Well, the Diamond Dot was sure a dismal dump after that. Every one had liked Dick; but they didn't know how much until he was snuffed out like the flame of a candle. The ol' man had me make a stagger at fillin' Dick's shoes; but it wasn't what a truthful man would call a coal-ossal success. Dick had left a lot of directions, tellin' how to judge the markets an' how to make improvements without feelin' the cost, an' a dozen other things that. I had allus supposed was simply a mixture o' luck an' Providence; but it wasn't in my line to figger things out on paper. Give me the actual cattle an' I could nurse 'em along through sand-storm an' blizzard, an' round 'em up in the President's back yard; but at that time they didn't signify much to me when they was corraled up on a sheet of paper. When it cane to action I was as prepossessed as a clerk at a pie counter; but I didn't have the slightest symptom of what they call the legal mind.
The' wouldn't much 'a' come of it; but one day Barbie came out of her daze an' walked into the office where I was sweatin' over some of Dick's prognostications, stuck a pencil behind her ear, an' waded into 'em; an' from that on I took off my hat to a college edication. Dick may have been on the queer all right, but he was smooth enough to hide it. Anyhow, ol' man Judson's bank account was a heap plumper'n it was when Dick had his first whack at it, an' Dick had drawn a mighty stately salery himself. But he earned it, for the ranch was in strictly modern order an' runnin' on a passenger schedule.
It allus gave me a hurtin' in the chest to see either Barbie or the ol' man himself those days. The' was a set look in Barbie's eyes; cold an' unflinchin' an' defiant. I once saw the same expression in the eyes of a trapped mountain lion. The ol' man's face was all plowed up too. He reminded me of an Injun up to Port Bridger. A Shoshone he was from the Wind River country, an' he had the look of an eagle; but he got a holt of some alcohol an' upset a kettle o' boilin' grease on himself. He lived for eight days with part of his bones stickin' through, but never givin' a groan; an' I ain't got the look of his face out o' my system yet. Jabez reminded me of it a heap: an' he was just about as noisy over it too. I never supposed that the Diamond Dot could get to lookin' so much like a desert island to me. I got to feelin' like one who had been sent up for life, an' I would sure have made a break for freedom if it hadn't been for the little girl. I couldn't bear to leave her.
One of the saddest things I ever see in my whole life was the difference between the way she an' Jabez acted an' the way they used to. I've heard preachers beseech their victims to live in peace an' harmony together, an' not to quarrel or complain; an' right at the time it didn't sound so empty an' mockish; but when you come to boil it down the' ain't nothin' in that theory. Why, I'd seen the ol' man hunt Barbie all forenoon just to pick a quarrel with her; an' they would fuss an' stew an' revile each other an' keep it up all through dinner; an' then go off in the afternoon an' scrap from wire to wire; but they was enjoyin' themselves fine, an' addin' to their stock of what is called mutual respect. Every time one of 'em would land it would cheer him up an' put the other one on his mettle; an' they certainly did get more comfort an' brotherly love out of it than most folks does out of a prayer-meetin'; but after Dick went away the' wasn't no more quarrels. No, they was as differential as a pair of Japanese ambassadors; an' she never called him Dad again—never once! an' I could see him a-hunngerin' for it with the look in his eyes a young cow has when she is huntin' for the little wet calf the coyotes has beat her to. It was allus, "Yes, sir," or "No, sir," until I could almost hear the ol' man's heart a-breakin' in his breast.
She never complained none, Barbie didn't. She plowed through her work as though it was goin' to bring him back to her; an' when she couldn't think of anything else to do she would tramp off to the hills or ride like the wind over the roughest roads she could find. Time an' again she wouldn't be able to sleep, but would steal out o' the house, an' we could hear her guitar sobbin' an' wailin of in the night; but if Barbie herself ever shed a tear it never left a mark on her cheek nor put a glaze to her eye.
The' was one knoll not far from the house which commanded the view a long way toward Danders in one direction, an' a long way toward Webb Station in another, an' she spent about ten minutes each evenin' on this knoll. Oh, it used to hurt, it used to hurt, to see that purty little light-hearted creature makin' her fight all alone, an' never lettin' another livin' bein' come within hailin' distance. At times it was all I could do to keep from goin' gunnin' for Dick myself.
Once she sez to me, "Happy, if any mail comes to me I want to get it myself, an' I want you to see that I do get it."
"Barbie," sez I, "as far as my feeble power goes you'll get your mail; an' if it happens to involve any other male—why, from this on, I'm under your orders." She was grateful all right, an' tried to smile, but it was a purty successful failure.
Soon the winter settled down an' the snow blotted out the trails, but she never heard from him. The ol' man had wrote to the postmaster at Laramie, an' he had answered that Dick had allus played fair accordin' to the best o' his belief. He went on to say that Dick was generally counted about the best citizen they had; but that after he had shut Big Brown he had pulled out an' no one knew where he was. He said 'at Brown hadn't died, which was a cause for sorrow to the whole town. He also said that Denton would be a disgrace to coyote parents. He furthermore went on to state that Dick still owned quite a little property in Laramie. The old man showed me an' Barbie the letter; but it didn't help much.
When Thanksgivin' hove in sight the ol' man dug up a bottle o' whiskey, an' put on a few ruffles to sort o' stiffen up his back; an' one day after dinner he sez to Barbie, "Now you just stay settin'." She was in the habit of estimatin' just how little nurishment it would take to run her to the next feed, gettin' it into her in the shortest possible time, an' then makin' a streak for it.
"Now, little girl," sez Jabez, tryin' to look joyous an' free from care, "you are leadin' too sober a life. I want to see you happy again. I want to see you laughin' about the house, like you used to. Can't you sort o' liven up a little?"
"I might," sez she, with the first sneer I ever see her use on the ol' man, "I might, if you'd give me the rest o' the bottle you got your own gaiety out of."
Cast Steel's face turned as red as a brick, an' his fist doubled up. "That's a sample o' your idee of respect, is it? You're gettin' too infernal biggoty. Now you pay attention. I want to have a little gatherin' here Thanks-givin'. Will you, or will you not, see that the arrangements are attended to?"
"Yes, sir," sez Barbie, lookin' down at her plate. "How many guests will the' be?"
"Well, how can I tell?" sez Jabez. "Can you get ready for twenty?"
"Yes, sir," answers Barbie, never liftin' her eyes.
"Yes, sir; yes, sir; yes, sir!" yells the of man. "I get everlastin' tired o' your 'yes, sirs.' Am I or am I not your ol' Dad?"
"If you prefer, I can call you father," sez she, like she was talkin' to the moon through a telephone. "Dad is not correct English; it is a kalowquism."
This was allus like a pail o' water to the ol' man. Nothin' stung him any worse than to have her peel a couple o' layers off her edication an' chuck 'em at him.
"Do you know what is apt to happen if you keep on pesterin' me?" he sez, glarin' at her. "Do you think 'at you're too big to be whipped?"
She raised her eyes an' looked at him then. Poor feller, he could 'a' torn his tongue out by the roots the minute it was guilty o' that fool speech; but she didn't spare him. She let him have the full effect o' that look, an' he seemed to shrivel up. "I reckon you're big enough to whip me—once," she said; "but I'm of age, an' I'm mighty sure 'at that would be the finishin' touch 'at would break the bonds what seem to hold me to this house. I probably have bad blood o' some kind in me; but I'm not so ill-favored but what I can find a man to go along with me when I do conclude to go." She looked at me, an' the ol' man looked at me, an' I felt like a red-hot stove; but I straightened back in my chair, an' I cleared my throat. "I ain't no mind-reader," sez I, "but I'm bettin' on that same card."
The ol' man couldn't think up a come-back; so in about a minute he pushed back his chair, upsettin' it an' lettin' it lay where it fell. He went up to his room, slammin' the door after him, an' Barbie got out a pony an' galloped off to the hills.
But the ol' man hadn't give up his project. He opened it again, an' was mighty crafty in the way he handled it, until finally he engineered it through. The' was purt' nigh forty of 'em who arrived to make merry over Thanksgivin'. Some of 'em came the day before, an' some of 'em two days before, an' some didn't arrive till the day itself, 'cause they had lived such a ways. The' was four women an' three unmarried ladies, countin' Miss Wiggins, the Spike Crick schoolmarm, who was a friendly little thing, though a shade too coltish for her years. Most o' the men was still liable to matrimony.
Jabez had an idee in his head, an' it didn't take no ferret to nose it out, neither. He was extra cordial to the store-keeper from Webb Station, an' a young Englishman by the name o' Hawthorn, finally settlin' down to Hawthorn an' playin' him wide open. We had a mighty sociable time, an' whenever we wasn't eatin' we played games. Barbie did just exactly what of Cast Steel played her to do. She was too red-blooded to let an outsider see 'at she'd been bad hurt; so she brazened up an' laughed an' danced an' sang, an' showed 'em games they hadn't never dreamt of before.
Most of 'em went home by Sunday night, but Hawthorn was prevailed upon to stay a week longer. He had a little ranch up in the hills, an' seemed a well-meanin' sort of a feller, but slow. He belonged to the show-me club, an' had all his facical muscles spiked fast for fear they'd come loose an' grin before he saw the point himself.
Barbie see through the ol' man's lead, an' she took her revenge out on Hawthorn. She would lean forward an' hold his eye, an' say, in the sweetest voice you ever heard, "Oh. Mr. Hawthorn, I want to tell you somethin' that happened at school;" an' then she would start in an' tell some long-winded tale 'at didn't have no more point than a mush room, an' as she told along she would call his attention to certain details as though they was goin' to figger in at the wind-up. When she would reach the end she would break out in a peal o' spontunious laughter; while he would look as if he had been lost in the heart of a great city without his name-plate on. Still, he had a certain breedy look about him, an' before the week was up she grew ashamed of her-self an' showed him a good time.
He was one o' these sad ones—sentimental an' romantic, with a bad case o' chronic lonesomeness; an' one twilight he told her a pathetic little love story about a girl back in England what had had sense enough to cut him out of her assets when he had trooped over to this country to punch a fortune out o' beef cattle. This had been about five years previous; but his heart still ached about it—though it hadn't cut his appetite so you could notice. She treated him mighty gentle after this, an' when he started to ride away Jabez had the look of a man what had filled his hand.
In about a week he came over an' stayed for a couple o' days, an' he showed up at Christmas too; an' about once a week after that he'd drop in an' stay four or five days. Early in March he paid a visit to his own ranch to ready things up for spring, an' the day after he was gone Jabez sez to Barbie at dinner, "Now, Mr Hawthorn is a gentle man. He asked me for the honor of winnin' your hand in holy wedlock; an' I have give my consent."
Barbie went along eatin' her meal, an' purty soon Jabez sez, "Well, did you hear what I had to say?"
"Why, certainly I did," sez Barbie, calmly.
"What have you got to say about it?" sez he.
"Oh, nothin' in particular," sez she. "It was very polite in him to ask, an' very kind in you to give your consent; but I can't see as it interests me much. I can't see that he has any show of winnin' the hand. I promised that once, an' I ain't never got the promise back."
"Yes," snaps Jabez, "an' who did you promise it to? To a sneak who didn't care a pin for you but was only after my money. If he was honest why didn't he ask me, the same as Hawthorn did?"
"Of course I can't tell for sure," sez she, without raisin' her voice or changin' her expression, "but I thought at the time that it was the hand itself he wanted, an' not merely permission to set an' wish for it. In this life a man generally gets what he asks for. Dick got the hand."
"Seems to set a heap o' store by it," sez the ol' man, edgin' up his voice cruel an' tantalizin'. "Where's this Dick now; when did you last hear from this winner of hands?"
It was a fierce stab, an' Barbie went white as a sheet; but she faced him cool an' steady. "I ain't never heard from him since the day he left; but I trust him just the same. The hand will be his when he chooses to claim it; or if he never comes back at all—why the hand will still be his."
Cast Steel got on his hind legs an' struck the table till every dish on it jumped, an' I rose a bit myself; but Barbie only curled her little red lip. "Curse him," sez the ol' man, "curse him, wherever he is an' wherever he goes. He has ruined my life an' he has ruined yours; an' if he ever steps foot on this ranch again, I'll—"
"Stop!" sez Barbie, springin' to her feet. "You give me more sadness every day I live than Dick has altogether; but for pity's sake don't bind yourself by a threat. Wait till he comes back, an' be free to meet him like a man, not like a thug pledged to murder."
"What do you know about him?" sez the ol' man, sittin' down. "For all you know, he may be robbin' trains for a livin'. It would be right in his line."
"For all I know, robbin' trains was where you got your start," sez Barbie; an' the of man's face turned gray an' his eyes stuck out like picture nails. He wasn't used to gettin' it quite so unpolluted, an' it gave him a nasty jar.
"How do you know 'at he ain't livin' with the woman he kept over at Laramie?" sez Jabez, tryin' to get the whip hand again. "How do you know he ain't married?"
"An' how do I know 'at you ever was married—" she stopped short, bitin' her lip an' turnin' red with shame. "I know it's well nigh hopeless to plead with a natural bully," she sez in a new tone; "but I do wish 'at you'd let me alone. You're destroyin' my respect for everything. I can't stand this much longer. If I can't live here in peace I'll have to hunt a new place to live; but as long as I do stay here you will have to act like a man—even if you can't act like a father. I think that in the future I shall take my meals alone."
"I do want to act like a father, little girl. That's what I want most of all. If you would only go back to the old times, if you would only get this sneak out of your head"—Jabez had started in gentle an' repentent, but the minute he thought of Dick again he flared out white with rage—"an' you might just as well get him out of your head, 'cause he's the same as dead to you. I hate him! I hate every sneak; an' I hate every lie—spoken or lived, I hate a lie!"
The ol' man leaned forward, shaking with anger, an' Barbie got up like a queen an' walked out o' the room as though she was steppin' on the necks of the airy-stockracy. She went to the office, an' after a couple o' minutes I follered her, expectin' to cheer her up a bit; but she wasn't mournin' none; she was workin' like a steam engine, with her face cold an' white except for a little patch o' red in each cheek; an' when she raised her eyes to mine I knew 'at the ol' man had gone a link too far.
After me and Barbie had taken up Dick's work we had divided his wages, an' she had a nice little roll of her own corded away. I didn't ask no questions, but it was plain as day that she had jerked up her tie-rope; an' the next time Cast Steel used the spurs he was goin' to be dumped off an' she was goin' to flit the trail for Never-again. I didn't blame her a mite; an' though I didn't pester her with queries nor smother her with advice nor sicken her with consolation nor madden her with pity, I did give her the man-to-man look, an' she knew 'at all she had to do was to issue orders.
It was that very afternoon that she started to correctin' my talk an' stimulatin' my ambition, an' tellin' me about it never bein' too late to mend; an' while I couldn't quite decide just what she was drivin' at I saw that when she found she couldn't trust her cinches any longer we was both goin' to jump together. About five o'clock she put her hand on my shoulder an' sez: "We've been mighty good pals, Happy Hawkins; an' while you ain't parlor-broke nor city-wise, any time 'at anybody counts on you they don't have to count over."
She walked softly out o' the office, an' I sat until it was long after dark. I couldn't believe 'at she was desperate enough to marry me; I could see the gulf between us plain enough, an' the higher you are the plainer you can see the difference; but I could see that unless Jabez changed his ways, why, the oldest man the' was couldn't tell how far Barbie would go. I didn't think a bit of myself, I can say that much; all I looked at was what would make her the happiest, an' she was welcome to take my life any way she wanted. If she chose to drag it out for fifty years, or if she selected that I cash it in the next hour, my only regret would be that I hadn't but one life to give her.
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