The Bondboy

  CHAPTER V

  THE SECRET OF THE CLOVER

  Until the time he had entered Isom Chase's house, temptation never hadcome near Joe Newbolt. He never had kissed a maiden; he never had feltthe quickening elixir of a soft breast pressed against his own. And soit fell that the sudden conception of what he had unwittingly come to,bore on him with a weight which his sensitive and upright mind magnifiedinto an enormous and crushing shame. While his intention could beararraignment and come away with acquittal, the fact that he had beenperverted enough in the grain, as he looked at it, to drift unknowinglyinto love with another man's wife, galled him until his spirit groaned.

  Isom did not return that evening; the conclusion of his household wasthat he had been chosen on a jury. They discussed it at supper, Ollienervously gay, Morgan full of raucous laughter, Joe sober and grudgingof his words.

  Joe never had borne much of a hand at the table-talk since Morgan came,and before his advent there was none to speak of, so his taciturnitythat evening passed without a second thought in the minds of Ollie andher guest. They had words enough for a house full of people, thoughtJoe, as he saw that for every word from the lips they sent two speedingfrom their eyes. That had become a language to which he had found theRosetta Stone; it was as plain to him now as Roman text.

  Perhaps Morgan regarded her with an affection as sincere as his own. Hedid not know; but he felt that it could not be as blameless, for if Joehad desired her in the uninterpreted passion of his full young heart, hehad brought himself up to sudden judgment before the tribunal of hisconscience. It would go no farther. He had put his moral foot down andsmothered his unholy desire, as he would have stamped out a flame.

  It seemed to Joe that there was something in Morgan's eyes whichbetrayed his heart. Little gleams of his underlying purpose which hislevity masked, struck Joe from time to time, setting his wits on guard.Morgan must be watched, like a cat within leaping distance of anunfledged bird. Joe set himself the task of watching, determined thenand there that Morgan should not have one dangerous hour alone withOllie again until Isom came back and lifted the responsibility of hiswife's safety from his shoulders.

  For a while after supper that night Joe sat on the bench beside thekitchen door, the grape-vine rustling over his head, watching Ollie asshe went to and fro about her work of clearing away. Morgan was in thedoor, his back against the jamb, leisurely smoking his pipe. Once in awhile a snoring beetle passed in above his head to join his fellowsaround the lamp. As each recruit to the blundering company arrived,Morgan slapped at him as he passed, making Ollie laugh. On the low,splotched ceiling of the kitchen the flies shifted and buzzed, changingdrowsily from place to place.

  "Isom ought to put screens on the windows and doors," said Morgan,looking up at the flies.

  "Mosquito bar, you mean?" asked Ollie, throwing him a smile over hershoulder as she passed.

  "No, I mean wire-screens, everybody's gettin' 'em in now; I've beenthinkin' of takin' 'em on as a side-line."

  "It'll be a cold day in July when Isom spends any money just to keep_flies_ out of his house!" said she.

  Morgan laughed.

  "Maybe if a person could show him that they eat up a lot of stuff he'dcome around to it," Morgan said.

  "Maybe," said Ollie, and both of them had their laugh again.

  Joe moved on the bench, making it creak, an uneasy feeling coming overhim. Close as Isom was, and hard-handed and mean, Joe felt that therewas a certain indelicacy in his wife's discussion of his traits with astranger.

  Ollie had cleared away the dishes, washed them and placed them in thecupboard, on top of which the one clock of that household stood,scar-faced, but hoarse-voiced when it struck, and strong as thechallenge of an old cock. Already it had struck nine, for they had beenlate in coming to supper, owing to Joe's long set-to with his conscienceat the edge of the hazel-copse in the woods.

  Joe got up, stretching his arms, yawning.

  "Goin' to bed, heh?" asked Morgan.

  "No, I don't seem to feel sleepy tonight," Joe replied.

  He went into the kitchen and sat at the table, his elbows on the board,his head in his hands, as if turning over some difficult problem in hismind. Presently he fell to raking his shaggy hair with his long fingers;in a moment it was as disorderly as the swaths of clover hay lying outin the moonlight in the little stone-set field.

  Morgan had filled his pipe, and was after a match at the box behind thestove, with the familiarity of a household inmate. He winked at Ollie,who was then pulling down her sleeves, her long day's work being done.

  "Well, do you think you'll be elected?" he asked, lounging across toJoe, his hands in his pockets.

  Morgan wore a shirt as gay-striped as a Persian tent, and he had removedhis coat so the world, or such of it as was present in the kitchen,might behold it and admire. Joe withdrew his hands from his forelock andlooked at Morgan curiously. The lad's eyes were sleep-heavy and red, andhe was almost as dull-looking, perhaps, as Morgan imagined him to be.

  "What did you say?" he asked.

  "I asked you if you thought you'd be elected this fall," repeatedMorgan, in mock seriousness.

  "I don't know what you mean," said Joe, turning from him indifferently.

  "Why, ain't you runnin' for President on the squash-vine ticket?" askedMorgan. "I heard you was the can'idate."

  Joe got up from the table and moved his chair away with his foot. As hewas thus occupied he saw Ollie's shadow on the wall repeat a gesture ofcaution which she made to Morgan, a lifting of the hand, a shaking ofthe head. Even the shadow betrayed the intimate understanding betweenthem. Joe went over and stood in the door.

  "No use for you to try to be a fool, Morgan; that's been attended to foryou already," said he.

  There wasn't much heart in Morgan's laugh, but it would pass for one onaccount of the volume of sound.

  "Oh, let a feller have his joke, won't you, Joe?" said he.

  "Go ahead," granted Joe, leaning his shoulder against the jamb, facingout toward the dark.

  Morgan went over and put his hand on the great lad's shoulder, with ashow of friendly condescension.

  "What would the world be without its jokes?" he asked. And then, beforeanybody could answer: "It'd be like home without a mother."

  Joe faced him, a slow grin spreading back to his ears.

  "Or a ready-reckoner," said he.

  Morgan's laugh that time was unfeigned.

  "Joe, you've missed your callin'," said he. "You've got no businessfoolin' away your time on a farm. With that solemn, long-hungry look ofyours you ought to be sellin' consumption cure and ringbone ointmentfrom the end of a wagon on the square in Kansas City."

  "Or books, maybe," suggested Joe.

  "No-o-o," said Morgan thoughtfully, "I wouldn't just say you're up tothe level of books. But you might rise even to books if you'd cultivateyour mind and brain. Well, I think I'll fly up to roost. I've got totake an early start in the morning and clean up on this neck of thewoods tomorrow. Good night, folks."

  "I don't suppose Isom'll be home tonight," Ollie ventured, as Morgan'sfeet sounded on the stairs.

  "No, I guess not," Joe agreed, staring thoughtfully at the black oblongof the door.

  "If he does come, I don't suppose it'll hurt him to eat something cold,"she said.

  "I'll wait up a while longer. If he comes I can warm up the coffee forhim," Joe offered.

  "Then I'll go to bed, too," she yawned wearily.

  "Yes, you'd better go," said he.

  Ollie's room, which was Isom's also when he was there, was in the frontof the house, upstairs. Joe heard her feet along the hall, and her doorclose after her. Morgan was still tramping about in the room next toJoe's, where he slept. It was the best room in the house, better thanthe one shared by Isom and his wife, and in the end of the houseopposite to it. Joe sat quietly at the table until Morgan's complainingbed-springs told him that the guest had retired. Then he mounted thenarrow kitchen stairs to his own chamber.

>   Joe sat on the edge of his bed and pulled off his boots, dropping themnoisily on the floor. Then, with shirt and trousers on, he drew thequilt from his bed, took his pillow under his arm, and opened the doorinto the hall which divided the house from end to end.

  The moon was shining in through the double window in the end towardOllie's room; it lay on the white floor, almost as bright as the sun.Within five feet of that splash of moonlight Joe spread his quilt. Therehe set his pillow and stretched his long body diagonally across thenarrow hall, blocking it like a gate.

  Joe roused Morgan next morning at dawn, and busied himself with making afire in the kitchen stove and bringing water from the well until theguest came down to feed his horse. Morgan was in a crusty humor. He hadvery little to say, and Joe did not feel that the world was any poorerfor his silence.

  "This will be my last meal with you," announced Morgan at breakfast."I'll not be back tonight."

  Ollie was paler than usual, Joe noticed, and a cloud of dejection seemedto have settled over her during the night. She did not appear to begreatly interested in Morgan's statement, although she looked up fromher breakfast with a little show of friendly politeness. Joe thoughtthat she did not seem to care for the agent; the tightness in his breastwas suddenly and gratefully eased.

  "You haven't finished out your week, there'll be something coming to youon what you've paid in advance," said she.

  "Let that go," said Morgan, obliterating all claim with a sweep of hishand.

  "I think you'd better take back what's coming to you," suggested Joe.

  Morgan turned to him with stiff severity.

  "Are you the watch-dog of the old man's treasury?" he sneered.

  "Maybe I am, for a day or two," returned Joe, "and if you step on meI'll bite."

  He leveled his steady gray eyes at Morgan's shifting orbs, and held themthere as if to drive in some hidden import of his words. Morgan seemedto understand. He colored, laughed shortly, and busied himself butteringa griddle-cake.

  Ollie, pale and silent, had not looked up during this by-passage betweenthe two men. Her manner was of one who expected something, which shedreaded and feared to face.

  Morgan took the road early. Joe saw him go with a feeling of relief. Hefelt like a swollen barrel which had burst its close-binding hoops, hethought, as he went back to the place where he dropped his scytheyesterday.

  As he worked through the long morning hours Joe struggled to adjusthimself to the new conditions, resulting from the discovery of his ownenlargement and understanding. It would be a harder matter now to go onliving there with Ollie. Each day would be a trial by fire, the weeksand months a lengthening highway strewn with the embers of his ownsmoldering passion. Something might happen, almost any day, youth andyouth together, galled by the same hand of oppression, that wouldoverturn his peace forever. Yet, he could not leave. The bond of hismother's making, stamped with the seal of the law, held him captivethere.

  At length, after spending a harrowing morning over it, he reached thedetermination to stand up to it like a man, and serve Isom as long as hecould do so without treason. When the day came that his spirit weakenedand his continence failed, he would throw down the burden and desert.That he would do, even though his mother's hopes must fall and his owndreams of redeeming the place of his birth, to which he was attached bya sentiment almost poetic, must dissolve like vapor in the sun.

  It was mid-afternoon when Joe finished his mowing and stood casting hiseyes up to the sky for signs of rain. There being none, he concludedthat it would be safe to allow yesterday's cutting to lie another nightin the field while he put in the remainder of the day with his scythe inthe lower orchard plot, where the clover grew rank among the trees.

  Satisfied that he had made a showing thus far with which Isom could findno fault, Joe tucked the snath of his scythe under his arm and set outfor that part of the orchard which lay beyond the hill, out of sight ofthe barn and house, and from that reason called the "lower orchard" byIsom, who had planted it with his own hand more than thirty years ago.

  There noble wine-sap stretched out mighty arms to fondle willow-twigacross the shady aisles, and maidenblush rubbed cheeks with Spitzenberg,all reddening in the sun. Under many of the trees the ground was as bareas if fire had devastated it, for the sun never fell through thoseclose-woven branches from May to October, and there no clover grew. Butin the open spaces between the rows it sprang rank and tall, troublesometo cut with a mower because of the low-swinging, fruit-weighted limbs.

  Joe waded into this paradise of fruit and clover bloom, dark leaf andstraining bough, stooping now and then to pick up a fallen apple and tryits mellowness with his thumb. They were all hard, and fit only forcider yet, but their rich colors beguiled the eye into betrayal of thepalate. Joe fixed his choice upon a golden willow-twig. As he stoodrubbing the apple on his sleeve, his eye running over the task ahead ofhim in a rough estimate of the time it would require to clean up theclover, he started at sight of a white object dangling from a bough afew rods ahead of him. His attention curiously held, he went forward toinvestigate, when a little start of wind swung the object out from thelimb and he saw that it was a woman's sun-bonnet, hanging basket-wise byits broad strings. There was no question whose it was; he had seen thesame bonnet hanging in the kitchen not three hours before, fresh fromthe ironing board.

  Joe dropped his apple unbitten, and strode forward, puzzled a bit overthe circumstance. He wondered what had brought Ollie down there, andwhere she was then. She never came to that part of the orchard to gatherwind-falls for the pigs--she was not gathering them at all during Isom'sabsence, he had relieved her of that--and there was nothing else to callher away from the house at that time of the day.

  The lush clover struck him mid-thigh, progress through it was difficult.Joe lifted his feet like an Indian, toes turned in a bit, and thismethod of walking made it appear as if he stalked something, for hemoved without noise.

  He had dropped his scythe with the apple, his eyes held Ollie's swingingbonnet as he approached it as if it were some rare bird which he hopedto steal upon and take. Thus coming on, with high-lifted feet, hisbreath short from excitement, Joe was within ten yards of the bonnetwhen a voice sounded behind the intervening screen of clover andboughs.

  Joe dropped in his tracks, as if ham-strung, crouched in the clover,pressed his hands to his mouth to stifle the groan that rose to hislips. It was Morgan's voice. He had come sneaking back while thewatch-dog was off guard, secure in the belief that he had gone away. AsJoe crouched there hidden in the clover, trembling and cold with anger,Morgan's voice rose in a laugh.

  "Well, I wouldn't have given him credit for that much sense if I hadn'tseen him with my own eyes," said he.

  "He's smarter than he looks," said Ollie, their voices distinct in Joe'sshamed ears, for it was as quiet in the orchard as on the first day.

  They both laughed over what she said.

  "He thinks I'm gone, he'll go to bed early tonight," said Morgan. "Don'tbother about bringing anything with you."

  "Not even my diamonds?" she laughed.

  Morgan's gruffer mirth joined her, and Joe found himself straining tohear, although he despised himself for spying and eavesdropping, even onguilt.

  "We can get on without the diamonds," said Morgan, "and I don't supposeyou've got any ball dresses or sealskin cloaks?"

  "Three calico wrappers that he's bought me, and a dress or two that Ihad when I came," said Ollie, bitterly.

  "You'll have all you want in a day or two, honey," said Morgan, incomforting voice.

  They were silent a while; then Joe heard her ask the time. Morgan toldher it was half-past four.

  "Oh, I had no idea it was that late--time goes so fast when I'm withyou! I must go back to the house now, Joe might come in and find megone."

  "Yes, I'd like to wring his damned neck!" said Morgan.

  "He's a good boy, Curtis," she defended, but with lightness, "but he's alittle----"

  She held her words back
coquettishly.

  "Heh?" queried Morgan.

  "Jealous, you old goose! Can't you see it?"

  Morgan had a great laugh over that. From the sound of his voice Joe knewthat he was standing, and his whole body ached with the fear that theywould discover him lying there in the clover. Not that he was afraid ofMorgan, but that he dreaded the humiliation which Ollie must suffer inknowing that her guilty tryst had been discovered.

  "I'll meet you at the gate, I'll have the buggy on down the road alittle ways," Morgan told her. "There's only a little while between youand liberty now, sweetheart."

  Joe dared not look up nor move, but he needed no eyes to know thatMorgan kissed her then. After that he heard her running away toward thehouse. Morgan stood there a little while, whistling softly. Soon Joeheard him going in the direction of the road.

  Morgan was quite a distance ahead when Joe sprang out of his concealmentand followed him, for he wanted to give Ollie time to pass beyondear-shot of the orchard. As Joe made no attempt to smother the sound ofhis feet, Morgan heard him while he was still several yards behind him.He turned, stopped, and waited for Joe to come up.

  Joe's agitation was plain in his face, his shocked eyes stared out ofits pallor as if they had looked upon violence and death.

  "What's the matter, kid?" inquired Morgan carelessly.

  "I've got something to say to you," answered Joe thickly. He waspanting, more from rage than exertion; his hands trembled.

  Morgan looked him over from boots to bandless hat with the same evidenceof curiosity as a person displays when turning some washed-up objectwith the foot on the sands. It was as if he had but an abstract interestin the youth, a feeling which the incident had obtruded upon him withoutpenetrating the reserve of his private cogitations.

  "Kid, you look like you'd seen a snake," said he.

  "You let that woman alone--you've got to let her alone, I tell you!"said Joe with explosive suddenness, his passion out of hand.

  Morgan's face grew red.

  "Mind your own business, you sneakin' skunk!" said he.

  "I am minding it," said Joe; "but maybe not as well as I ought to 'a'done. Isom left me here in his place to watch and look after things, butyou've sneaked in under my arm like a dirty, thieving dog, andyou've--you've----"

  Morgan thrust his fist before Joe's face.

  "That'll do now--that'll do out of you!" he threatened.

  Joe caught Morgan's wrist with a quick, snapping movement, and slowlybent the threatening arm down, Morgan struggling, foot to foot with himin the test of strength. Joe held the captured arm down for a moment,and they stood breast to breast, glaring into each other's eyes. Thenwith a wrench that spun Morgan half round and made him stagger, Joeflung his arm free.

  "Now, you keep away from here--keep away!" he warned, his voice growingthin and boyish in the height of his emotion, as if it would break inthe treble shallows.

  "Don't fool with me or I'll hurt you," said Morgan. "Keep yournose----"

  "Let her alone!" commanded Joe sternly, his voice sinking again evenbelow its accustomed level, gruff and deep in his chest. "I heard you--Ididn't mean to, but I couldn't help it--and I know what you're up totonight. Don't come around here tonight after her, for I'm not going tolet her go."

  "Ya-a, you pup, you pup!" said Morgan nastily.

  "It's a hard life for her here--I know that better than you do," saidJoe, passing over the insult, "but you can't give her any better--not asgood. What you've done can't be undone now, but I can keep you fromdragging her down any further. Don't you come back here tonight!"

  "If you keep your fingers out of the fire," said Morgan, looking at theground, rolling a fallen apple with his toe, "you'll not get scorched.You stick to your knittin' and don't meddle with mine. That'll be aboutthe healthiest thing you can do!"

  "If Isom knew what you've done he'd kill you--if he's even half a man,"said Joe. "She was a good woman till you came, you hound!"

  "She's a good woman yet," said Morgan, with some feeling, "too good forthat old hell-dog she's married to!"

  "Then let her stay good--at least as good as she is," advised Joe.

  "Oh, hell!" said Morgan disgustedly.

  "You can't have her," persisted Joe.

  "We'll see about that, too," said Morgan, his manner and voicethreatening. "What're you goin' to do--pole off and tell the old man?"

  "I'll do what Isom left me here to do, the rest of the time he's away,"said Joe. "Ollie shan't leave the house tonight."

  "Yes, you flat-bellied shad, you want her yourself--you're stuck on heryourself, you fool! Yes, and you've got just about as much show ofgittin' her as I have of jumpin' over that tree!" derided Morgan.

  "No matter what I think of her, good or bad, she'd be safe with me," Joetold him, searching his face accusingly.

  "Yes, of course she would!" scoffed Morgan. "You're one of these saintsthat'll live all your life by a punkin and never poke it with yourfinger. Oh, yes, I know your kind!"

  "I'm not going to quarrel with you, Morgan, unless you make me," saidJoe; "but you've got the wrong end of the stick. I don't want her, notthe way you do, anyhow."

  Morgan looked at him closely, then put out his hand with a gesture ofconciliation.

  "I'll take that back, Joe," said he. "You're not that kind of a kid. Youmean well, but you don't understand. Look-a here, let me tell you, Joe:I love that little woman, kid, just as honest and true as any man couldlove her, and she thinks the world and all of me. I only want to takeher away from here because I love her and want to make her happy. Don'tyou see it, kid?"

  "How would you do that? You couldn't marry her."

  "Not for a while, of course," admitted Morgan. "But the old possum he'dget a divorce in a little while."

  "Well, I'm not going to let her go," Joe declared, turning away as ifthat settled the matter for good and all. "You've done--I could kill youfor what you've done!" said he, with sudden vehemence.

  Morgan looked at him curiously, his careless face softening.

  "Now, see here, don't you look at it that way, Joe," he argued. "I'm notso bad; neither is Ollie. You'll understand these matters better whenyou're older and know more about the way men feel. She wanted love, andI gave her love. She's been worked to rags and bones by that old devil;and what I've done, and what I want to do, is in kindness, Joe. I'lltake her away from here and provide for her like she was a queen, I'llgive her the love and comradeship of a young man and make her happy,Joe. Don't you see?"

  "But you can't make her respectable," said Joe. "I'm not going to lether leave with you, or go to you. If she wants to go after Isom comesback, then let her. But not before. Now, you'd better go on away,Morgan, before I lose my temper. I was mad when I started after you, butI've cooled down. Don't roil me up again. Go on your way, and leave thatwoman alone."

  "Joe, you're a man in everything but sense," said Morgan, not unkindly,"and I reckon if you and I was to clinch we'd raise a purty big dust andmuss things around a right smart. And I don't know who'd come out on topat the finish, neither. So I don't want to have any trouble with you.All I ask of you is step to one side and leave us two alone in whatwe've started to do and got all planned to carry out. Go to bed tonightand go to sleep. You're not supposed to know that anything's due tohappen, and if you sleep sound you'll find a twenty-dollar bill underyour hat in the morning."

  The suggestion brought a blush to Joe's face. He set his lips as iffighting down hot words before he spoke.

  "If I have to tie her I'll do it," said Joe earnestly. "She shan'tleave. And if I have to take down that old gun from the kitchen wall tokeep you away from here till Isom comes home, I'll take it down. You cancome to the gate tonight if you want to, but if you do----"

  Joe looked him straight in the eyes. Morgan's face lost its color. Heturned as if to see that his horse was still standing, and stood thatway a little while.

  "I guess I'll drive on off, Joe," said Morgan with a sigh, as if he hadreached the conclusion after a long
consideration.

  "All right," said Joe.

  "No hard feelin's left behind me?" facing Joe again with his old,self-assured smile. He offered his hand, but Joe did not take it.

  "As long as you never come back," said Joe.

  Morgan walked to the fence, his head bent, thoughtfully. Joe followed,as if to satisfy himself that the wily agent was not going to work somesubterfuge, having small faith in his promise to leave, much less in theprobability that he would stay away.

  Joe stood at the fence, looking after Morgan, long after the dust of hiswheels had settled again to the road. At last he went back to the placewhere he had dropped his scythe, and cut a swath straight through to thetree where Ollie's bonnet had hung. And there he mowed the trampledclover, and obliterated her footprints with his own.

  The weight of his discovery was like some dead thing on his breast. Hefelt that Ollie had fallen from the high heaven of his regard, never tomount to her place again. But Isom did not know of this bitter thing,this shameful shadow at his door. As far as it rested with him to holdthe secret in his heart, poison though it was to him, Isom should neverknow.