The Girl at the Halfway House Part 10

The others watched him eagerly as he removed the hot tin from the oven and set it upon the bare table.

"I'm thinkin' it looks a bit dumpish midships, Ned," said Battersleigh dubiously. "But there's one thing shure, ye'll find all the apples in it, for I've watched the stove door meself, and there's been no possibility fer them to escape. And of course ye'll not forgit that the apples is the main thing in an apple pie. The crust is merely a secondary matter." Battersleigh said this in an airy manner which disarmed criticism. Curly drew his clasp knife from his pocket and cut into the portion a.s.signed to him. Franklin was reserved, but Curly attained enthusiasm at the second bite.

"Rile Irish," said he, "I'm not so sure you're such a h----l of a military man, but as a cook you're a burnin' success. You kin sign with our outfit tomorrer if you want to. Man, if I could bake pie like that, I'd break the Bar O outfit before the season was over! An' if I ever could git all the pie I wanted to eat, I wouldn't care how quick after that I fanned out. This here is the real thing. That pie that our cook made on the Cimarron--why, it was made of dried apples. Why didn't you tell me you had real apples?"

The pie, startling as it was in some regards, did not long survive the determined a.s.sault made upon it. Curly wiped his knife on the leg of his "chaps" and his mouth on the back of his hand.

"But say, fellers," he said, "I plumb forgot what I come over here for.

They's goin' to be a dance over to town, an' I come to tell you about it.

O' course you'll come."

"What sort of a dance can it be, man?" said Battersleigh.

"Why, a plumb dandy dance; reg'lar high-steppin' outfit; _mucha baille_; best thing ever was in this settlement."

"I'm curious to know where the ladies will come from," said Franklin.

"Don't you never worry," rejoined Curly. "They's plenty o' women-folks.

Why, there's the section boss, his wife--you know her--she does the washin' for most everybody. There's Nora, Sam's girl, the head waiter; an' Mary, the red-headed girl; an' Kitty, the littlest waiter girl; an'

the new grocery man's wife; an' Hank Peterson's wife, from down to his ranch. Oh, there'll be plenty o' ladies, don't you never doubt. Why, say, Sam, he told me, last time he went down to Plum Centre, he was goin'

to ask Major Buford an' his wife, an' the gal that's stayin' with them--tall gal, fine looker--why, Sam, he said he would ast them, an'

maybe they'd come up to the dance--who knows? Sam, he says that gal ain't no common sort--whole outfit's a puzzler to him, he says, Sam does."

"And when does this all happen, Curly, boy?" asked Battersleigh.

"Why, night after to-morrer night, to the big stone hotel. They're goin'

to clean out the dinin'-room for us. Three n.i.g.g.e.rs, two fiddlers, an' a 'cordion--oh, we'll have music all right! You'll be over, of course?"

"That we will, me boy," responded Battersleigh. "It's mesilf will inthrojuce Captain Franklin to his first haythin ball. Our life on the claim's elevatin', for it leaves time for thought, but it is a bit slow at times. An' will we come? Man, we'll be the first."

"Well, then, so long, fellers," said Curly. "I got to be movin' along a little. See you at the dance, sure."

"Now, as to a ball, Battersleigh," said Franklin, argumentatively, when they were alone, "how can I go? I've not the first decent thing to wear to such a place."

"Tut, tut!" said Battersleigh. "There speaks the c.o.xcombry of youth. I make no doubt ye'd be the best-dressed man there if ye'd go as ye stand now. But what about Batty? On me honour, Ned, I've never been so low in kit as I am this season here, not since I was lance sergeant in the Tinth. You're able to pull out your blue uniform, I know, an' b'gad! the uniform of an officer is full dress the worrld over! Look at Batty, half mufti, and his allowance a bit late, me boy. But does Batty despair? By no means. 'Tis at times like this that gaynius rises to the occasion."

Franklin grinned amiably. "Thank you for the suggestion about the uniform, at least," he said. "Now, if we can fix you up as well."

Battersleigh came and stood before him, waving a long forefinger.

"Listen to me, Ned," he began, "an' I'll lay down to ye a few of the fundamental rules of conduct and appar'l.

"A gintleman never lies; a gintleman never uses unseemly haste; a gintleman is always ready for love and ready for war--for, Ned, me boy, without love and war we'd miss the only two joys of life. Thereto, a gintleman must shoot, fence, ride, dance, and do anny of 'em like a gintleman. For outwardly appar'l, seein' him clane within, me boy, a gintleman should make the best of what he finds about him. I have slept sweet in turban or burnous in me time. Dress is nothing that we may always control. But if ye found yeself a bit low in kit, as Batty is this day, what would ye say, Ned, me boy, was the first salient--what is the first essintial in the dress of a gintleman, me boy?"

"Linen," said Franklin, "or is it gloves?"

"Ned," said Battersleigh solemnly, laying a hand upon his shoulder, "ye're the dearest boy in the world. Ye're fit to be lance sergeant yersilf in the ould Tinth Rigiment. Right ye are, quite right. White, white, me boy, is the first colour of a gintleman! White, to show the integrity of his honour and the claneness of his merit roll. Shure, he must have his weapons, and his horse--for a gintleman always rides--and his hat and gloves are matter of course. But, first of all, essintial to him as the soap and crash, is white, sir--yes, white! A touch of white at neck and wrist anny gintleman must show who presints himself at a ball."

"But, now, how?"

Battersleigh pointed a long finger at Franklin, then turned it upon himself, tapping with import upon his forehead. "Look at me, at Batty,"

he said. "Here is where gaynius comes in, me friend. I may be far from the home that bore me--G.o.d prosper them that knows it now!--and I may be a bit behind with me allowance; but never yet was Batty without the arms and the appar'l of a gintleman. Ned, come with me."

Grasping his companion by the arm, Battersleigh stepped outside the house, and strode off with long steps across the prairie. "Come," he said, as one who commanded alike secrecy and despatch. Humouring him, Franklin followed for a quarter of a mile. Then, bending his gaze in the direction of the march, he saw afar, fluttering like a signal of distress in the engulfing sea about, a little whipping flag of white, which was upheld by the gaunt hand of a ragged sage bush. This, as he drew near, he discovered to be a portion of an old flour sack, washed clean and left bleaching in the sun and wind until it had a.s.sumed a colour a shade more pure than its original dinginess.

Battersleigh made dramatic approach. "There!" said he, pointing with triumphant dignity to the fluttering rag.

"Yes, I see," said Franklin, "but what do you want of this piece of sack?"

"Sack!" cried Battersleigh, offended. "'Sack!' say you, but I say, 'White!' Look ye, the history of a man is something sacred. 'Sack!' say you, but I say, 'White!' A strip of this at me neck and at me wrist; me hat, an' me sabre and me ridin' whip--I r-ride up to the dure. I dismount. I throw me rein to the man. I inter the hall and place me hat and gloves in order as they should be. I appear--Battersleigh, a gintleman, appears, standin' in the dure, the eyes of all upon him. I bow, salutin', standin' there, alone, short on allowance, but nate and with me own silf-respect. Battersleigh, a bit low in kit and in allowance, with white at neck and wrist, bows, and he says, 'Ladies and gintlemen, Battersleigh is here!'"

CHAPTER XIV

THE FIRST BALL AT ELLISVILLE

The wife of the section boss sat in conscious dignity, as became a leader of society. She was gowned in purple, newly starched, and upon her bosom rose and fell the cross that Jerry gave her long ago. Below her in order of station came Nora, the head waiter, and the red-headed waiter girl, and the littlest waiter girl, and the wife of the new grocery man. These sat silent and unhappy at one part of the long row of chairs that lined the side of the hall. Opposite to them, equally silent and equally unhappy, sat a little row of men. Jerry, the section boss, made no claim to social distinction. He was a simple, plain, hard-working man, whose main concern was in his work, and whose great pride was in the social triumphs of his wife. Jerry was short and broad and st.u.r.dy, and his face was very, very red. Near to Jerry sat the new grocery man, and Curly the cowboy, and Del Hickman, another cowboy, and several other cowboys, and Sam, the stage-driver. They were all silent and very miserable. The lights of the big hanging kerosene lamps flickered and cast great shadows, showing the women all with heads very high and backs straight and stiff, the men in various att.i.tudes of jellyfish, with heads hanging and feet screwed under their chairs in search of moral support.

It was the beginning of the ball. These were the first arrivals. At the head of the hall, far off, sat three musicians, negroes alleged to play violins and an accordion, and by that merit raised to a bad eminence. Gloomy, haughty, superior, these gazed sternly out before them, ready for the worst. Now and then they leaned over the one toward another, and ventured some grim, ghastly remark. Once the leader, an old and gray-haired man, was heard to utter, inadvertently above his breath, the ominous expression, "Ya.s.s, indeed!" All in all, the situation was bodeful in the extreme. There was no speech other than that above noted.

After a vast hiatus the door at the main entrance was pulled cautiously open, a little at a time. Evidently some one was looking in. The consciousness of this caused two or three men to shuffle their feet a trifle upon the floor, as though they expected the death march soon to begin. The littlest waiter girl, unable to stand the nervous strain, t.i.ttered audibly, which caused Nora, the head waiter, to glare at her through her gla.s.ses. At length the door opened, and two figures entered affrightedly, those of Hank Peterson, a neighbouring rancher, and his wife. Hank was dressed in the costume of the time, and the high heels of his boots tapped uncertainly as he made his way over the wide hollow-sounding floor, his feet wabbling and crossing in his trepidation. None the less, having forthwith decoyed to the row of men sitting silent against the wall, he duly reached that harbour and sank down, wiping his face and pa.s.sing his hand across his mouth uncertainly. His wife was a tall, angular woman, whose garb was like that of most of the other women--cotton print. Yet her hair was combed to the point of fatality, and at her neck she had a collarette of what might have been lace, but was not. Conscious of the inspection of all there a.s.sembled, Mrs. Peterson's conduct was different from that of her spouse. With head held very high and a glance of scorn, as of one hurling back some uttered word of obloquy, she marched down the hall to the side occupied by the ladies; nay, even pa.s.sed the full line as in daring review, and seated herself at the farther end, with head upright, as ready for instant sally of offence.

The door opened again and yet again. Two or three engineers, a rodman, a leveller, and an axeman came in, near behind them more cattlemen.

From among the guests of the hotel several came, and presently the clerk of the hotel himself. The line of men grew steadily, but the body upon the opposite side of the room remained constant, immobile, and unchanged. At these devoted beings there glared many eyes from across the room. More and more frequent came the sc.r.a.pe of a foot along the floor, or the brief cough of perturbation. One or two very daring young men leaned over and made some remark in privacy, behind the back of the hand, this followed by a nudge and a knowing look, perhaps even by a snicker, the latter quickly suppressed. Little by little these bursts of courage had their effect. Whispers became spasmodic, indeed even frequent.

"Say, Curly," whispered Del Hickman hoa.r.s.ely to his neighbour, "ef somethin' don't turn loose right soon I'm due to die right here. I'm thirstier'n if this here floor was the Staked Plains."

"Same here," said Curly in a muttered undertone. "But I reckon we're here till the round-up's made. When she do set loose, you watch me rope that littlest waiter girl. She taken my eye, fer sh.o.r.e."

"That's all right, friend," said Del, apparently relieved. "I didn't know but you'd drew to the red-headed waiter girl. I sorter 'lowed I'd drift over in thataway, when she starts up."

Sam, the driver, was sitting rapt, staring mutely across the great gulf fixed between him and Nora, the head waiter. Nora, by reason of her authority in position, was ent.i.tled to wear a costume of white, whereas the waiters of lower rank were obliged by house rules to attire themselves in dark skirts. To Sam's eyes, therefore, Nora, arrayed in this distinguishing garb, appeared at once the more fair and the more unapproachable. As she sat, the light glinting upon her gla.s.ses, her chin well upheld, her whole att.i.tude austere and commanding, Sam felt his courage sink lower and lower, until he became abject and abased.

Fascinated none the less, he gazed, until Curly poked him sharply and remarked:

"Which 'un you goin' to make a break fer, Sam?"

"I--I d-d-don't know," said Sam, startled and disturbed.

"Reckon you'd like to mingle some with Nory, hey?"

"W-w-w-well--" began Sam defensively.

"But she don't see it that way. Not in a hundred. Why, she'll be dancin' with Cap Franklin, or Batty, er some folks that's more in her line, you see. Why in h----l don't you pick out somebody more in yer own bunch, like?" Curly was meaning to be only judicial, but he was cruel.

Sam collapsed and sat speechless. He had long felt that his ambition was sheer presumption.

The hours grew older. At the head of the hall the musicians manifested more signs of their inexorable purpose. A sad, protesting squeal came from the accordion. The violins moaned, but were held firm. The worst might be precipitated at any moment.