The Sheriff of Badger Part 32

"You talk like a mothers' meeting, Lafe."

"Well, I've got the rights of this thing, anyhow. Bachelors make me think of what Frank Hastings said once about a mule--up on the Plains, this was--'without pride of ancestry or hope of posterity,' Frank said."

"Huh! Frank read that somewhere."

For an hour we were silent. Night closed down over the Canon. The mountains seemed to take a long breath and settle to rest. It was warm, and so we were hopeful of rain within a week, or perhaps two. Our ponies swashed the dust lazily side by side, and we said no word, for the coming of dark in our country will still speech in anyone but a clod or a fool.

A Jack-o'-Lantern rose in front of us, twinkling like a diamond against black velvet. It held steady for a moment, then flitted eerily in darting curves, soaring high until it appeared a tiny star. Our folk say that little Jack is a lost soul, doomed to haunt the place of his earthly woes; but I have a pleasanter theory.

"Look at him," said Johnson in a tone almost reverent. "That there shiny feller's been following of me at nights now something ridiculous. If I ain't out on the range, I swan he comes loafing round the house.

Honest."

"I like 'em."

"You do? I wonder what they are?"

"Why, you mean to say you don't know? I'm surprised at you, Lafe.

They're human souls seeking a lodging."

He exploded into laughter. "Is that so?" said he. Facing to the front again, he fell to musing. "Is that so?" he repeated. "You're sure a wolf on souls, Dan."

Hetty was on the porch to receive us. With her was Ferrier, big and straight and indolent. She bade me welcome with frank heartiness as an old friend, but there was distinct coldness in her greeting of Lafe. I could not but observe it. When he would have kissed her, she turned her cheek to him; she submitted even to this with evident reluctance. A tiff--a doting couple's tiff--I concluded, and engaged Ferrier in conversation. He had scarcely a word to say, and walked beside me so lazily when we went to put the horses in the pasture, that my patience was sorely taxed. That was the way with soldiers, I reflected--once a soldier, never any good for anything else. Yet what little he uttered contradicted this notion, for he seemed in earnest. Apparently Bob had been doing some hard thinking and he was determined to get a foothold on the broad, straight highway.

As we were entering the house: "Oh, do be quiet. Let me alone. You worry me half to death. A lot you care what becomes of me. Here, you're off all day and sometimes long after dark, and I've got--"

"Why, hon," Lafe was pleading, "I've got my work to do. You know I stay home every minute I can. Ol' Horne says I'm tied to your ap.r.o.n strings.

What's got into you, Hetty?"

"Nothing's the matter with me. For heaven's sake, shut up and let me have a little peace. I say you don't care what becomes of me. No, you don't. Here, I've had a splitting headache and when I tell you about it, all you do is grin. Now, don't go and try to tell me you feel for me."

"What do you want me to do? Cry on your shoulder? A man can't make a fuss over them things, Hetty."

"There you go again--making fun of me. If I was to die to-night, n.o.body'd care--not even Bob. I wish I could die. You could go back to Paula then."

"Hon," said Lafe, in a choked voice.

Bob wiped his feet noisily on the steps and I coughed. When we entered, there was no trace of a dispute or of anger on Hetty's countenance.

Supper was ready and we sat down to it with grand appet.i.tes.

In the morning the repair of a windmill at a water tank compelled our setting out to Badger to purchase pipe and joints. Lafe explained the purpose of the trip at unusual length to his wife. She listened stonily and told him to go by all means--told him with that high air of resignation we put on when we acquiesce in anything we are powerless to prevent. Just as we started, Johnson tried to put his arm about her. On being repulsed, he slowly mounted his horse.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

BIRTH OF LAFE JOHNSON, JR.

We were going down the Canon when Hetty called after us: "Well, don't take any bad money, you two."

She stood in the doorway, wiping flour from her hands. Bob was grinning over her shoulder. The caution must have reminded Lafe. He slapped his hip pocket and extracted a wallet, from which he drew two soiled bills.

"Here," he said, riding back, "you keep this, Hetty. I've got three dollars in silver. That'll do me."

"You're learning," was her composed comment, and she slipped the money inside the bosom of her waist. After this agreeable exhibition of domestic foresight, we rode down the Canon and started across the valley. It may be that I showed amus.e.m.e.nt.

"What's hurting you?" Lafe asked; "what I done then? That's the only way I can save money. It's right queer, Dan, but whenever I have any and get to town, it goes like a bat out of h.e.l.l."

This information was wholly superfluous. "I usually have to charge my horse's keep and my meals," I confessed.

"Sure. It's in the blood, I reckon. But if me and you and all the others don't learn to sweat a dollar, all these here new people a-coming in from the States will take everything off'n us. Yes, sir, they'll have us bare to the hides. Some of 'em have got the first two-bits they ever earned."

The only previous occasion on which I had seen Johnson h.o.a.rd his money was once when he hid it in the band of his hat as a safeguard against new-found friends, and, during subsequent operations, forgot its hiding place. Lafe had been bitterly chagrined on discovering it later, holding himself cheated of entertainment. a.s.suredly his new responsibilities were working a change of heart.

"Lafe, I never knew Hetty was so pretty."

"You're whistlin'," he said. An accompanying sniff signified surprise and contempt that my recognition was so tardy. We jogged along and he became thoughtful. Finally he asked: "Did you notice it, too?"

"Notice what?"

"Well, I kind of got the idea that Hetty was prettier now than she used to was. When you said that just now, it made me think you seen it, too."

I nodded earnestly. There had come a look into Hetty's eyes which caused one to wait expectantly for a halo to appear.

"But she's sort of poorly," he went on; "seems like everything I do makes her mad. I expect everybody gets that way some time or other, more especially if they live off by themselves where they never see no one. Don't you reckon?"

"Perhaps it's Bob."

"No-oo, I don't think so. But she does get mad about him sometimes--not at Bob, though. Anything that lazy scamp does is all right. No, sir; at me. She got mad because I said I wouldn't let him have that money. I can't spare it, Dan. Honest, I can't. And she says I leave her alone too much."

"She'll soon get over that."

"Sometimes she's worse'n others. Yeow, how she gives it to me some days."

We reached town in good time and put up at the Fashion, where were three of the Anvil boys. Johnson hailed their presence with proper ceremonies, and then drew me to one side.

"Say," said he, "I've got to see the new sheriff for a minute. I'll pull out right after dinner. What're you going to do? Stick around?"

"Oh, I suppose so. Nothing else to do."

"Well, if you should happen for to play pitch," he advised, "don't bid more'n your hand's worth. Remember your weakness. Adios."

Two months later we two again rode together up Hope Canon. Bob Ferrier was behind us and was soberly elated, for that afternoon Johnson had loaned him three hundred dollars and I had gone security. He would wed Mary Lou on the morrow.

The sun was setting behind The Hatter as we neared the house. It was a blissful twilight, and Lafe sang in gladness of heart.

But he chanced one day to run agin A bullet made o' lead, Which was harder than he bargained for, And now poor Bill is dead; And when they brung his body home A barrel of tears was shed.