A BUCKEYE HOLLOW INHERITANCE
The four men on the "Zip Coon" Ledge had not got fairly settled to theirmorning's work. There was the usual lingering hesitation which is apt toattend the taking-up of any regular or monotonous performance, shown inthis instance in the prolonged scrutiny of a pick's point, the solemnselection of a shovel, or the "hefting" or weighing of a tapping-iron ordrill. One member, becoming interested in a funny paragraph he found inthe scrap of newspaper wrapped around his noonday cheese, shamelesslysat down to finish it, regardless of the prospecting pan thrown at himby another. They had taken up their daily routine of mining life likeschoolboys at their tasks.
"Hello!" said Ned Wyngate, joyously recognizing a possible furtherinterruption. "Blamed if the Express rider ain't comin' here!"
He was shading his eyes with his hand as he gazed over the broadsun-baked expanse of broken "flat" between them and the highroad. Theyall looked up, and saw the figure of a mounted man, with a courier'sbag thrown over his shoulder, galloping towards them. It was reallyan event, as their letters were usually left at the grocery at thecrossroads.
"I knew something was goin' to happen," said Wyngate. "I didn't feel abit like work this morning."
Here one of their number ran off to meet the advancing horseman. Theywatched him until they saw the latter rein up, and hand a brown envelopeto their messenger, who ran breathlessly back with it to the Ledge asthe horseman galloped away again.
"A telegraph for Jackson Wells," he said, handing it to the young manwho had been reading the scrap of paper.
There was a dead silence. Telegrams were expensive rarities in thosedays, especially with the youthful Bohemian miners of the Zip CoonLedge. They were burning with curiosity, yet a singular thing happened.Accustomed as they had been to a life of brotherly familiarity andunceremoniousness, this portentous message from the outside world ofcivilization recalled their old formal politeness. They looked steadilyaway from the receiver of the telegram, and he on his part stammered anapologetic "Excuse me, boys," as he broke the envelope.
There was another pause, which seemed to be interminable to the waitingpartners. Then the voice of Wells, in quite natural tones, said, "Bygum! that's funny! Read that, Dexter,--read it out loud."
Dexter Rice, the foreman, took the proffered telegram from Wells's hand,and read as follows:--
Your uncle, Quincy Wells, died yesterday, leaving you sole heir. Willattend you to-morrow for instructions.
BAKER AND TWIGGS,
Attorneys, Sacramento.
The three miners' faces lightened and turned joyously to Wells; but HISface looked puzzled.
"May we congratulate you, Mr. Wells?" said Wyngate, with affectedpoliteness; "or possibly your uncle may have been English, and a titlegoes with the 'prop,' and you may be Lord Wells, or Very Wells--atleast."
But here Jackson Wells's youthful face lost its perplexity, and he beganto laugh long and silently to himself. This was protracted to such anextent that Dexter asserted himself,--as foreman and senior partner.
"Look here, Jack! don't sit there cackling like a chuckle-headed magpie,if you ARE the heir."
"I--can't--help it," gasped Jackson. "I am the heir--but you see, boys,there AIN'T ANY PROPERTY."
"What do you mean? Is all that a sell?" demanded Rice.
"Not much! Telegraph's too expensive for that sort o' feelin'. You see,boys, I've got an Uncle Quincy, though I don't know him much, and he MAYbe dead. But his whole fixin's consisted of a claim the size of ours,and played out long ago: a ramshackle lot o' sheds called a cottage, anda kind of market garden of about three acres, where he reared and soldvegetables. He was always poor, and as for calling it 'property,' and MEthe 'heir'--good Lord!"
"A miser, as sure as you're born!" said Wyngate, with optimisticdecision. "That's always the way. You'll find every crack of thatblessed old shed stuck full of greenbacks and certificates of deposit,and lots of gold dust and coin buried all over that cow patch! And ofcourse no one suspected it! And of course he lived alone, and never letany one get into his house--and nearly starved himself! Lord love you!There's hundreds of such cases. The world is full of 'em!"
"That's so," chimed in Pulaski Briggs, the fourth partner, "and I tellyou what, Jacksey, we'll come over with you the day you take possession,and just 'prospect' the whole blamed shanty, pigsties, and potato patch,for fun--and won't charge you anything."
For a moment Jackson's face had really brightened under the infection ofenthusiasm, but it presently settled into perplexity again.
"No! You bet the boys around Buckeye Hollow would have spotted anythinglike that long ago."
"Buckeye Hollow!" repeated Rice and his partners.
"Yes! Buckeye Hollow, that's the place; not twenty miles from here, anda God-forsaken hole, as you know."
A cloud had settled on Zip Coon Ledge. They knew of Buckeye Hollow, andit was evident that no good had ever yet come out of that Nazareth.
"There's no use of talking now," said Rice conclusively. "You'll draw itall from that lawyer shark who's coming here tomorrow, and you can betyour life he wouldn't have taken this trouble if there wasn't suthin' init. Anyhow, we'll knock off work now and call it half a day, in honorof our distinguished young friend's accession to his baronial estatesof Buckeye Hollow. We'll just toddle down to Tomlinson's at thecross-roads, and have a nip and a quiet game of old sledge at Jacksey'sexpense. I reckon the estate's good for THAT," he added, with severegravity. "And, speaking as a fa'r-minded man and the president ofthis yer Company, if Jackson would occasionally take out and air thattelegraphic dispatch of his while we're at Tomlinson's, it might dosomething for that Company's credit--with Tomlinson! We're wantin' somenew blastin' plant bad!"
Oddly enough the telegram--accidentally shown at Tomlinson's--produced agratifying effect, and the Zip Coon Ledge materially advanced inpublic estimation. With this possible infusion of new capital into itsresources, the Company was beset by offers of machinery and goods;and it was deemed expedient by the sapient Rice, that to prevent thedissemination of any more accurate information regarding Jackson'sproperty the next day, the lawyer should be met at the stage office byone of the members, and conveyed secretly past Tomlinson's to the Ledge.
"I'd let you go," he said to Jackson, "only it won't do for that d----dskunk of a lawyer to think you're too anxious--sabe? We want to rub intohim that we are in the habit out yer of havin' things left to us, anda fortin' more or less, falling into us now and then, ain't nothin'alongside of the Zip Coon claim. It won't hurt ye to keep up a big bluffon that hand of yours. Nobody would dare to 'call' you."
Indeed this idea was carried out with such elaboration the next day thatMr. Twiggs, the attorney, was considerably impressed both by the conductof his guide, who (although burning with curiosity) expressed absoluteindifference regarding Jackson Wells's inheritance, and the calmness ofJackson himself, who had to be ostentatiously called from his work onthe Ledge to meet him, and who even gave him an audience in the hearingof his partners. Forced into an apologetic attitude, he expressed hisregret at being obliged to bother Mr. Wells with an affair of suchsecondary importance, but he was obliged to carry out the formalities ofthe law.
"What do you suppose the estate is worth?" asked Wells carelessly.
"I should not think that the house, the claim, and the land would bringmore than fifteen hundred dollars," replied Twiggs submissively.
To the impecunious owners of Zip Coon Ledge it seemed a large sum, butthey did not show it.
"You see," continued Mr. Twiggs, "it's really a case of 'willing away'property from its obvious or direct inheritors, instead of a beneficialgrant. I take it that you and your uncle were not particularlyintimate,--at least, so I gathered when I made the will,--and his simpleobject was to disinherit his only daughter, with whom he had had somequarrel, and who had left him to live with his late wife's brother, Mr.Morley Brown, who is quite wealthy and residing in the same township.Perhaps you remember the young lady?"
J
ackson Wells had a dim recollection of this cousin, a hateful,red-haired schoolgirl, and an equally unpleasant memory of this otheruncle, who was purse-proud and had never taken any notice of him. Heanswered affirmatively.
"There may be some attempt to contest the will," continued Mr. Twiggs,"as the disinheriting of an only child and a daughter offends thesentiment of the people and of judges and jury, and the law makes sucha will invalid, unless a reason is given. Fortunately your uncle hasplaced his reasons on record. I have a copy of the will here, and canshow you the clause." He took it from his pocket, and read as follows:"'I exclude my daughter, Jocelinda Wells, from any benefit or provisionof this my will and testament, for the reason that she has voluntarilyabandoned her father's roof for the house of her mother's brother,Morley Brown; has preferred the fleshpots of Egypt to the virtuousfrugalities of her own home, and has discarded the humble friends ofher youth, and the associates of her father, for the meretriciousand slavish sympathy of wealth and position. In lieu thereof, and ascompensation therefor, I do hereby give and bequeath to her my full andfree permission to gratify her frequently expressed wish for anotherguardian in place of myself, and to become the adopted daughter of thesaid Morley Brown, with the privilege of assuming the name of Brownas aforesaid.' You see," he continued, "as the young lady's presentposition is a better one than it would be if she were in her father'shouse, and was evidently a compromise, the sentimental consideration ofher being left homeless and penniless falls to the ground. However, asthe inheritance is small, and might be of little account to you, if youchoose to waive it, I dare say we may make some arrangement."
This was an utterly unexpected idea to the Zip Coon Company, andJackson Wells was for a moment silent. But Dexter Rice was equal to theemergency, and turned to the astonished lawyer with severe dignity.
"You'll excuse me for interferin', but, as the senior partner of thisyer Ledge, and Jackson Wells yer bein' a most important member, whataffects his usefulness on this claim affects us. And we propose to carryout this yer will, with all its dips and spurs and angles!"
As the surprised Twiggs turned from one to the other, Rice continued,"Ez far as we kin understand this little game, it's the just punishmentof a high-flying girl as breaks her pore old father's heart, and there-ward of a young feller ez has bin to our knowledge ez devoted anephew as they make 'em. Time and time again, sittin' around our campfire at night, we've heard Jacksey say,--kinder to himself, and kinderto us, 'Now I wonder what's gone o' old uncle Quincy;' and he neversat down to a square meal, or ever rose from a square game, but whathe allus said, 'If old uncle Quince was only here now, boys, I'd diehappy.' I leave it to you, gentlemen, if that wasn't Jackson Wells'sgait all the time?"
There was a prolonged murmur of assent, and an affecting corroborationfrom Ned Wyngate of "That was him; that was Jacksey all the time!"
"Indeed, indeed," said the lawyer nervously. "I had quite the idea thatthere was very little fondness"--
"Not on your side--not on your side," said Rice quickly. "Uncle Quincymay not have anted up in this matter o' feelin', nor seen his nephew'srise. You know how it is yourself in these things--being a lawyer and afa'r-minded man--it's all on one side, ginerally! There's always one wholoves and sacrifices, and all that, and there's always one who rakes inthe pot! That's the way o' the world; and that's why," continued Rice,abandoning his slightly philosophical attitude, and laying his handtenderly, and yet with a singularly significant grip, on Wells's arm,"we say to him, 'Hang on to that will, and uncle Quincy's memory.'And we hev to say it. For he's that tender-hearted and keerless ofmoney--having his own share in this Ledge--that ef that girl camewhimperin' to him he'd let her take the 'prop' and let the hull thingslide! And then he'd remember that he had rewarded that gal that brokethe old man's heart, and that would upset him again in his work. Andthere, you see, is just where WE come in! And we say, 'Hang on to thatwill like grim death!'"
The lawyer looked curiously at Rice and his companions, and then turnedto Wells: "Nevertheless, I must look to you for instructions," he saiddryly.
But by this time Jackson Wells, although really dubious aboutsupplanting the orphan, had gathered the sense of his partners, and saidwith a frank show of decision, "I think I must stand by the will."
"Then I'll have it proved," said Twiggs, rising. "In the meantime, ifthere is any talk of contesting"--
"If there is, you might say," suggested Wyngate, who felt he had not hada fair show in the little comedy,--"ye might say to that old skeesicksof a wife's brother, if he wants to nipple in, that there are four menon the Ledge--and four revolvers! We are gin'rally fa'r-minded, peacefulmen, but when an old man's heart is broken, and his gray hairs broughtdown in sorrow to the grave, so to speak, we're bound to attend thefuneral--sabe?"
When Mr. Twiggs had departed again, accompanied by a partner to guidehim past the dangerous shoals of Tomlinson's grocery, Rice clapped hishand on Wells's shoulder. "If it hadn't been for me, sonny, that sharkwould have landed you into some compromise with that red-haired gal! Isaw you weakenin', and then I chipped in. I may have piled up the agonya little on your love for old Quince, but if you aren't an ungratefulcub, that's how you ought to hev been feein', anyhow!"
Nevertheless, the youthful Wells, although touched by his elderpartner's loyalty, and convinced of his own disinterestedness, felt apainful sense of lost chivalrous opportunity.
*****
On mature consideration it was finally settled that Jackson Wells shouldmake his preliminary examination of his inheritance alone, as it mightseem inconsistent with the previous indifferent attitude of hispartners if they accompanied him. But he was implored to yield to noblandishments of the enemy, and to even make his visit a secret.
He went. The familiar flower-spiked trees which had given their nameto Buckeye Hollow had never yielded entirely to improvements and theincursions of mining enterprise, and many of them had even survived thedisused ditches, the scarred flats, the discarded levels, ruined flumes,and roofless cabins of the earlier occupation, so that when JacksonWells entered the wide, straggling street of Buckeye, that summermorning was filled with the radiance of its blossoms and fragrant withtheir incense. His first visit there, ten years ago, had been a purelyperfunctory and hasty one, yet he remembered the ostentatious hotel,built in the "flush time" of its prosperity, and already in a greenpremature decay; he recalled the Express Office and Town Hall, alsopassing away in a kind of similar green deliquescence; the little zincchurch, now overgrown with fern and brambles, and the two or three finesubstantial houses in the outskirts, which seemed to have sucked thevitality of the little settlement. One of these--he had been told--wasthe property of his rich and wicked maternal uncle, the hatedappropriator of his red-headed cousin's affections. He recalled hisbrief visit to the departed testator's claim and market garden, and hisby no means favorable impression of the lonely, crabbed old man, as wellas his relief that his objectionable cousin, whom he had not seen sincehe was a boy, was then absent at the rival uncle's. He made his wayacross the road to a sunny slope where the market garden of three acresseemed to roll like a river of green rapids to a little "run" or brook,which, even in the dry season, showed a trickling rill. But here he wasstruck by a singular circumstance. The garden rested in a rich, alluvialsoil, and under the quickening Californian sky had developed far beyondthe ability of its late cultivator to restrain or keep it in order.Everything had grown luxuriantly, and in monstrous size and profusion.The garden had even trespassed its bounds, and impinged upon the openroad, the deserted claims, and the ruins of the past. Stimulated by thelittle cultivation Quincy Wells had found time to give it, it hadleaped its three acres and rioted through the Hollow. There were scarletrunners crossing the abandoned sluices, peas climbing the court-housewall, strawberries matting the trail, while the seeds and pollen ofits few homely Eastern flowers had been blown far and wide through thewoods. By a grim satire, Nature seemed to have been the only thing thatstill prospered in that settlement of man.
/> The cabin itself, built of unpainted boards, consisted of asitting-room, dining-room, kitchen, and two bedrooms, all plainlyfurnished, although one of the bedrooms was better ordered, anddisplayed certain signs of feminine decoration, which made Jacksonbelieve it had been his cousin's room. Luckily, the slight, temporarystructure bore no deep traces of its previous occupancy to disturb himwith its memories, and for the same reason it gained in cleanliness andfreshness. The dry, desiccating summer wind that blew through it hadcarried away both the odors and the sense of domesticity; even the adobehearth had no fireside tales to tell,--its very ashes had been scatteredby the winds; and the gravestone of its dead owner on the hill was nomore flavorless of his personality than was this plain house in which hehad lived and died. The excessive vegetation produced by the stirred-upsoil had covered and hidden the empty tin cans, broken boxes, andfragments of clothing which usually heaped and littered the tent-pegsof the pioneer. Nature's own profusion had thrust them into obscurity.Jackson Wells smiled as he recalled his sanguine partner's idea of atreasure-trove concealed and stuffed in the crevices of this tenement,already so palpably picked clean by those wholesome scavengers ofCalifornia, the dry air and burning sun. Yet he was not displeased atthis obliteration of a previous tenancy; there was the better chance forhim to originate something. He whistled hopefully as he lounged, withhis hands in his pockets, towards the only fence and gate that gave uponthe road. Something stuck up on the gate-post attracted his attention.It was a sheet of paper bearing the inscription in a large hand: "Noticeto trespassers. Look out for the Orphan Robber!" A plain signboard infaded black letters on the gate, which had borne the legend: "QuincyWells, Dealer in Fruit and Vegetables," had been rudely altered in chalkto read: "Jackson Wells, Double Dealer in Wills and Codicils," and theintimation "Bouquets sold here" had been changed to "Bequests stolehere." For an instant the simple-minded Jackson failed to discoverany significance of this outrage, which seemed to him to be merelythe wanton mischief of a schoolboy. But a sudden recollection ofthe lawyer's caution sent the blood to his cheeks and kindledhis indignation. He tore down the paper and rubbed out the chalkinterpolation--and then laughed at his own anger. Nevertheless, he wouldnot have liked his belligerent partners to see it.
A little curious to know the extent of this feeling, he entered one ofthe shops, and by one or two questions which judiciously betrayed hisownership of the property, he elicited only a tradesman's interest in apossible future customer, and the ordinary curiosity about a stranger.The barkeeper of the hotel was civil, but brief and gloomy. He had heardthe property was "willed away on account of some family quarrel which'warn't none of his'." Mr. Wells would find Buckeye Hollow a mighty dullplace after the mines. It was played out, sucked dry by two or three bigmine owners who were trying to "freeze out" the other settlers, so asthey might get the place to themselves and "boom it." Brown, who had thebig house over the hill, was the head devil of the gang! Wells felt hisindignation kindle anew. And this girl that he had ousted was Brown'sfriend. Was it possible that she was a party to Brown's designs to getthis three acres with the other lands? If so, his long-suffering unclewas only just in his revenge.
He put all this diffidently before his partners on his return, and was alittle startled at their adopting it with sanguine ferocity. They hopedthat he would put an end to his thoughts of backing out of it. Such acourse now would be dishonorable to his uncle's memory. It was clearlyhis duty to resist these blasted satraps of capitalists; he wasprovidentially selected for the purpose--a village Hampden to withstandthe tyrant. "And I reckon that shark of a lawyer knew all about it whenhe was gettin' off that 'purp stuff' about people's sympathies with thegirl," said Rice belligerently. "Contest the will, would he? Why, if wecaught that Brown with a finger in the pie we'd just whip up the boys onthis Ledge and lynch him. You hang on to that three acres and the gardenpatch of your forefathers, sonny, and we'll see you through!"
Nevertheless, it was with some misgivings that Wells consented thathis three partners should actually accompany him and see him put inpeaceable possession of his inheritance. His instinct told him thatthere would be no contest of the will, and still less any oppositionon the part of the objectionable relative, Brown. When the wagonwhich contained his personal effects and the few articles of furniturenecessary for his occupancy of the cabin arrived, the exaggeratedswagger which his companions had put on in their passage through thesettlement gave way to a pastoral indolence, equally half real, halfaffected. Lying on their backs under a buckeye, they permitted Rice tovoice the general sentiment. "There's a suthin' soothin' and dreamy inthis kind o' life, Jacksey, and we'll make a point of comin' here for acouple of days every two weeks to lend you a hand; it will be a mightygood change from our nigger work on the claim."
In spite of this assurance, and the fact that they had voluntarily cometo help him put the place in order, they did very little beyond lendinga cheering expression of unqualified praise and unstinted advice. At theend of four hours' weeding and trimming the boundaries of the garden,they unanimously gave their opinion that it would be more systematic forhim to employ Chinese labor at once.
"You see," said Ned Wyngate, "the Chinese naturally take to this kind o'business. Why, you can't take up a china plate or saucer but you see'em pictured there working at jobs like this, and they kin live on greenthings and rice that cost nothin', and chickens. You'll keep chickens,of course."
Jackson thought that his hands would be full enough with the garden, buthe meekly assented.
"I'll get a pair--you only want two to begin with," continued Wyngatecheerfully, "and in a month or two you've got all you want, and eggsenough for market. On second thoughts, I don't know whether you hadn'tbetter begin with eggs first. That is, you borry some eggs from oneman and a hen from another. Then you set 'em, and when the chickens arehatched out you just return the hen to the second man, and the eggs,when your chickens begin to lay, to the first man, and you've got yourchickens for nothing--and there you are."
This ingenious proposition, which was delivered on the last slope ofthe domain, where the partners were lying exhausted from their work, wasbroken in upon by the appearance of a small boy, barefooted, sunburnt,and tow-headed, who, after a moment's hurried scrutiny of the group,threw a letter with unerring precision into the lap of Jackson Wells,and then fled precipitately. Jackson instinctively suspected he wasconnected with the outrage on his fence and gate-post, but as he hadavoided telling his partners of the incident, fearing to increase theirbelligerent attitude, he felt now an awkward consciousness mingled withhis indignation as he broke the seal and read as follows:--
SIR,--This is to inform you that although you have got hold of theproperty by underhanded and sneaking ways, you ain't no right to touchor lay your vile hands on the Cherokee Rose alongside the house, nor onthe Giant of Battles, nor on the Maiden's Pride by the gate--the samebeing the property of Miss Jocelinda Wells, and planted by her, underthe penalty of the Law. And if you, or any of your gang of ruffians,touches it or them, or any thereof, or don't deliver it up when calledfor in good order, you will be persecuted by them.
AVENGER.
It is to be feared that Jackson would have suppressed this also, but thekeen eyes of his partners, excited by the abruptness of the messenger,were upon him. He smiled feebly, and laid the letter before them. Buthe was unprepared for their exaggerated indignation, and with difficultyrestrained them from dashing off in the direction of the vanishedherald. "And what could you do?" he said. "The boy's only a messenger."
"I'll get at that d----d skunk Brown, who's back of him," said DexterRice.
"And what then?" persisted Jackson, with a certain show of independence."If this stuff belongs to the girl, I'm not certain I shan't give themup without any fuss. Lord! I want nothing but what the old man leftme--and certainly nothing of HERS."
Here Ned Wyngate was heard to murmur that Jackson was one of thosemen who would lie down and let coyotes crawl over him if they firstpresented a girl's visiting c
ard, but he was stopped by Rice demandingpaper and pencil. The former being torn from a memorandum book, and astub of the latter produced from another pocket, he wrote as follows:--
SIR,--In reply to the hogwash you have kindly exuded in your letter ofto-day, I have to inform you that you can have what you ask for MissWells, and perhaps a trifle on your own account, by calling thisafternoon on--Yours truly--
"Now, sign it," continued Rice, handing him the pencil.
"But this will look as if we were angry and wanted to keep the plants,"protested Wells.
"Never you mind, sonny, but sign! Leave the rest to your partners,and when you lay your head on your pillow to-night return thanks to anoverruling Providence for providing you with the right gang of ruffiansto look after you!"
Wells signed reluctantly, and Wyngate offered to find a Chinaman in thegulch who would take the missive. "And being a Chinaman, Brown can doany cussin' or buck talk THROUGH him!" he added.
The afternoon wore on; the tall Douglas pines near the water poolswheeled their long shadows round and halfway up the slope, and the sunbegan to peer into the faces of the reclining men. Subtle odors of mintand southern-wood, stragglers from the garden, bruised by their limbs,replaced the fumes of their smoked-out pipes, and the hammers of thewoodpeckers were busy in the grove as they lay lazily nibbling thefragrant leaves like peaceful ruminants. Then came the sound ofapproaching wheels along the invisible highway beyond the buckeyes,and then a halt and silence. Rice rose slowly, bright pin points in thepupils of his gray eyes.
"Bringin' a wagon with him to tote the hull shanty away," suggestedWyngate.
"Or fetched his own ambulance," said Briggs.
Nevertheless, after a pause, the wheels presently rolled away again.
"We'd better go and meet him at the gate," said Rice, hitching hisrevolver holster nearer his hip. "That wagon stopped long enough to putdown three or four men."
They walked leisurely but silently to the gate. It is probable that noneof them believed in a serious collision, but now the prospect had enoughpossibility in it to quicken their pulses. They reached the gate. But itwas still closed; the road beyond it empty.
"Mebbe they've sneaked round to the cabin," said Briggs, "and areholdin' it inside."
They were turning quickly in that direction, when Wyngate said,"Hush!--some one's there in the brush under the buckeyes."
They listened; there was a faint rustling in the shadows.
"Come out o' that, Brown--into the open. Don't be shy," called out Ricein cheerful irony. "We're waitin' for ye."
But Briggs, who was nearest the wood, here suddenly uttered anexclamation,--"B'gosh!" and fell back, open-mouthed, upon hiscompanions. They too, in another moment, broke into a feeble laugh, andlapsed against each other in sheepish silence. For a very pretty girl,handsomely dressed, swept out of the wood and advanced towards them.
Even at any time she would have been an enchanting vision to these men,but in the glow of exercise and sparkle of anger she was bewildering.Her wonderful hair, the color of freshly hewn redwood, had escaped fromher hat in her passage through the underbrush, and even as she sweptdown upon them in her majesty she was jabbing a hairpin into it with adexterous feminine hand.
The three partners turned quite the color of her hair; Jackson Wellsalone remained white and rigid. She came on, her very short upper lipshowing her white teeth with her panting breath.
Rice was first to speak. "I beg--your pardon, Miss--I thought it wasBrown--you know," he stammered.
But she only turned a blighting brown eye on the culprit, curled hershort lip till it almost vanished in her scornful nostrils, drew herskirt aside with a jerk, and continued her way straight to JacksonWells, where she halted.
"We did not know you were--here alone," he said apologetically.
"Thought I was afraid to come alone, didn't you? Well, you see, I'm not.There!" She made another dive at her hat and hair, and brought the hatdown wickedly over her eyebrows. "Gimme my plants."
Jackson had been astonished. He would have scarcely recognized in thiswillful beauty the red-haired girl whom he had boyishly hated, and withwhom he had often quarreled. But there was a recollection--and with thatrecollection came an instinct of habit. He looked her squarely in theface, and, to the horror of his partners, said, "Say please!"
They had expected to see him fall, smitten with the hairpin! But sheonly stopped, and then in bitter irony said, "Please, Mr. JacksonWells."
"I haven't dug them up yet--and it would serve you just right if Imade you get them for yourself. But perhaps my friends here might helpyou--if you were civil."
The three partners seized spades and hoes and rushed forward eagerly."Only show us what you want," they said in one voice. The young girlstared at them, and at Jackson. Then with swift determination she turnedher back scornfully upon him, and with a dazzling smile which reducedthe three men to absolute idiocy, said to the others, "I'll show YOU,"and marched away to the cabin.
"Ye mustn't mind Jacksey," said Rice, sycophantically edging to herside, "he's so cut up with losin' your father that he loved like a son,he isn't himself, and don't seem to know whether to ante up or pass out.And as for yourself, Miss--why--What was it he was sayin' only just asthe young lady came?" he added, turning abruptly to Wyngate.
"Everything that cousin Josey planted with her own hands must be took upcarefully and sent back--even though it's killin' me to part with it,"quoted Wyngate unblushingly, as he slouched along on the other side.
Miss Wells's eyes glared at them, though her mouth still smiledravishingly. "I'm sure I'm troubling you."
In a few moments the plants were dug up and carefully laid together;indeed, the servile Briggs had added a few that she had not indicated.
"Would you mind bringing them as far as the buggy that's coming downthe hill?" she said, pointing to a buggy driven by a small boy whichwas slowly approaching the gate. The men tenderly lifted the uprootedplants, and proceeded solemnly, Miss Wells bringing up the rear, towardsthe gate, where Jackson Wells was still surlily lounging.
They passed out first. Miss Wells lingered for an instant, and thenadvancing her beautiful but audacious face within an inch of Jackson's,hissed out, "Make-believe! and hypocrite!"
"Cross-patch and sauce-box!" returned Jackson readily, still under themalign influence of his boyish past, as she flounced away.
Presently he heard the buggy rattle away with his persecutor. But hispartners still lingered on the road in earnest conversation, and whenthey did return it was with a singular awkwardness and embarrassment,which he naturally put down to a guilty consciousness of their foolishweakness in succumbing to the girl's demands.
But he was a little surprised when Dexter Rice approached him gloomily."Of course," he began, "it ain't no call of ours to interfere in familyaffairs, and you've a right to keep 'em to yourself, but if you'd beenfair and square and above board in what you got off on us about thisper--"
"What do you mean?" demanded the astonished Wells.
"Well--callin' her a 'red-haired gal.'"
"Well--she is a red-haired girl!" said Wells impatiently.
"A man," continued Rice pityingly, "that is so prejudiced as to applysuch language to a beautiful orphan--torn with grief at the loss of abeloved but d----d misconstruing parent--merely because she begs a fewvegetables out of his potato patch, ain't to be reasoned with. But whenyou come to look at this thing by and large, and as a fa'r-minded man,sonny, you'll agree with us that the sooner you make terms with her thebetter. Considerin' your interest, Jacksey,--let alone the claims ofhumanity,--we've concluded to withdraw from here until this thing issettled. She's sort o' mixed us up with your feelings agin her, andnaturally supposed we object to the color of her hair! and bein' apenniless orphan, rejected by her relations"--
"What stuff are you talking?" burst in Jackson. "Why, YOU saw shetreated you better than she did me."
"Steady! There you go with that temper of yours that frightened thegirl! Of cou
rse she could see that WE were fa'r-minded men, accustomedto the ways of society, and not upset by the visit of a lady, or thegivin' up of a few green sticks! But let that slide! We're goin' backhome to-night, sonny, and when you've thought this thing over and arestraightened up and get your right bearin's, we'll stand by you asbefore. We'll put a man on to do your work on the Ledge, so ye needn'tworry about that."
They were quite firm in this decision,--however absurd or obscure theirconclusions,--and Jackson, after his first flash of indignation, felta certain relief in their departure. But strangely enough, while he hadhesitated about keeping the property when they were violently in favorof it, he now felt he was right in retaining it against their advice tocompromise. The sentimental idea had vanished with his recognition ofhis hateful cousin in the role of the injured orphan. And for the sameodd reason her prettiness only increased his resentment. He was notdeceived,--it was the same capricious, willful, red-haired girl.
The next day he set himself to work with that dogged steadiness thatbelonged to his simple nature, and which had endeared him to hispartners. He set half a dozen Chinamen to work, and followed, althoughapparently directing, their methods. The great difficulty was torestrain and control the excessive vegetation, and he matched the smalleconomies of the Chinese against the opulence of the Californian soil.The "garden patch" prospered; the neighbors spoke well of it and ofhim. But Jackson knew that this fierce harvest of early spring was to befollowed by the sterility of the dry season, and that irrigation couldalone make his work profitable in the end. He brought a pump to forcethe water from the little stream at the foot of the slope to the top,and allowed it to flow back through parallel trenches. Again Buckeyeapplauded! Only the gloomy barkeeper shook his head. "The moment you getthat thing to pay, Mr. Wells, you'll find the hand of Brown, somewhere,getting ready to squeeze it dry!"
But Jackson Wells did not trouble himself about Brown, whom he scarcelyknew. Once indeed, while trenching the slope, he was conscious that hewas watched by two men from the opposite bank; but they were apparentlysatisfied by their scrutiny, and turned away. Still less did he concernhimself with the movements of his cousin, who once or twice passed himsuperciliously in her buggy on the road. Again, she met him as one ofa cavalcade of riders, mounted on a handsome but ill-tempered mustang,which she was managing with an ill-temper and grace equal to thebrute's, to the alternate delight and terror of her cavalier. He couldsee that she had been petted and spoiled by her new guardian and hisfriends far beyond his conception. But why she should grudge him thelittle garden and the pastoral life for which she was so unsuited,puzzled him greatly.
One afternoon he was working near the road, when he was startled byan outcry from his Chinese laborers, their rapid dispersal from thestrawberry beds where they were working, the splintering crash of hisfence rails, and a commotion among the buckeyes. Furious at what seemedto him one of the usual wanton attacks upon coolie labor, he seizedhis pick and ran to their assistance. But he was surprised to findJocelinda's mustang caught by the saddle and struggling between twotrees, and its unfortunate mistress lying upon the strawberry bed.Shocked but cool-headed, Jackson released the horse first, who waslashing out and destroying everything within his reach, and then turnedto his cousin. But she had already lifted herself to her elbow, andwith a trickle of blood and mud on one fair cheek was surveying himscornfully under her tumbled hair and hanging hat.
"You don't suppose I was trespassing on your wretched patch again, doyou?" she said in a voice she was trying to keep from breaking. "It wasthat brute--who bolted."
"I don't suppose you were bullying ME this time," he said, "but you wereYOUR HORSE--or it wouldn't have happened. Are you hurt?"
She tried to move; he offered her his hand, but she shied from it andstruggled to her feet. She took a step forward--but limped.
"If you don't want my arm, let me call a Chinaman," he suggested.
She glared at him. "If you do I'll scream!" she said in a low voice, andhe knew she would. But at the same moment her face whitened, at which heslipped his arm under hers in a dexterous, business-like way, so as tosupport her weight. Then her hat got askew, and down came a long braidover his shoulder. He remembered it of old, only it was darker than thenand two or three feet longer.
"If you could manage to limp as far as the gate and sit down on thebank, I'd get your horse for you," he said. "I hitched it to a sapling."
"I saw you did--before you even offered to help me," she saidscornfully.
"The horse would have got away--YOU couldn't."
"If you only knew how I hated you," she said, with a white face, but atrembling lip.
"I don't see how that would make things any better," he said. "Betterwipe your face; it's scratched and muddy, and you've been rubbing yournose in my strawberry bed."
She snatched his proffered handkerchief suddenly, applied it to herface, and said: "I suppose it looks dreadful."
"Like a pig's," he returned cheerfully.
She walked a little more firmly after this, until they reached the gate.He seated her on the bank, and went back for the mustang. That beautifulbrute, astounded and sore from its contact with the top rail andbrambles, was cowed and subdued as he led it back.
She had finished wiping her face, and was hurriedly disentanglingtwo stinging tears from her long lashes, before she threw back hishandkerchief. Her sprained ankle obliged him to lift her into the saddleand adjust her little shoe in the stirrup. He remembered when itwas still smaller. "You used to ride astride," he said, a flood ofrecollection coming over him, "and it's much safer with your temper andthat brute."
"And you," she said in a lower voice, "used to be"--But the rest of hersentence was lost in the switch of the whip and the jump of her horse,but he thought the word was "kinder."
Perhaps this was why, after he watched her canter away, he went back tothe garden, and from the bruised and trampled strawberry bed gathereda small basket of the finest fruit, covered them with leaves, added apaper with the highly ingenious witticism, "Picked up with you," andsent them to her by one of the Chinamen. Her forcible entry movedLi Sing, his foreman, also chief laundryman to the settlement, toreminiscences:
"Me heap knew Missy Wells and ole man, who go dead. Ole man alleetime make chin music to Missy. Allee time jaw jaw--allee time makelows--allee time cuttee up Missy! Plenty time lockee up Missy topsidehouse; no can walkee--no can talkee--no hab got--how can get?--mustwashee washee allee same Chinaman. Ole man go dead--Missy all lighteenow. Plenty fun. Plenty stay in Blown's big house, top-side hill; Blownfirst-chop man."
Had he inquired he might have found this pagan testimony, for once,corroborated by the Christian neighbors.
But another incident drove all this from his mind. The littlestream--the life blood of his garden--ran dry! Inquiry showed that ithad been diverted two miles away into Brown's ditch! Wells's indignantprotest elicited a formal reply from Brown, stating that he owned theadjacent mining claims, and reminding him that mining rights to watertook precedence of the agricultural claim, but offering, by way ofcompensation, to purchase the land thus made useless and sterile.Jackson suddenly recalled the prophecy of the gloomy barkeeper. The end,had come! But what could the scheming capitalist want with the land,equally useless--as his uncle had proved--for mining purposes? Could itbe sheer malignity, incited by his vengeful cousin? But here he paused,rejecting the idea as quickly as it came. No! his partners were right!He was a trespasser on his cousin's heritage--there was no luck init--he was wrong, and this was his punishment! Instead of yieldinggracefully as he might, he must back down now, and she would never knowhis first real feelings. Even now he would make over the property toher as a free gift. But his partners had advanced him money from theirscanty means to plant and work it. He believed that an appeal to theirfeelings would persuade them to forego even that, but he shrank evenmore from confessing his defeat to THEM than to her.
He had little heart in his labors that day, and dismissed the Chinamenearly. He again exa
mined his uncle's old mining claim on the top ofthe slope, but was satisfied that it had been a hopeless enterpriseand wisely abandoned. It was sunset when he stood under the buckeyes,gloomily looking at the glow fade out of the west, as it had out of hisboyish hopes. He had grown to like the place. It was the hour, too, whenthe few flowers he had cultivated gave back their pleasant odors, as ifgrateful for his care. And then he heard his name called.
It was his cousin, standing a few yards from him in evident hesitation.She was quite pale, and for a moment he thought she was still sufferingfrom her fall, until he saw in her nervous, half-embarrassed manner thatit had no physical cause. Her old audacity and anger seemed gone, yetthere was a queer determination in her pretty brows.
"Good-evening," he said.
She did not return his greeting, but pulling uneasily at her glove, saidhesitatingly: "Uncle has asked you to sell him this land?"
"Yes."
"Well--don't!" she burst out abruptly.
He stared at her.
"Oh, I'm not trying to keep you here," she went on, flashing back intoher old temper; "so you needn't stare like that. I say, 'Don't,' becauseit ain't right, it ain't fair."
"Why, he's left me no alternative," he said.
"That's just it--that's why it's mean and low. I don't care if he is ouruncle."
Jackson was bewildered and shocked.
"I know it's horrid to say it," she said, with a white face; "but it'shorrider to keep it in! Oh, Jack! when we were little, and used to fightand quarrel, I never was mean--was I? I never was underhanded--was I?I never lied--did I? And I can't lie now. Jack," she looked hurriedlyaround her, "HE wants to get hold of the land--HE thinks there's gold inthe slope and bank by the stream. He says dad was a fool to have locatedhis claim so high up. Jack! did you ever prospect the bank?"
A dawning of intelligence came upon Jackson. "No," he said; "but," headded bitterly, "what's the use? He owns the water now,--I couldn't workit."
"But, Jack, IF you found the color, this would be a MINING claim! Youcould claim the water right; and, as it's your land, your claim would befirst!"
Jackson was startled. "Yes, IF I found the color."
"You WOULD find it."
"WOULD?"
"Yes! I DID--on the sly! Yesterday morning on your slope by the stream,when no one was up! I washed a panful and got that." She took a piece oftissue paper from her pocket, opened it, and shook into her little palmthree tiny pin points of gold.
"And that was your own idea, Jossy?"
"Yes!"
"Your very own?"
"Honest Injin!"
"Wish you may die?"
"True, O King!"
He opened his arms, and they mutually embraced. Then they separated,taking hold of each other's hands solemnly, and falling back until theywere at arm's length. Then they slowly extended their arms sideways atfull length, until this action naturally brought their faces and lipstogether. They did this with the utmost gravity three times, and thenembraced again, rocking on pivoted feet like a metronome. Alas! it wasno momentary inspiration. The most casual and indifferent observercould see that it was the result of long previous practice and shamelessexperience. And as such--it was a revelation and an explanation.
*****
"I always suspected that Jackson was playin' us about that red-hairedcousin," said Rice two weeks later; "but I can't swallow that purp stuffabout her puttin' him up to that dodge about a new gold discovery ona fresh claim, just to knock out Brown. No, sir. He found that gold inopenin' these irrigatin' trenches,--the usual nigger luck, findin' whatyou're not lookin' arter."
"Well, we can't complain, for he's offered to work it on shares withus," said Briggs.
"Yes--until he's ready to take in another partner."
"Not--Brown?" said his horrified companions.
"No!--but Brown's adopted daughter--that red-haired cousin!"