Lonesome Land

  CHAPTER XIV. A WEDDING PRESENT

  Sunday it was, and Val had insisted stubbornly upon going back to theranch; somewhat to her surprise, if one might judge by her face, ArlineHawley no longer demurred, but put up lunch enough for a week almost, andannounced that she was going along. Hank would have to drive out, to bringback the team, and she said she needed a rest, after all the work and worryof that dance. Manley, upon whose account it was that Val was so anxious,seemed to have nothing whatever to say about it. He was sullenlyacquiescent--as was perhaps to be expected of a man who had slipped intohis old habits and despised himself for doing so, and almost hated his wifebecause she had discovered it and said nothing. Val was thankful, duringthat long, bleak ride over the prairie, for Arline's incessant chatter. Itwas better than silence, when the silence means bitter thoughts.

  "Now," said Arline, moving excitedly in her seat when they neared ColdSpring Coulee, "maybe I better tell you that the folks round here has kindaplanned a little su'prise for you. They don't make much of a showin' aboutbein' neighborly--not when things go smooth--but they're right there whentrouble comes. It's jest a little weddin' present--and if it comes kindalate in the day, why, you don't want to mind that. My dance that I gave wasa weddin' party, too, if you care to call it that. Anyway, it was to raisethe money to pay for our present, as far as it went--and I want to tell youright now, Val, that you was sure the queen of the ball; everybody said youlooked jest like a queen in a picture, and I never heard a word ag'instyour low-neck dress. It looked all right on _you_, don't you see? On me,for instance, it woulda been something fierce. And I'm real glad you took ahold and danced like you did, and never passed nobody up, like some wouldadone. You'll be glad you did, now you know what it was for. Even dancedwith Polycarp Jenks--and there ain't hardly any woman but what'll turn_him_ down; I'll bet he tromped all over your toes, didn't he?"

  "Sometimes," Val admitted. "What about the surprise you were speaking of,Mrs. Hawley?"

  "It does seem as if you might call me Arline," she complained irrelevantly."We're comin' to that--don't you worry."

  "Is it--a piano?"

  "My lands, no! You don't need a fiddle and a piano both, do you? Man,what'd you rather have for a weddin' present?"

  Manley, upon the front seat beside Hank, gave his shoulders an impatienttwitch. "Fifty thousand dollars," he replied glumly.

  "I'm glad you're real modest about it," Arline retorted sharply. She wasbeginning to tell herself quite frequently that she "didn't have no timefor Man Fleetwood, seeing he wouldn't brace up and quit drinkin."

  Val's lips curled as she looked at Manley's back. "What I should like," shesaid distinctly, "is a great, big pile of wood, all cut and ready for thestove, and water pails that never would go empty. It's astonishing howone's desires eventually narrow down to bare essentials, isn't it? But aswe near the place, I find those two things more desirable than a piano!"Then she bit her lip angrily because she had permitted herself to give thethrust.

  "Why, you poor thing! Man Fleetwood, do you--"

  Val impulsively caught her by the arm. "Oh, hush! I was only joking," shesaid hastily. "I was trying to balance Manley's wish for fifty thousanddollars, don't you see? It was stupid of me, I know." She laughedunconvincingly. "Let me guess what the surprise is. First, is it large orsmall?"

  "Kinda big," tittered Arline, falling into the spirit of the joke.

  "Bigger than a--wait, now. A sewing machine?"

  Arline covered her mouth with her hand and nodded dumbly.

  "You say all the neighbors gave it and the dance helped pay for it--let mesee. Could it possibly be--what in the world could it be? Manley, help meguess! Is it something useful, or just something nice?"

  "Useful," said Arline, and snapped her jaws together as if she feared tolet another word loose.

  "Larger than a sewing machine, and useful." Val puckered her brows over thepuzzle. "And all the neighbors gave it. Do you know, I've been thinking allsorts of nasty things about our poor neighbors, because they refused tosell Manley any hay. And all the while they were planning this sur--" Shenever finished that sentence, or the word, even.

  With a jolt over a rock, and a sharp turn to the right, Hank had broughtthem to the very brow of the hill, where they could look down into thecoulee, and upon the house standing in its tiny, unkempt yard, just beyondthe sparse growth of bushes which marked the spring creek. Involuntarilyevery head turned that way, and every pair of eyes looked downward. Hankchirped to the horses, threw all his weight upon the brake, and theyrattled down the grade, the brake block squealing against the rear wheels.They were half-way down before any one spoke. It was Val, and she almostwhispered one word:

  "Manley!"

  Arline's eyes were wet, and there was a croak in her voice when she criedjubilantly: "Well, ain't that better 'n a sewin' machine--or a piano?"

  But Val did not attempt an answer. She was staring--staring as if she couldnot convince herself of the reality. Even Manley was jarred out of hisgloomy meditations, and half rose in the seat that he might see over Hank'sshoulder.

  "That's what your neighbors have done," Arline began eagerly, "and theynearly busted tryin' to git through in time, and to keep it a dead secret.They worked like whiteheads, lemme tell you, and never even stopped for thestorm. The night of the dance I heard all about how they had to hurry. AndI guess Kent's there an' got a fire started, like I told him to. I wasafraid it might be colder'n what it is. I asked him if he wouldn't rideover an' warm up the house t'day--and I see there's a smoke, all right."She looked at Manley, and then turned to Val. "Well, ain't you goin' to sayanything? You dumb, both of you?"

  Val took a deep breath. "We should be dumb," she said contritely. "Weshould go down on our knees and beg their pardon and yours--I especially. Ithink I've never in my life felt quite so humbled--so overwhelmed with thegoodness of my fellows, and my own unworthiness. I--I can't put it intowords--all the resentment I have felt against the country and the people init--as if--oh, tell them all how I want them to forgive me for--for the wayI have felt. And--_Arline_--"

  "There, now--I didn't bargain for you to make it so serious," Arlineexpostulated, herself near to crying. "It ain't nothing much--us folksbelieve in helpin' when help's needed, that's all. For Heaven's sake, don'tgo 'n' cry about it!"

  Hank pulled up at the gate with a loud _whoa_ and a grip of the brake. Fromthe kitchen stovepipe a blue ribbon of smoke waved high in the clear air.Kent appeared, grinning amiably, in the doorway, but Val was lookingbeyond, and scarcely saw him--beyond, where stood a new stable upon theashes of the old; a new corral, the posts standing solidly in the holes dugfor those burned away; a new haystack--when hay was almost priceless! Afew chickens wandered about near the stable, and Val recognized them asArline's prized Plymouth Rocks. Small wonder that she and Manley werestunned to silence. Manley still looked as if some one had dealt him anunexpected blow in the face. Val was white and wide-eyed.

  Together they walked out to the stable. When they stopped, she put her handtimidly upon his aim. "Dear," she said softly, "there is only one way tothank them for this, and that is to be the very best it is in us to be. Wewill, won't we? We--we haven't been our best, but we'll start in right now.Shall we, Manley?"

  Manley looked down at her for a moment, saying nothing.

  "Shall we, Manley? Let us start now, and try again. Let's play the fireburned up our old selves, and we're all new, and strong--shall we? And wewon't feel any resentment for what is past, but we'll work together, andthink together, and talk together, without any hidden thing we can'tdiscuss freely. Please, Manley!"

  He knew what she meant, well enough. For the last two days he had beendrinking again. On the night of the dance he had barely kept within thelimit of decent behavior. He had read Val's complete understanding and herdisgust the morning after--and since then they had barely spoken exceptwhen speech was necessary. Oh, he knew what she meant! He stood for anotherminute, and she let go his arm and stood apart, watching his face
.

  A good deal depended upon the next minute, and they both knew it, andhardly breathed. His hand went slowly into a deep pocket of his overcoat,his fingers closed over something, and drew it reluctantly to the light.Shamefaced, he held it up for her to see--a flat bottle of generous size,full to within a inch of the cork with a pale, yellow liquid.

  "There--take it, and break it into a million pieces," he said huskily."I'll try again."

  Her yellow-brown eyes darkened perceptibly. "Manley Fleetwood, _you_ mustthrow it away. This is your fight--be a man and _fight_."

  "Well--there! May God damn me forever if I touch liquor again! I'm throughwith the stuff for keeps!" He held the bottle high, without looking at it,and sent it crashing against the stable door.

  "Manley!" She stopped her ears, aghast at his words, but for all that hereyes were ashine. She went up to him and put her arms around him. "Nowwe can start all over again," she said. "We'll count our lives from thisminute, dear, and we'll keep them clean and happy. Oh, I'm so glad! So gladand so proud, dear!"

  Kent had got half-way down the path from the house; he stopped when Manleythrew the bottle, and waited. Now he turned abruptly and retraced hissteps, and he did not look particularly happy, though he had been smilingwhen he left the kitchen.

  Arline turned from the window as he entered.

  "Looks like Man has swore off ag'in," she observed dryly. "Well, let's hope'n' pray he stays swore off."