The Homesteader: A Novel
Page 18
CHAPTER XV
OH, MY JEAN!
When Jack Stewart left Indiana, and left owing the two hundred dollarswhich was secured by a chattel mortgage on his horses, he failed to dosomething he now had cause to regret. The man to whom he owed this moneyagreed to give him one year in which to pay it, but didn't renew themortgage. He was a close friend of Jack's, and there had been no worry.But the man died; his affairs fell into the hands of an administrator,whose duties were to clean up, to realize on all due and past duematter. And because the note of Jack Stewart's was due and past due, theextension being simply a verbal one, the administrator wrote Jackdemanding that he take up his note at once.
We know the circumstances of Jack Stewart; that because Jean Baptistehad hired his son Bill, and now was boarding with them, he was able toget along; but Jack Stewart had nothing with which to pay $200 notes....So while Jean Baptiste was recovering from his illness, Jack Stewart hadcause to be very much worried.
Possessed, however, with a confidence, Jack took the matter up with thebanker in the town where he received his mail. Now a common saying in anew country is: "I'm going to borrow five dollars and start a bank...."Inferring that while there is, as a whole, an abundance of banks in anew country, they do not always have the wherewithal to loan. What theyhave is usually retained for the accommodation of their regular patrons,and they were unable to accommodate Jack, even had they wished to do so.
Now, he could have secured the money had he been a claimholder or a landowner. But Jack, being neither, found himself in a bad plight. He hadAggie write a long letter in which he tried to explain matters, andrequested until fall to pay, as had been verbally agreed upon. But theclass of people in the old East who regard the new West as a land ofimpossibilities, where drought burns all planted crops to crisp, wheregrasshoppers eat what is left, who still regard those who would staketheir fortunes and chances in the West as fools, were not all dead.
The administrator happened to be one of this kind. He had no confidencein the country Jack wrote about, the crops he had planted; what heexpected to reap, and no patience withal into the bargain. So he wroteJack a brief letter, and also one to the bank in the town, sending thepapers with it at the same time, with instructions to foreclose at agiven time. And when Jack knew more of it, he was confronted with payingthe note in thirty days or having his horse taken, and sold at auction.
Jean Baptiste recovered, went back to his work, and noticed that JackStewart and Agnes were much worried; but, of course, didn't understandthe cause of it.
"Have you tried elsewhere, father?" said Agnes when they had gotten thenotice giving them thirty days' grace.
"But I am not known, dear. There is not much money in a new country, andit is very difficult to get credit where there is nothing to lend."
"There must be some way to avoid this. Oh, that man, why couldn't he bereasonable!"
"It is always bad when one has to write. If I were back in Indiana Icould go and see this man and reason it out, but when a thousand milesis between us--it's bad!"
"If we could have only just three months."
"Two months," he exclaimed.
The days that followed were days of grave anxiety, of nervousanticipation for them. There was but one person they could turn to atsuch a time, and that was Jean Baptiste. Agnes thought of him, shestarted to speak with her father regarding him, but in the end did notbring herself to do so.
So the time went on, and the thirty days became twenty; and the twentyfell to ten; and the ten fell to five, and then Jean Baptiste could beartheir worry no longer without speaking.
"You and your father have been very kind to me, Agnes, and I can see youare greatly worried about something. If I could help you in any way, Iwould be glad to do so."
She was so near to crying when she heard this that she had muchdifficulty keeping back the tears. But she managed to say:
"Why, it's nothing serious. Just a little matter, that's all," and shewent into her room. He pondered. It was more than that. Of this he wassure. He left the house and came around to where Jack sat, and was movedby his expression. But Jack would say nothing. He could not understand.He tried to dismiss the subject from his mind, and so came Sunday, theday of days.
He was walking from his meal to his place to look over his crops, whenfrom up the road he caught the sound of buggy-wheels. Two men, driving asingle horse hitched to a light buggy were coming his way. When theycaught sight of him, they hurried the animal forward slightly bytouching him up with the whip, and beckoned to him to stop. Presentlythey drew up to where he stood and he recognized one as a homesteader,and having a claim near and the other as a professional dealer inhorses. They exchanged greetings and some remarks about the weather andcrops, and then the trader said:
"By the way, Jean, where does that old Scotchman live out this way? Theold fellow who moved out here recently from Indiana?"
"That's the place there," and Baptiste pointed to the top of the housethat could just be seen from where they stood.
"I see," said the other thoughtfully. "Wonder where that dappled graymare he owns is grazing. I'd like to take a look at 'er."
"I think you will see her grazing in the pasture," said Baptistecuriously.
"How--what kind of animal is it?"
"Why, she's a hum-dinger," returned Baptiste more curiously. Hiscuriosity aroused the other, who, looking at him said:
"Well, you see the old man is to be sold out--foreclosed, and I thoughtI'd take a look at his stuff and if I thought there was anything in it,I might save the old scout the humiliation by buying it."
"T' hell you say!" exclaimed Baptiste.
"Oh, yes. Hadn't you heard about it?"
"This is my first knowledge of it."
"Yes, the sheriff's coming to get the stuff Tuesday--that is, providingthe old man don't come across with a couple of hundred before that time,and it is not likely he can, I don't think."
"Well, well!" Baptiste exclaimed, thinking of the worry he had observedin the faces of Agnes and her father, and at last beginning tounderstand.'
"Yes, it's rather bad, that. But this follows the old gent from where hecomes, and he is not known here, so I guess I'll mosey along and take alook at the stuff--just a glance at it from the road, you understand.And if things look good, I'll drop by 'n see him later." Whereupon theywent their way cheerfully, while Baptiste resumed his, thoughtfully.
He returned to his house by a roundabout way, and, later, hitching ateam to a light buggy, he drove into the town where Jack traded andlooked up the banker.
"Say, Brookings," he opened, "what kind of deal is the old Scotchman upagainst out there? You understand."
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the cashier. "The old man out there on the Watsonhomestead! Well, it seems like the old fellow stands a good chance ofbeing sold out." He then explained to Baptiste regarding the note andthe circumstances.
"That don't look just right to me," muttered Baptiste when he had heardthe circumstances.
"Well, now, it _isn't_ right. But what can be done?"
"Can't you loan the old man the money?"
"I could; but I don't like letting credit to strangers and renters. Ifhe could get a good man on his note I'd fix it out for him, since we'vejust received quite a sum for deposit."
"Well, if I should go it," said Baptiste suggestively. The other lookedquickly up.
"Why, you! Gee, I'd take care of him for ten times the amount if you'dput your 'John Henry' on the note."
"Well, I'll be in town early in the morning," said Baptiste, turning todrive away.
"All right, Jean. Sure! I'll look for you."
The day was bright and lovely for driving, and Baptiste drove to hishomestead, and from there to the Reynolds' where he had dinner andvisited late. The next morning he went to the town, and when JackStewart, exhausted by the strain of worry under which he was laboring,came into town, having decided to try and sell the mare and one of theother horses, thereby leaving him only one with which to co
mplete thecultivating of his corn and the reaping of his crops, he was called intothe bank.
"Now if you'll just sign this, Mr. Stewart," said Brookings, "you canhave until December first on that stuff."
"You mean the note!" the old man exclaimed, afraid to believe that hehad heard aright.
"Yes, the note that is about to be foreclosed. You've been granted anextension." Jack Stewart was too overcome to attempt to comment. Therealization that he was to be allowed to go on and not be sold out or beforced to dispose of his little stock at such a critical time, was toomuch for words. He caught up the pen, steadied his nerves, and wrote hisname, not observing that the banker held a blotter over the lower lineof the note. Jean Baptiste had cautioned him to do this. In view of thecircumstances he had not wished Stewart or Agnes to know that he hadgone on the note.
Jack Stewart hurried home in a fever of excitement. He could not getthere fast enough. He thought of Agnes, he did not wish her to have aminute more grief than what she had endured. He reached home andstumbled into the house, and to Agnes he said:
"Oh, girl, girl, girl! They have extended the note! The sheriff is notcoming! We are saved, saved, saved!" He was too overcome with emotionand joy then to proceed. He sank into a chair, while Agnes, carriedaway with excitement over the news, caressed him; said words of love andcare until both had been exhausted by their own emotions. When they atlast became calm, she turned to her father who now walked the floor ingreat joy.
"How did they come to extend the note, father?"
"Why--why, dear, that had never occurred to me! I became so excited whenthey told me that I had been granted an extension, I can only recallthat I signed the note and almost ran out of the bank. The man had tocall me back to give me my old note and mortgage. I don't know why theygranted the extension." He stood holding his chin now and looking downat the floor as if trying to understand after all how it happened. Thenhis eyes opened suddenly wide. "Why, and, do you know, now, since I cometo think of it, they did not take a new mortgage on the stock."
"I don't believe that the administrator had anything to do with it," shesaid after a time. "I know that man. He would sell his mother out intothe streets. Now I wonder who has influenced the bank into giving usthis time...."
"Bless me, dear lord. But right now I am too tickled to try to thinkwho. To be saved is enough all at once. Later, I shall try to figure outwho has been my benefactor." And with this he left the house and went towalk with his joy in the fields where George was plowing corn,unconscious of the fact that the team he was driving was to have beenseized on the morrow and sold for debt.
"Now I wonder _who_ saved papa," Agnes said to herself, taking a seat bythe window and gazing abstractedly out into the road. She employed herwits to estimate what had brought it about, and as she sat there, JeanBaptiste came driving down the road. He had not been there sincebreakfast the morning before. He had taken his morning's meal at therestaurant in the town. As he drove down the slope that began above thehouse wherein she sat, his dark face was lighted with a peaceful smile.He drove leisurely along, concerned with the bright prospects of hisfour hundred acres of crop. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that hepassed on by without seeing Agnes at the window; without even lookingtoward the house.
Upon seeing him Agnes had for the moment forgotten what she was thinkingabout. But when he had passed by, she was suddenly struck with aninspiration. She jumped quickly to her feet: She raised her hands to herbreast and held them there as if to still a great excitement, as shecried:
"Jean! Jean, Jean Baptiste! It was you, you, who did it. It was you whosaved my father, saved me; saved us all! Oh, my Jean!"
She was overcome then with a great emotion. She sank slowly upon achair. And as she did so sobs broke from her lips and she wept long andsilently.