Bob Hampton of Placer

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER VII

  "I'VE COME HERE TO LIVE"

  Widely as these two companions differed in temperament and experience,it would be impossible to decide which felt the greater uneasiness atthe prospect immediately before them. The girl openly rebellious, theman extremely doubtful, with reluctant steps they approached that tall,homely yellow house--outwardly the most pretentious in Glencaid--whichstood well up in the valley, where the main road diverged into numerouswinding trails leading toward the various mines among the foothills.

  They were so completely opposite, these two, that more than one chancepasser-by glanced curiously toward them as they picked their way onwardthrough the red dust. Hampton, slender yet firmly knit, his movementsquick like those of a watchful tiger, his shoulders set square, hisbody held erect as though trained to the profession of arms, his grayeyes marking every movement about him with a suspicion born ofcontinual exposure to peril, his features finely chiselled, withthreads of gray hair beginning to show conspicuously about the temples.One would glance twice at him anywhere, for in chin, mouth, and eyeswere plainly pictured the signs of strength, evidences that he hadfought stern battles, and was no craven. For good or evil he might betrusted to act instantly, and, if need arose, to the very death. Hisattire of fashionably cut black cloth, and his immaculate linen, whileneat and unobtrusive, yet appeared extremely unusual in that carelessland of clay-baked overalls and dingy woollens. Beside him, in vividcontrast, the girl trudged in her heavy shoes and bedraggled skirts,her sullen eyes fastened doggedly on the road, her hair showing raggedand disreputable in the brilliant sunshine. Hampton himself could notremain altogether indifferent to the contrast.

  "You look a little rough, Kid, for a society call," he said. "If therewas any shebang in this mud-hole of a town that kept any women's thingson sale fit to look at, I 'd be tempted to fix you up a bit."

  "Well, I'm glad of it," she responded, grimly. "I hope I look so blametough that woman won't say a civil word to us. You can bet I ain'tgoing to strain myself to please the likes of her."

  "You certainly exhibit no symptoms of doing so," he admitted, frankly."But you might, at least, have washed your face and fixed your hair."

  She flashed one angry glance at him, stopping in the middle of theroad, her head flung back as though ready for battle. Then, as if bysome swift magic of emotion, her expression changed. "And so you'reashamed of me, are you?" she asked, her voice sharp but unsteady."Ashamed to be seen walking with me? Darn it! I know you are! But Itell you, Mr. Bob Hampton, you won't be the next time. And what'smore, you just don't need to traipse along another step with me now. Idon't want you. I reckon I ain't very much afraid of tackling thisPresbyterian woman all alone."

  She swung off fiercely, and the man chuckled softly as he followed,watchfully, through the circling, red dust cloud created by her hastyfeet. The truth is, Mr. Hampton possessed troubles and scruples of hisown in connection with this contemplated call. He had never met thelady; indeed, he could recall very few of her sex, combiningrespectability and refinement, whom he had met during the past tenyears. But he retained some memory of the husband as having beenassociated with a strenuous poker game at Placer, in which he also helda prominent place, and it would seem scarcely possible that the wifedid not know whose bullet had turned her for some weeks into asick-nurse. For Herndon he had not even a second thought, but thepossible ordeal of a woman's tongue was another matter. A cordialreception could hardly be anticipated, and Hampton mentally bracedhimself for the worst.

  There were some other things, also, but these he brushed aside for thepresent. He was not the sort of man to wear his heart upon his sleeve,and all his life long he had fought out his more serious battles inloneliness and silence. Now he had work to accomplish in the open; hewas going to stay with the Kid--after that, _quien sabe_? So he smiledsomewhat soberly, swore softly to himself, and strode on. He had neveryet thrown down his cards merely because luck had taken a bad turn.

  It was a cheerless-looking house, painted a garish yellow, havingstaring windows, and devoid of a front porch, or slightest attempt atshade to render its uncomely front less unattractive. Hampton couldscarcely refrain from forming a mental picture of the woman who wouldmost naturally preside within so unpolished an abode--an angular,hard-featured, vinegar-tempered creature, firm settled in herprejudices and narrowed by her creed. Had the matter been left at thatmoment to his own decision, this glimpse of the house would have turnedthem both back, but the girl unhesitatingly pressed forward and turneddefiantly in through the gateless opening. He followed in silencealong the narrow foot-path bordered by weeds, and stood back while shestepped boldly up on the rude stone slab and rapped sharply against thewarped and sagging door. A moment they stood thus waiting with noresponse from within. Once she glanced suspiciously around at him,only to wheel back instantly and once more apply her knuckles to thewood. Before he had conjured up something worth saying the door waspartially opened, and a rounded dumpling of a woman, having rosycheeks, her hair iron-gray, her blue eyes half smiling in uncertainwelcome, looked out upon them questioningly.

  "I 've come to live here," announced the girl, sullenly. "That is, ifI like it."

  The woman continued to gaze at her, as if tempted to laugh outright;then the pleasant blue eyes hardened as their vision swept beyondtoward Hampton.

  "It is extremely kind of you, I 'm sure," she said at last. "Why is itI am to be thus honored?"

  The girl backed partially off the doorstep, her hair flapping in thewind, her cheeks flushed.

  "Oh, you need n't put on so much style about it," she blurted out."You 're Mrs. Herndon, ain't you? Well, then, this is the place whereI was sent; but I reckon you ain't no more particular about it than Iam. There's others."

  "Who sent you to me?" and Mrs. Herndon came forth into the sunshine.

  "The preacher."

  "Oh, Mr. Wynkoop; then you must be the homeless girl whom LieutenantBrant brought in the other day. Why did you not say so at first? Youmay come in, my child."

  There was a sympathetic tenderness apparent now in the tones of hervoice, which the girl was swift to perceive and respond to, yet sheheld back, her independence unshaken. With the quick intuition of awoman, Mrs. Herndon bent down, placing one hand on the defiant shoulder.

  "I did not understand, at first, my dear," she said, soothingly, "or Ishould never have spoken as I did. Some very strange callers comehere. But you are truly welcome. I had a daughter once; she must havebeen nearly your age when God took her. Won't you come in?"

  While thus speaking she never once glanced toward the man standing insilence beyond, yet as the two passed through the doorway together hefollowed, unasked. Once within the plainly furnished room, and withher arm about the girl's waist, the lines about her mouth hardened. "Ido not recall extending my invitation to you," she said, coldly.

  He remained standing, hat in hand, his face shadowed, his eyespicturing deep perplexity.

  "For the intrusion I offer my apology," he replied, humbly; "but yousee I--I feel responsible for this young woman. She--sort of fell tomy care when none of her own people were left to look after her. Ionly came to show her the way, and to say that I stand ready to pay youwell to see to her a bit, and show her how to get hold of the rightthings."

  "Indeed!" and Mrs. Herndon's voice was not altogether pleasant. "Iunderstood she was entirely alone and friendless. Are you that man whobrought her out of the canyon?"

  Hampton bowed as though half ashamed of acknowledging the act.

  "Oh! then I know who you are," she continued, unhesitatingly. "You area gambler and a bar-room rough. I won't touch a penny of your money.I told Mr. Wynkoop that I shouldn't, but that I would endeavor to do myChristian duty by this poor girl. He was to bring her here himself,and keep you away."

  The man smiled slightly, not in the least disconcerted by her plainspeech. The cutting words merely served to put him on his mettle."Probably we departed from th
e hotel somewhat earlier than the ministeranticipated," he explained, quietly, his old ease of manner returningin face of such open opposition. "I greatly regret your evidentprejudice, madam, and can only say that I have more confidence in youthan you appear to have in me. I shall certainly discover some meansby which I may do my part in shaping this girl's future, but in themeanwhile will relieve you of my undesired presence."

  He stepped without into the glare of the sunlight, feeling utterlycareless as to the woman who had affronted him, yet somewhat hurt onseeing that the girl had not once lifted her downcast eyes to his face.Yet he had scarcely taken three steps toward the road before she wasbeside him, her hand upon his sleeve.

  "I won't stay!" she exclaimed, fiercely, "I won't, Bob Hampton. I 'drather go with you than be good."

  His sensitive face flushed with delight, but he looked gravely downinto her indignant eyes. "Oh, yes, you will, Kid," and his handtouched her roughened hair caressingly. "She's a good, kind woman, allright, and I don't blame her for not liking my style."

  "Do--do you really want me to stick it out here, Bob?"

  It was no small struggle for him to say so, for he was beginning tocomprehend just what this separation meant. She was more to him thanhe had ever supposed, more to him than she had been even an hourbefore; and now he understood clearly that from this moment they mustever run farther apart--her life tending upward, his down. Yet therewas but one decision possible. A life which is lonely anddissatisfied, a wasted life, never fully realizes how lonely,dissatisfied, and wasted it is until some new life, beautiful in younghope and possibility, comes into contact with it. For a single instantHampton toyed with the temptation confronting him, this opportunity ofbrightening his own miserable future by means of her degradation. Thenhe answered, his voice grown almost harsh. "This is your best chance,little girl, and I want you to stay and fight it out."

  Their eyes met, each dimly realizing, although in a totally differentway, that here was a moment of important decision. Mrs. Herndondarkened the doorway, and stood looking out.

  "Well, Mr. Bob Hampton," she questioned, plainly, "what is this goingto be?"

  He glanced toward her, slightly lifting his hat, and promptly releasingthe girl's clinging hand.

  "Miss Gillis consents to remain," he announced shortly, and, denyinghimself so much as another glance at his companion, strode down thenarrow path to the road. A moment the girl's eyes followed him throughthe dust cloud, a single tear stealing down her cheek. Only a shortweek ago she had utterly despised this man, now he had become trulymore to her than any one else in the wide, wide world. She did not inthe least comprehend the mystery; indeed, it was no mystery, merely thesimple trust of a child naturally responding to the first unselfishlove given it. Perhaps Mrs. Herndon dimly understood, for she cameforth quietly, and led the girl, now sobbing bitterly, within the coolshadows of the house.