The Homesteader: A Novel

by Oscar Micheaux

  CHAPTER IV

  WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN

  Jean Baptiste was so elated over being invited to call early to see MissIrene Grey, that he went back to the bar where his acquaintanceslingered, ordered drinks for all, and imbibed so freely that when hereached the depot, he found the train had left him. His disappointmentwas keen, and he was provoked with himself. However, since it was so, hewent to a booth, called her up, and advised her of the fact.

  "Now wasn't that careless of you," she complained. "I am sure you are_very_ careless."

  "I wouldn't have missed it for anything in the _world_," he told her."Indeed, I was so delighted over the prospects of seeing you, afterthese many years, and I indulged so freely that I lost the sense oftime."

  "How is that--did you say that you _drank_?"

  "Well, yes, I do," he admitted frankly; "but not in a dangerous sense. Ido not recall having been drunk but once in my life, and trust that Iwill never have occasion to recall a second occurrence."

  "Oh," she echoed. "I am relieved. I don't trust a drinker, and the factthat you were left made me suspect you."

  "At least I can reassure you on that score. I am proud to say that Ihave the strength of my convictions."

  "I am pleased to hear that. A man has a poor chance to succeed in theworld otherwise."

  "I agree with you."

  "Well, now, let me see when you can get out here," she saidmeditatively. After a time he heard her voice again. He had never seenher, not even a photograph of her. He could only estimate her appearancefrom recalling her brother, and from what he had been told. But howevershe may appear, her voice, to say the least, was the most beautiful hethought that he had ever heard. He listened to every word she said, andthought the tone like sweet music.

  "You will have to stay in K.C. all night now," she said regretfully."And I must repeat that I am so disappointed. It had been my dream thatI would talk with you all the night through," whereupon she laughed andthis was even more beautiful than her voice when speaking. "But, now,"she began again, admonishingly, "you will arise at eight--no, seven, doyou understand, and catch a train that leaves the city at eight. I willbe at the station to meet you again."

  "I cross my heart that I will catch it."

  "And if you do not--so help you God!"

  "I hope to die if I miss it."

  "Well, if you do, don't die--but catch the train, that's all. Nowgood-by, and you are forgiven this once."

  "Good-by."

  * * * * *

  Whatever happened it is irrelevant to relate, but Jean Baptiste missedthe morning train, and so disgusted was he with himself that he boardeda train for Topeka where he went and appointed some agents, intending toget the train back that afternoon. But his "Jonah" still clung to him,and when he had it estimated that the train went at five-thirty, it hadgone at four fifty-two and he was left again.

  "I'll catch the morning train if I must sit here all the night through,"he swore, so put out with himself that he could say no more.

  He ascertained the exact minute the morning train left, and this trainfound him on time. It was Sunday in early June, and the day wasbeautiful. The air was rich, and the growing crops gave forth a sweetaroma. He reached the little town near where she lived, and even fromthe depot the splendid home in which they lived could be seen reposingvaingloriously upon a hillside. In the community her father was thewealthiest man, having made his fortune in the growing of potatoes andfruit.

  She was not at the depot to meet him, and he had not expected her. Itwas perhaps two miles to the big residence on the hill, and to this heset out to walk. When he arrived, the house seemed to be deserted, and,as it was Sunday, he surmised that the family were at services. He wentup to the front door and knocked loudly. He was conscious at once ofwhisperings from the inside. Presently the door was opened slowly aninch, and he saw an eye peeping out at him.

  "Who are you?" a voice whispered.

  He told the eye.

  "Oh, yes," cried the voice and it happened to be a boy, and the cause ofthe whispering and quietness from the inside was due to certain pranksgoing on inside. "And you're that fellow from up in the Northwest," saidthe youngster, opening the door wide and stepping away to look at himcuriously.

  "Yes, I guess that's whom you refer to."

  "We are certainly glad to see you around here," said the other. "Irene'sbeen down to the train to meet you three times and she's sure fightingmad by this time."

  "Oh, say, I really don't blame her a bit--to be put to so much troubleand be disappointed in the end. But, on the square, I had notanticipated being so highly honored."

  "Aw, we've been anxious to know you for years. We boys had sort ofplanned when you was writing to Irene two or three years ago to come upthere and get in on some of that land."

  "That would have been a capital move."

  "Yes, but you quit writing and got married, so we heard, and had badluck in the end," whereupon he laughed. Baptiste looked embarrassed.

  "Where is the family and how many are there of you?"

  "Aw, say! We are so many around here that you'll have to get paper andpencil and mark us down to keep track of how many. My father is inColorado on business, while Irene, mama and another sister are at thenext town up the line attending a funeral."

  "And the boys--"

  "Just gettin' ready to go swimmin'. Wanta go long?"

  "Say, there hasn't enough water fallen where I've lived for the lastthree years at the right time to fill a pond deep enough to go swimmingin, so I'll just take you up," he cried, full of the idea.

  It was in the early afternoon when they got back, to find that the folkshad returned from the funeral. Following the boys, Baptiste entered bythe kitchen door to encounter the mother and three daughters preparingthe meal. Hereupon he was caused much embarrassment and discomfiture,for of the three girls, he knew not which one was Irene. Quickly seeinghis confusion, they laughed long and heartily among themselves. Finally,his predicament became so awkward that an expression of distress creptinto his face. At this point the most attractive one of the three girlswalked forward, extended her hand, and he saw by the expression she nowwore, that she was sorry for him, as she said:

  "I'm Irene, and you are Mr. Jean Baptiste." She paused then, and lookedaway to hide the color that had rushed to her face, while he clutchedthe outstretched hand just a bit dubiously. She looked up then again,and seeing that he was still confused and perhaps in doubt, shereassured him:

  "The joke is over now, thanks. I'm the one you called up and once wroteto. I'm Irene," and with this she led him to the front and showed himher picture, whereupon he was at last satisfied.

  "And you came at last," she said later, when the two were seated in theparlor.

  "At last," he laughed and observed her keenly. She noted it, andconjectured that it was from a curiosity that was some years old. It wastrue, and he was seeing her and perhaps thinking of what might havebeen.

  She was beautiful, he could see. A mixed type of the present day Negro,she was slightly tall, and somewhat slender, with a figure straight andgraceful. Her hair was of the silken wavy sort not uncommon among theNegro of this type. Such hair seems to have had its beginning with thecross between the Negro and the Indian--a result that has always beenstriking when it comes to the hair. Her face, like her figure wasstraight and slender; while her eyes were black, quick and small. Hernose was high bridged, and straight to a point while the mouth below wassmall and tempting. But what he observed most of all now, and admiredforthwith was the chin. A wonderful chin, long and straight. A strong,firm chin, and as he regarded it he could seem to read the owner.Whatever she was or may be, he was confident then that she was possessedof a strong will and in that moment Orlean recurred to him. Orlean wasregarded as a fairly attractive woman; but her chin, unlike that of theone before him, was inclined to retreat. And, of course, he knew onlytoo well, that her will had been the weakest.

  "You are very successful in mis
sing trains," she ventured.

  He laughed, and she joined him. He looked up then and caught herregarding him keenly out of her half closed eyes, and as she did so, shereminded him of an Indian princess such as he had seen in pictures andread about. There was more about her than he had at first observed, andwhich was made plain in the look she gave him. For in it there waspassion--love to her meant much!

  "Oh, I was so disappointed," she said.

  "It was not you?"

  "But how could you have missed the train so often?"

  "I cannot account for it. I am not in the habit of doing so. Indeed, Ithink it was because I was overly anxious."

  She laughed then, to herself, elfin like.

  "I have been curious to see you for a long time."

  He was silent, and his eyes did not return the look she had given him.

  "Ever since I received _that_ letter...."

  And still he did not reply. The subject was too suggestive, not to sayembarrassing; but she was bold. He couldn't know now whether she wasserious or merely joking; but notwithstanding it sounded pleasant to hisears. He could hear her voice for a long time, he was sure, and not growweary.... We should pause at this point to make known--perhaps explain,that the persons of our story are the unconventional. And with theunconventional what was in their minds was most likely to be discussed.The woman, therefore, was the most curious. She was a woman, and intruth she would have married the man beside her had he have come hitherwhen he had gone to Chicago.

  "What did you do with your little wife?"

  He raised his eyes then, not to look at her, but because of something hedid not himself understand. Perhaps it just happened so? She regardedhim again; looked him full in the eyes, and his eyes spoke more thanwords. Strangely she understood all, almost in a flash, and was sorry.She regretted that she had spoken so directly. She admired him now. Whenhe had looked up, and like that, she had seemed to see and understand atlast the man he was.

  "Pardon me, please," she said, and rising quickly, took a chair nearerhis. She reached and touched him on the arm. "I didn't--I--well, Ididn't intend to be bold." She paused in confusion, and then went on:

  "I hope you will pardon me. I am sure I didn't intend to embarrass you."

  "It is all right," he said. "And since you have asked me, may Iexplain?"

  It was she who was now embarrassed. She looked away in great confusion.She was bolder than the conventional girl as a rule; but the subject wasdelicate. Yet she wanted to hear the story that she knew he would nevertell. If he did, he was not the type of man she had estimated.

  "Of course you would think me a cad, a--well, I have my opinion of a manthat would tell _his_ side of such a story to a _woman_."

  She looked at him then without any embarrassment in her eyes. She wasable to read the man and all that was him clearly. She smiled a smileafter this that was one of satisfaction, and at that moment her sisterscalled that the meal was ready.