The Mountain Girl

  CHAPTER XVI

  IN WHICH FRALE RETURNS AND LISTENS TO THE COMPLAINTS OF DECATUR IRWIN'SWIFE

  All was quiet and lonely around Carew's Crossing when Frale dropped fromthe train and struck off over the mountain. Soon there would be bustleand stir and life about the place, for the hotel would be open andpeople would be crowding in, some to escape the heat of the far Southand the low countries, some from the cities either North or South towhom the bracing air of the mountains would bring renewedvitality--business men with shattered nerves and women whose high playduring the winter at the game of social life had left them nervouswrecks.

  But now the beauty of the spring and the sweet silences were undisturbedby alien chatter. As yet were to be heard only the noises of theforest--of wind and stream--of bird calls and the piping of turtles andthe shrilling of insects or vibrant croaking of frogs--or mayhap theoccasional sound of a gun, discharged by some solitary mountain boy,regardless of game laws, to provide a supper at home,--only these, asFrale climbed rapidly away from the station toward the Fall Place, andCassandra. He would stop there first and then strike for his old hauntsand hiding-places.

  He felt a leaping joy in his veins to be again among his hills. Howlonely he had been for them he had not known until now, when, withlifted head and bounding heart, he trod lightly and easily the difficultway. And yet the undercurrent of a tragedy lay quiet beneath his joy andhaunted him, keeping him to the trails above,--the secret paths whichled circuitously to his home,--even while the thought of Cassandra madehis heart buoyant and eager.

  The sight of Doctor Thryng who during these months had been nearher--perhaps seeing her daily--aroused all the primitive jealousy of hisnature. He would go now and persuade her to marry him and stand by himuntil he could fight his way through to the unquestioned right to livethere as his father had done, defying any who would interfere with hiscourse. Had he not a silver bullet for the heart of the man who woulddare contest his rights? It only remained for him to meet Giles Teasleyface to face to settle the matter forever.

  Since it was purely a mountain affair, and the officers of the law hadalready searched to their satisfaction, there was little chance that thepursuit would be renewed by the State. It would, however, be impossiblefor him to go back to the Fall Place and live there openly until thelast member of the Teasley family capable of wreaking vengeance on hishead had been settled with; but as the father was crippled withrheumatism and could do no more than totter about his mill and talk,only this one brother was left with whom to deal. Now that Frale wasback in his own hills again, all terror slipped from him, and the oldexcitement in the presence of danger to be met, or avoided, stimulatedhim to a feeling of exuberance and triumph. With childlike facility hetossed aside the thought of his promise to Cassandra. It all seemed tohim as a dream--all the horror and the remorse. Time had quickly dulledthis last.

  "Ef I hadn't 'a' killed Ferd, he would 'a' shot me. Anyhow, he hadn'tought to 'a' riled me that-a-way."

  He thought with shame of how he had sat cowering at the head of thefall, and had hurled his own dog to destruction, in his fear. "I warjes' plumb crazy," he soliloquized.

  As to how he could deal with Cassandra, he did not as yet know, but hewould find a way. In his heart, he reached out to her and alreadypossessed her. His blood leaped madly through his veins that he was sosoon to see her and touch her. Have her he would, if he must continue tokill his way to her through an army of opponents.

  The evening was falling, and, imagining they would all be sleeping, hemeant to creep quietly up and spend the night in the loom shed. Therewas no dog there now to disturb them with joyful bark of recognition. Atlast he found himself above the home, where, by striking through theundergrowth a short distance, he would come out by the great holly treenear the head of the fall. Already he could hear the welcome sound ofrushing water.

  He drew nearer through the thick laurel and azalea shrubs now in fullbloom; their pollen clung to his clothing as he brushed among them.Cautiously he approached the spot which recalled to him the emotions hehad experienced there--now throbbing through him anew. He peered intothe gathering dusk with eager eyes as if he thought to find her stillthere. Ah, he could crush her in his mad joy!

  Suddenly he paused and listened. Other sounds than those of the nightand the running water fell on his ear--sounds deliciously sweet andthrilling, filling all the air, mingling with the rushing of the falland accenting its flow. From whence did they come--those new sounds? Hehad never heard them before. Did they drop from the sky--from the starstwinkling brightly down on him--now faint and far as if born inheaven--now near and clear--silvery clear and strong andsweet--penetrating his very soul and making every nerve quiver to theirpulsating rhythm? He felt a certain fear of a new kind creep tinglinglythrough him, holding him cold and still--for the moment breathless. Wasshe there? Had she died, and was this her spirit trying to speak?

  Very quietly he drew nearer to the great rock. Yes, she was there,standing with her back to the silvery gray bole of the holly tree, herface lifted toward the mountain top and her expression rapt andlistening--holy and pure--far removed from him as was the star above thepeak toward which her gaze was turned. He could not touch her, nor crushher to him as a moment before he had felt he must, but he slowlyapproached.

  She heard his step and then saw him waiting there in the dim light ofthe starry dusk. For an instant she regarded him in silence, then sheessayed to speak, but her lips only trembled over the words voicelessly.He could not see her emotion, but he felt it, although her stillnessmade her seem calm. Hungrily he stood and watched her. At last shespoke:--

  "Why, Frale, Frale!"

  "Hit's me, Cass."

  "Have--have you been down to the house, Frale?"

  "Naw, I jes' come this-a-way from the station."

  "Is it--is it safe for you to come here, Frale?"

  She stood a short distance from him, speaking so softly, and yet hecould not touch her; his hands seemed numb, and his breath camepantingly.

  "I reckon hit's safe here as thar," he said huskily. "An' I'm come tostay, too."

  "Then let's go down to mother. Likely she's a-bed by now, but she'll beright glad to see you. She can walk a little now." She hastened to fillthe moments with words, anything to divert that fixed gaze and take histhoughts from her. Instinctively she groped thus for time, she who likea deer would flee if flight were possible, even while her heart welledwith pity for him. "Come. You can talk with her whilst I get you somesupper." She felt his pent-up emotion and secretly feared it, but heldherself bravely. "Hoyle will nigh jump out of his skin, he'll be thatglad you come back."

  He stood stubbornly where he was, and lifted his hand to grasp her arm,but she glided on just beyond his reach, either not seeing it, oravoiding it, he could not decide which, and still she said, "Come,Frale." He followed stumblingly in her wake, as a man follows an ignisfatuus, unconscious of the roughness of the way or of the steps he wastaking--and the flute notes followed them fromabove--sweetly--mockingly, as it seemed to him. What were they? Why werethey? How came Cassandra there listening? He could stand this mystery nolonger--and he cried out to her.

  "Cass, hear. Listen to that."

  "Yes, Frale." She spoke wearily, but did not pause.

  "Wait, Cass. What be hit, ye reckon? Hit sure hain't no fiddle. Thar!Heark to hit. Whar be hit at?"

  "I reckon it's up yonder at Doctor Thryng's cabin. He has a little pipelike, that he blows on and it makes music like that."

  "An' you clum' up thar to heark to him?" He bounded forward in thedarkness and walked close to her. She quivered like a leaf, but held hervoice low and steady as she replied.

  "No, Frale. I go there evenings when I'm not too tired. I've been goingthere ever since you left to--"

  "That doctah, he's be'n castin' a spell on you, Cass. I kin seehit--how you walkin' off an' nevah 'low me to touch you. Ye hain't saidhowd'y to me nor how you glad I come. You like a col' white drift o'snow blowin' on ahead o' me. You
hain't no human girl like you used tobe. I got somethin' to put a spell on him, too, ef he don't watch out."

  He spoke in his mild, low-voiced drawl, but he kept close to her side,and she could hear his breathing, quick and panting. She felt as if atiger were keeping pace with her, and she knew the sinister meaningbeneath his words. She knew that all she could do now was to take himback to his promise and hold him to it.

  "There's no such thing as spell casting, Frale. You know that, and youhave my promise and I have yours. Have you forgot? Talking that wayseems like you have forgot." She walked on rapidly, taking him nearerand nearer their home, and in her haste she stumbled. In an instant hisarm was thrown around her, holding her on her feet.

  "Look at you now, like to fall cl'ar headlong, runnin' that-a-way to getshet o' me. 'Pears like you mad that I come."

  He held her back, and they went slowly, but he did not release her, nordid she struggle futilely against his strength, knowing it wiser tocontinue calmly leading him on; but she could not reply. The start ofher fall and her wildly beating heart rendered her breathless and weak.

  "I tell you that thar doctah man, he have put a spell on you. He donedrawed you up thar to hear to him. I seed you lookin' like he'd donedrawed yuer soul outen yuer body. I have heard o' sech. He's be'n downto Bishop Towahs', too, whar I be'n workin' at. I seed him watchin' melike he come to spy on me, an' he no sooner gone than I seed that tharGiles Teasley sneakin' 'long the fence lookin' over an' searchin' eve'yplace like he war a-hungerin' fer a sight o' me." He stopped andswallowed angrily. They had arrived at the trough of running water, andshe breathed easier to find herself so near her haven.

  "What have you done with your dog, Frale? You reckon he followed youoff? I haven't seen him since you left."

  He released her then and, stooping to the water-pipe, drank a longdraft, and thrust his head beneath it, allowing the water to drench histhick hair. Then he stood a moment, shaking his curling locks like aspaniel.

  "Wait here. I'll fetch a towel." She hastened within. "Mother, Frale'scome back," she said quietly, not to awaken Hoyle; then returned andtossed him the towel which he caught and rubbed vigorously over his headand face.

  "Now you are like yourself again, Frale."

  "Yas, I'm here an' I'm myself, I reckon. Who'd ye think I be?" He caughther and kissed her, and, with his arm about her, entered the cabin.

  His mood changed with childish ease according to whatever the momentsbrought him. Cassandra lighted a candle, for now that the days had grownwarm, the fire was allowed to go out unless needed for cooking. Hisstepmother had roused herself and peered at him from out her darkcorner, where little Hoyle lay sleeping soundly in the farther side ofher bed. Frale strode across the uneven floor and kissed her also,resoundingly. Astounded, she dropped back on her pillow.

  "What ails ye, Frale!" The mountain people are for the most part tooreserved to be lavish with their kisses.

  "Nothin' ails me. I'm kissin' you fer Cass's sake. Me an' her's goin' toget jined an' set up togethah. I'm come back fer to marry with her, andwe're goin' ovah t'othah side Lone Pine, an' I'm goin' to build a cabinthar. That's how I'm kissin' you. Will you have anothah, or shall I givehit to Cass?"

  "You hush an' go 'long," said the mother, half contemptuously.

  "Frale's making fool talk, mothah. Don't give heed to him. He'slight-headed, I reckon, and I'm going to get him something to eat rightquick."

  "I 'low he be light-headed. Nobody's goin' to git Cass whilst I'mlivin', 'thout he's got more'n a cabin ovah t'othah side Lone Pine.She's right well off here, an' here she'll 'bide."

  Frale turned darkly on the mother. "I reckon you'd bettah give heed tome mor'n to her," he said, in the low drawl which boded much with him.

  Cassandra, on her knees at the hearth, was arranging sticks of fat pineto light the fire. Her hands shook as she held them. This Frale saw, andhis eyes gleamed. He came to her side and, kneeling also, took them fromher.

  "Hit's my place to do this fer you now, Cass. F'om now on--I reckon.I'll hang the kittle fer ye, too, an' fetch the water."

  The mother stared at them in silence, and Cassandra, taking up thecoffee-pot, rose and went out. When she returned, the fire was cracklingmerrily, and the great kettle swung over it. Hoyle was up and seated onhis half-brother's knee. Cassandra's eyes looked heavy and showed tracesof tears.

  Frale saw it all, with eyes gleaming blue through narrowly drawn lids.His lips quivered a little as he talked with Hoyle. He drew out hismoney for the child to count over gleefully, thus diverting himself withthe boy, while he watched Cassandra furtively. He decided to say no moreat present until she should have had time to adjust her mind to thethought he had so daringly announced to her mother. The two cakes littleDorothy had given him he took from his bundle and gave to Hoyle, thencarried him back and put him to bed and told him to sleep again.

  For all of her promise, Cassandra had not expected this to come upon herso suddenly, like lightning out of a clear sky, startling her very soulwith fear. As Frale ate what she set before him, she went over to thebedside, and sat there holding her mother's hand and talking in lowtones, while Hoyle, with wide eyes, strove to hear.

  "Be hit true, what he says, Cass?"

  "Not all, mother. I never told him I would go and live over beyond LonePine. I meant always to live right here with you, but I am promised tohim. I gave him my word that night he left, to get him to go and savehim. Oh, God! Mother, I didn't guess it would come so soon. He promisedme he would repent his deed and live right."

  The mother brightened and drew her daughter down and spoke low in herear. "Make him keep to his promise first, child. Yuer safe thar. Ireckon he's doin' a heap o' repentin' this-a-way. I ain' goin' 'low youthrow you'se'f away on no Farwell, ef he be good-lookin', 'thout heholds to his word good fer a year. Hit's jes' the way his paw done me.He gin me his word 'at he'd stop 'stillin' an' drinkin', an' he helt tohit fer three months, an' then he come on me this-a-way an' I marriedhim, an' he opened up his still again in three weeks, an' thar he wenthis own way f'om that day."

  Cassandra rose and went to the door. "I'm going to make you a bed in theloom shed like I made it for the doctor. There is no bed up garret now.I emptied out all the ticks and thought I'd have them fresh filledagainst you come back--but I've been that busy."

  Soon he followed her out. "I reckon I won't sleep thar whar that doctahhave slep'. He might put a spell on me, too," he said, standing in thedoor of the shed and looking in on her. The night was lighter now, forthe full moon had glided up over the hills, and she worked by its lightstreaming through the open door.

  "I can't see with you standing there, Frale. I reckon you'll have tosleep here, because it's too late to fill your bed to-night."

  "Oh, leave that be and come and sit here with me," he said, dropping onthe step where the doctor had sat when she opened her heart to him andtold him about her father. It all surged back upon her now. She couldnot sit there with Frale. "I'll make my bed myself, an' I'll--I'll sleepwharevah you want me to, ef hit's up on the roof or out yandah in thewater trough. Come, sit."

  "We'll go back on the porch, and I'll take mother's chair. I'm righttired."

  "When we git in our own cabin ovah t'othah side Lone Pine, you won'thave nothin' to do only tend on me," he said, drawing her to him. He ledher across the open space and placed her gently in her mother's chair onthe little porch.

  "Now, Frale, sit down there and listen," she said, pointing to the stepat her feet where Thryng had sat only a few days before to make out thelease of their land. Everything seemed to cry out to her of himto-night, but she must steel her heart against the thought.

  "I'm going to talk to you straight, just what I mean, Frale. You've beentalking as you pleased in there, and I 'lowed you to, I was that setback. Anyway, I'd rather talk to you alone. Frale, our promise was madebefore God, and you know I will keep to mine. But you must keep toyours, too. Listen at me. Mrs. Towers wrote me you had been drunk twice.Is that keeping your pro
mise to leave whiskey alone? Is it, Frale?"

  "You have somebody down thar watchin' me, an' I hain't nobody a-watchin'you," he said sullenly. She felt degraded by his words.

  "Frale, do you know me all these years to think such as that of me now?"

  "I tell you he have put a spell on you. I kin feel hit an' see hit. Hitain't your fault, Cass. I'd put one on you myself, ef I could. Anyhow,I'll take you out of this fer he have done hit."

  "Do you never say that word to me again as long as you live, Frale," shesaid sternly. "Listen at me, I say. You go back there and work like yousaid you would--"

  "Didn't I tell you that thar houn' dog Giles Teasley war on my scent? Iseen him. I got to come back ontwell I c'n git shet o' him."

  "And that means another murder! Oh, Frale, Frale!" She covered her facewith her hands and moaned. Then they sat silent awhile.

  After a little she lifted her head. "Frale, I'll go over to Teasleys'and beg for them to leave you be. I'll beg Giles Teasley on my knees, Iwill. Then when you have bided your year and kept your promise like youswore before God, I'll marry you like I promised, and we'll live hereand keep the old place like it ought to be kept. You hear, Frale? Goodnight, now. It's only fair you should give heed to me, Frale, if I dothat for you. Good night."

  She glided past him into the house like a wraith, and he rose without aword of reply and stretched himself on the half-made bed in the loomshed, as he was. Sullen and angry, he lay far into the night with themoonlight streaming over him, but he did not sleep, and his mood onlygrew more bitter and dangerous.

  When the first streak of dawn was drawn across the eastern sky, he roseunrefreshed, and began a search, feeling along the rafters high abovethe bags of cotton. Presently he drew forth an ancient, long-barrelledrifle, and, taking it out into the light, examined it carefully. Herubbed and cleaned the barrel and polished the stock and oiled thehammer and trigger. Then he brought from the same hiding-place a horn ofpowder and gun wadding, and at last took from his pocket the silverbullet, with which he loaded his old weapon even as he had seen itcharged in past days by his father's hand.

  Below the house, built over a clear welling spring which ran in a brightlittle rivulet to the larger stream, was the spring-house. Here, afterthe warm days came, the milk and butter were kept, and here Fralesauntered down--his gun slung across his arm, his powder-horn at hisbelt, in his old clothes--with his trousers thrust in his boot-tops--tosearch for provisions for the day and his breakfast as well. He had nomind to allow the family to oppose his action or reason him out of hiscourse.

  He found a jug of buttermilk placed there the evening before for Hoyleto carry to the doctor in the morning, and slung it by a strap over hisshoulder. In one of the sheds lay two chickens, ready dressed to be cutup for the frying-pan, and one of these, with a generous strip of saltpork from the keg of dry salt where it was kept, he dropped in a sack.He would not enter the house for corn-bread, even though he knew he waswelcome to all the home afforded, but planned to arrive at some mountaincabin where friends would give him what he required to complete hisstock of food. His gun would provide him with an occasional meal ofgame, and he thus felt himself prepared for as long a period of ambushas might be necessary.

  Before sunrise he was well on his way over the mountain. He did notattempt to go directly to his old haunt, but turned aside and took thetrail leading along the ridge--the same Thryng and Cassandra had takento go to the cabin of Decatur Irwin. Frale had no definite idea of goingthere, but took the high ridge instinctively. So long had he been in thelow country that he craved now to reach the heights where he might seethe far blue distances and feel the strong sweet air blowing past him.It was much the same feeling that had caused him to thrust his headunder the trough of running water the evening before.

  As a wild creature loves the freedom of the plains, or an eagle risesand circles about in the blue ether aimless and untrammelled, so thisman of the hills moved now in his natural environment, living in thepresent moment, glad to be above the low levels and out from under allrestraint, seeing but a little way into his future, content to satisfypresent needs and the cravings of his strong, virile body.

  Moments of exaltation and aspiration came to him, as they must come toevery one, but they were moments only, and were quickly swept aside andbut vaguely comprehended by him. As a child will weep one minute oversome creature his heedlessness has hurt and the next forget it all inthe pursuit of some new delight, so this child of nature took his way,swayed by his moods and desires--an elemental force, like a swollentorrent taking its vengeful way--forgetful of promises--glad offreedom--angry at being held in restraint, and willing to crush or tearaway any opposing force.

  At last, breakfastless and weary after his long climb, his sleeplessnight, and the depression following his talk with Cassandra the eveningbefore, he paused at the edge of the descent, loath to leave the openheight behind him, and stretched himself under a great black cedar torest. As he lay there dreaming and scheming, with half-shut eyes, hespied below him the bare red patch of soil around the cabin of DecaturIrwin. Instantly he rose and began rapidly to descend.

  Decatur was away. He had got a "job of hauling," his wife said, and hadto be away all day, but she willingly set herself to bake a freshcorn-cake and make him coffee. He had already taken a little of hisbuttermilk, but he did not care for raw salt pork alone. He wanted hiscorn-bread and coffee,--the staple of the mountaineer.

  She talked much, in a languid way, as she worked, and he sat in thedoorway. Now and then she asked questions about his home and"Cassandry," which he answered evasively. She gossiped much about allthe happenings and sayings of her neighbors far and near, and complainedmuch, when she came to take pay from him for what she provided, of thetimes which had come upon them since "Cate had hurt his foot." She toldhow that fool doctor had come there and taken "hit off, makin' out likeCate'd die of hit ef he didn't," and how "Cassandry Merlin had donecheated her into goin' off so 't she could bide thar at the cabin alonewith that doctah man herself an' he'p him do hit."

  With her snuff stick between her yellow teeth and her numerous progenysquatting in the dirt all about the doorway, idly gazing at Frale, sheretailed her grievances without reserve. How the wife of Hoke Belew hadbeen "ailin'," and Cassandra had "be'n thar ev'y day keerin' fer her. I'low she jes' goes 'cause she 'lows she'll see that doctah man thar an'ride back with him like she done when she brung him here," said thepallid, spiteful creature, and spat as she talked. "She nevah done thatfer me. I be'n sick a heap o' times, an' she hain't nevah come nigh meto do a lick."

  Frale was annoyed to hear Cassandra thus spoken against, for was she nothis own? He chose to defend her, while purposely concealing his bitteranger against the doctor. "The' hain't nothin' agin Cassandry. She'ssorter kin to me, an' I 'low the' hain't."

  "Naw," said the woman, changing instantly at the threatening tone, "the'hain't nothin' agin her. I reckon he tells her whar to go, an' she jes'goes like he tells her."

  Frale threw his sack over his shoulder and started on in silence, andthe woman smiled evilly after him as she sat there and licked her lips,and chewed on her snuff stick and spat.