Sally Dows

by Bret Harte

trusted to some soldierly and frankexposition of the matter from him. Nevertheless, Dr. Maynard was firsthealer, and, like Sophy, professionally cautious. The colonel had betternot talk about it now. It was already two days old; the colonel had beennearly forty-eight hours in bed. It was a regrettable affair, but thenatural climax of long-continued political and racial irritation--andnot without GREAT provocation! Assassination was a strong word; couldColonel Courtland swear that Cato was actually AIMED AT, or was it notmerely a demonstration to frighten a bullying negro? It might have beennecessary to teach him a lesson--which the colonel by this time oughtto know could only be taught to these inferior races by FEAR. Thebloodhounds! Ah, yes!--well, the bloodhounds were, in fact, only apart of that wholesome discipline. Surely Colonel Courtland was not sofoolish as to believe that, even in the old slave-holding days, planterssent dogs after runaways to mangle and destroy THEIR OWN PROPERTY? Theymight as well, at once, let them escape! No, sir! They were used onlyto frighten and drive the niggers out of swamps, brakes, andhiding-places--as no nigger had ever dared to face 'em. Cato might lieas much as he liked, but everybody knew WHO it was that killed MajorReed's hounds. Nobody blamed the colonel for it,--not even MajorReed,--but if the colonel had lived a little longer in the South, he'dhave known it wasn't necessary to do that in self-preservation, as thehounds would never have gone for a white man. But that was not a matterfor the colonel to bother about NOW. He was doing well; he had sleptnearly thirty hours; there was no fever, he must continue to doze offthe exhaustion of his powerful stimulant, and he, the doctor, wouldreturn later in the afternoon.

  Perhaps it was his very inability to grasp in that exhausted state thefull comprehension of the doctor's meaning, perhaps because the physicalbenumbing of his brain was stronger than any mental excitement, but heslept again until the doctor reappeared. "You're doing well enough now,colonel," said the physician, after a brief examination of his patient,"and I think we can afford to wake you up a bit, and even let you moveyour arm. You're luckier than poor Tom Higbee, who won't be able toset his leg to the floor for three weeks to come. I haven't got all thebuckshot out of it yet that Jack Dumont put there the other night."

  Courtland started slightly. Jack Dumont! That was the name of Sally Dowscousin of whom Champney had spoken! He had resolutely put aside from hisreturning memory the hazy recollection of the young girl's voice--thelast thing he had heard that night--and the mystery that seemed tosurround it. But there was no delusion in this cousin--his rival,and that of the equally deceived Champney. He controlled himself andrepeated coldly:--

  "Jack Dumont!"

  "Yes. But of course you knew nothing of all that, while you were offin the swamp there. Yet, by Jingo! it was Dumont's shooting Higbee thathelped YOU to get off your nigger a darned sight more than YOUR killingthe dogs."

  "I don't understand," returned Courtland coldly.

  "Well, you see, Dumont, who had taken up No'th'n principles, I reckon,more to goad the Higbees and please Sally Dows than from any conviction,came over here that night. Whether he suspected anything was up, orwanted to dare Higbee for bedevilment, or was only dancing attendance onMiss Sally, no one knows. But he rode slap into Highee's party, calledout, 'If you're out hunting, Tom, here's a chance for your score!'meaning their old vendetta feud, and brings his shot-gun up to hisshoulder. Higbee wasn't quick enough, Dumont lets fly, drops Higbee, andthen gallops off chased by the Reeds to avenge Higbee, and followedby the whole crowd to see the fun, which was a little better thannigger-driving. And that let you and Cato out, colonel."

  "And Dumont?"

  "Got clean away to Foxboro' Station, leaving another score on his sidefor the Reeds and Higbees to wipe out as best they can. You No'th'n mendon't believe in these sort of things, colonel, but taken as a straightdash and hit o' raiding, that stroke of Sally Dows' cousin was mightyfine!"

  Courtland controlled himself with difficulty. The doctor had spokentruly. The hero of this miserable affair was HER cousin--HIS RIVAL! Andto him--perhaps influenced by some pitying appeal of Miss Sally for theman she had deceived--Courtland owed his life! He instinctively drew aquick, sharp breath.

  "Are you in pain?"

  "Not at all. When can I get up?"

  "Perhaps to-morrow."

  "And this arm?"

  "Better not use it for a week or two." He stopped, and, glancingpaternally at the younger man, added gravely but kindly: "If you'lltake my unprofessional advice, Colonel Courtland, you'll let this mattersimmer down. It won't hurt you and your affairs here that folks have hada taste of your quality, and the nigger a lesson that his fellows won'tforget."

  "I thank you," returned Courtland coldly; "but I think I alreadyunderstand my duty to the company I represent and the Government I haveserved."

  "Possibly, colonel," said the doctor quietly; "but you'll let an olderman remind you and the Government that you can't change the habits orrelations of two distinct races in a few years. Your friend, Miss SallyDows--although not quite in my way of thinking--has never attemptedTHAT."

  "I am fully aware that Miss Dows possesses diplomatic accomplishmentsand graces that I cannot lay claim to," returned Courtland bitterly.

  The doctor lifted his eyebrows slightly and changed the subject.

  When he had gone, Courtland called for writing materials. He had alreadymade up his mind, and one course alone seemed proper to him. He wrote tothe president of the company, detailing the circumstances that had justoccurred, admitting the alleged provocation given by his overseer,but pointing out the terrorism of a mob-law which rendered hisown discipline impossible. He asked that the matter be reported toWashington, and some measures taken for the protection of the freedmen,in the mean time he begged to tender his own resignation, but he wouldstay until his successor was appointed, or the safety of his employeessecured. Until then, he should act upon his own responsibility andaccording to his judgment. He made no personal charges, mentioned nonames, asked for no exemplary prosecution or trial of the offenders, butonly demanded a safeguard against a repetition of the offense. His nextletter, although less formal and official, was more difficult. It wasaddressed to the commandant of the nearest Federal barracks, who was anold friend and former companion-in-arms. He alluded to some conversationthey had previously exchanged in regard to the presence of a smalldetachment of troops at Redlands during the elections, which Courtlandat the time, however, had diplomatically opposed. He suggested it nowas a matter of public expediency and prevention. When he had sealedthe letters, not caring to expose them to the espionage of the localpostmaster or his ordinary servants, he intrusted them to one of MissSally's own henchmen, to be posted at the next office, at Bitter CreekStation, ten miles distant.

  Unfortunately, this duty accomplished, the reaction consequent onhis still weak physical condition threw him back upon himself and hismemory. He had resolutely refused to think of Miss Sally; he hadbeen able to withstand the suggestions of her in the presence of herhandmaid--supposed to be potent in nursing and herb-lore--whom shehad detached to wait upon him, and he had returned politely formalacknowledgments to her inquiries. He had determined to continue thispersonal avoidance as far as possible until he was relieved, onthe ground of that BUSINESS expediency which these events had madenecessary. She would see that he was only accepting the arguments withwhich she had met his previous advances. Briefly, he had recourse tothat hopeless logic by which a man proves to himself that he has noreason for loving a certain woman, and is as incontestably convincedby the same process that he has. And in the midst of it he weakly fellasleep, and dreamed that he and Miss Sally were walking in the cemetery;that a hideous snake concealed among some lilies, over which the younggirl was bending, had uplifted its triangular head to strike. That heseized it by the neck, struggled with it until he was nearly exhausted,when it suddenly collapsed and shrunk, leaving in his palm the limp,crushed, and delicately perfumed little thread glove which he rememberedto have once slipped from her hand.

  When he awoke, that perfume seemed
to be still in the air, distinctfrom the fresh but homelier scents of the garden which stole through thewindow. A sense of delicious coolness came with the afternoon breeze,that faintly trilled the slanting slats of the blind with a slumberoushumming as of bees. The golden glory of a sinking southern sun waspenciling the cheap paper on the wall with leafy tracery and glowingarabesques. But more than that, the calm of some potent influence--orsome unseen presence--was upon him, which he feared a movement mightdispel. The chair at the foot of his bed was empty. Sophy had goneout. He did not turn his head to look further; his languid eyes fallingaimlessly upon the carpet at his bedside suddenly dilated. For they fellalso on the "smallest foot in the