The Uphill Climb

by B. M. Bower

  CHAPTER XVII

  What Ford Found at the Top

  Ford Campbell was essentially a man of action; he did not waste tenseconds in trying to deduce the whys and hows of the amazing fact; hewould have a whole lifetime in which to study them. He started for thehouse, and the tracks he made in the loose, shifting snow wereconsiderably more than a yard apart. He even forgot to stamp off theclinging snow and scour his boot-soles upon the porch rug, and when hewent striding in, he pushed the door only half shut behind him, so thatit swung in the wind and let a small drift collect upon the parlorcarpet, until Mrs. Kate, feeling a draught, discovered it, and wasshocked beyond words at the sacrilege.

  Ford went into the dining-room, crossed it in just three strides, andran his quarry to earth in the kitchen, where she was distraitlysetting out biscuit materials. He started toward her, realized suddenlythat the all-observing Buddy was at his very heels, and delayed thereckoning while he led that terrible man-child to his mother.

  "I wish you'd close-herd this kid for about four hours," he told Mrs.Kate bluntly, and left her looking scared and unconsciously posing asprotective motherhood, her arm around the outraged Robert Chester Mason.Mrs. Kate was absolutely convinced that Ford was at last really drunkand "on the rampage," and she had a terrible vision of slain girlhood inthe kitchen, so that she was torn between mother-love and her desire toprotect Phenie. But Ford had looked so threateningly at her and Buddythat she could not bring herself to attract his attention to the childor herself. Phenie had plenty of spirit; she could run down to thebunk-house--Mrs. Kate heard a door slam then, and shuddered. Phenie, shejudged swiftly, had locked herself into the pantry.

  Phenie had. Or, to be exact, she had run in and slammed the door shutin Ford's very face, and she was leaning her weight against it. Mrs.Kate, pressing the struggling Buddy closer to her, heard voices, aslight commotion, and then silence. She could bear no more. She threw ashawl over her head, grasped Buddy firmly by the arm, and fled in terrorto the bunk-house.

  The voices were a brief altercation between Ford and Josephine, on thesubject of opening the door, before it was removed violently from itshinges. The commotion was when Josephine, between tears and laughter,failed to hold the door against the pressure of a strong man upon theother side, and, suddenly giving over the attempt, was launched againsta shelf and dislodged three tin pans, which she barely saved fromfalling with a great clatter to the floor. The silence--the silenceshould explain itself; but since humanity is afflicted with curiosity,and demands details, this is what occurred immediately after Josephinehad been kissed four times for her stubbornness, and the pans had beenrestored to their proper place.

  "Say! Are you my wife?" was the abrupt question which Ford asked, andkissed her again while he waited for an answer.

  "Why, yes--what makes you ask that? Of course I am; that is--" Josephinetwisted in his arms, so that she could look into his face. She did notlaugh at him, however. She was staring at him with that keen, measuringlook which had so incensed him, when he had first met her. "I don'tunderstand you at all, Ford," she said at last, with a frown ofpuzzlement. "I never have, for that matter. I'd think I was beginningto, and then you would say or do something that would put me all at sea.What do you mean, anyway?"

  Ford told her what he meant; told her humbly, truthfully, with never anexcuse for himself. And it speaks well for the good sense of Josephinethat she heard him through with neither tears, laughter, nor anger tomar his trust in her.

  "Of course, I knew you had been drinking, that night," she said, whenhis story was done, and his face was pressed lightly against the whiteparting in her soft, brown hair. "I saw it, after--after the ceremony.You--you were going to kiss me, and I caught the odor of liquor, and Ifelt that you wouldn't have done that if you had been yourself; itfrightened me, a little. But you talked perfectly straight, and I neverknew you weren't the man--Frank Cameron--until you came here. Then I sawyou couldn't be he. Chester had known you when Frank was at home withhis mother--I compared dates and was sure of that--and he called youFord Campbell. So then I saw what a horrible blunder I'd made, and I wasworried nearly to death! But I couldn't see what I could do about it,and you didn't--"

  "Say, what about this Frank Cameron, anyway?" Ford demanded, with truemale jealousy. "What did you want to marry him for? You couldn't haveknown him, or--"

  "Oh, you wouldn't understand--" Josephine gave a little, impatient turnof the head, "unless you knew his mother. I did know Frank, a long timeago, when I was twelve or thirteen, and when I saw you, I thought he'dchanged a lot. But it was his mother; she was the dearest thing,but--queer. Sort of childish, you know. And she just worshiped Frank,and used to watch for the postman--oh, it was too pitiful! Sometimes I'dwrite a letter myself, and pretend it was from him, and read it to her;her eyes were bad, so it was easy--"

  "Where was this Frank?" Ford interrupted.

  "Oh, I don't know! I never did know. Somewhere out West, we thought. Iused to make believe the letters came from Helena, or Butte, becausethat was where she heard from him last. He was always promising to comehome--in the letters. That used to make her so much better," sheexplained naively. "And sometimes she'd be able to go out in the yardand fuss with her flowers, after one like that. But he never came, andso she got the notion that he was wild and a spendthrift. I suppose hewas, or he'd have written, or something. She had lots and lots of moneyand property, you know.

  "Well," Josephine took one of Ford's hand and patted it reassuringly,"she got the notion that I must marry Frank, when he came home. I triedto reason her out of that, and it only made her worse. It grew on her,and I got so I couldn't bear to write any more letters, and that made itworse still. She made a will that I must marry Frank within a year aftershe died, or he wouldn't get anything but a hundred dollars--and she wasworth thousands and thousands." Josephine snuggled closer. "She wasshrewd, too. I was not to get anything except a few trinkets. And if wedidn't marry, the money would all go to an old ladies' home.

  "So, when she died, I felt as if I ought to do something, you see. Itdidn't seem right to let him lose the property, even if he wouldn'twrite to his mother. So I had the lawyers try to find him. I thought Icould marry him, and let him get the property, and then--well, I countedon getting a divorce." She looked up quickly into Ford's face.

  "And you know you did promise not to bother me--just to desert me, yousee, so I could get a divorce in a year. I thought I'd come and livewith Kate till the year was up, and then get a divorce, and go backhome to work. My father left me enough to squeak along on, you see, if Ilived in the country. Aunt Ida--that's Frank's mother--paid me a salaryfor staying with her and looking after her house and her rents andthings. And then, when you followed me out here, I was furious! Justsimply furious!" She bent her head and set her teeth gently into thefleshy part of Ford's thumb, and Ford flinched. It happened to be thesore one.

  "Well, but that doesn't explain how you got your loop on me,girlie--though I sure am glad that you did!"

  "Why, don't you see, the time was almost up, just for all the world likea play. 'Only one day more--and I must save the pa-apers!' So the lawyerAunt Ida had for years, heard that Frank was--or had been--at Garbin. Irushed out here, and heard that there was a Cameron (only they must havemeant Campbell) at Sunset. So I got a license, and the ReverendSanderson, and took the evening train down there. At the hotel I askedfor Mr. Cameron, and they sent you in. And you know the rest, you--youold fraud! How you palmed yourself off on me--"

  "I never did! I must have just been in one of my obliging moods; and aman would have to be mighty rude and unkind not to say yes to a prettygirl when--"

  That is as far as the discussion went, with anything like continuity orcoherence even. Later, however, Josephine did protest somewhatmuffledly: "But, Ford, I married you under the name of Frank Cameron, soI don't believe--and anyway--I'd like a real wedding--and a ring!"

  Mrs. Kate, having been solemnly assured by Rock that Ford was sober andas nearly in his right mi
nd as a man violently in love can be (Rock madeit plain, by implication at least, that he did not consider that verynear), ventured into the kitchen just then. She still looked scared anduncertain, until, through the half-open door of the pantry, she heardsoft, whispery sounds like kissing--when the kissing is a rapture ratherthan a ceremony. Mrs. Kate had only been married eight years or so, andshe had a good memory. She backed from the kitchen on her toes, andpulled the door shut with the caution of a thief. She did more; shepermitted dinner to be an hour late, rather than disturb those two inthe pantry.

  * * * * *

  The uphill climb was no climb at all, after that. For when a man hasfound the one woman in the world, and with her that elusive thing wecall happiness, even the demon must perforce sheathe his claws andretire, discomfited, to the pit whence he came.

  There was a period of impatient waiting, because Josephine and Mrs. Kateboth stoutly maintained that the "real wedding" could not take placeuntil Chester came back. After that, there was a Mrs. foreman at theDouble Cross until spring. And after that, there was a new ranch and anew house and a new home where happiness came and dwelt unhindered.

  THE END