclear concentration in them, which, however, was the same whether turnedupon his work, the surrounding grain, or upon her. This, and his sublimeunconsciousness of the smudge across his face and his blackened hands,made her wonder if the man who could do everything with wood and ironwas above doing anything with water. She had half a mind to tell him ofit, particularly as she noticed also that his throat below the lineof sunburn disclosed by his open collar was quite white, and his grimyhands well made. She was wondering whether he would be affronted if shesaid in her politest way, "I beg your pardon, but do you know youhave quite accidentally got something on your face," and offer herhandkerchief, which, of course, he would decline, when her eye fell onthe steam-engine.
"How odd! Do you use that on the farm?"
"No,"--he smiled here, the smudge accenting it and setting off his whiteteeth in a Christy Minstrel fashion that exasperated her--no, althoughit COULD be used, and had been. But it was his first effort, made twoyears ago, when he was younger and more inexperienced. It was a ratherrough thing, she could see--but he had to make it at odd times withwhat iron he could pick up or pay for, and at different forges where heworked.
She begged his pardon--where--
WHERE HE WORKED.
Ah, then he was the machinist or engineer here?
No, he worked here just like the others, only he was allowed to put up aforge while the grain was green, and have his bench in consideration ofthe odd jobs he could do in the way of mending tools, etc. There wasa heap of mending and welding to do--she had no idea how quicklyagricultural machines got out of order! He had done much of his work onthe steam-engine on moonlit nights. Yes; she had no idea how perfectlyclear and light it was here in the valley on such nights; although ofcourse the shadows were very dark, and when he dropped a screw or a nutit was difficult to find. He had worked there because it saved timeand because it didn't cost anything, and he had nobody to look on orinterfere with him. No, it was not lonely; the coyotes and wild catssometimes came very near, but were always more surprised and frightenedthan he was; and once a horseman who had strayed off the distant roadyonder mistook him for an animal and shot at him twice.
He told all this with such freedom from embarrassment and with suchapparent unconsciousness of the blue eyes that were following him, andthe light, graceful figure,--which was so near his own that in someof his gestures his grimy hands almost touched its delicategarments,--that, accustomed as she was to a certain masculine aberrationin her presence, she was greatly amused by his naive acceptance of heras an equal. Suddenly, looking frankly in her face, he said:
"I'll show you a secret, if you care to see it."
Nothing would please her more.
He glanced hurriedly around, took a key from his pocket, and unlockedthe padlock that secured the closet she had noticed. Then, reachingwithin, with infinite care he brought out a small mechanical model.
"There's an invention of my own. A reaper and thresher combined. I'mgoing to have it patented and have a big one made from this model. Thiswill work, as you see."
He then explained to her with great precision how as it moved over thefield the double operation was performed by the same motive power. Thatit would be a saving of a certain amount of labor and time which shecould not remember. She did not understand a word of his explanations;she saw only a clean and pretty but complicated toy that under themanipulation of his grimy fingers rattled a number of frail-like stavesand worked a number of wheels and drums, yet there was no indication ofher ignorance in her sparkling eyes and smiling, breathless attitude.Perhaps she was interested in his own absorption; the revelation ofhis preoccupation with this model struck her as if he had made hera confidante of some boyish passion for one of her own sex, and sheregarded him with the same sympathizing superiority.
"You will make a fortune out of it," she said pleasantly.
Well, he might make enough to be able to go on with some otherinventions he had in his mind. They cost money and time, no matter howcareful one was.
This was another interesting revelation to the young girl. He not onlydid not seem to care for the profit his devotion brought him, but evenhis one beloved ideal might be displaced by another. So like a man,after all!
Her reflections were b
roken upon by the sound of voices. The young mancarefully replaced the model in its closet with a parting glance as ifhe was closing a shrine, and said, "There comes the wagon." The younggirl turned to face the men who were dragging it from the road, withthe half-complacent air of having been victorious over their late rudeabandonment, but they did not seem to notice it or to be surprisedat her companion, who quickly stepped forward and examined the brokenvehicle with workmanlike deliberation.
"I hope you will be able to do something with it," she said sweetly,appealing directly to him. "I should thank you SO MUCH."
He did not reply. Presently he looked up to the man who had brought herto the shanty, and said, "The axle's strained, but it's safe for five orsix miles more of this road. I'll put the wheel on easily." He paused,and without glancing at her, continued, "You might send her on by thecart."
"Pray don't trouble yourselves," interrupted the young girl, with a pinkuprising in her cheeks; "I shall be quite satisfied with the buggy asit stands. Send her on in the cart, indeed! Really, they were a rudeset--ALL of them."
Without taking the slightest notice of her remark, the man repliedgravely to the young mechanic, "Yes, but we'll be wanting the cartbefore it can get back from taking her."
"Her" again. "I assure you the buggy will serve perfectly well--ifthis--gentleman--will only be kind enough to put on the wheel again,"she returned hotly.
The young mechanic at once set to work. The young girl walked apartsilently until the wheel was restored to its axle. But to her surprise adifferent horse was led forward to be harnessed.
"We thought your horse wasn't safe in case of another accident," saidthe first man, with the same smileless consideration. "This one wouldn'tcut up if he was harnessed to an earthquake or a worse driver thanyou've got."
It occurred to her instantly that the more obvious remedy of sendinganother driver had been already discussed and rejected by them. Yet,when her own driver appeared a moment afterwards, she ascended to herseat with some dignity and a slight increase of color.
"I am very much obliged to you all," she said, without glancing at theyoung inventor.
"Don't mention it, miss."
"Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon." They all took off their hats with the same formalgravity as the horse moved forward, but turned back to their work againbefore she was out of the field.
CHAPTER II
The ranch of Major Randolph lay on a rich falda of the Coast Range, andoverlooked the great wheat plains that the young girl had just left.The house of wood and adobe, buried to its first story in rose-treesand passion vines, was large and commodious. Yet it contained only themajor, his wife, her son and daughter, and the few occasional visitorsfrom San Francisco whom he entertained, and she tolerated.
For the major's household was not entirely harmonious. While a younginfantry subaltern at a Gulf station, he had been attracted by thepiquant foreign accent and dramatic gestures of a French Creole widow,and--believing them, in the first flush of his youthful passion morethan an offset to the encumbrance of her two children who, with thememory of various marital infidelities were all her late husband hadleft her--had proposed, been accepted, and promptly married to her.Before he obtained his captaincy, she had partly lost her accent, andthose dramatic gestures, which had accented the passion of their briefcourtship, began to intensify domestic altercation and the burstsof idle jealousy to which she was subject. Whether she was revengingherself on her second husband for the faults of her first is not known,but it was certain that she brought an unhallowed knowledge of theweaknesses, cheap cynicism, and vanity of a foreign predecessor, to sitin judgment upon the simple-minded and chivalrous American soldier whohad succeeded him, and who was, in fact, the most loyal of husbands. Thenatural result of her skepticism was an espionage and criticism of thewives of the major's brother officers that compelled a frequent changeof quarters. When to this was finally added a racial divergence andantipathy, the public disparagement of the customs and education of herfemale colleagues, and the sudden insistence of a foreign and Frenchdominance in her household beyond any ordinary Creole justification,Randolph, presumably to avoid later international complications,resigned while he was as yet a major. Luckily his latest banishment toan extreme Western outpost had placed him in California during the floodof a speculation epoch. He purchased a valuable Spanish grant to threeleagues of land for little over a three months' pay. Following thatyearning which compels retired ship-captains and rovers of all degreesto buy a farm in their old days, the major, professionally and sociallyinured to border strife, sought surcease and Arcadian repose inranching.
It was here that Mrs. Randolph, late relict of the late ScipionL'Hommadieu, devoted herself to bringing up her children after theextremest of French methods, and in resurrecting a "de" from her ownfamily to give a distinct and aristocratic character to their name. The"de Fontanges l'Hommadieu" were, however, only known to their neighbors,after the Western fashion, by their stepfather's name,--when they wereknown at all--which was seldom. For the boy was unpleasantly conceitedas a precocious worldling, and the girl as unpleasantly complacent inher role of ingenue. The household was completely dominated by Mrs.Randolph. A punctilious Catholic, she attended all the functions of theadjacent mission, and the shadow of a black soutane at twilight glidingthrough the wild oat-fields behind the ranch had often been mistaken fora coyote. The peace-loving major did not object to a piety which, whileit left his own conscience free, imparted a respectable religious air tohis household, and kept him from the equally distasteful approaches ofthe Puritanism of his neighbors, and was blissfully unconscious that hewas strengthening the antagonistic foreign element in his family with analien church.
Meantime, as the repaired buggy was slowly making its way towards hishouse, Major Randolph entered his wife's boudoir with a letter which theSan Francisco post had just brought him. A look of embarrassment on hisgood-humored face strengthened the hard lines of hers; she felt somemomentary weakness of her natural enemy, and prepared to give battle.
"I'm afraid here's something of a muddle, Josephine," he began with adeprecating smile. "Mallory, who was coming down here with his daughter,you know"--
"This is the first intimation I have had that anything has been settledupon," interrupted the lady, with appalling deliberation.
"However, my dear, you know I told you last week that he thought ofbringing her here while he went South on business. You know, being awidower, he has no one to leave her with."
"And I suppose it is the American fashion to intrust one's daughters toany old boon companions?"
"Mallory is an old friend," interrupted the major, impatiently. "Heknows I'm married, and although he has never seen YOU, he is quitewilling to leave his daughter here."
"Thank you!"
"Come, you know what I mean. The man naturally believes that my wifewill be a proper chaperone for his daughter. But that is not the presentquestion. He intended to call here; I expected to take you over to SanJose to see her and all that, you know; but the fact of it is--thatis--it seems from this letter that--he's been called away sooner than heexpected, and that--well--hang it! the girl is actually on her way herenow."
"Alone?"
"I suppose so. You know one thinks nothing of that here."
"Or any other propriety, for that matter."
"For heaven's sake, Josephine, don't be ridiculous! Of course it'sstupid her coming in this way, and Mallory ought to have broughther--but she's coming, and we must receive her. By Jove! Here she isnow!" he added, starting up after a hurried glance through the window."But what kind of a d----d turn-out is that, anyhow?"
It certainly was an odd-looking conveyance that had entered the gates,and was now slowly coming up the drive towards the house. A largedraught horse harnessed to a dust-covered buggy, whose strainedfore-axle, bent by the last mile of heavy road, had slanted the topsof the fore-wheels towards each other at an alarming angle. The light,graceful dress and elegant parasol of the y
oung girl, who occupied halfof its single seat, looked ludicrously pronounced by the side of theslouching figure and grimy duster of the driver, who occupied the otherhalf.
Mrs. Randolph gave a gritty laugh. "I thought you said she was alone. Isthat an escort she has picked up, American fashion, on the road?"
"That's her hired driver, no doubt. Hang it! she can't drive here byherself," retorted the major, impatiently, hurrying to the door and downthe staircase. But he was instantly followed by his wife. She had noidea of permitting a possible understanding to be exchanged in theirfirst greeting. The late M. l'Hommadieu had been able to impart a wholeplan of intrigue in a single word and glance.
Happily, Rose Mallory, already in the hall, in a few words detailed theaccident that had befallen her, to the honest sympathy of the major andthe coldly-polite concern of Mrs. Randolph, who, in deliberately chosensentences, managed to convey to the young girl the conviction thataccidents of any kind to young ladies were to be regarded as onlya shade removed from indiscretions. Rose was impressed, and evenflattered, by the fastidiousness of this foreign-appearing woman, andafter the fashion of youthful natures, accorded to her the respect dueto recognized authority. When to this authority, which was evident, sheadded a depreciation of the major, I fear that some common instinctof feminine tyranny responded in Rose's breast, and that on the verythreshold of the honest soldier's home she tacitly agreed with the wifeto look down upon him. Mrs. Randolph departed to inform her son anddaughter of their guest's arrival. As a matter of fact,