by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE. MARIE'S SIDE OF IT
We all realize keenly, one time or another, the abject poverty oflanguage. To attempt putting some emotions into words is like tryingto play Ave Maria on a toy piano. There are heights and depths utterlybeyond the limitation of instrument and speech alike.
Marie's agonized experience in Alpine--and afterward--was of that kind.She went there under the lure of her loneliness, her heart-hunger forBud. Drunk or sober, loving her still or turning away in anger, she hadto see him; had to hear him speak; had to tell him a little of what shefelt of penitence and longing, for that is what she believed she had todo. Once she had started, she could not turn back. Come what might,she would hunt until she found him. She had to, or go crazy, she toldherself over and over. She could not imagine any circumstance that wouldturn her back from that quest.
Yet she did turn back--and with scarce a thought of Bud. She could notimagine the thing happening that did happen, which is the way lifehas of keeping us all on the anxious seat most of the time. She couldnot--at least she did not--dream that Lovin Child, at once her comfortand her strongest argument for a new chance at happiness, would inten minutes or so wipe out all thought of Bud and leave only a dumb,dreadful agony that hounded her day and night.
She had reached Alpine early in the forenoon, and had gone to the onelittle hotel, to rest and gather up her courage for the search which shefelt was only beginning. She had been too careful of her money to spendany for a sleeper, foregoing even a berth in the tourist car. She couldmake Lovin Child comfortable with a full seat in the day coach forhis little bed, and for herself it did not matter. She could not sleepanyway. So she sat up all night and thought, and worried over thefuture which was foolish, since the future held nothing at all that shepictured in it.
She was tired when she reached the hotel, carrying Lovin Child and hersuit case too--porters being unheard of in small villages, and the onehotel being too sure of its patronage to bother about getting guestsfrom depot to hall bedroom. A deaf old fellow with white whiskers andpoor eyesight fumbled two or three keys on a nail, chose one and led theway down a little dark hall to a little, stuffy room with anotherdoor opening directly on the sidewalk. Marie had not registered on herarrival, because there was no ink in the inkwell, and the pen had onlyhalf a point; but she was rather relieved to find that she was notobliged to write her name down--for Bud, perhaps, to see before she hada chance to see him.
Lovin Child was in his most romping, rambunctious mood, and Marie's headached so badly that she was not quite so watchful of his movements asusual. She gave him a cracker and left him alone to investigate the tinyroom while she laid down for just a minute on the bed, grateful becausethe sun shone in warmly through the window and she did not feel theabsence of a fire. She had no intention whatever of going to sleep--shedid not believe that she could sleep if she had wanted to. Fall asleepshe did, however, and she must have slept for at least half an hour,perhaps longer.
When she sat up with that startled sensation that follows unexpected,undesired slumber, the door was open, and Lovin Child was gone. She hadnot believed that he could open the door, but she discovered that itslatch had a very precarious hold upon the worn facing, and that a slighttwist of the knob was all it needed to swing the door open. She rushedout, of course, to look for him, though, unaware of how long she hadslept, she was not greatly disturbed. Marie had run after Lovin Childtoo often to be alarmed at a little thing like that.
I don't know when fear first took hold of her, or when fear was sweptaway by the keen agony of loss. She went the whole length of the onelittle street, and looked in all the open doorways, and traversed theone short alley that led behind the hotel. Facing the street was therailroad, with the station farther up at the edge of the timber. Acrossthe railroad was the little, rushing river, swollen now with rains thathad been snow on the higher slopes of the mountain behind the town.
Marie did not go near the river at first. Some instinct of dread madeher shun even the possibility that Lovin Child had headed that way. Buta man told her, when she broke down her diffidence and inquired, that hehad seen a little tot in a red suit and cap going off that way. He hadnot thought anything of it. He was a stranger himself, he said, and hesupposed the kid belonged there, maybe.
Marie flew to the river, the man running beside her, and three or fourothers coming out of buildings to see what was the matter. She did notfind Lovin Child, but she did find half of the cracker she had givenhim. It was lying so close to a deep, swirly place under the bank thatMarie gave a scream when she saw it, and the man caught her by the armfor fear she meant to jump in.
Thereafter, the whole of Alpine turned out and searched the river bankas far down as they could get into the box canyon through which itroared to the sage-covered hills beyond. No one doubted that Lovin Childhad been swept away in that tearing, rock-churned current. No one hadany hope of finding his body, though they searched just as diligently asif they were certain.
Marie walked the bank all that day, calling and crying and fighting offdespair. She walked the floor of her little room all night, thedoor locked against sympathy that seemed to her nothing but a pryingcuriosity over her torment, fighting back the hysterical cries that keptstruggling for outlet.
The next day she was too exhausted to do anything more than climb up thesteps of the train when it stopped there. Towns and ranches on theriver below had been warned by wire and telephone and a dozen officiouscitizens of Alpine assured her over and over that she would be notifiedat once if anything was discovered; meaning, of course, the body of herchild. She did not talk. Beyond telling the station agent her name, andthat she was going to stay in Sacramento until she heard something, sheshrank behind her silence and would reveal nothing of her errand therein Alpine, nothing whatever concerning herself. Mrs. Marie Moore,General Delivery, Sacramento, was all that Alpine learned of her.
It is not surprising then, that the subject was talked out long beforeBud or Cash came down into the town more than two months later. It isnot surprising, either, that no one thought to look up-stream for thebaby, or that they failed to consider any possible fate for him savedrowning. That nibbled piece of cracker on the very edge of the riverthrew them all off in their reasoning. They took it for granted thatthe baby had fallen into the river at the place where they found thecracker. If he had done so, he would have been swept away instantly. Noone could look at the river and doubt that--therefore no one did doubtit. That a squaw should find him sitting down where he had fallen, twohundred yards above the town and in the edge of the thick timber,never entered their minds at all. That she should pick him up withthe intention at first of stopping his crying, and should yield to thetemptingness of him just as Bud had yielded, would have seemed to Alpinestill more unlikely; because no Indian had ever kidnapped a white childin that neighborhood. So much for the habit of thinking along groovesestablished by precedent
Marie went to Sacramento merely because that was the closest town of anysize, where she could wait for the news she dreaded to receive yet mustreceive before she could even begin to face her tragedy. She did notwant to find Bud now. She shrank from any thought of him. Only for him,she would still have her Lovin Child. Illogically she blamed Bud forwhat had happened. He had caused her one more great heartache, and shehoped never to see him again or to hear his name spoken.
Dully she settled down in a cheap, semi-private boarding house to wait.In a day or two she pulled herself together and went out to look forwork, because she must have money to live on. Go home to her mothershe would not. Nor did she write to her. There, too, her great hurthad flung some of the blame. If her mother had not interfered and foundfault all the time with Bud, they would be living together now--happy.It was her mother who had really brought about their separation. Hermother would nag at her now for going after Bud, would say that shedeserved to lose her baby as a punishment for letting go her pride andself-respect. No, she certainly did not want to see her mother, or anyone else she had ev
er known. Bud least of all.
She found work without much trouble, for she was neat and efficientlooking, of the type that seems to belong in a well-ordered office,behind a typewriter desk near a window where the sun shines in. Theplace did not require much concentration--a dentist's office, where herchief duties consisted of opening the daily budget of circulars, sendingout monthly bills, and telling pained-looking callers that the doctorwas out just then. Her salary just about paid her board, with a dollaror two left over for headache tablets and a vaudeville show now andthen. She did not need much spending money, for her evenings were spentmostly in crying over certain small garments and a canton-flannel dogcalled "Wooh-wooh."
For three months she stayed, too apathetic to seek a better position.Then the dentist's creditors became suddenly impatient, and the dentistcould not pay his office rent, much less his office girl. WhereforeMarie found herself looking for work again, just when spring was openingall the fruit blossoms and merchants were smilingly telling one anotherthat business was picking up.
Weinstock-Lubin's big department store gave her desk space in themail-order department. Marie's duty it was to open the mail, check upthe orders, and see that enough money was sent, and start the wheelsmoving to fill each order--to the satisfaction of the customer ifpossible.
At first the work worried her a little. But she became accustomed toit, and settled into the routine of passing the orders along the properchannels with as little individual thought given to each one as wascompatible with efficiency. She became acquainted with some of thegirls, and changed to a better boarding house. She still cried over thewooh-wooh and the little garments, but she did not cry so often, nor didshe buy so many headache tablets. She was learning the futility of griefand the wisdom of turning her back upon sorrow when she could. The sightof a two-year-old baby boy would still bring tears to her eyes, and shecould not sit through a picture show that had scenes of children andhappy married couples, but she fought the pain of it as a weakness whichshe must overcome. Her Lovin Child was gone; she had given up everythingbut the sweet, poignant memory of how pretty he had been and howendearing.
Then, one morning in early June, her practiced fingers were goingthrough the pile of mail orders and they singled out one that carriedthe postmark of Alpine. Marie bit her lips, but her fingers did notfalter in their task. Cheap table linen, cheap collars, cheap suits orcheap something-or-other was wanted, she had no doubt. She took out thepaper with the blue money order folded inside, speared the money orderon the hook with others, drew her order pad closer, and began to gothrough the list of articles wanted.
This was the list:--
XL 94, 3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr at 59c $1.77 XL 14 1 Buddy tucker suit 3 yr 2.00 KL 6 1 Bunny pumps infant 5 1.25 KL 54 1 Fat Ankle shoe infant 5 .98 HL 389 4 Rubens vests, 3 yr at 90c 2.70 SL 418 3 Pajamas 3 yr. at 59c 1.77 OL 823 1 Express wagon, 15x32 in. 4.25 -- $14.22
For which money order is enclosed. Please ship at once.
Very truly, R. E. MOORE, Alpine, Calif.
Mechanically she copied the order on a slip of paper which she put intoher pocket, left her desk and her work and the store, and hurried to herboarding house.
Not until she was in her own room with the door locked did she dare letherself think. She sat down with the copy spread open before her, herslim fingers pressing against her temples. Something amazing had beenrevealed to her--something so amazing that she could scarcely comprehendits full significance. Bud--never for a minute did she doubt that itwas Bud, for she knew his handwriting too well to be mistaken--Bud wassending for clothes for a baby boy!
"3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr--" it sounded, to the hungry mother soulof her, exactly like her Lovin Child. She could see so vividly justhow he would look in them. And the size--she certainly would buy thanthree-year size, if she were buying for Lovin Child. And the little"Buddy tucker" suit--that, too, sounded like Lovin Child. He must--Budcertainly must have him up there with him! Then Lovin Child was notdrowned at all, but alive and needing dig-in-the-muds.
"Bud's got him! Oh, Bud has got him, I know he's got him!" she whisperedover and over to herself in an ecstasy of hope. "My little Lovin Man!He's up there right now with his Daddy Bud--"
A vague anger stirred faintly, flared, died almost, flared again andburned steadily within her. Bud had her Lovin Child! How did he come tohave him, then, unless he stole him? Stole him away, and let her sufferall this while, believing her baby was dead in the river!
"You devil!" she muttered, gritting her teeth when that thought formedclearly in her mind. "Oh, you devil, you! If you think you can get awaywith a thing like that--You devil!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. THE CURE COMPLETE
In Nelson Flat the lupines were like spilled bluing in great, acre-wideblots upon the meadow grass. Between cabin and creek bank a little plothad been spaded and raked smooth, and already the peas and lettuce andradishes were up and growing as if they knew how short would be theseason, and meant to take advantage of every minute of the warm days.Here and there certain plants were lifting themselves all awry fromwhere they had been pressed flat by two small feet that had struttedheedlessly down the rows.
The cabin yard was clean, and the two small windows were curtained withcheap, white scrim. All before the door and on the path to the creeksmall footprints were scattered thick. It was these that Marie pulled upher hired saddle horse to study in hot resentment.
"The big brute!" she gritted, and got off and went to the cabin door,walking straight-backed and every mental and physical fiber of herbraced for the coming struggle. She even regretted not having a gun;rather, she wished that she was not more afraid of a gun than of anypossible need of one. She felt, at that minute, as though she couldshoot Bud Moore with no more compunction that she would feel in swattinga fly.
That the cabin was empty and unlocked only made her blood boil thehotter. She went in and looked around at the crude furnishings and thesmall personal belongings of those who lived there. She saw the tableall set ready for the next meal, with the extremely rustic high-chairthat had DYNAMITE painted boldly on the side of the box seat. Fastenedto a nail at one side of the box was a belt, evidently kept there forthe purpose of strapping a particularly wriggly young person intothe chair. That smacked strongly of Lovin Child, sure enough. Marieremembered the various devices by which she had kept him in his go cart.
She went closer and inspected the belt indignantly. Just as sheexpected--it was Bud's belt; his old belt that she bought for him justafter they were married. She supposed that box beside the queer highchair was where he would sit at table and stuff her baby with all kindsof things he shouldn't eat. Where was her baby? A fresh spasm of longingfor Lovin Child drove her from the cabin. Find him she would, and thatno matter how cunningly Bud had hidden him away.
On a rope stretched between a young cottonwood tree in full leaf anda scaly, red-barked cedar, clothes that had been washed were flappinglazily in the little breeze. Marie stopped and looked at them. A man'sshirt and drawers, two towels gray for want of bluing, a little shirtand a nightgown and pair of stockings--and, directly in front of Marie,a small pair of blue overalls trimmed with red bands, the blue showingwhite fiber where the color had been scrubbed out of the cloth, the twoknees flaunting patches sewed with long irregular stitches such as a manwould take.
Bud and Lovin Child. As in the cabin, so here she felt the individualityin their belongings. Last night she had been tormented with the fearthat there might be a wife as well as a baby boy in Bud's household.Even the evidence of the mail order, that held nothing for a woman andthat was written by Bud's hand, could scarcely reassure her. Now sheknew beyond all doubt that she had no woman to r
eckon with, and theknowledge brought relief of a sort.
She went up and touched the little overalls wistfully, laid her cheekagainst one little patch, ducked under the line, and followed a crookedlittle path that led up the creek. She forgot all about her horse,which looked after her as long as she was in sight, and then turned andtrotted back the way it had come, wondering, no doubt, at the foolishfaith this rider had in him.
The path led up along the side of the flat, through tall grass and allthe brilliant blossoms of a mountain meadow in June. Great, gracefulmountain lilies nodded from little shady tangles in the bushes.Harebells and lupines, wild-pea vines and columbines, tiny, gnome-facedpansies, violets, and the daintier flowering grasses lined the way withodorous loveliness. Birds called happily from the tree tops. Away upnext the clouds an eagle sailed serene, alone, a tiny boat breasting thecurrents of the sky ocean.
Marie's rage cooled a little on that walk. It was so beautiful for LovinChild, up here in this little valley among the snow-topped mountains;so sheltered. Yesterday's grind in that beehive of a department storeseemed more remote than South Africa. Unconsciously her first nervouspace slackened. She found herself taking long breaths of this clean air,sweetened with the scent of growing things. Why couldn't the world behappy, since it was so beautiful? It made her think of those three weeksin Big Basin, and the never-forgettable wonder of their love--hers andBud's.
She was crying with the pain and the beauty of it when she heard thefirst high, chirpy notes of a baby--her baby. Lovin Child was picketedto a young cedar near the mouth of the Blind ledge tunnel, and he wasthrowing rocks at a chipmunk that kept coming toward him in littlerushes, hoping with each rush to get a crumb of the bread and butterthat Lovin Child had flung down. Lovin Child was squealing andjabbering, with now and then a real word that he had learned from Budand Cash. Not particularly nice words--"Doggone" was one and severaltimes he called the chipmunk a "sunny-gun." And of course he frequentlyannounced that he would "Tell a worl'" something. His head was bare andshone in the sun like the gold for which Cash and his Daddy Bud weredigging, away back in the dark hole. He had on a pair of faded overallstrimmed with red, mates of the ones on the rope line, and he threw rocksimpartially with first his right hand and then his left, and sometimeswith both at once; which did not greatly distress the chipmunk, who knewLovin Child of old and had learned how wide the rocks always went oftheir mark.
Upon this scene Marie came, still crying. She had always been animpulsive young woman, and now she forgot that Lovin Child had not seenher for six months or so, and that baby memories are short. She rushedin and snatched him off the ground and kissed him and squeezed him andcried aloud upon her God and her baby, and buried her wet face againsthis fat little neck.
Cash, trundling a wheelbarrow of ore out to the tunnel's mouth, heard ahowl and broke into a run with his load, bursting out into the sunlightwith a clatter and upsetting the barrow ten feet short of the regulardumping place. Marie was frantically trying to untie the rope, andwas having trouble because Lovin Child was in one of his worstkicking-and-squirming tantrums. Cash rushed in and snatched the childfrom her.
"Here! What you doing to that kid? You're scaring him to death--andyou've got no right!"
"I have got a right! I have too got a right!" Marie was clawing like awildcat at Cash's grimy hands. "He's my baby! He's mine! You ought tobe hung for stealing him away from me. Let go--he's mine, I tell you.Lovin! Lovin Child! Don't you know Marie? Marie's sweet, pitty man, heis! Come to Marie, boy baby!"
"Tell a worl' no, no, no!" yelled Lovin Child, clinging to Cash.
"Aw--come to Marie, sweetheart! Marie's own lovin' little man baby! Youlet him go, or I'll--I'll kill you. You big brute!"
Cash let go, but it was not because she commanded. He let go and staredhard at Marie, lifting his eyebrows comically as he stepped back, hishand going unconsciously up to smooth his beard.
"Marie?" he repeated stupidly. "Marie?" He reached out and laid a handcompellingly on her shoulder. "Ain't your name Marie Markham, younglady? Don't you know your own dad?"
Marie lifted her face from kissing Lovin Child very much against hiswill, and stared round-eyed at Cash. She did not say anything.
"You're my Marie, all right You ain't changed so much I can't recognizeyuh. I should think you'd remember your own father--but I guess maybethe beard kinda changes my looks. Is this true, that this kid belongs toyou?"
Marie gasped. "Why--father? Why--why, father!" She leaned herself andLovin Child into his arms. "Why, I can't believe it! Why--" She closedher eyes and shivered, going suddenly weak, and relaxed in his arms."I-I-I can't--"
Cash slid Lovin Child to the ground, where that young gentleman pickedhimself up indignantly and ran as far as his picket rope would let him,whereupon he turned and screamed "Sunny-gun! sunny-gun!" at the two likean enraged bluejay. Cash did not pay any attention to him. He was busyseeking out a soft, shady spot that was free of rocks, where he mightlay Marie down. He leaned over her and fanned her violently with hishat, his lips and his eyebrows working with the complexity of hisemotions. Then suddenly he turned and ducked into the tunnel, after Bud.
Bud heard him coming and turned from his work. Cash was not trundlingthe empty barrow, which in itself was proof enough that something hadhappened, even if Cash had not been running. Bud dropped his pick andstarted on a run to meet him.
"What's wrong? Is the kid--?"
"Kid's all right" Cash stopped abruptly, blocking Bud's way. "It'ssomething else. Bud, his mother's come after him. She's out therenow--laid out in a faint."
"Lemme go." Bud's voice had a grimness in it that spelled trouble forthe lady laid out in a faint "She can be his mother a thousand times--"
"Yeah. Hold on a minute, Bud. You ain't going out there and raise nohell with that poor girl. Lovins belongs to her, and she's going to havehim.... Now, just keep your shirt on a second. I've got something moreto say. He's her kid, and she wants him back, and she's going to havehim back. If you git him away from her, it'll be over my carcass. Now,now, hold on! H-o-l-d on! You're goin' up against Cash Markham now,remember! That girl is my girl! My girl that I ain't seen since she wasa kid in short dresses. It's her father you've got to deal with now--herfather and the kid's grandfather. You get that? You be reasonable, Bud,and there won't be no trouble at all. But my girl ain't goin' to berobbed of her baby--not whilst I'm around. You get that settled in yourmind before you go out there, or--you don't go out whilst I'm here tostop you."
"You go to hell," Bud stated evenly, and thrust Cash aside with onesweep of his arm, and went down the tunnel. Cash, his eyebrows liftedwith worry and alarm, was at his heels all the way.
"Now, Bud, be calm!" he adjured as he ran. "Don't go and make a dangfool of yourself! She's my girl, remember. You want to hold on toyourself, Bud, and be reasonable. Don't go and let your temper--"
"Shut your damn mouth!" Bud commanded him savagely, and went on running.
At the tunnel mouth he stopped and blinked, blinded for a moment by thestrong sunlight in his face. Cash stumbled and lost ten seconds or so,picking himself up. Behind him Bud heard Cash panting, "Now, Bud, don'tgo and make--a dang fool--" Bud snorted contemptuously and leaped thedirt pile, landing close to Marie, who was just then raising herselfdizzily to an elbow.
"Now, Bud," Cash called tardily when he had caught up with him, "youleave that girl alone! Don't you lay a finger on her! That's my--"
Bud lifted his lips away from Marie's and spoke over his shoulder, hisarms tightening in their hold upon Marie's trembling, yielding body.
"Shut up, Cash. She's my wife--now where do you get off at?"
(That, o course, lacked a little of being the exact truth. Lacked a fewhours, in fact, because they did not reach Alpine and the railroaduntil that afternoon, and were not remarried until seven o'clock thatevening.)
"No, no, no!" cried Lovin Child from a safe distance. "Tell a worl' no,no!"
"I'll tell the world yes, yes!" Bud retorted ecstatical
ly, lifting hisface again. "Come here, you little scallywag, and love your mamma Marie.Cash, you old donkey, don't you get it yet? We've got 'em both forkeeps, you and me."
"Yeah--I get it, all right." Cash came and stood awkwardly over them. "Iget it--found my girl one minute, and lost her again the next! But I'lltell yeh one thing, Bud Moore. The kid's' goin' to call me grampaw, erI'll know the reason why!"