Judith of the Cumberlands Part 9

"That's what I say," piped Jim Cal's reedy voice from the interior. "Is it true that you've done made up the Shalliday fuss over that thar cow, Creed? I thort a jestice of the peace was to he'p folks have fusses, place o' settlin' 'em up."

"That's what everybody seems to think," replied Creed rather dolefully.

"I can't say I'm very proud of my part in the Shalliday matter. It seemed to be mighty hard on the widow; but the law was on her brother-in-law's side; so I gave my decision in favour of Bill Shalliday, and paid the woman for the cow. And now they're both mad at me."

Old Jephthah narrowed his eyes and chuckled in luxurious enjoyment of the situation.

"To be sh.o.r.e they air. To be sh.o.r.e they air," he repeated with unction.

"Ain't you done a favour to the both of 'em? Is they anything a man will hate you worse for than a favour? If they is I ain't met up with it yet."

"That's what I say," iterated Jim Cal. "What's the use o' tryin' to he'p folks to law and order when they don't want it, and you've got to buy 'em to behave? When you git to be a married man with chaps, like me, you'll keep yo' money in yo' breeches pocket and let other folks fix it up amongst themselves about their cows an' sech."

"I had hoped to get a chance to do something that amounted to more than settling small family fusses," Creed said in a discouraged tone. "I hoped to have the opportunity to talk to many a gathering of our folks about the desirability of good citizenship in a general way. This thing of blockaded stills keeps us forever torn up with a bad name in the valley and the settlement."

Old Jephthah stirred not a hair; Jim Cal sat just as he had; yet the two were indefinably changed the moment the words "blockaded still" were uttered.

"Do you know of any sech? Air ye aimin' to find out about em?" quavered the fat man finally, and his father looked scornfully at him, and the revelation of his terror.

"No. I don't mean it in that personal way," Creed answered impatiently.

"Mr. Turrentine, I wish you'd tell me what you think about it. You've lived all your life in the mountains; you're a man of judgment--is there any way to show our people the folly as well as the crime of illicit distilling?"

Jephthah surveyed with amus.e.m.e.nt the youth who came to an old moonshiner for an opinion as to the advisability of the traffic. He liked the audacity of it. It tickled his fancy.

"Well sir," he said finally, "the guv'ment sets off thar in Washington and names a-many a thing that I shall do and that I shan't do.

Howsomever, they is but one thing hit will come here and watch out to see ef I keep rules on--and that's the matter o' moonshine whiskey.

Guv'ment," he repeated meditatively but with rising rancour, "what has the guv'ment ever done fer me, that I should be asked to do so much for hit? I put the case thisaway. That man raises corn and grinds it to meal and makes it into bread. I raise corn and grind hit to meal and make clean, honest whiskey. The man that makes the bread pays no tax; guv'ment says I shall pay a tax--an' I say I will not, by G.o.d!"

The big voice had risen to a good deal of feeling before old Jephthah made an end.

"Nor I wouldn't neither," bleated Jim Cal in comical antiphon.

In the light from the open doorway Creed's face looked uneasy.

"But you don't think--you wouldn't--" he began and then broke off.

Old Jephthah shook his head.

"I ain't got no blockade still," he a.s.serted sweepingly. "I made my last run of moonshine whiskey many a year ago. I reckon two wrongs don't make a right."

Creed's dismay increased. Inexperienced boy, he had not expected to encounter such feeling in the discussion of this the one topic upon which your true mountaineer of the remote districts can never be anything but pa.s.sionate, embittered, at bay.

"You name the crime of makin' wildcat whiskey," the old man's deep, accusing voice went on, after a little silence. "It ain't no crime--an'

you know it--an' no guv'ment o' mortal men can make a crime out'n it. As for the foolishness of it," he dropped his chin on his breast, his black eyes looked out broodingly, his great beard rose against his lips and m.u.f.fled his tones, "I reckon the foolishness of a thing is what each feller has to find out for hisself," he said. "Daddies has been tryin'

since the time of Adam to let their knowin' it sarve for their sons; but ef one of 'em has made the plan work yit, I ain't heard on it. Nor the guv'ment can't neither. A man'll take his punishment for a meanness an'

l'arn by it; but to be jailed for what's his right makes an outlaw of him, an' always will. Good Lord, Creed! What set you an' me off on this tune? Young feller, you ort to be down yon dancin' with the gals, instead of here talking foolishness to a old man like me."

Creed arose to his tall young height and glanced uncertainly from his host to the lighted room from which came the sounds of fiddle and stamping feet. It was a little hard for a prophet on his own mountain-top to be sent to play with the children; yet he went.

Chapter VII

Kisses

With the advent of the four Turrentine boys festivities had taken on a brighter air, the game became better worth while.

"Wade, you've got to fiddle," cried Judith peremptorily. A chair was set upon a table in the corner, the rather reluctant Wade hoisted to it, and soon "Weevily Wheat," as the twitting tune comes from the country fiddler's jigging bow, was filling the room.

"I reckon I ought to have asked your ruthers before I took Wade out of the game," Judith said to Huldah Spiller as they joined hands to begin.

"Like I cared!" retorted Huldah, tossing her red head till the curls bobbed. She was wearing the new blue lawn dress, made by a real store pattern cut out of tissue paper, and was supremely conscious of looking her best.

The Lusk girls in spotted calico frocks, the dots whereof were pink on Cliantha's dress, and blue on Pendrilla's, had bridled and glanced about shamefaced when Andy and Jeff came in; they now "balanced" demurely with down dropped eyes as the game moved to the music.

Judith had left the supper preparations with the elder women, pieced out by the a.s.sistance of old Dilsey Rust, and was most active in the games.

In the white muslin, washed and ironed by her own skilful, capable fingers, with the blue bow confining the heavy chestnut braids at the nape of her neck, her dark beauty glowed richly. Now the players shifted to "Drop the Handkerchief." Judith delighted in this game because, fleeter of foot, quicker of hand and eye than the others, she continually disappointed any daring swain who thought to have a kiss from her. Her shining eyes were ever on the doorway, till Blatch Turrentine left his seat at the back of the room and elected to lounge there watching the play with the tolerant air of a man contemplating the sports of children.

It apparently gave him satisfaction that Judith time after time eluded a pursuer, broke into the ring and left him to wander in search of a less alert and resolute fair.

"Cain't none of the boys kiss yo' gal," panted Huldah Spiller, pausing beside him. "I doubt mightily ef ye could do it yo'self 'less'n she had a mind to let ye'."

Judith heard, and the carmine on her cheek deepened and spread, while the dark eyes above gleamed angrily.

"Come on and play, Blatch," called Wade, jigging away valiantly at his fiddle. "We all know who it is you want to kiss--most of us is bettin'

that you're scared to try."

"Play!" echoed Blatchley in a contemptuous tone. "I say play! When I want to buss a gal, I walk up and take my ruthers--like this."

Again that daunting panther quickness of movement from the big slouching figure; the powerful lines seemed to melt and flow as he flung himself in Judith's direction, and cast one arm firmly about her in such a way that it pinioned both her elbows to her side.

"You turn me a-loose!" she cried, even as Little Buck had cried. "That ain't fair. I wasn't ready for ye, 'caze ye said ye wouldn't play. You turn me a-loose or ye'll wish ye had."

"No fair--no fair!" came the cries from the boys in the ring. "Either you stay out or come in. Jude's right."

"Well, some of ye put me out," suggested Blatchley, significantly. He had brought a jug of moonshine whiskey over from the still and it was flowing freely, though unknown to Old Jephthah, in the loft where most of his possessions were kept.

No man moved to lay finger on him. He held Judith--scarlet of face and almost in tears--by her elbows, and lowered his mocking countenance to within a few inches of her angry eyes.

"Now kiss me pretty, and kiss me all yo'self. I ain't got nothin' to do with this; hit's yo' play. You been wantin' to git a chance to kiss me this long while," he a.s.serted with derisive humour. "Don't you hold off becaze the others is here; that ain't the way you do when we're--"

"Wade--Jim Cal! Won't some o' you boys pull this fool man away," appealed Judith. "I wish somebody'd call Uncle Jep. You can hold yo' ugly old face there till yo' hair turns grey," she suddenly and furiously addressed her admirer. "I'll never kiss ye."

"Oh, yes you will--you always do," Blatchley maintained. "Ef I was to tell the folks how blame lovin' ye are when jest you and me is alone together----"

He looked over his shoulder to enjoy the triumph of the moment. Blatchley Turrentine's delight was to traverse the will of every other human being with his own preference. Judith's gaze, tormented, tear-blurred, followed his and saw across the shoulders of the others, the shine of Creed Bonbright's fair hair, in the doorway. The sight brought from her an inarticulate cry. It fired Blatchley to take the kiss which he had vowed should be given him. As he bent to do so, Creed stepped forward and laid a hand upon his shoulder. The movement was absolutely pacific, but the fingers closed with a viselike grip, and there was so sharp a backward jerk that the proffered salute was not delivered.

In the surprise of the moment Judith pulled herself free and stood at bay. For an instant the two men looked into each other's eyes. Creed's blue orbs were calm, impersonal, and without one hint of yielding or fear.

"If you don't play fair," he said in argumentative tone, "there's no use playing at all. Let's close up the ring and try it again."