The Preacher of Cedar Mountain: A Tale of the Open Country
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CHAPTER IV
The Atmosphere of His Early Days
There were many surprises and sharp contrasting colour spots on the mapof the "Widdy's" trail for the next nine years. With herself and theexpected child to make a home for after that mad Orange Day, she hadsought employment and had been welcomed back to the hotel where she hadever been a favourite.
The little room above the kitchen which projected over the yard was heronly resting place. The cheapest, simplest of wooden furniture was allit held. On a tiny stand, made of a packing case, was her Bible and,hanging over it a daguerreotype of her husband--his frank, straight gazeand happy face looking forth with startling reality. Outside and verynear, for the building was low, the one window looked upon the yard ofthe hotel, with its horses, its loafers, its hens and its swine; whilejust above the shutter's edge a row of swallows had their nests, wherethe brooding owners twittered in the early summer morning, as she rosewith the sunrise and went about her work. A relief at first, the dutiesKitty had undertaken grew heavier with the months, till at last thekindly heart of the owner's wife was touched, and a new _regime_ of restensued.
Eight months after that fatal Orange Day, James Hartigan, Jr., was bornin the little room over the yard; and baby wailings were added to theswallows' chirps and the squeals of pigs. Mother Downey, rough andrawboned to the eye, now appeared in guardian-angel guise, and thewidow's heart was deeply touched by the big, free kindness that eventshad discovered in the folk about her. Kitty was of vigorous stock; in aweek she was up, in a fortnight seemed well; and in a month was at herwork, with little Jim--named for his father and grandfather--in hearing,if not in sight.
Then, quite suddenly, Mrs. Downey died. A big, gaunt woman, she had thelook of strength; but the strength was not there; and a simple maladythat most would have shaken off was more than she could fight. With herhusband and Kitty by the bed, she passed away; and her last words were:"Be good--to--Kitty, John--and--Little Jim."
It was an easy promise for John Downey to give and a pleasantundertaking to live up to. Before his wife had been dead three months,John Downey had assured Kitty that she might become Mrs. Downey NumberTwo as early as she pleased. It was not by any means the first offersince her loss. Indeed, there were few free men in Links who would nothave been glad to marry the winsome, young, energetic widow.
But all her heart was on her boy, and until she could see that it wasbest for him she would take no second partner. Downey's proposal was apuzzle to her; he was a big, strong, dull, moderately successful,unattractive man. But he had a good business, no bad habits, and wasdeeply in love with her.
It was the thought of little Jim that settled it. Downey showed genuineaffection for the child. To give him a father, to have him welleducated--these were large things to Kitty and she consented. As soon asthe late Mrs. Downey should have been laid away for six months, thewedding was to be and Kitty moved to other lodgings meanwhile. ButFate's plans again disagreed with Kitty's. A few weeks after herconsent, the town was startled by the news that John Downey was dead. Acold--neglect (for he did not know how to be sick), and pneumonia. Thefolk of the town had much to talk of for a day, and the dead man's willgave still higher speed to their tongues, for he had left the hotel andall its appurtenances to Widdy Hartigan, as a life interest; after herdeath it was to go to a kinsman. Thus, out of John Downey's grave theregrew a tree with much-needed and wholesome fruit.
Now Kitty was in a quandary. She was an abstainer from choice ratherthan principle; but she was deeply imbued with the uncompromisingreligion of her Ulster forbears. How could she run a bar-room? How couldshe, who had seen the horror of the drink madness, have a hand insetting it in the way of weak ones? Worst dilemma of all, how could shewhose religious spirit was dreaming of a great preacher son, bring himup in these surroundings--yet how refuse, since this was his onlychance?
She consulted with her pastor; and this was the conclusion reached: Shewould accept the providential bequest. Downey's would be an inn, ahotel; not a bar-room. The place where the liquor was sold should beabsolutely apart, walled off; and these new rules were framed: No minorshould ever be served there, no habitual drunkard, no man who alreadyhad had enough. Such rules in Canada during the middle of last centurywere considered revolutionary; but they were established then, and, sofar as Kitty could apply them, they were enforced; and they worked asteady betterment.
With this new responsibility upon her, the inborn powers of KittyHartigan bloomed forth. Hers was the gift of sovereignty, and here wasthe chance to rule. The changes came but slowly at first, till she knewthe ground. A broken pane, a weak spot in the roof, a leaky horsetrough, and a score of little things were repaired. Account books of acrude type were established, and soon a big leak in the treasury wasdiscovered and stopped; and many little leaks and unpaid bills wereunearthed. An aspiring barkeeper of puzzling methods was, much to hisindignation, hedged about by daily accountings and, last of all, a thickand double door of demarcation was made between the bar-room and thehouse. One was to be a man's department, a purely business matter; theother a place apart--another world of woollen carpets and femininegentleness, a place removed ten miles in thought. The dwellers in thesetwo were not supposed to mix or even to meet, except in the dining roomthree times a day; and even there some hint of social lines wasapparent.
In former times the hotel had been a mere annex of the bar-room. Now thecase was reversed; the bar-room became the annex. The hotel grew asKitty's power developed. Good food temptingly served brought many to thehouse who had no interest in the annex. Her pies made the table famousand were among the many things that rendered it easy to displace thebrown marbled oilcloth with white linen, and the one roller towel forall, with individual service in each room.
In this hotel world the alert young widow made her court and ruled as aqueen. Here little Jim slept away his babyhood and grew to consciousnesswith sounds of coming horses, going wheels; of chicken calls andtwittering swallows in their nests; shouts of men and the clatter of tinpails; the distant song of saw mills and their noontide whistles; smellsof stables mixed with the sweet breathings of oxen and the pungent odourof pine gum from new-sawn boards.
And ever as he grew, he loved the more to steal from his mother's viewand be with the stable hands--loving the stable, loving the horses,loving the men that were horsemen in any sort, and indulged and spoiledby them in turn. The widow was a winner of hearts whom not even the wifeof Tom Ford, the rich millman and mayor of the town, could rival insocial power, so Jim, as the heir apparent, grew up in an atmosphere ofimportance that did him little good.