The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains

by Owen Wister

  XI. "YOU'RE GOING TO LOVE ME BEFORE WE GET THROUGH"

  The Swinton barbecue was over. The fiddles were silent, the steer waseaten, the barrel emptied, or largely so, and the tapers extinguished;round the house and sunken fire all movement of guests was quiet;the families were long departed homeward, and after their hospitableturbulence, the Swintons slept.

  Mr. and Mrs. Westfall drove through the night, and as they neared theircabin there came from among the bundled wraps a still, small voice.

  "Jim," said his wife, "I said Alfred would catch cold."

  "Bosh! Lizzie, don't you fret. He's a little more than a yearlin', andof course he'll snuffle." And young James took a kiss from his love.

  "Well, how you can speak of Alfred that way, calling him a yearling, asif he was a calf, and he just as much your child as mine, I don't see,James Westfall!"

  "Why, what under the sun do you mean?"

  "There he goes again! Do hurry up home, Jim. He's got a real strangecough."

  So they hurried home. Soon the nine miles were finished, and goodJames was unhitching by his stable lantern, while his wife in the househastened to commit their offspring to bed. The traces had dropped, andeach horse marched forward for further unbuckling, when James heardhimself called. Indeed, there was that in his wife's voice which madehim jerk out his pistol as he ran. But it was no bear or Indian--onlytwo strange children on the bed. His wife was glaring at them.

  He sighed with relief and laid down the pistol.

  "Put that on again, James Westfall. You'll need it. Look here!"

  "Well, they won't bite. Whose are they? Where have you stowed ourn?"

  "Where have I--" Utterance forsook this mother for a moment. "And youask me!" she continued. "Ask Lin McLean. Ask him that sets bulls onfolks and steals slippers, what he's done with our innocent lambs,mixing them up with other people's coughing, unhealthy brats. That'sCharlie Taylor in Alfred's clothes, and I know Alfred didn't cough likethat, and I said to you it was strange; and the other one that's beenput in Christopher's new quilts is not even a bub--bub--boy!"

  As this crime against society loomed clear to James Westfall'sunderstanding, he sat down on the nearest piece of furniture, andheedless of his wife's tears and his exchanged children, broke intounregenerate laughter. Doubtless after his sharp alarm about the bear,he was unstrung. His lady, however, promptly restrung him; and by thetime they had repacked the now clamorous changelings, and were rattlingon their way to the Taylors', he began to share her outraged feelingsproperly, as a husband and a father should; but when he reached theTaylors' and learned from Miss Wood that at this house a child hadbeen unwrapped whom nobody could at all identify, and that Mr. and Mrs.Taylor were already far on the road to the Swintons', James Westfallwhipped up his horses and grew almost as thirsty for revenge as was hiswife.

  Where the steer had been roasted, the powdered ashes were now coldwhite, and Mr. McLean, feeling through his dreams the change of dawncome over the air, sat up cautiously among the outdoor slumberers andwaked his neighbor.

  "Day will be soon," he whispered, "and we must light out of this. Inever suspicioned yu' had that much of the devil in you before."

  "I reckon some of the fellows will act haidstrong," the Virginianmurmured luxuriously, among the warmth of his blankets.

  "I tell yu' we must skip," said Lin, for the second time; and he rubbedthe Virginian's black head, which alone was visible.

  "Skip, then, you," came muffled from within, "and keep you'self mightysca'ce till they can appreciate our frolic."

  The Southerner withdrew deeper into his bed, and Mr. McLean, informinghim that he was a fool, arose and saddled his horse. From thesaddle-bag, he brought a parcel, and lightly laying this beside BokayBaldy, he mounted and was gone. When Baldy awoke later, he found theparcel to be a pair of flowery slippers.

  In selecting the inert Virginian as the fool, Mr. McLean was scarcelywise; it is the absent who are always guilty.

  Before ever Lin could have been a mile in retreat, the rattle ofthe wheels roused all of them, and here came the Taylors. Before theTaylors' knocking had brought the Swintons to their door, other wheelssounded, and here were Mr. and Mrs. Carmody, and Uncle Hughey with hiswife, and close after them Mr. Dow, alone, who told how his wife hadgone into one of her fits--she upon whom Dr. Barker at Drybone hadenjoined total abstinence from all excitement. Voices of women andchildren began to be uplifted; the Westfalls arrived in a lather,and the Thomases; and by sunrise, what with fathers and mothers andspectators and loud offspring, there was gathered such a meeting as hasseldom been before among the generations of speaking men. To-day you canhear legends of it from Texas to Montana; but I am giving you the fullparticulars.

  Of course they pitched upon poor Lin. Here was the Virginian doinghis best, holding horses and helping ladies descend, while the name ofMcLean began to be muttered with threats. Soon a party led by Mr. Dowset forth in search of him, and the Southerner debated a moment if hehad better not put them on a wrong track. But he concluded that theymight safely go on searching.

  Mrs. Westfall found Christopher at once in the green shawl of AnnaMaria Dow, but all was not achieved thus in the twinkling of an eye. Mr.McLean had, it appeared, as James Westfall lugubriously pointed out, notmerely "swapped the duds; he had shuffled the whole doggone deck;" andthey cursed this Satanic invention. The fathers were but of moderateassistance; it was the mothers who did the heavy work; and by teno'clock some unsolved problems grew so delicate that a ladies' caucuswas organized in a private room,--no admittance for men,--and what wasdone there I can only surmise.

  During its progress the search party returned. It had not found Mr.McLean. It had found a tree with a notice pegged upon it, reading, "Godbless our home!" This was captured.

  But success attended the caucus; each mother emerged, satisfied thatshe had received her own, and each sire, now that his family was itselfagain, began to look at his neighbor sideways. After a man has beenangry enough to kill another man, after the fire of righteous slaughterhas raged in his heart as it had certainly raged for several hours inthe hearts of these fathers, the flame will usually burn itself out.This will be so in a generous nature, unless the cause of the anger isstill unchanged. But the children had been identified; none had takenhurt. All had been humanely given their nourishment. The thing was over.The day was beautiful. A tempting feast remained from the barbecue.These Bear Creek fathers could not keep their ire at red heat. Mostof them, being as yet more their wives' lovers than their children'sparents, began to see the mirthful side of the adventure; and theyceased to feel very severely toward Lin McLean.

  Not so the women. They cried for vengeance; but they cried in vain, andwere met with smiles.

  Mrs. Westfall argued long that punishment should be dealt the offender."Anyway," she persisted, "it was real defiant of him putting that up onthe tree. I might forgive him but for that."

  "Yes," spoke the Virginian in their midst, "that wasn't sort o' right.Especially as I am the man you're huntin'."

  They sat dumb at his assurance.

  "Come and kill me," he continued, round upon the party. "I'll notresist."

  But they could not resist the way in which he had looked round uponthem. He had chosen the right moment for his confession, as a captainof a horse awaits the proper time for a charge. Some rebukes he didreceive; the worst came from the mothers. And all that he could say forhimself was, "I am getting off too easy."

  "But what was your point?" said Westfall.

  "Blamed if I know any more. I expect it must have been the whiskey."

  "I would mind it less," said Mrs. Westfall, "if you looked a bit sorryor ashamed."

  The Virginian shook his head at her penitently. "I'm tryin' to," hesaid.

  And thus he sat disarming his accusers until they began to lunch uponthe copious remnants of the barbecue. He did not join them at this meal.In telling you that Mrs. Dow was the only lady absent upon this historicmorning, I was guilty of an inadvertence. There w
as one other.

  The Virginian rode away sedately through the autumn sunshine; and ashe went he asked his Monte horse a question. "Do yu' reckon she'll haveforgotten you too, you pie-biter?" said he. Instead of the new trousers,the cow-puncher's leathern chaps were on his legs. But he had the newscarf knotted at his neck. Most men would gladly have equalled him inappearance. "You Monte," said he, "will she be at home?"

  It was Sunday, and no school day, and he found her in her cabin thatstood next the Taylors' house. Her eyes were very bright.

  "I'd thought I'd just call," said he.

  "Why, that's such a pity! Mr. and Mrs. Taylor are away."

  "Yes; they've been right busy. That's why I thought I'd call. Will yu'come for a ride, ma'am?"

  "Dear me! I--"

  "You can ride my hawss. He's gentle."

  "What! And you walk?"

  "No, ma'am. Nor the two of us ride him THIS time, either." At this sheturned entirely pink, and he, noticing, went on quietly: "I'll catch upone of Taylor's hawsses. Taylor knows me."

  "No. I don't really think I could do that. But thank you. Thank you verymuch. I must go now and see how Mrs. Taylor's fire is."

  "I'll look after that, ma'am. I'd like for yu' to go ridin' mighty well.Yu' have no babies this mawnin' to be anxious after."

  At this shaft, Grandmother Stark flashed awake deep within the spirit ofher descendant, and she made a haughty declaration of war. "I don't knowwhat you mean, sir," she said.

  Now was his danger; for it was easy to fall into mere crude impertinenceand ask her why, then, did she speak thus abruptly? There were variouseasy things of this kind for him to say. And any rudeness would havelost him the battle. But the Virginian was not the man to lose sucha battle in such a way. His shaft had hit. She thought he referredto those babies about whom last night she had shown such superfluoussolicitude. Her conscience was guilty. This was all that he had wishedto make sure of before he began operations.

  "Why, I mean," said he, easily, sitting down near the door, "that it'sSunday. School don't hinder yu' from enjoyin' a ride to-day. You'llteach the kids all the better for it to-morro', ma'am. Maybe it's yourduty." And he smiled at her.

  "My duty! It's quite novel to have strangers--"

  "Am I a stranger?" he cut in, firing his first broadside. "I wasintroduced, ma'am," he continued, noting how she had flushed again. "AndI would not be oversteppin' for the world. I'll go away if yu' want."And hereupon he quietly rose, and stood, hat in hand.

  Molly was flustered. She did not at all want him to go. No one ofher admirers had ever been like this creature. The fringed leathernchaparreros, the cartridge belt, the flannel shirt, the knotted scarf atthe neck, these things were now an old story to her. Since her arrivalshe had seen young men and old in plenty dressed thus. But worn by thisman now standing by her door, they seemed to radiate romance. She didnot want him to go--and she wished to win her battle. And now inher agitation she became suddenly severe, as she had done at HoosicJunction. He should have a punishment to remember!

  "You call yourself a man, I suppose," she said.

  But he did not tremble in the least. Her fierceness filled him withdelight, and the tender desire of ownership flooded through him.

  "A grown-up, responsible man," she repeated.

  "Yes, ma'am. I think so." He now sat down again.

  "And you let them think that--that Mr. McLean--You dare not look me inthe face and say that Mr. McLean did that last night!"

  "I reckon I dassent."

  "There! I knew it! I said so from the first!"

  "And me a stranger to you!" he murmured.

  It was his second broadside. It left her badly crippled. She was silent.

  "Who did yu' mention it to, ma'am?"

  She hoped she had him. "Why, are you afraid?" And she laughed lightly.

  "I told 'em myself. And their astonishment seemed so genu-wine I'd justhate to think they had fooled me that thorough when they knowed it allalong from you seeing me."

  "I did not see you. I knew it must--of course I did not tell any one.When I said I said so from the first, I meant--you can understandperfectly what I meant."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Poor Molly was near stamping her foot. "And what sort of a trick," sherushed on, "was that to play? Do you call it a manly thing to frightenand distress women because you--for no reason at all? I should neverhave imagined it could be the act of a person who wears a big pistol andrides a big horse. I should be afraid to go riding with such an immatureprotector."

  "Yes; that was awful childish. Your words do cut a little; for maybethere's been times when I have acted pretty near like a man. But Icert'nly forgot to be introduced before I spoke to yu' last night.Because why? You've found me out dead in one thing. Won't you take aguess at this too?"

  "I cannot sit guessing why people do not behave themselves--who seem toknow better."

  "Well, ma'am, I've played square and owned up to yu'. And that's notwhat you're doin' by me. I ask your pardon if I say what I have a rightto say in language not as good as I'd like to talk to yu' with. But atSouth Fork Crossin' who did any introducin'? Did yu' complain I was astranger then?"

  "I--no!" she flashed out; then, quite sweetly, "The driver told me itwasn't REALLY so dangerous there, you know."

  "That's not the point I'm makin'. You are a grown-up woman, aresponsible woman. You've come ever so far, and all alone, to arough country to instruct young children that play games,--tag, andhide-and-seek, and fooleries they'll have to quit when they get old.Don't you think pretendin' yu' don't know a man,--his name's nothin',but him,--a man whom you were glad enough to let assist yu' whensomebody was needed,--don't you think that's mighty close tohide-and-seek them children plays? I ain't so sure but what there's apair of us children in this hyeh room."

  Molly Wood was regarding him saucily. "I don't think I like you," saidshe.

  "That's all square enough. You're goin' to love me before we getthrough. I wish yu'd come a-ridin, ma'am."

  "Dear, dear, dear! So I'm going to love you? How will you do it? I knowmen think that they only need to sit and look strong and make chests ata girl--"

  "Goodness gracious! I ain't makin' any chests at yu'!" Laughter overcamehim for a moment, and Miss Wood liked his laugh very much. "Please comea-ridin'," he urged. "It's the prettiest kind of a day."

  She looked at him frankly, and there was a pause. "I will take back twothings that I said to you," she then answered him. "I believe that I dolike you. And I know that if I went riding with you, I should nothave an immature protector." And then, with a final gesture ofacknowledgment, she held out her hand to him. "And I have alwayswanted," she said, "to thank you for what you did at the river."

  He took her hand, and his heart bounded. "You're a gentleman!" heexclaimed.

  It was now her turn to be overcome with merriment. "I've always wantedto be a man," she said.

  "I am mighty glad you ain't," said he, looking at her.

  But Molly had already received enough broadsides for one day. She couldallow no more of them, and she took herself capably in hand. "Where didyou learn to make such pretty speeches?" she asked. "Well, never mindthat. One sees that you have had plenty of practice for one so young."

  "I am twenty-seven," blurted the Virginian, and knew instantly that hehad spoken like a fool.

  "Who would have dreamed it!" said Molly, with well-measured mockery. Sheknew that she had scored at last, and that this day was hers. "Don'tbe too sure you are glad I'm not a man," she now told him. There wassomething like a challenge in her voice.

  "I risk it," he remarked.

  "For I am almost twenty-three myself," she concluded. And she gave him alook on her own account.

  "And you'll not come a-ridin'?" he persisted.

  "No," she answered him; "no." And he knew that he could not make her.

  "Then I will tell yu' good-by," said he. "But I am comin' again. Andnext time I'll have along a gentle hawss for yu'."

  "Next time!
Next time! Well, perhaps I will go with you. Do you livefar?"

  "I live on Judge Henry's ranch, over yondeh." He pointed across themountains. "It's on Sunk Creek. A pretty rough trail; but I can comehyeh to see you in a day, I reckon. Well, I hope you'll cert'nly enjoygood health, ma'am."

  "Oh, there's one thing!" said Molly Wood, calling after him ratherquickly. "I--I'm not at all afraid of horses. You needn't bring sucha gentle one. I--was very tired that day, and--and I don't scream as arule."

  He turned and looked at her so that she could not meet his glance."Bless your heart!" said he. "Will yu' give me one o' those flowers?"

  "Oh, certainly! I'm always so glad when people like them."

  "They're pretty near the color of your eyes."

  "Never mind my eyes."

  "Can't help it, ma'am. Not since South Fork."

  He put the flower in the leather band of his hat, and rode away on hisMonte horse. Miss Wood lingered a moment, then made some steps towardher gate, from which he could still be seen; and then, with somethinglike a toss of the head, she went in and shut her door.

  Later in the day the Virginian met Mr. McLean, who looked at his hat andinnocently quoted, "'My Looloo picked a daisy.'"

  "Don't yu', Lin," said the Southerner.

  "Then I won't," said Lin.

  Thus, for this occasion, did the Virginian part from his lady--andnothing said one way or another about the handkerchief that haddisappeared during the South Fork incident.

  As we fall asleep at night, our thoughts will often ramble back andforth between the two worlds.

  "What color were his eyes?" wondered Molly on her pillow. "His mustacheis not bristly like so many of them. Sam never gave me such a lookat Hoosic Junction. No.... You can't come with me.... Get off yourhorse.... The passengers are all staring...."

  And while Molly was thus dreaming that the Virginian had ridden hishorse into the railroad car, and sat down beside her, the fire in thegreat stone chimney of her cabin flickered quietly, its gleams now andagain touching the miniature of Grandmother Stark upon the wall.

  Camped on the Sunk Creek trail, the Virginian was telling himself in hisblankets: "I ain't too old for education. Maybe she will lend me books.And I'll watch her ways and learn...stand still, Monte. I can learn alot more than the kids on that. There's Monte...you pie-biter, stop....He has ate up your book, ma'am, but I'll get yu'..."

  And then the Virginian was fast asleep.