Old Ebenezer Part 34

"Yes, beyond my reach. I thought that for once in my life I would act the part of a very natural man, but it has been denied me. I will tell you."

He narrated his adventure. Warren sat staring at him. "It's just your luck, Lyman. But, why didn't you throw him back into the creek? Why didn't you stamp him into the ground? And you have spoiled another piece of news. What do you expect will become of you if you keep on this way?"

"He mistook me for some one else--he called me Jim. I couldn't abuse his drunken mistake and show him that I was not his friend Jim. It would have been cruel. And when he recognized me he threw himself on my mercy and begged me not to leave him. In a vague way, this morning, he remembered all that had taken place. He is not much hurt, but the doctor will keep him in bed for a day or two. He is completely cowed and I felt sorry for him. He hung to my hand when I bade him good-bye and tears ran out of his eyes. He declared that I had whipped him more severely than if I had used a raw-hide, and I believe I have; so, after all, I had my revenge."

"Lyman, I guess your sort of punishment lasts longer. But I confess that I am not strong enough to indulge that sort of revenge. It takes too much time. Well, if you haven't turned things over since you came to this place I don't want a cent. Old Ebenezer didn't know what novelty was until you struck it. We had a great time last night," he went on, after a few moments of silence. "Nancy sang a song, a come-all-ye about a girl that hanged herself because she had cause to think that a fellow didn't love her. And you bet she can sing. She brought tears to my eyes, and a woman has to get up early and sing with the birds before she can do that."

"Did you find out how you stand?" Lyman inquired, smiling at him.

"Oh, yes; that's settled. I know how I stand, and now I've got to find out how she stands. It takes time, I tell you. I don't want to hurry her, so I thought I'd wait till tomorrow and go out there and ask her about it."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't hurry her," said Lyman, laughing. "I'd wait till noon-time tomorrow, anyway."

"Yes, along about there. What are you laughing at me for? This thing is serious with me. I went out with her this morning to milk the cows.

Talk about milking." He leaned back and shut his eyes as if to reproduce the scene. "I don't want to draw any comparisons, old fellow, but do you suppose Miss Eva could milk? Do you suppose she could grab a calf and make him feel ashamed of himself?"

"I don't know as to her handling of calves, I'm sure; but I know that she can throw a light into dark places; that white clover springs up where she walks; that if she were to sit asleep in a garden the bees would fight over the sweetness of her lips; that her mind is as fresh, as full of bright images as a stream of pure water; that her foot as I saw it upon a rock has grace enough to redeem an awkward world; and that in comparison with the notes of her voice all earthly music is flat and dull."

"Lyman, I guess you know where you stand. But have you found out where she stands? Have you asked her to define her position?"

"Her position defines itself. I am to protect her from the man whose life I saved last night."

"Yes, I know, but after you have protected her--what then?"

"I am to present her with a certificate of freedom."

"But don't you suppose she'd rather have a partnership than freedom?"

"Not with me. I am something of a novelty to her as a protector, but I am afraid that to propose a closer relationship would make me appear commonplace enough."

"Well, you know your own business, and it's not worth while to give you advice; but you are a strange sort of a contradiction. As a general thing a fellow that's easy with man is severe with woman, but you are disposed to let them all get away. They don't get away from me, I'll give you a pointer on that. By the way, here's a package that I found here for you. Came by express, pre-paid, mind you. Think of that."

In Lyman's eyes there was the soft light of a sad victory as he opened the package and displayed a dozen copies of his novel, fresh from the publisher. He took a volume upon his knee, as if it were a child; he opened the leaves, carefully separating them as if tenderly parting curly hair. Warren s.n.a.t.c.hed up a book with a cry of delight; he swore that its fame was a.s.sured; he knew that it would sell as fast as it came from the press; but Lyman sat in silence, his eyes growing sadder. It was so small a thing to have cost so many anxious days and nights. He had worked on it so intently that often when he had stepped out, the real world seemed unreal; and now it appeared so simple as to lie within the range of any man's ability. Here was a place where there had been a kink, and he had worried with it day after day, carrying the sentences about in his mind; and now at a glance he saw where the wording might have been improved. He was afraid that he had been too simple, too close to the soil; in seeking the natural he was almost sure that he had found the tiresome. He got up.

"Where are you going?" Warren asked.

"Oh, out somewhere, to get away from this poor hunch-back." He smiled sadly at the book.

"Hunch-back? Why, it's a giant. Look, here's a jolt like a wagon running over a root. It's all right. And I want to take one out to Nancy, and when she reflects that a friend of mine wrote it, her position will be defined. She can't help it. It makes no difference whether a woman can read or not, a book catches her. Ain't you going to send one to Miss Eva?"

"Yes, I believe I will."

"Well, scribble in one and I'll send it right now, by the boy. It's not right to let such things get cold. Is that all?" he asked when Lyman had written his name on the fly leaf.

"Yes, that's enough."

"It may do for her, but I want you to spread out a whole page for Nancy. Say, go and lie down. You look like a ghost--going up and down the creek at night, pulling fellows out. But wait. Give Nancy's book a whirl first."

Lyman covered the fly-leaf with a memory of Mt. Zion. With brightening eyes Warren read the lines. "This will fetch her," he said. "She can't hold out against it. Let me see. I don't know but the old man ought to have one. It would stimulate him mightily. But never mind. The seeds are enough for him. It won't do to stimulate him too much at once."

"Old boy," said Lyman, "I admire your enterprise, it is a bright picture, but don't go out there so soon. Wait at least a week. If she finds that you are too anxious it might prejudice her against you."

"I don't know but you are right. I'll send the book anyway. But say, she's got a cousin Jerry and I don't like that very much. I never saw a fellow named Jerry that wasn't dangerous. But if you say wait, I will."

"I say wait."

"All right, then wait it is, but I don't like that Jerry idea. What sounds more devilish than 'Cousin Jerry.' Sort of an insinuating, raspberry jam sound. But I'll wait. Go on and lie down."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A GENTLEMAN MULE-BUYER.

Two days later Lyman was sitting in his office, musing over a pink note from Eva, thanking him for the book, when Zeb Sawyer tapped at the door. Lyman bade him enter and he stepped forward with a limp. He sat down before saying a word, took out a handkerchief and wiped his face.

"Haven't you got out of bed rather soon?" Lyman asked.

"No, I reckon not, though the doctor told me to lie there awhile longer. But I couldn't--I wanted to come to see you. I am not much of a writer," he added, looking about, "but I want to write an article for your paper. I want to tell the public what a wolf I've been. And it was mostly owing to liquor. I shot a man once when I was about half drunk, and nearly every mean thing I ever did I can trace to whisky. I don't often get what you might call drunk, but I generally go about with a few drinks and that makes me mean. Will you print the article?"

"No; let it all go. We all do wrong at times; we all have little meannesses, like rheumatic pains in bad weather."

"Well, is there anything I can do to prove--to prove--you know what I mean."

"Yes, you can be gentler toward man, remembering that there is something good in every one."

"I believe that more than I used to," said Sawyer, mopping his perspiring face. "I have laughed at preachers, and I hated you, but you came along and showed me that, whether a man professes it or not, there is something in the doctrine of mercy and forgiveness. I don't think I ever prayed with my heart till this morning, and then I prayed to be forgiven for my meanness; and it seemed to me that if you would forgive me, the Higher Power would. I drove over to mother's before I came here and I told her how mean I had been, and it struck her to the heart with grief, but when I told her that I was going to be a better man and follow in my father's footsteps, she cried for joy. She is so shaken with palsy that she can't write, but she managed to write this and she told me to give it to you." He handed Lyman a piece of paper, and on it were the words: "G.o.d will bless you."

"She didn't think it would disturb you so, or I am sure she wouldn't have sent it," he said, looking at Lyman.

"Tell her," said Lyman, "that her blessing alone is more--give her my kindest regards," he added, with an effort.

Sawyer wiped his eyes. "I went to another place before coming here,"

he said. "I went over to the bank and waited till McElwin came, and I had a talk with him. I told him that his daughter could never care for me, and that even if you should sign the pet.i.tion I would refuse to recognize his authority in trying to compel her to marry me. She is in every way above me, so far beyond my reach that I don't love her. I have to go to another place--the court house. I am going to surrender myself to the law and be punished for that White Cap affair. I am going to acknowledge the whole thing."

"No," said Lyman. "The law knows well enough what was done and who did it. And, besides, your old mother--"

"Yes," Sawyer broke in, "but I thought it might be kept from her."

"No, some one would tell her, some over-zealous friend. Let it drop."

"Your word is law with me. And now I hope you won't feel hurt if I ask you something?"

"The time for you and me to hurt each other is pa.s.sed," said Lyman.

"I thank you for saying that. You are a man if I ever met one. And how did you get the name of being desperate?"