It hurts me inside to see anything plumb beaten. I've hunted a lot, an' I'm as keen on the trail as a terrier dog an' durin the fight I don't have no disturbin shudders; but after I've won an' I see the light of joy an' hope an' freedom fadin' out of eyes that have been so bright an' fearless, the' 's allus somethin' 'at swells inside o' my breast an' makes me half sorry 'at all fights can't end in a draw. The' 's one kind of nature which I never yet was able to figger out, an' that's the nature that can rub it in on a fallen foe.
Poor old Jabez, I'd judged him an' I'd judges him harsh; but when I saw him go to pieces there on the padded bench I just seemed to go to pieces with him. When I saw the strength leave him like the steam from an engine as the flood reaches its fire-box; when I saw the hands that thought they was strong enough to shape the future danglin' between his crooked knees, an' the eyes that had never before asked mercy lookin' up glazed an' pitiful, why, it felt to me as if I was just tryin' to send the strength out of my own body into his. Poor ol' Jabez, he was cast steel to the finish, no spring, just simply rigid an' stiff, till at last he broke.
But runnin' the universe is no job for a human; every man would choose to look his best when he's to meet the one woman; but if Jabez had still been standin' like a rock an' lookin' out at the world through eagle-eyes the woman at the door wouldn't never have spoke to him. When she saw him tired an' broken an' heart-sick of life itself, the mother in her finally tore out all the wrongs o' the past, an' she crossed the room an' took one of his hands an' said, "George, you mustn't give up, you mustn't give up now."
Barbie was holdin' his other hand, an' the ol' man looked first from one to the other while big tears gathered in his open eyes an' rolled slowly down his cheeks. I tell you it was a touchy sight, an' I was sweatin' like a fish when ol' Friar Tuck tip-toed over an' put one hand on my shoulder an' the other on Jim's, an' said: "They'll get along better without us, boys. Let's just step outside till they call us."
Oh, I tell you that Friar Tuck was a sky-pilot for true! We sneaked stealthily to the door, passin' ol' Melisse on the way. She was huddled up on the floor prayin' in Spanish, an' Friar Tuck rested his hand on her head a second, an' then we went out into the night air—I can taste my first breath of it yet.
He went over to see how the crowd was doin' in the storeroom, sayin' that he thought he'd get some eatin'-things under way to sort of ease the strain—he knew a human all right, the Friar did. Jim an' I walked out together under the stars, an' I told him my side of it; an' he told me that he had met Jack Whitman when he was runnin' a gamblin' place close to the New Mexico line. Whitman ran it on the square an' he had saved Jim a lot o' money one night, an' then afterwards Jim had helped to stand off a hold-up gang, an' a strong feelin' had grew up between 'em. Whitman had told part of the story, but made out that Barbie's mother was his own sister. When she had left Jabez an' the child—I don't know, myself, just why she left him. It started when she found out how he had lied to Whitman an' mighty near killed him; but just all that happened, before she burned out her brand and skipped, I don't know to this day, but they was both purty high-headed an' nervy in their youth, an' I've often suspected that Jabez' conscience didn't get to workin' smooth until after he was left alone with the child on his hands. It sometimes happens that way.
Well, anyhow, when she had left him she had gone to the southern part of California, where she'd got a job teachin' school. Whitman had located her, an' when her health gave out he had sent her money without lettin' her know where it came from. Whitman had follered minin' till his wife died, an' then he got to speculatin' in stocks, finally gettin' cleaned out full an' proper, an' then he started to gamblin' in earnest. It was from him that Jim had picked up most of his idees about business an' gamblin'. When Whitman himself had died he had turned Barbie's mother over to Jim.
She was livin' on a ranch in northern Colorado at this time, on account of her health. When Jim got cleaned out by the cattle crowd, an' opened his joint in Laramie, he brought her over to keep house an' be company for him. He pertended to be the son of a wild uncle she'd had, an' he fixed up a believable tale to go with it. All the while he'd been at the Diamond Dot he had supposed that she was Whitman's sister—she went by her maiden name of Miss Garrison, an' she had never told him her full story, simply hintin' enough at times to let him know that she had gone through the mill.
He had never pieced things together until I had sent him my letter, an' then he guessed how it was, an' puttin' what I told him onto what she an' Whitman had told him, he saw it all. He didn't know what had made her leave Judson, or rather Jordan; but he said he was positive it was his fault, as she was some the finest woman he had ever met, exceptin' of course her own daughter.
We talked it all over there in the starlight, until ol' Melisse came an' called us in. I didn't want to go; I was tryin' to cut myself out of the game entirely an' forget that I even existed; for the' was a cry in my heart that wouldn't hush, an' I wanted to be alone; but when Jim insisted I braced up an' went in.
Ol' Jabez looked a heap better, but still shaky; his wife had a tender half sad smile on her face, while Barbie was radiant with the joy she had waited for so long; she had kept her father, she had found her mother, an' she was about to meet—her lover. I saw the Sioux Injuns doin' the dance once, where they tie thongs through their breast muscles an' circle around a pole. Every now an' again they'd fling back their full weight on the thongs, an' their faces would light with savage joy. That was the kind of joy I felt when I saw Barbie's face.
Her mother smiled into Jim's eyes when he came in, an' Jabez stood up an' held out his hand. "Do you want to marry her?" he said.
"That's the only wish I have," sez Jim.
"Then she's yours, an' I thank God she's got a true man," sez Jabez, puttin' Barbie's hand into Jim's. I turned my face away.
The first thing I knew I felt a hand on my shoulder an' another hand taken' hold of mine. I turned an' looked down into Barbie's face, but I couldn't bear the light in her eyes. I turned my face away again—an' my lips were tremblin', the blasted traitors.
But she turned me around until my eyes looked down into hers, an' they were swimmin' in tears. Her little soft hand clasped my big rough one, tight an' warm, an' her voice was husky as she whispered, "You—you won't care much, will you, Happy?"
"No, Barbie," I sez between my set teeth, "not much"; an' by God, I smiled.
"An', Happy," she went on, "my home will allus be your home, an' anything that is mine is yours; but my heart ain't mine, ol' pal; an' so—an' so we can't help it."
"No," I sez, an' I was back in the saddle again this time. "No, little gel, we can't help it; but we can allus make the best of it; so I vote that we don't disappoint the crowd; but go on an' have a weddin'."
She backed away from me a little, while her face took the color of a rose, an' her eyes went to the floor; an' then I turned to Jabez an' said: "Jabez, I've took a mighty sight off you in my time without ever puttin' up one little squeal; but if you send this gang away to-night without a weddin', why, I quit you for good."
The' was all so wrought up that I was about the steadiest in the room; an' in about two minutes I had 'em lined up, an' the crowd back in place an' Friar Tuck in full regimentals under the tissha paper bell.
Before we could begin, however. Jabez mounted on a chair an' said in a new, soft voice: "Friends, in all my life I never told but one black lie. I may have spoken falsely through ignorance, or to spare sorrow to my child; but I never fought through the temptation but once, an' got whipped by it. I told one black lie, an' it was the blackest one ever told, I reckon. It brought me my money an' my wife; an' my load of shame an' sin an' contempt—it lost me the best friend I ever had, an' it led to my losin' my wife for most o' my journey. All my life I've tried to live down that lie an' to fill every man I met with a reverence for the truth, an' that's what makes me so blame ashamed of the way I've treated Dick. I ought to have seen quicker'n anybody else the kind of a fight he was a-makin', an' pitched in an' helped him instead of findin' him guilty, on the first suspicion, an' tryin' to make his life as sour as mine has been. But"—here Jabez put his arm about Barbie's shoulder, an' looked down on her a moment—"it was all on account o' this little girl."
Then we all gave a cheer an' Friar Tuck tied the knot, after which every one opened the sluice-gates o' their hearts an' let the sociability gush forth in a torrent. I stuck around until the dancin' began, an' then I flopped myself on a hoss an' rode, an' rode, an' rode. The air was cool an' crisp as it swept over my face; but it was a long time before it took the fever out of my blood. Finally I circled back to of Monody's grave an' got off an' sat there till the sun came up, fresh an' strong. Ol' Monody had taken the burden 'at had been handed to him, an' had borne it along to a mighty fire finish; an' it made me ashamed of myself, so I got to my feet, gave myself a shake, an' rode back to the ranch house.
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