The Shepard of the Hills

by Harold Bell Wright

  The fellow in the wagon roared with delight at these witticisms, and looked from Young Matt to Sammy to see if they also appreciated the joke.

  “Got any more pretties!” asked Gibbs of his victim. “No? Let’s see.” Catching the young man by the waist, he lifted him bodily, and, holding him head downward, shook him roughly. Again Sammy felt her blood tingle at the feat of strength.

  Next holding Ollie with one huge hand at the back of his neck, Wash said, “See that feller in th’ wagon there? He’s a mighty fine gentleman; friend o’ mine. Make a bow t’ him.” As he finished, with his free hand he struck the young man a sharp blow in the stomach, with the result that Stewart did make a bow, very low, but rather too suddenly to be graceful.

  The fellow in the wagon jumped up and bowed again and again; “Howdy, Mr. City Man; howdy. Mighty proud t’ meet up with you; mighty proud, you bet!”

  The giant whirled his captive toward the mill. “See that feller yonder? I’m goin’ t’ lick him some day. Make a face at him.” Catching Ollie by the nose and chin, he tried to force his bidding, while the man in the wagon made the valley ring with his laughter. Then Wash suddenly faced the helpless young man toward Sammy. “Now ladies and gentlemen,” he said in the tones of a showman addressing an audience, “this here pretty little feller from th’ city’s goin’ t’ show us Hill-Billies how t’ spark a gal.”

  The bully’s friend applauded loudly, roaring at the top of his voice, “Marry ‘em, Wash. Marry ‘em. You can do hit as good as a parson! You’d make a good parson. Let’s see how’d you go at hit.”

  The notion tickled the fancy of the giant, for it offered a way to make Sammy share the humiliation more fully. “Git down an’ come here t’ yer honey,” he said to the girl. “Git down, I say,” he repeated, when the young woman made no motion to obey.

  “Indeed, I will not,” replied Sammy shortly.

  Her tone and manner angered Gibbs, and dropping Ollie he started toward the girl to take her from the horse by force. As he reached the pony’s side, Sammy raised her whip and with all her strength struck him full across the face. The big ruffian drew back with a bellow of pain and anger. Then he started toward her again. “I’ll tame you, you wild cat,” he yelled. And Sammy raised her whip again.

  But before Gibbs could touch the girl, a powerful hand caught him by the shoulder. “I reckon you’ve had fun enough, Wash Gibbs,” remarked Young Matt in his slow way. “I ain’t interfering between man and man, but you’d best keep your dirty hands off that lady.”

  The young woman’s heart leaped at the sound of that deep calm voice that carried such a suggestion of power. And she saw that the blue eyes under the tumbled red brown locks were shining now like points of polished steel. The strong man’s soul was rejoicing with the fierce joy of battle.

  The big bully drew back a step, and glared at the man who had come between him and his victim; the man whom, for every reason, he hated. Lifting his huge paws, he said in a voice hoarse with deadly menace, “Dirty, be they? By hell, I’ll wash ‘em. An’ hit won’t be water that’ll clean ‘em, neither. Don’t you know that no man ever crosses my trail an’ lives?”

  The other returned easily, “Oh, shucks! Get into your wagon and drive on. You ain’t on Roark now. You’re on Fall Creek, and over here you ain’t no bigger’n anybody else.”

  While Young Matt was speaking, Gibbs backed slowly away, and, as the young man finished, suddenly drew the pistol he had taken from Ollie. With a quickness and lightness astonishing in one of his bulk and usually slow movements, the mountaineer leaped upon his big enemy. There was a short, sharp struggle, and Wash staggered backward, leaving the shining weapon in Young Matt’s hand. “It might go off, you know,” said the young fellow quietly, as he tossed the gun on the ground at Ollie’s feet.

  With a mad roar, Gibbs recovered himself and rushed at his antagonist. It was a terrific struggle; not the skillful sparring of trained fighters, but the rough and tumble battling of primitive giants. It was the climax of long months of hatred; the meeting of two who were by every instinct mortal enemies. Ollie shrank back in terror, but Sammy leaned forward in the saddle, her beautiful figure tense, her lips parted, and her face flushed with excitement.

  It was soon evident that the big champion of the hills had at last met his match. As he realized this, a look of devilish cunning crept into the animal face of Gibbs, and he maneuvered carefully to bring his enemy’s back toward the wagon.

  Catching a look from his friend, over Young Matt’s shoulder, the man in the wagon slipped quickly to the ground, and Sammy saw with horror a naked knife in his hand. She glanced toward Ollie appealingly, but that gentleman was helpless. The man with the knife began creeping cautiously toward the fighting men, keeping always behind Young Matt. The young woman felt as though an iron band held her fast. She could not move. She could not speak. Then Gibbs went down, and the girl’s scream rang out, “Behind you, Matt! Look quick!”

  As he recovered his balance from the effort that had thrown Wash, Young Matt heard her cry, saw the girl’s look of horror, and her outstretched hand pointing. Like a flash he whirled just as the knife was lifted high for the murderous blow. It was over in an instant. Sammy saw him catch the wrist of the uplifted arm, heard a dull snap and a groan, saw the knife fall from the helpless hand, and then saw the man lifted bodily and thrown clear over the wagon, to fall helpless on the rocky ground. The woman gave a low cry, “Oh, what a man!”

  Wash Gibbs, too, opened his eyes, just in time to witness the unheard-of feat, and to see the bare-armed young giant who performed it turn again, breathing heavily with his great exertion, but still ready to meet his big antagonist.

  The defeated bully rose from the ground. The other stepped forward to meet him. But without a word, Gibbs climbed into the wagon and took up the reins. Before they could move, Young Matt had the mules by their heads. “You have forgotten something,” he said quietly, pointing to the man on the ground, who was still unconscious from his terrible fall. “That there’s your property. Take it along. We ain’t got no use for such as that on Fall Creek.”

  Sullenly Wash climbed down and lifted his companion into the wagon. As Young Matt stood aside to let him go, the bully said, “I’ll see you agin fer this.”

  The strong man only answered, “I reckon you’d better stay on Roark, Wash Gibbs. You got more room there.”

  WHAT PETE TOLD SAMMY

  NO word was spoken by either Sammy or her lover, while their horses were climbing the mill road, and both were glad when they reached the top of the ridge, and turned into the narrow path where they would need to ride one before the other. It was not easy to ride side by side, when each was busy with thoughts not to be spoken.

  At the gate, Ollie dismounted to help the girl from her horse. But before he could reach the pony’s side, Sammy sprang lightly to the ground, unassisted. Opening the big gate, she turned Brownie loose in the yard, while the man stood watching her, a baffled look upon his face. He had always done these little things for her. To be refused at this time was not pleasant. The feeling that he was on the outside grew stronger.

  Turning to his own horse, Ollie placed his foot in the stirrup to mount, when Sammy spoke,—perhaps she felt that she had been a little unkind—“You were going to stay to supper,” she said.

  “Not to-night,” he answered, gaining his seat in the saddle, and picking up the reins.

  “But you are going to leave in the morning, are you not? You—you must not go like this.”

  He dropped the reins to the horse’s neck again, “Look here, Sammy, do you blame me because I did not fight that big bully?”

  Sammy did not reply.

  “What could I do? You know there is not another man in the mountains beside Young Matt who could have done it. Surely you cannot blame me.”

  The young woman moved uneasily, “No, certainly not. I do not blame you in the least. I—but it was very fortunate that Young Matt was there, wasn’t it?” The last se
ntence slipped out before she knew.

  Ollie retorted angrily, “It seems to be very fortunate for him. He will be a greater hero than ever, now, I suppose. If he is wise, he will stay in the backwoods to be worshipped for he’ll find that his size won’t count for much in the world. He’s a great man here, where he can fight like a beast, but his style wouldn’t go far where brains are of value. It would be interesting to see him in town; a man who never saw a railroad.”

  Sammy lifted her head quickly at this, and fixed her eyes on the man’s face with that wide, questioning gaze that reminded one so of her father, “I never saw a railroad, either; not that I can remember; though, I suppose we must have crossed one or two on our way to Texas when I was a baby. Is it the railroads then that makes one so—so superior?”

  The man turned impatiently in the saddle, “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes,” she answered slowly. “I think I do know what you mean.”

  Ollie lifted the reins again from his horse’s neck, and angered them nervously. “I’d better go now; there’s no use talking about this to-night. I won’t leave in the morning, as I had planned. I—I can’t go like this.” There was a little catch in his voice. “May I come again to-morrow afternoon, Sammy?”

  “Yes, you had better go now, and come back to-morrow.”

  “And Sammy, won’t you try to think that I am not altogether worthless, even if I am not big enough to fight Wash Gibbs? You are sure that you do not blame me for what happened at the mill?”

  “No,” she said; “of course not. You could not help it. Why should I blame anyone for that which he cannot help?”

  Then Ollie rode away, and Sammy, going to her pony, stood petting the little horse, while she watched her lover up the Old Trail, and still there was that wide, questioning look in her eyes. As Ollie passed from sight around the hill above, the girl slipped out of the gate, and a few minutes later stood at the Lookout, where she could watch her lover riding along the ridge. She saw him pass from the open into the fringe of timber near the big gap; and, a few minutes later, saw him reappear beyond the deer lick. Still she watched as he moved along the rim of the Hollow, looking in the distance like a toy man on a toy horse; watched until he passed from sight into the timber again, and was gone. And all the time that questioning look was in her eyes.

  Did she blame Ollie that he had played so poorly his part in the scene at the mill. No, she told herself over and over again, as though repeating a lesson; no, Ollie was not to blame, and yet—

  She knew that he had spoken truly when he said that there were things that counted for more than brute strength. But was there not something more than brute strength in the incident? Was there not that which lay deeper? something of which the brute strength, after all, was only an expression? The girl stamped her foot impatiently, as she exclaimed aloud, “Oh, why did he not try to do something? He should have forced Wash Gibbs to beat him into insensibility rather than to have submitted so tamely to being played with.”

  In the distance she saw the shepherd following his flock down the mountain, and the old scholar, who always watched the Lookout, when in the vicinity, for a glimpse of his pupil, waved his hand in greeting as he moved slowly on after his charges. It was growing late. Her father, too, would be coming home for his supper. But as she rose to go, a step on the mountain side above caught her attention, and, looking up, she saw Pete coming toward the big rock. Sammy greeted the youth kindly, “I haven’t seen Pete for days and days; where has he been?”

  “Pete’s been everywhere; an’ course I’ve been with him,” replied the lad with his wide, sweeping gesture. Then throwing himself at full length at the girl’s feet, he said, abruptly, “Pete was here that night, and God, he was here, too. Couldn’t nobody else but God o’ done it. The gun went bang, and a lot more guns went bang, bang, all along the mountains. And the moonlight things that was a dancin’ quit ‘cause they was scared; and that panther it just doubled up and died. Matt and Ollie wasn’t hurted nary a bit. Pete says it was God done that; He was sure in the hills that night.”

  Sammy was startled. “Matt and Ollie, a panther? What do you mean, boy?”

  The troubled look shadowed the delicate face, as the lad shook his head; “Don’t mean nothin’, Sammy, not me. Nobody can’t mean nothin’, can they?”

  “But what does Pete mean? Does Pete know about it?”

  “Oh, yes, course Pete knows everything. Don’t Sammy know ‘bout that night when God was in the hills?” He was eager now, with eyes wide and face aglow.

  “No,” said Sammy, “I do not know. Will Pete tell me all about it?”

  The strange youth seated himself on the rock, facing the valley below, saying in a low tone, “Ollie was a settin’ like this, all still; just a smokin’ and a watchin’ the moonlight things that was dancin’ over the tops of the trees down there.” Then leaping to his feet the boy ran a short way along the ledge, to come stealing back, crouching low, as he whispered, “It come a creepin’ and a creepin’ towards Ollie, and he never knowed nothin’ about it. But Matt he knowed, and God he knowed too.” Wonderingly, the girl watched his movement. Suddenly he sprang to the rock again, and facing the imaginary beast, cried in childish imitation of a man’s deep voice, “Get out of the way. This here’s my fight.” Then in his own tones, “It was sure scared when Young Matt jumped on the rock. Everything’s scared of Matt when he talks like that. It was mad, too, ‘cause Matt he wouldn’t let it get Ollie. And it got ready to jump at Matt, and Matt he got ready for a tussle, and Ollie he got out of the way. And all the moonlight things stopped dancin’, and the shadow things come out to see the fight.” He had lowered his voice again almost to a whisper. Sammy was breathless. “Bang!” cried the lad, clapping his hands and shouting the words; “Bang! Bang! God, he fired and all the guns in the hills went off, and that panther it just doubled up and died. It would sure got Ollie, though, if Matt hadn’t a jumped on the rock when he did. But do you reckon it could o’ got Matt, if God hadn’t been here that night?”

  It was all too clearly portrayed to be mistaken. “Sammy needn’t be afeared,” continued Pete, seeing the look on the girl’s face. “It can’t come back no more. It just naturally can’t, you know, Sammy; ‘cause God he killed it plumb dead. And Pete dragged it way over on yon side of the ridge and the buzzards got it.”

  JIM LANE MAKES A PROMISE

  SAMMY went home to find her father getting supper. Rushing into the cabin, the girl gave him a hug that caused Jim to nearly drop the coffee pot. “You poor abused Daddy, to come home from work, all tired and find no supper, no girl, no nothing. Sit right down there, now, and rest, while I finish things.”

  Jim obeyed with a grin of appreciation. “I didn’t fix no taters; thought you wasn’t comin’.”

  “Going to starve yourself, were you? just because I was gone,” replied the girl with a pan of potatoes in her hand. “I see right now that I will have to take care of you always—always, Daddy Jim.”

  The smile suddenly left the man’s face. “Where’s Ollie Stewart? Didn’t he come home with you?”

  “Ollie’s at home, I suppose. I have been up to the Lookout talking to Pete.”

  “Ain’t Ollie goin’ back to the city to-morrow?”

  “No, not to-morrow; the next day. He’s coming over here to-morrow afternoon. Then he’s going away.” Then, before Jim could ask another question, she held up the half of a ham; “Daddy, Daddy! How many times have I told you that you must not—you must not slice the ham with your pocket knife? Just look there! What would Aunt Mollie say if she saw that, so haggled and one sided?”

  All during the evening meal, the girl kept up a ceaseless merry chatter, changing the subject abruptly every time it approached the question that her father was most anxious to ask. And the man delighted with her gay mood responded to it, as he answered to all her moods, until they were like two school children in their fun. But, when supper was over and the work done, and Jim, taking down his violin, would h
ave made music, Sammy promptly relieved him of his instrument, and seated herself on his knee. “Not to-night, Daddy. I want to talk to-night, real serious.”

  She told him then of the encounter with Wash Gibbs and his friend at the mill, together with the story that Pete had illustrated so vividly at the Lookout. “And so, Daddy,” she finished; “I know now what I shall do. He will come to-morrow afternoon to say good-by, and then he will go away again back to the city and his fine friends for good. And I’ll stay and take care of my Daddy Jim. It isn’t that he is a bad man like Wash Gibbs. He couldn’t be a bad man like that; he isn’t big enough. And that’s just it. He is too little—body, soul and spirit—he is too little. He will do well in the world; perhaps he will even do big things. But I heard dear old Preachin’ Bill say once, that ‘some fellers can do mighty big things in a durned little way.’ So he is going back to the city, and I am going to stay in the hills.”

  Jim took no pains to hide his delight. “I knowed it, girl. I knowed it. Bank on the old blood every time. There ain’t a drop of yeller in it; not a drop, Sammy. Ollie ain’t to say bad, but he ain’t just our kind. Lord! But I’d like to o’ seen Young Matt a givin’ it to Wash Gibbs!” He threw back his head and roared with delight. “Just wait ‘till I see Wash. I’ll ask him if he thinks Young Matt would need a pry for to lift that mill engine with, now.” Then all of a sudden the laugh died out, and the man’s dark face was serious, as he said, slowly, “The boy’ll have to watch him, though. It’ll sure be war from this on; the worst kind of war.”

  “Daddy, what do you think Wash would have done to me, if Young Matt had not been there?”

  That metallic ring was in Jim’s voice, now, as he replied, “Wash Gibbs ought to knowed better than to done that. But it was a blessin’ Young Matt was there, wasn’t it? He’d take care of you anywhere. I wouldn’t never be afraid for you with him.”

  The girl hid her face on her father’s shoulder, as she said, “Daddy, will Wash Gibbs come here any more now? It seems to me he wouldn’t dare meet you after this.”