CHAPTER VII
CHIVALROUS; AND OF ABUNDANT MEANS
Around the Two Forks Valley the snow still lay white and clean upon thepeaks, but the feet of the mountains were bathed in a rising flood ofgreen. On the bottom lands the grasses began to start, the willowsrenewed their leafery. On the pools of the limpid stream the troutleft wrinkles and circles at midday now, as they rose to feed upon theinsects swarming in the warmth of the oncoming sun.
On this particular morning Wid Gardner turned down the practicallyuntrod lane along Sim's wire fence. Now and again he glanced atsomething which he held in his hand.
When he entered Sim Gage's gate, the ancient mule, his head out of thestable window, welcomed him, braying his discontent. Here lay theragged wood pile, showing the ax work of a winter. At the edge of agnawed hay stack stood the remnant of Sim's scant cattle herd, not halfof which had "wintered through."
No smoke was rising from Sim Gage's chimney. "Feller's hopeless,that's what," complained Wid Gardner to himself. "It gravels meplenty."
A muffled voice answered his knock, and he pushed open the door. SimGage was still in bed, and his bed was still on the floor.
"Come in," said he, thrusting a frowsy head out from under hisblankets. He used practically the same amount of covering about him inwinter and summer; and now, as usual, he had retired practicallywithout removing his daily clothing. His face, stubbled and unshaven,swollen with sleep and surmounted by a tangled fringe of hair, mightnot by any flight of imagination have been called admirable orinviting, as he now looked out to greet his caller.
"Oh, dang it! Git up, Sim," said Wid, irritated beyond expression."It's after ten o'clock."
His words cut through the somewhat pachydermatous sensibilities of SimGage, who frowned a trifle as, after a due pause, he crawled out andsat down and reached for his broken boots.
"Well, I dunno as it's anybody's damn business whether I git up a-tallor not, except my own," said he. "I'll git up when I please, and notafore."
"Well, you might git up this morning, anyhow," said Wid.
"Why?"
"I got a letter for you."
"Look-a-here," said Sim Gage, with sudden preciseness. "What you beendoing? Letter? What letter? And how come you by my letters?"
"Well, I been talking with Mis' Davidson--she run the wholecorrespondence, Sim. We--now--we allowed we'd ought to take care of itfer you. And we done so, that's all."
"Huh!" said Sim Gage. "Fine business, ain't it?"
"Well, she's a-coming on out," said Wid Gardner, suddenly andcomprehensively.
"_What's that_? Who's a-coming on out?"
The face of Sim Gage went pale even under the cold water to which atthe moment he was treating his leathery skin in the basin on top thestove.
"Sim," said Wid Gardner, "it was understood that this thing was to runin your name. Now, Mis' Davidson--when it comes to fixing up a lovecorrespondence, she's the ace! It all ain't my fault a-tall, Sim. Weadvertised--and we got a answer, and we follered it up. And this hereletter is the _re_-sult. I allowed we'd ought to tell you too, by now."
"What you been doing--fooling with me, you two?" demanded Sim. "Thatwhole thing was a joke."
"It's one hell of a fine joke now," rejoined Wid Gardner. "She'sa-coming on out. Sim, it's up to you. _I_ ain't been advertising ferno wife. This here letter is _yours_."
"That's a fine thing you done, ain't it?" said Sim Gage, turning on tohis neighbor. "When you find the ford's too deep to git acrost, youbegin to holler fer help."
"That's neither here nor there. That ain't the worst--I've got herpicture here, and her letters too. She's been plumb honest all along.She says she's pretty much broke, and not too well. She says when shesees you she hopes you won't think she's deceived you. She says sheknows you're everything you said you was--a gentle and chi_val_erousranchman of the West, sure to be kind to a woman. She's scared--she'sthat honest. But she's a-coming. She's going to try housekeepingthough--no more'n that. Rest's all up to you, not her. She balkedfrom the jump on all marrying talk."
"Mis' Davidson ought to take care of this thing," said Sim Gage, hisfeatures now working, as usual, in his perplexity.
"Mis' Davidson is due to pull her freight. She's going down on her ownhomestead. I'm some scared too, Sim. You don't really _know_ how youbeen making love to this woman. I didn't know Mis' Davidson had it inher. You got to come through now, Sim."
"Who says I got to come through?"
"You got to go to town to-morrow."
"So you're a-going to make me go in to town tomorrow and marry a womanI never seen, whether I want to or not?"
"No, it ain't right up to that--you needn't think she's coming out hereto hunt up a preacher and git married to you right away. Not a-tall,Mr. Gage, not none a-tall! She never onct said she'd do any more'ncome out here and keep house fer you one season--that's all. Said shewouldn't deceive you. God knows how you can keep from deceiving _her_.Look at this place. And you got to bring her here--to-morrow. She'llbe at Two Forks station to-morrow morning at eight-thirty, on the Parktrain. This here thing is up to you right now. You made such a hollerabout needing a woman to make things human fer you. Well, here youare. There's the cards--play 'em the way they lay. You be human nowif you can. You got the chance."
"I ain't got no wagon, Wid," said Sim, weakly. "You know I ain't gotnone."
"You'll have to take my buckboard."
"And you know I ain't got no team--my horse, he ain't rightstrong--didn't winter none too well--and I couldn't go there with justone mule, now could I?"
"You'll have to take my team of broncs," said Wid. "You can start outfrom my place."
"But one thing, Sim Gage," he continued, "when you've started, I'ma-coming down here with a pitch-fork and I'm a-going to clean out thisplace! It ain't human. We'll do the best we can. Since there ain'ta-going to be no marrying right off, you'll have to sleep in your walltent outside. You'll have to git some wood cut up. You'll have to gita clean bed here in the house,--this bed of yours is going to be burnedout in the yard. You'll have to git new blankets when you go to town."
"As fer your clothes"--he turned a contemptuous glance upon Sim as hestood--"they ain't _hardly_ fit fer a bridegroom! Go to the GoldenEagle, and git yourself a full outfit, top to bottom--new shirts, newunderclothes, new pants, new hat, new socks, new gloves, neweverything. This girl can't come out here and see you the way you are,and this place the way it's been. She'd start something."
"Well, if you leave it to me," said Sim Gage mildly, "all this hereseems kind of sudden. You come in afore I'm up, and tell me to burn mybed, and sleep in a tent, and borry a wagon and team and go to town ferto marry a girl I never seen. That don't look reason'ble to me,especial since I ain't had no hand in it."
"It's up to you now."
"How do I know whether I want that girl or not? I ain't read noletters--nor wrote none. I ain't seen no picture of her----"
"Well," said Wid, and reached a hand into his breast pocket, "here sheis."
In a feeling more akin to awe than anything else, Sim Gage bent over,looking down at the clear oval face, the piled dark hair, the tendercontour of cheek and chin of Mary Warren, as beautiful a young lady asany man is apt ever to see; so beautiful that this man's inexperiencedheart stopped in his bosom. This picture once had been buttoned in thetunic of an aviator who flew for the three flags; her brother; andbefore his death and its return more than one of Dan Warren's armyfriends had looked at it reverently as Sim Gage did now.
"Wears glasses, don't she," said he, to conceal his confusion. "Reckonshe's a school ma'am?"
"Ask me, and I'll say she's a lady. She says she's a working girl.Says she's had trouble. Says she's up against it now. Says she ain'twell, and ain't happy, and--well, here she is."
"My good God A'mighty!" said Sim Gage, his voice awed as he looked atthe high-bred, clear-featured face of Mary Warren.