The Sherrods Part 5

Writhing backward he found the infuriated face of the girl close to his. Her hands were upon his throat.

"You killed him and I'll kill you!" she hissed in his ear, and he knew she was mad! It was but a short struggle; he overpowered her and held her to the ground. She looked up at him with such a malevolent glare that he cowered and shivered. Those tender eyes of Justine Van!

"He ain't dead!" he gasped. "Be quiet, Justine! For G.o.d's sake, be quiet! Look! Don't you see he's alive? I'll help you bring him to--I won't tech him again! Be quiet an' we'll have him aroun' all right in a minute! Lookee! He's got his eyes closed! I'll git some water!"

He released her and staggered down the bank to the little stream. He heard her scream with the discovery that her husband was breathing. In his nervous haste, inspired by fear that Jud might die before he could return, the victor made half a dozen futile efforts before he could scoop up a double handful of water from the creek.

When he reached Jud's side again, he found that she was holding his head in her lap and was rubbing his throat and breast. The purple face was fast growing white and great heaving gasps came from the contracted throat. 'Gene dashed the water in his face, only to receive from her a cry of anger and a look of scorn so bitter that it made her face unrecognizable. He shrank back and in rebellious wonder watched her dry the dripping face.

For many minutes they remained as a tableau, she alone speaking. All her heart was pouring itself out in the loving words that were meant for Jud's ears alone. His ears could not hear them, but 'Gene Crawley's did, and his face grew black with jealousy. He could not tear himself away; he stood there, rigid, listening to phrases of love for another that mingled with words of hatred for him. He could not believe it was gentle Justine Van who was pouring out those wild words.

At last he pa.s.sed his unsteady hand across his eyes and spoke.

"I--I guess I'll be goin', Justine. Hope Jud'll not----" he began nervously. She turned upon him.

"You! You here? Why don't you go? For G.o.d's sake, go, and don't let me see your face again as long as I live!" she cried. "Don't stand there and let him see you when he comes to. The blood is terrible! Go away!"

He wiped the blood from his face, conscious for the first time that it was there. Then he tore down to the brook and bathed his swollen face, scrubbing the stains from his broad chest and arms. Going back, he quickly put on his coat, ashamed of his nakedness. Then he picked up Jud's coat and threw it to her, feeling a desire, in spite of all, to help her in some way. She did not glance toward him, and he saw the reason. Jud's eyes were conscious and were looking up into hers, dumb and bewildered. With a muttered oath 'Gene started away, taking a dozen steps down the creek before a sudden reversal of mind came over him. He stopped and turned to her, and something actually imploring sounded in his voice.

"Cain't I carry him to the house fer you?" he asked.

"Oh!" she cried, turning a terrified face toward him and shielding Jud with her body. "Don't you dare come near him! Don't you touch him!

You dog!"

A snarl of rage escaped his lips.

"I s'pose you'll try to have me arrested, won't you? He'd 'a' killed me if he could, an' I didn't kill him jest because you ast me not to.

But I s'pose that won't make no difference. You'll have the constable after me. Well, lookee here! All the constables in Clay township cain't take me, an' I won't run from 'em, either. I'll kill the hull crowd! Go on an' have me arrested if you want to. You c'n tell that husband o' your'n that I let him go fer your sake, but if he ever forces me into a fight ag'in all h.e.l.l cain't save him. You tell him to go his way an' I'll go mine. As fer you--well, I won't say what I'll do!"

"Oh, I'm not afraid of you!" she cried defiantly. He strode away without another word. From afar, long afterwards, he saw her a.s.sist Jud to his feet and support him as he dragged himself feebly toward the house.

CHAPTER VI.

THE GIRL IN GRAY.

For days after the fight Jud caught himself stealing surrept.i.tious glances at his wife, with the miserable feeling that some time he would take her unawares and detect scornful pity in her eyes. He was sure she could not respect a man who had been forced to submit to defeat, especially after he had vaingloriously forced the conflict upon an unwilling foe.

But Justine loved him more deeply than ever. In her eyes he was a hero. For her sake he had fought a desperate man in the face of certain defeat.

At the house as she tenderly bathed his swollen face, "Jud," she said, "you won't fight him again, will you?" A lump rose in his throat. He felt that she was begging him to desist merely because she knew his shameful incompetency.

"You won't fight him again, will you?" she repeated earnestly.

"I can't whip him, Justine," he said humbly. "I thought I could. How you must despise me!"

"Despise you! Despise _you_! Oh, how I love you, Jud!" she cried. He looked into her eyes, fearing to see a flicker of dishonesty, but none was there.

"I won't fight him until I know I can lick him fair and square. It may be never, but maybe I'll be man enough some day. He's too much for me now. He'd have killed me if it hadn't been for you, dear. Good G.o.d, Justine, I thought I was dying. You don't know how terrible it was!"

The story of the fight was soon abroad. The fact that Jud's face bore few signs of the conflict struck the people as strange. 'Gene had told wondrous tales of his victory. On the other hand, 'Gene's face was a ma.s.s of cuts and bruises. It was hard for them to believe, but the farmers soon found themselves saying that Jud Sherrod had whipped 'Gene Crawley. Even when Jud acknowledged that 'Gene had whipped him, every one said that Jud was so magnanimous that he "couldn't crow over 'Gene."

"Now, mebby 'Gene Crawley'll take back what he said 'bout Jed an'

Jestine las' spring," said James Hardesty, down at the toll-gate, in the presence of a large audience. "He'll keep his dern mouth shet now, I reckon. He cain't go 'roun' here talkin' like that 'bout our women folks. Gosh dern him, ef he ever opened his head 'bout my wife I'd knock him over into b.u.t.ter township, Indiany. What'n thunder's the use bein' afeared o' 'Gene Crawley? He's a big blow an' he cain't lick n.o.body 'nless he gits in a crack 'fore the other feller's ready. Good gosh, ef I was as young as some o' you fellers, I'd had him licked forty-seven times 'fore this."

So 'Gene's reputation as a fighter suffered. But not for long. Harve Crose, Joe Perkins, and Link Overshine undertook, on separate occasions, to "take it out'n his hide" for old-standing grievances, and 'Gene reestablished himself in their estimation. Link Overshine was in bed for a week afterwards.

The winter pa.s.sed rather uneventfully. In a few of the simpler country gatherings Jud and Justine took part, but poverty kept them pretty closely at home. The yield of grain had not been up to the average and prices were low. It was only by skimping almost to n.i.g.g.ardliness that they managed to make both ends meet during the last months of the winter. Justine's school-teaching was their salvation, notwithstanding the fact that the township was usually in arrears. Jud chopped wood for an extra dollar now and then. Justine made frocks for herself.

She wore plain colors and plain material. The other girls wondered why it was that Justine Van--they always called her Justine Van--looked "so nice in them cheap little calicos." The trimness and daintiness of her dress was refreshing in a community where the taste of woman ran to ribbons, rainbows, and remnants. No girl in the neighborhood considered herself befittingly gowned for parade unless she could spread sail with a dozen hues in the breeze, the odor of perfume in the air, and unblushable pink in her cheeks. Society in Clay township could never be accused of color-blindness. The young gallants, in their store clothes, were to be won by ribbons and rouge, and, as the sole object of the girls was to get married and have children, the seasons apparently merged in an ever-lasting Eastertide. Justine, then, aroused curiosity. In the winter she wore a rough black coat and a featherless fedora. In the spring her modest gowns would have been sniffed at had they covered the person of any one less dainty. A single rose in her dark hair, a white trifle at her throat, or a red ribbon somewhere, made up her tribute to extravagance.

Jud sketched her adoringly. He had scores of posings even. When spring came and they began to plant, in the midst of privation they found time to be happy. It was on one of their Sunday-afternoon sketching expeditions that an incident occurred which was to change the whole course of their lives. They had walked several miles across the hills, through leafy woodland, to Proctor's Falls. Here the creek wriggled through a mossy dell until it came to a sudden drop of twenty feet or more, into a pool whose shimmering surface lay darkly in the shade of great trees that lined the banks. It was one of the prettiest spots in the country, and Jud had long meant to try his skill in sketching it.

This day he sat far down the ravine, facing the Falls, and rested his back against a tree. She nestled beside him, leaning against his shoulder, watching with proud eyes the hand that fashioned the picture.

To her, his art was little short of the marvelous; to a critic, it would have shown crudities enough, though even the faults were those of genius. Her eye followed his pencil with a half-knowing squint, sending an occasional glance into Nature's picture up the glen as if seeing blemishes in the subject rather than in the work of the artist.

"What a pity there is not more water coming over the rock," she said regretfully. "And that log would look better if it were turned upside down, don't you think, Jud? Goodness, how natural you have made it, though. I don't see how you do it."

Presently she ventured, somewhat timidly: "Don't you think you might sell some of your pictures, Jud, dear? If I were rich, I know I'd like to have them, and I----"

"They're yours, anyway," he interrupted, laughing. "Everything I draw is yours. You don't have to be rich."

"I mean, I'd like to have them if I was somebody else, somebody who wasn't anything to you. They'd look so nice in frames, Jud. Honestly, they would. Dear me, they're much nicer than those horrid things 'Squire Roudebush paid a dollar and a quarter apiece for."

"n.o.body would want to buy my things, Justine. They're not worth the paper they cover. Now, who the d.i.c.kens is there in this county that would give me a dollar for the whole lot? I couldn't give them away--that is, excepting those I've made of you. Everybody wants one of you. I guess I must draw you better than anything else."

"You make me look so much prettier than I really am," she expostulated.

"No, I don't, either," he responded. For a long time she forgot to look at his pencil. Her eyes were bent reflectively upon the brown, smooth face with the studious wrinkle in the forehead, and she was not thinking of the picture. Suddenly she patted his cheek and afterwards toyed in silence with the curls that cl.u.s.tered around his ear.

An elderly lady, a slender young woman in a modish gown of gray, and a tall, boyish chap slowly approached the point from which Proctor's Falls could best be viewed. Their clothes and manner proclaimed them to be city people. The boy, over whose sullen forehead tilted a rakish traveling cap, seemed to be expostulating with the young woman. From his manner it was easy to be seen that he did not regard further progress into the wilds as pleasant, profitable, or necessary. The elder lady, who was fleshy, evidently supported the youth in his impatience, but the gray gown was enthusiastically in the foreground and was determined to push its very charming self into the heart of the sylvan discovery.

When they had come within a hundred feet of the big tree that sheltered the artist and his companion, the little bit of genre in their landscape attracted them. The visitors halted and surveyed the unconscious couple, the young lady showing curiosity, the young man showing disgust, the old lady showing indecision. Their brief discussion resolved itself into a separation of forces. The young lady petulantly forsook her companions and picked her way through the trees toward the Falls.

"Let 'em alone, Sis," objected the youth, as she persisted in going forward; "it's some country jay and his girl and he'll not thank you for----"

"Oh, go back to the train, Randall," interrupted the young maiden. "He won't eat me, you know, and one can't see that pretty little waterfall unless one gets out there where your lovers sit. If you won't go with me, let me go alone in peace. Wait here, mamma, until I come back, and don't let little Randall sulk himself into tears."

"You make me sick," growled the youth wrathfully.

The girl in gray soon came to the edge of the little opening in which Jud and Justine sat, pausing some twenty feet away to smile admiringly upon the unsuspecting pair. It was a charming picture that lay before her, and she was loth to disturb its quiet beauty. With a sudden feeling that she might be intruding, she turned to steal away as she had come. A twig crackled under her shoe. The other girl, startled, looked up at her with amazement in her eyes, her ripe lips apart as if ready to utter an exclamation that would not come. The youth's eyes also were upon her. The intruder, feeling painfully out of place, laughed awkwardly, her cheeks turning a brilliant pink.

"I did not mean to disturb you," she stammered. "I wanted to see the Falls and--and--well, you happened to be here."

Jud recovered himself first and, in visible agitation, arose, not forgetting to a.s.sist to her feet his wife, who in all her life had seen no such creature as this. To her the stranger was like a visitor from another world. Her own world had been Clay township. She did not dream that she was the cause of envy in the heart of the immaculate stranger, who, perhaps for the first time in her short, b.u.t.terfly life, was looking upon a perfect type of rural health and loveliness.

"You don't disturb us," said Jud quickly. "I was only trying to draw the Falls and I--we don't mind. You can see very well if you will step over here by the tree."