The Girl of the Golden West

by David Belasco

  VIII.

  There was a subtle change, an obvious lack of warmth in Johnson'smanner, which the Girl was quick to feel upon returning to the nowpractically deserted saloon.

  "Don't it feel funny here--kind o' creepy?" She gave the words apeculiar emphasis, which made Johnson flash a quick, inquisitorial lookat her; and then, no comment being forthcoming, she went on to explain:"I s'pose though that's 'cause I don't remember seein' the bar so emptybefore."

  A somewhat awkward silence followed, which at length was broken by theGirl, who ordered:

  "Lights out now! Put out the candle here, too, Nick!" But while thelittle barkeeper proceeded to carry out her instructions she turned toJohnson with an eager, frank expression on her face, and said: "Oh, youain't goin', are you?"

  "No--not yet--no--" stammered Johnson, half-surprisedly,half-wonderingly.

  The Girl's face wore a pleased look as she answered:

  "Oh, I'm so glad o' that!"

  Another embarrassing silence followed. At last Nick made a movementtowards the window, saying:

  "I'm goin' to put the shutters up."

  "So early? What?" The Girl looked her surprise.

  "Well, you see, the boys are out huntin' Ramerrez, and there's too muchmoney here . . ." said Nick in a low tone.

  The Girl laughed lightly.

  "Oh, all right--cash in--but don't put the head on the keg--I ain'tcashed in m'self yet."

  Rolling the keg to one side of the room, Nick beckoned to the Girl tocome close to him, which she did; and pointing to Johnson, who wasstrolling about the room, humming softly to himself, he whispered:

  "Say, Girl, know anythin' about--about him?"

  But very significant as was Nick's pantomime, which included the keg andJohnson, it succeeded only in bringing forth a laugh from the Girl, andthe words:

  "Oh, sure!"

  Nevertheless, the faithful guardian of the Girl's interests sent astartled glance of inquiry about the room, and again asked:

  "All right, eh?"

  The Girl ignored the implication contained in the other's glance, andanswered "Yep," in such a tone of finality that Nick, reassured at last,began to put things ship-shape for the night. This took but a moment ortwo, however, and then he quietly disappeared.

  "Well, Mr. Johnson, it seems to be us a-keepin' house here to-night,don't it?" said the Girl, alone now with the road agent.

  Her observation might easily have been interpreted as purposelyintroductory to an intimate scene, notwithstanding that it was made in athoroughly matter-of-fact tone and without the slightest trace ofcoquetry. But Johnson did not make the mistake of misconstruing herwords, puzzled though he was to find a clue to them. His curiosity abouther was intense, and it showed plainly in the voice that said presently:

  "Isn't it strange how things come about? Strange that I should havelooked everywhere for you and in the end find you here--at The Polka."

  Johnson's emphasis on his last words sent a bright red rushing over her,colouring her neck, her ears and her broad, white forehead.

  "Anythin' wrong with The Polka?"

  Johnson was conscious of an indiscreet remark; nevertheless he ventured:

  "Well, it's hardly the place for a young woman like you."

  The Girl made no reply to this but busied herself with the closing-up ofthe saloon. Johnson interpreted her silence as a difference of opinion.Nevertheless, he repeated with emphasis:

  "It is decidedly no place for you."

  "How so?"

  "Well, it's rather unprotected, and--"

  "Oh, pshaw!" interrupted the Girl somewhat irritably. "I tol' Ashby onlyto-night that I bet if a rud agent come in here I could offer 'im adrink an' he'd treat me like a perfect lady." She stopped and turnedupon him impulsively with: "Say, that reminds me, won't you takesomethin'?"

  Before answering, Johnson shot her a quick look of inquiry to seewhether there was not a hidden meaning in her words. Of course there wasnot, the remark being impelled by a sudden consciousness that he mightconsider her inhospitable. Nevertheless, her going behind the bar andpicking up a bottle came somewhat as a relief to him.

  "No, thank you," at last he said; and then as he leaned heavily on thebar: "But I would very much like to ask you a question."

  Instantly, to his great surprise, the Girl was eyeing him with mingledreproach and coquetry. So he was going to do it! Was it possible that hethought so lightly of her, she wondered. With all her heart she wishedthat he would not make the same mistake that others had.

  "I know what it is--every stranger asks it--but I didn't think youwould. You want to know if I am decent? Well, I am, you bet!" shereturned, a defiant note creeping into her voice as she uttered theconcluding words.

  "Oh, Girl, I'm not blind!" His eyes quailed before the look that flamedin hers. "And that was not the question."

  Instinctively something told the Girl that the man spoke the truth, butnotwithstanding which, she permitted her eyes to express disbelief and"Dear me suz!" fell from her lips with an odd little laugh. On the otherhand, Johnson declined to treat the subject other than seriously. He hadno desire, of course, to enlarge upon the unconventionality of herattitude, but he felt that his feelings towards her, even if they wereonly friendly, justified him in giving her a warning. Moreover, herefused to admit to himself that this was a mere chance meeting. He hada consciousness, vague, but nevertheless real that, at last, after allhis searching, Fate had brought him face to face with the one woman inall the world for him. Unknown to himself, therefore, there was a sortof jealous proprietorship in his manner towards her as he now said:

  "What I meant was this: I am sorry to find you here almost at the mercyof the passer-by, where a man may come, may drink, may rob you if hewill--" and here a flush of shame spread over his features in spite ofhimself--"and where, I daresay, more than one has laid claim to a kiss."

  The Girl turned upon him in good-natured contempt.

  "There's a good many people claimin' things they never git. I've got myfirst kiss to give."

  Once more a brief silence fell upon them in which the Girl busiedherself with her cash box. She was not unaware that his eyes were uponher, but she was by no means sure that he believed her words. Nor couldshe tell herself, unfortunately for her peace of mind, that it made nodifference to her.

  "Have you been here long?" suddenly he asked.

  "Yep."

  "Lived in The Polka?"

  "Nope."

  "Where do you live?"

  "Cabin up the mountain a little ways."

  "Cabin up the mountain a little ways," echoed Johnson, reflectively. Thenext instant the little figure before him had faded from his sight andinstead there appeared a vision of the little hut on the top of CloudyMountain. Only a few hours back he had stood on the precipice whichlooked towards it, and had felt a vague, indefinable something, hadheard a voice speak to him out of the vastness which he now believed tohave been her spirit calling to him.

  "You're worth something better than this," after a while he murmuredwith the tenderness of real love in his voice.

  "What's better'n this?" questioned the Girl with a toss of her prettyblonde head. "I ain't a-boastin' but if keepin' this saloon don't giveme sort of a position 'round here I dunno what does."

  But the next moment there had flashed through her mind a new thoughtconcerning him. She came out from behind the bar and confronted him withthe question:

  "Look 'ere, you ain't one o' them exhorters from the Missionaries' Camp,are you?"

  The road agent smiled.

  "My profession has its faults," he acknowledged, "but I am not anexhorter."

  But still the Girl was nonplussed, and eyed him steadily for a moment ortwo.

  "You know I can't figger out jest exactly what you are?" she admittedsmilingly.

  "Well, try . . ." he suggested, slightly colouring under her persistentgaze.

  "Well, you ain't one o' us."

  "No?"

  "Oh, I can tell--I can spot
my man every time. I tell you, keepin'saloon's a great educator." And so saying she plumped herself down in achair and went on very seriously now: "I dunno but what it's a good wayto bring up girls--they git to know things. Now," and here she looked athim long and earnestly, "I'd trust you."

  Johnson was conscious of a guilty feeling, though he said as he took aseat beside her:

  "You would trust me?"

  The Girl nodded an assent and observed in a tone that was intended to bethoroughly conclusive:

  "Notice I danced with you to-night?"

  "Yes," was his brief reply, though the next moment he wondered that hehad not found something more to say.

  "I seen from the first that you were the real article."

  "I beg your pardon," he said absently, still lost in thought.

  "Why, that was a compliment I handed out to you," returned the Girl witha pained look on her face.

  "Oh!" he ejaculated with a faint little smile.

  Now the Girl, who had drawn up her chair close to his, leaned over andsaid in a low, confidential voice:

  "Your kind don't prevail much here. I can tell--I got what you call aquick eye."

  As might be expected Johnson flushed guiltily at this remark. Nodifferent, for that matter, would have acted many a man whose consciencewas far clearer.

  "Oh, I'm afraid that men like me prevail--prevail, as you say,--almosteverywhere," he said, laying such stress on the words that it would seemalmost impossible for anyone not to see that they were shot through withself-depreciation.

  The Girl gave him a playful dig with her elbow.

  "Go on! What are you givin' me! O' course they don't . . .!" She laughedoutright; but the next instant checking herself, went on with absoluteingenuousness: "Before I went on that trip to Monterey I tho't Rancehere was the genuine thing in a gent, but the minute I kind o' glancedover you on the road I--I seen he wasn't." She stopped, a realisationhaving suddenly been borne in upon her that perhaps she was laying herheart too bare to him. To cover up her embarrassment, therefore, shetook refuge, as before, in hospitality, and rushing over to the bar shecalled to Nick to come and serve Mr. Johnson with a drink, only todismiss him the moment he put his head through the door with: "Nevermind, I'll help Mr. Johnson m'self." Turning to her visitor again, shesaid: "Have your whisky with water, won't you?"

  "But I don't--" began Johnson in protest.

  "Say," interrupted the Girl, falling back into her favourite position ofresting both elbows on the bar, her face in her hands, "I've got youfiggered out. You're awful good or awful bad." A remark which seemed toamuse the man, for he laughed heartily.

  "Now, what do you mean by that?" presently he asked.

  "Well, I mean so good that you're a teetotaller, or so bad that you'retired o' life an' whisky."

  Johnson shook his head.

  "On the contrary, although I'm not good, I've lived and I've liked lifepretty well. It's been bully!"

  Surprised and delighted with his enthusiasm, the Girl raised her eyes tohis, which look he mistook--not unnaturally after all that had beensaid--for one of encouragement. A moment more and the restraint that hehad exercised over himself had vanished completely.

  "So have you liked it, Girl," he went on, trying vainly to getpossession of her hand, "only you haven't lived, you haven't lived--notwith your nature. You see I've got a quick eye, too."

  To Johnson's amazement she flushed and averted her face. Following thedirection of her eyes he saw Nick standing in the door with a broad grinon his face.

  "You git, Nick! What do you mean by . . .?" cried out the Girl in a tonethat left no doubt in the minds of her hearers that she was annoyed, ifnot angry, at the intrusion.

  Nick disappeared into the dance-hall as though shot out of a gun;whereupon, the Girl turned to Johnson with:

  "I haven't lived? That's good!"

  Johnson's next words were insinuating, but his voice was cold incomparison with the fervent tones of a moment previous.

  "Oh, you know!" was what he said, seating himself at the poker table.

  "No, I don't," contradicted the Girl, taking a seat opposite him.

  "Yes, you do," he insisted.

  "Well, say it's an even chance I do an' an even chance I don't," sheparried.

  Once more the passion in the man was stirring.

  "I mean," he explained in a voice that barely reached her, "life for allit's worth, to the uttermost, to the last drop in the cup, so that itatones for what's gone before, or may come after."

  The Girl's face wore a puzzled look as she answered:

  "No, I don't believe I know what you mean by them words. Is it a--" Shecut her sentence short, and springing up, cried out: "Oh, Lord--Oh,excuse me, I sat on my gun!"

  Johnson looked at her, genuine amusement depicted on his face.

  "Look here," said the Girl, suddenly perching herself upon the table,"I'm goin' to make you an offer."

  "An offer?" Johnson fairly snatched the words out of her mouth. "You'regoing to make me an offer?"

  "It's this," declared the Girl with a pleased look on her face. "If everyou need to be staked--"

  Johnson eyed her uncomprehendingly.

  "Which o' course you don't," she hastened to add. "Name your price. It'syours jest for the style I git from you an' the deportment."

  "Deportment? Me?" A half-grin formed over Johnson's face as he asked thequestion; then he said: "Well, I never heard before that my society wasso desirable. Apart from the financial aspect of this matter, I--"

  "Say," broke in the Girl, gazing at him in helpless admiration, "ain'tthat great? Ain't that great? Oh, you got to let me stand treat!"

  "No, really I would prefer not to take anything," responded Johnson,putting a restraining hand on her as she was about to leap from thetable.

  At that moment Nick's hurried footsteps reached their ears. Turning, theGirl, with a swift gesture, waved him back. There was a brief silence,then Johnson spoke:

  "Say, Girl, you're like finding some new kind of flower."

  A slight laugh of confusion was his answer. The next moment, however,she went on, speaking very slowly and seriously: "Well, we're kind o'rough up here, but we're reachin' out."

  Johnson noted immediately the change in her voice. There was nomistaking the genuineness of her emotion, nor the wistful look in hereyes. It was plain that she yearned for someone who would teach her theways of the outside world; and when the man looked at the Girl with thelamp-light softening her features, he felt her sincerity and was pleasedby her confidence.

  "Now, I take it," continued the Girl with a vague, dreamy look on herface, "that's what we're all put on this earth for--everyone of us--isto rise ourselves up in the world--to reach out."

  "That's true, that's true," returned Johnson with gentle and perfectsympathy. "I venture to say that there isn't a man who hasn't thoughtseriously about that. I have. If only one knew how to reach out forsomething one hardly dares even hope for. Why, it's like trying to catchthe star shining just ahead."

  The Girl could not restrain her enthusiasm.

  "That's the cheese! You've struck it!"

  At this juncture Nick appeared and refused to be ordered away. Atlength, the Girl inquired somewhat impatiently:

  "Well, what is it, Nick?"

  "I've been tryin' to say," announced the barkeeper, whose face wore anexpression of uneasiness as he pointed to the window, "that I have seenan ugly-lookin' greaser hanging around outside."

  "A greaser!" exclaimed the Girl, uneasily. "Let me look." And with thatshe made a movement towards the window, but was held back by Johnson'sdetaining hand. All too well did he know that the Mexican was one of hismen waiting impatiently for the signal. So, with an air of concern, forhe did not intend that the Girl should run any risk, however remote, hesaid authoritatively:

  "Don't go!"

  "Why not?" demanded the Girl.

  Johnson sat strangely silent.

  "I'll bolt the windows!" cried Nick. Hardly had he disappeared
into thedance-hall when a low whistle came to their ears.

  "The signal--they're waiting," said Johnson under his breath, and shot aquick look of inquiry at the Girl to see whether she had heard thesound. A look told him that she had, and was uneasy over it.

  "Don't that sound horrid?" said the Girl, reaching the bar in a state ofperturbation. "Say, I'm awful glad you're here. Nick's so nervous. Heknows what a lot o' money I got. Why, there's a little fortune in thatkeg."

  Johnson started; then rising slowly he went over to the keg and examinedit with interest.

  "In there?" he asked, with difficulty concealing his excitement.

  "Yes; the boys sleep around it nights," she went on to confide.

  Johnson looked at her curiously.

  "But when they're gone--isn't that rather a careless place to leave it?"

  Quietly the Girl came from behind the bar and went over and stood besidethe keg; when she spoke her eyes flashed dangerously.

  "They'd have to kill me before they got it," she said, with cooldeliberation.

  "Oh, I see--it's your money."

  "No, it's the boys'."

  A look of relief crossed Johnson's features.

  "Oh, that's different," he contended; and then brightening up somewhat,he went on: "Now, I wouldn't risk my life for that."

  "Oh, yes, you would, yes, you would," declared the Girl with feeling. Amoment later she was down on her knees putting bag after bag of theprecious gold-dust and coins into the keg. When they were all in sheclosed the lid, and putting her foot down hard to make it secure, sherepeated: "Oh, yes, you would, if you seen how hard they got it. When Ithink of it, I nearly cry."

  Johnson had listened absorbedly, and was strangely affected by herwords. In her rapidly-filling eyes, in the wave of colour that surged inher cheeks, in the voice that shook despite her efforts to control it,he read how intense was her interest in the welfare of the miners. Howthe men must adore her!

  Unconsciously the Girl arose, and said:

  "There's somethin' awful pretty in the way the boys hold out before theystrike it, somethin' awful pretty in the face o' rocks, an' clay an'alkali. Oh, Lord, what a life it is anyway! They eat dirt, they sleep indirt, they breathe dirt 'til their backs are bent, their hands twistedan' warped. They're all wind-swept an' blear-eyed I tell you, an' someo' them jest lie down in their sweat beside the sluices, an' they don'tnever rise up again. I've seen 'em there!" She paused reminiscently;then, pointing to the keg, she went on haltingly: "I got some moneythere of Ol' Brownie's. He was lyin' out in the sun on a pile o' claytwo weeks ago, an' I guess the only clean thing about him was his soul,an' he was quittin', quittin', quittin', right there on the clay, an'quittin' hard. Oh, so hard!" Once more she stopped and covered her facewith her hands as if to shut out the horror of it all. Presently she hadherself under control and resumed: "Yes, he died--died jest like a dog.You wanted to shoot 'im to help 'im along quicker. Before he went he sezto me: 'Girl, give it to my ol' woman.' That was all he said, an' hewent. She'll git it, all right."

  With every word that the Girl uttered, the iron had entered deeper intoJohnson's soul. Up to the present time he had tried to regard hisprofession, if he looked at it at all, from the point of view which heinherited from his father. It was not, in all truthfulness, what hewould have chosen; it was something that, at times, he lamented; but,nevertheless, he had practised it and had despoiled the miners with butfew moments of remorse. But now, he was beginning to look upon thingsdifferently. In a brief space of time a woman had impelled him to seehis actions in their true light; new ambitions and desires awakened, andhe looked downward as if it were impossible to meet her honest eye.

  "An' that's what aches you," the Girl was now saying. "There ain't oneo' them men workin' for themselves alone--the Lord never put it into noman's heart to make a beast or a pack-horse o' himself, except for somewoman or some child." She halted a moment, and throwing up her handsimpulsively, she cried: "Ain't it wonderful--ain't it wonderful thatinstinct? Ain't it wonderful what a man'll do when it comes to awoman--ain't it wonderful?" Once more she waited as if expecting him tocorroborate her words; but he remained strangely silent. A moment laterwhen he raised his troubled eyes, he saw that hers were dry andtwinkling.

  "Well, the boys use me as a--a sort of lady bank," presently she said;and then added with another quick change of expression, and in a voicethat showed great determination: "You bet I'll drop down dead beforeanyone'll get a dollar o' theirs outer The Polka!"

  Impulsively the road agent's hand went out to her, and with it went amental resolution that so far as he was concerned no hard-working minerof Cloudy Mountain need fear for his gold!

  "That's right," was what he said. "I'm with you--I'd like to see anyoneget that." He dropped her hand and laid his on the keg; then with avoice charged with much feeling, he added: "Girl, I wish to Heaven Icould talk more with you, but I can't. By daybreak I must be a long waysoff. I'm sorry--I should have liked to have called at your cabin."

  The Girl shot him a furtive glance.

  "Must you be a-movin' so soon?" she asked.

  "Yes; I'm only waiting till the posse gets back and you're safe." Andeven as he spoke his trained ear caught the sound of horses hoofs. "Why,they're coming now!" he exclaimed with suppressed excitement, and hiseyes immediately fastened themselves on his saddle.

  The Girl looked her disappointment when she said:

  "I'm awfully sorry you've got to go. I was goin' to say--" She stopped,and began to roll the keg back to its place. Now she took the lanternfrom the bar and placed it on the keg; then turning to him once more shewent on in a voice that was distinctly persuasive: "If you didn't haveto go so soon, I would like to have you come up to the cabin to-nightan' we would talk o' reachin' out up there. You see, the boys will beback here--we close The Polka at one--any time after . . ."

  Hesitatingly, helplessly, Johnson stared at the Girl before him. Hisacceptance, he realised only too well, meant a pleasant hour or two forhim, of which there were only too few in the mad career that he wasfollowing, and he wanted to take advantage of it; on the other hand, hisbetter judgment told him that already he should be on his way.

  "Why, I--I should ride on now." He began and then stopped, the nextmoment, however, he threw down his hat on the table in resignation andannounced: "I'll come."

  "Oh, good!" cried the Girl, making no attempt to conceal her delight."You can use this," she went on, handing him the lantern. "It's thestraight trail up; you can't miss it. But I say, don't expect too mucho' me--I've only had thirty-two dollars' worth o' education." Despiteher struggle to control herself, her voice broke and her eyes filledwith tears. "P'r'aps if I'd had more," she kept on, regretfully, "why,you can't tell what I might have been. Say, that's a terrible tho't,ain't it? What we might a been--an' I know it when I look at you."

  Johnson was deeply touched at the Girl's distress, and his voice broke,too, as he said:

  "Yes, what we might have been is a terrible thought, and I know it,Girl, when I look at you--when I look at you."

  "You bet!" ejaculated the Girl. And then to Johnson's consternation shebroke down completely, burying her face in her hands and sobbing out:"Oh, 'tain't no use, I'm rotten, I'm ignorant, I don't know nothin' an'I never knowed it 'till to-night! The boys always tol' me I knowed somuch, but they're such damn liars!"

  In an instant Johnson was beside her, patting her hand caressingly; shefelt the sympathy in his touch and was quick to respond to it.

  "Don't you care, Girl, you're all right," he told her, choking back withdifficulty the tears in his own voice. "Your heart's all right, that'sthe main thing. And as for your looks? Well, to me you've got the faceof an angel--the face--" He broke off abruptly and ended with: "Oh, butI must be going now!"

  A moment more and he stood framed in the doorway, his saddle in one handand the Girl's lantern in the other, torn by two emotions which grappledwith each other in his bosom. "Johnson, what the devil's the matter withyou?" he muttered hal
f-aloud; then suddenly pulling himself together hestumbled rather than walked out of The Polka into the night.

  Motionless and trying to check her sobs, the Girl remained where he hadleft her; but a few minutes later, when Nick entered, all trace of hertears had disappeared.

  "Nick," said she, all smiles now, "run over to The Palmetto restaurantan' tell 'em to send me up two charlotte rusks an' a lemming turnover--agood, big, fat one--jest as quick as they can--right up to the cabin forsupper."

  "He says I have the face of an angel," is what the Girl repeated overand over again to herself when perched up again on the poker table afterthe wondering barkeeper had departed on her errand, and for a briefspace of time her countenance reflected the joy that Johnson's partingwords had imprinted on her heart. But in the Girl's character there wasan element too prosaic, and too practical, to permit her thoughts todwell long in a region lifted far above the earth. It was inevitable,therefore, that the notion should presently strike her as supremelycomic and, quickly leaping to the floor, she let out the one word which,however adequately it may have expressed her conflicting emotions, isnever by any chance to be found in the vocabulary of angels in goodstanding.