pause, “or you wouldn’t have come back. But come in! I’ll start up the
fire. Who’s this?” looking hard at Joseph, whose bronzed and bearded face
was more than half concealed by the upturned collar of his fur-lined
overcoat.
“Don’t you know him, Lije?”
“Naw, nor I don’t want to.”
Meanwhile Mrs. Robinson had emerged from her room after a hurried toilet.
“Sister Mollie!”
“Brother John!”
For half a minute not another word was spoken.
“I never expected to set eyes on you again,” cried the sister at last,
as, half crying and half laughing, she held him at arm’s length for a
better view. “It seemed as if you had left the world when you went to
Oregon; and now you are back again,—the same old John.”
“This is an age of progress, Mollie. The planet doesn’t seem so very big,
if you know how to get around it.”
“Will you introduce the stranger, John?” asked his sister, in a welcoming
tone.
“I’ve been waiting to see if he would be recognized. There is another
surprise in store for you, Mollie. Did you ever see this man before?”
“Can it be possible,” she asked, her face deathly pale, “that this is my
brother Joseph?”
“Yes, Mollie,” he cried, as he caught her in his arms, “I’m your
long-lost brother.”
“Then I hope you’ve come prepared to pay your honest debts,” growled the
brother-in-law. “I’ve wrestled with that old mortgage till I’m demnition
tired!”
“I hope you’ll permit me to atone as best I can, Lije. That’s what I’m
here for.”
“Don’t be too hard on him, Lije!” pleaded the sister, as she helped the
prodigal to remove his overcoat. “You’re all right now, brother, aren’t
you?”
“I will be as soon as I have settled some old scores with your bear of a
husband.”
“Don’t mind Lije!” said his sister, aside. “His losses and obligations
have made him discouraged and cross. It wasn’t natural that he should
endure our hardships resignedly, as we did. Blood is thicker than water,
you know. Oh, Joseph, if I only could buy for our parents a nice little
farm, such as Annie deeded to her father and mother! There’s a ten-acre
farm adjoining theirs; I cannot sleep for thinking about it. But my
whole lifework has been devoted to Lije, and must count for nothing, so
far as father and mother are concerned. Father gave me a cow and calf
for a wedding present, as you will remember. They would have made me
comfortable long ago if I could have kept them and one-half of their
increase as mine.”
“Yes, Mollie; and I acted the brute beast over that gift. I was a
bumptious boy then; and I encouraged Lije in the idea that he mustn’t
allow his wife to own property. I waxed eloquent, as I thought, over
coverture, and such other archaic injustice as merges the existence of a
wife into that of her husband. Men are more appreciative of women on the
Pacific coast than they are here; but there are laws and usages out there
yet that call loudly for a change, the Lord knows.”
“I am not complaining of Lije, Joe. He has never offered me any bodily
injury in his life, and I’ve learned not to mind the explosions from his
mouth. I have everything I need for my own simple wants; but, no matter
how hard I struggle, I can never help my parents to a penny unless I
steal it”; and she laid her head on her brother’s shoulder and sobbed
aloud.
“What’s the matter now?” growled her husband. “Can’t you stop your
bawling when you have company?”
“Breakfast is ready,” said Annie Robinson, a tall and handsome girl, who
had been busy in the lean-to kitchen.
“Annie, this is Uncle Joseph,” said her mother, smiling through her tears.
“I don’t want to see him,” retorted the girl, rudely, turning to Uncle
John with extended hands and a smile of welcome, and saying in a
half-whisper, “What did you bring him here for?”
“The hair of the dog is good for the bite sometimes, my girl. Your Uncle
Joseph is all right. He’ll atone for everything if we’ll give him half a
chance.”
“You owe Joseph an apology for your rudeness, Annie; I am surprised at
you!” said her mother. Then, turning to Joseph: “Don’t mind Annie. She
is unhappy and cross because she could not go to boarding-school this
winter.”
“If I didn’t deserve what I’m getting I wouldn’t stand it, sister; but
I’ve come to atone, and I must take my punishment.”
The room was severely cold, and the hot breakfast filled the air with a
vapor that obscured the window-panes. The lighted candles, in their tall
receivers, reflected translucent halos, and lit the lithe figure of Annie
Robinson, who flitted silently between the table and the great black
stove, serving the food, and looking like a weird, uncanny shade.
“The way of the transgressor is hard,” thought Joseph. “We must be ready
to take the back track to-morrow, John,” he said, rising from his chair,
and leaving his food almost untasted. “Whatever business you and Lije may
have between you must be agreed upon to-day. Where can I hire a horse and
sleigh?”
“I’ve a cutter in the barn,” said Lije, beginning to relax a little as
his breakfast stirred his heart and warmed his spirits. “You’ll find
half-a-dozen old sawmill horses in the big shed back of the barn. They’re
spavined and ringboned, and one of ’em is knock-kneed; but you can take
your pick of the lot.”
“Won’t you let me go along, Joe?” asked his brother, as they left the
house together. “Where are you going, anyhow?”
“Of course you can go along if you are not needed here. I am going to
see about buying that ten-acre tract that Mollie told me about. If it
is suitable for the needs of our parents, I will see them installed in
a home of their own before another week passes. Why, John, I’d rather
murder our dear old father and mother in cold blood than leave them under
the heel of that parsimonious—”
“Don’t be too hard on Lije, Joe. He’s had a whole lot to contend with
since the sawmill, the debts, and other double loads have been left on
his hands.”
“And no wonder,” was the significant rejoinder. “He deserves his fate.”
The sun arose in splendor, warming the air, and making the drive of
three or four miles keenly invigorating and enjoyable. They found the
little farm they had come to inspect in fair condition, though in need of
some modern improvements, of which the brothers took note. The land had
originally belonged to the senior Ranger, who had secured a title to the
half-section of which it was a part, directly from the government.
“If father had been content with smaller land holdings, it might have
been better for him and all the rest of us,” said John.
“There is danger that we may make the same mistake in Oregon,” replied
Joseph.
“What a wealthy man father might have been, though, if he had held on to
all the land he acquired in this country in an early day!” added John.
“But he’d be a happier man to-day on this ten-acre plat, with prosperous
small farmers all around him and all the improvements and conveniences
on the plat that it can be made to carry, than he would be with a whole
township on his shoulders under the burdens of taxation and a careless
tenantry.”
“I don’t know but you are right,” echoed John; “it isn’t what we own, or
imagine that we own, in this world, but what we can utilize, that makes
up our real possessions. Oregon will surely suffer, in years to come, as
a result of the present system of land-grabbing. Most of the unhappiness
of the farmers’ wives results from isolation, which small farms would
remedy. This little home is a perfect gem. Mother will be delighted.”
“And the Robinson old folks will have congenial neighbors. I can shut my
eyes and see father now, hobbling about the place with his cane, pulling
a weed here and a flower there, tending the horse and cow and garden,
planting his onions and potatoes in the dark of the moon, as of old, and
his cabbage and peas and beans when it is full.”
“And think how mother will enjoy her poultry and posies! But we must do
something to relieve Lije of his burden of debt, or he’ll drive Mollie to
suicide.”
“I feel under no obligation to Lije, God knows! But for Mollie’s sake,
I’ll see about helping him out.”
“Do you still intend to leave for the coast to-morrow?”
“No,” said Joseph. “I spoke hastily. This is Sunday. We can’t complete
our business to-day. I will see the agent and settle about this little
farm in the morning. After we get the old folks comfortable it will be
time to consider Lije. He must wait.”
“I’ve been thinking all day,” said John, as they were journeying
homeward, “that the entire running machinery of the home should be
intrusted to women, who are the real home-makers. My Annie planned for
the support of her parents, and made them modestly independent by a
stroke of her pen. But she could not have done it if I had continued
obstinate about signing the deed; and I am very much afraid I could not
have been prevailed upon to do it if it hadn’t been for the persistence
of Jean. She gave me no peace till the conveyance was made. If women
possessed law-making power, these matters would in time be adjusted, and
both men and women would be the gainers in the long run. But both men
and women are as short-sighted as they are selfish. Solomon was right
when he said: ‘There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there
is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty.’ It
is noticeable that men of the frontier are more inclined to be just with
their co-workers, the mothers, than the men of the older States.”
“It’s all settled, mother,” exclaimed Joseph, as he alighted at the
cottage doorstep and threw the reins to John; “I’ve been to see that
little farm adjoining Pap Robinson’s, and I’ve made terms. The little
place is yours from now on, and I will not leave you till you are settled
in it.”
“Your father will be so happy, son! He started to meeting a little while
ago. I stayed at home to have a nice, warm supper ready. It isn’t many
more meals I’ll get a chance to cook for my boys.”
“You did your share in that line long ago, mother dear.”
In the family reunion in the little cottage home that night there were no
intruders. John, Mary, and Joseph held sweet communion with their parents
alone.
“Our Father in Heaven,” prayed the old man, before retiring, “we thank
Thee for all Thy tender mercies to us-ward. We realize Thy hand in our
chastening; and we behold Thy love in our sorrows, since, but for them,
we could not appreciate our joys. We thank Thee for John, for Mary, for
Joseph, and for this night’s reunion. We also thank Thee for our absent
dear ones, and for those whose bodies are under the snow, whose spirits
are with Thee.
“Animate us all with the Christ spirit, O God; and grant that in Thine
own good time we all may meet again.”
And the brothers echoed aloud the good father’s “Amen.”
XL
_THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS_
A year has passed, and the autumn of 1853 has arrived. It has been a
most strenuous twelve months on the Ranch of the Whispering Firs. Rapid
changes, unlooked-for vicissitudes, improvements upon the virgin soil,
annoying delays, and happy reunions have made the seasons fly.
The house was now surrounded by a cultivated field, through the centre
of which a broad, tree-lined avenue wound upward from the grade below.
The cattle whose labor had saved the lives of the immigrants the previous
year were now sleek and fat.
Behind the dwelling rose the foot-hills of the Cascade Mountains, their
sides and summits clothed with the majestic forest of pointed firs from
which the ranch had derived its name. Still higher up, and yet up, above
the serrated steeps, loomed hoary old Mount Hood, spreading his snowy
robes over the misty lesser heights, the top of his white turban hidden
among the clouds, his flowing beard resting upon the pointed crests of
the most distant trees.
The music of machinery filled the air. The sawmill was at its best,
running day and night to supply the ever-increasing demand for lumber.
The original plant had already been greatly increased.
“It is a glorious thing to be alive!” said Jean, pausing in the perusal
of a letter. “The air is as balmy as springtime. What a blessed change it
will be for Ashton, who has seen nothing but sagebrush, bald mountains,
jack-rabbits, sage-hens, Indians, immigrants, and cacti the summer long!
Oh, my darling, it is a whole year since our first meeting!
“My last day in the schoolroom is over. I have enjoyed my work. Many of
the little tots are better for the training I have given them. But best
of all is the improvement the experience has brought to me. Every good
deed reacts upon the doer. Ashton will hardly realize the progress I have
made in education, physical appearance, and culture during the vanished
year”; and she smiled approvingly at her reflection in the little mirror.
“And to think that to-morrow is our wedding-day!” She resumed the reading
of her cherished missive.
“It will interest you to know that the fellow Hankins, whose villany came
so near to wrecking our happiness, my beloved, has been sent to the Pen.
at Salt Lake for forgery. What a splendid man he might have been if he
had improved his opportunities! He still has a penitentiary term to serve
in New York, which, added to his twenty years in Utah, will take him into
the sere and yellow leaf.”
“And I’d have allowed myself to marry that fellow, I fear, if you had
proved false to me, my Ashton,” exclaimed Jean, as she turned from her
musings to survey her _trousseau_, upon which she and Mary had spent much
time and skill.
“Are you at leisure, sister?” asked Mary.
“Of course I am always at leisure to see you, Mary. But what is the
matter? You are as red as a rose and bright as a diamond!” and she
fondled the sparkling gem upon her own finger lovingly.
“Something sweet and momentous has happened, my dear. Wish me joy! Mr.
Buckingham and I are to make the fourth couple to join the matrimonial
combination at the fateful hour to-morrow.”
“Isn’t this rather sudden, Mame? Won’t you be leaving Marjorie in
the lurch at the cook-house? And, above all, what will you do for a
_trousseau_?”
“No, dear, this change is not sudden. As you know, we have been
engaged for over six months. But my _fiancé_, being under orders
from the government, has not been certain of a permanency before. We
will take Marjorie with us to Washington, and keep her in school. And
now as to _trousseau_. My white dimity dress is fresh and new, and so
is Marjorie’s. When we get to Washington, where Mr. Buckingham must
spend the winter under orders from the Land Department, he says we can
patronize the _modiste_ to our heart’s content. It was a fortunate
day for me when my husband that is to be was sent out to Oregon to
investigate alleged land frauds; and more fortunate still that he
discovered that fellow Hankins.”
“I wish we’d known this a week ago, Mame. You might have had an
ivory-white, all-wool delaine, with lace and satin trimmings, just like
mine.”
“My little sister, notwithstanding her reputation for strong-mindedness,
is a charming bit of femininity, after all,” laughed Mary, as she hurried
away.
* * * * *
The near approach of a creaking wagon caused the sisters to approach the
window.
“As I live!” cried Jean, “it’s the Reverend Thomas Rogers coming up the
grade. And that is his little doll-faced wife. Wonder where they came
from, and what in creation they’re coming here for.”
“You must go out to meet them, Jean,” said Mary. “I never want to see
them again; but we mustn’t be remiss in hospitality.”
“He looks as if the world had gone hard with him, poor fellow,” laughed
Jean. “Don’t you wish you had to pull in double harness with the like of
him for the rest of your life?”
“I would never have fancied him in the first place if I had had any
sense,” said Mary. “Wonder who paid their bills,” she cried with a
hysterical little laugh, as she watched the preacher’s wife while she
alighted over the wagon-wheel without any attention or assistance.
“Yonder goes Mrs. O’Dowd to the rescue. Do you know, Mame, I think it is
a wise step for daddie to hitch up with Sally O’Dowd? He might go farther
and fare a whole lot worse.”
Although the greeting the Rogers family received from the Ranger
household was not exactly in keeping with the open-hearted hospitality
of the border, it seemed to satisfy the preacher, who made himself as
agreeable as possible.
“I went, Squire, to see your parents and Mrs. Ranger’s a few days before
I left the States,” said the preacher. “The dear old people were well
and prosperous and contented. They have imbibed a new theory about time
and distance. They talk learnedly about vibrations, a fourth dimension
in space, and other such nonsense; and they declare that there can be no
real separation of souls that are in perfect accord with one another.
Their new belief is making them as happy as birds. I would have no
objection to such speculations if they didn’t tend to undermine the
gospel. All such theories detract from the faith of our fathers.”
“Not necessarily,” said Jean. “I think that we ought always to accept
truth for authority; but you want everybody to accept authority for
truth.”
“I see it is the same little ‘doubting Thomas’ we used to have in the
Pleasant Prairie schoolhouse,” said the minister.
“There is a whole lot of common-sense in Jean’s religion,” cried Hal; “I
mean to accept her manufacture of the article as straight goods, full
measure and a yard wide.”
“These discussions are not profitable,” said Captain Ranger, dryly.
“Your father and mother are certainly very happy in their theories; I
can say that much for them,” said Mrs. Rogers, who, from her nook in
the corner, had seldom ventured a word. “Their cottage was as neat as
a new pin. It was the springtime, and climbing roses were clambering
over the little porch. The old people seemed to lack for nothing but the
companionship of their children.” And the little woman, amazed at her own
loquacity, shrank back abashed.
“God has been very kind and gracious to both of the good old couples,”
said the preacher, in a sonorous voice.
“Some people have an unlimited supply of gall,” said Hal, aside to Mary,
alluding to the preacher and his wife.
“I don’t see but they are all right,” was the smiling reply of the
rosy-cheeked maiden. “They have placed me under everlasting obligations,
I do assure you.” She arose to greet a handsome visitor, whom she proudly
introduced to them as “my affianced husband.”
The preacher’s joy was unbounded when Captain Ranger invited him to
perform a quadruple marriage ceremony on the morrow,—an incident he
hailed as an augury of the further social and financial assistance of
which he felt so much in need that he began at once to solicit aid for
the erection of a church and parsonage.
“For heaven’s sake, don’t begin to bother us about this innovation for
a week or two!” exclaimed the Captain. “I’ll see that you are fed and
housed for the present. As Jean will be leaving us, we shall need a
school-teacher. My wife will not want an outsider to use our house for
the school; so we must make a schoolhouse and meeting-house combined, and
let it suffice for the present.”
The morning brought a scene of hurry, bustle, and happiness. Long
tables were spread upon the lawn, under the wide-spread branches of the
luxuriant fir-tree the woodman had spared when the land was cleared.
Flowers and ferns from the wildwood added glow and fragrance to the
loaded tables. Mary and Jean, rosy with expectation, flitted everywhere.
“Did you ever in all your born days see such a wonderful man as my
daddie?” asked Jean, addressing Sally O’Dowd; and the happy woman
answered, “I never did.”
Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Ranger, the latter resplendent in a satin gown of
latest fashion, were conspicuous assistants; and their children, all of
whom were gotten up for the occasion by their happy mother regardless of
expense, were the observed of all observers. These children, added to the
younger members of Captain Ranger’s brood, the three children of Mrs.
O’Dowd, and Susannah’s “coon,” made a formidable array of young Americans.
At the appointed hour, Mrs. McAlpin, who had arrived early on horseback
to assist in the preparations, was joined by Mr. Burns, who brought to
her a sealed package, long overdue, concerning which they kept their
own counsel. But in anticipation of its arrival, they had allowed a
“personal” to appear in the local paper in due season, as follows: “Mrs.
Adele Benson, the handsome widow who spent a few days in this city after
crossing the plains last year, and whose widowed daughter, Mrs. Daphne
McAlpin, is soon to be the bride of our distinguished fellow-citizen,
Mr. Rollin Burns, recently astonished her friends in Oregon with the
announcement of her marriage in London to the Right Honorable Donald
McPherson, only son and heir of Lady Mary McPherson, whose extensive
estates are the pride and envy of High-Head on the Thames.”
* * * * *
The appointed hour had come, and the four brides expectant were beaming
and beautiful in their simple and becoming array. Mr. Burns and Mr.
Buckingham awaited the signal to descend with their brides. But where was
Ashton Ashleigh?
Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed, and he did not come. The dinner was
spoiling, and Susannah was furious.
“I allus ’lowed dah’d nothin’ come o’ dat co’tship!” she said to Hal.
“Go ahead and get the ceremonies over,” said Jean. “Don’t allow this
interruption to mar the enjoyment of anybody.”
And while her father was leading Mrs. O’Dowd to the marriage altar,
with Mr. Burns and Mrs. McAlpin following, and Mary and her chosen
one bringing up the rear, she sank, white-faced and benumbed upon her
bed, and gave no sign of life except in the nervous fluttering of her
half-closed eyelids.
For a long time she lay thus, mercifully bereft of the power to suffer.
“There is some unavoidable reason for this delay,” she said over and over
to herself. “I’ll understand it all in time.”
The afternoon waned, and darkness fell upon the Ranch of the Whispering
Firs.
“Jean!”
“Is that you, daddie dear?”
“Yes, darling.”
“What do you think has delayed Ashton?”
“Try to forget him, Jean. His failure to be on hand at his own marriage
ought to prove to you that he is faithless. You will live to thank God
that the knowledge of Ashton’s faithlessness did not come upon you after
marriage.”
“Ashton is not faithless!” she cried, springing to her feet. Then she
fell quivering to the floor.
“Run, quick, Hal! Saddle a horse and go for the Little Doctor,” cried
Mary.
* * * * *
A heavy mist that had rolled up from the ocean in the afternoon had
settled now into a steady downpour. There was no moon, and the dense
darkness of the forest through which Hal’s road lay was as black as
Erebus. “Jean loves you, Sukie,” he would say, patting the mare on the
shoulder. “We must get the Little Doctor at all hazards”; and the mare,
as if sensing the importance of her mission, would leap forward with a
sympathetic whinny.
The door was opened by Mr. Burns, revealing a scene of domestic comfort.
A little table, covered with a snowy cloth and spread with light
refreshments, stood before a blazing fire; and at its head sat Mrs.
Burns, daintily attired in a light blue wrapper of exquisite workmanship.
“Why, Harry Ranger!” she exclaimed, as the lad stood inside the door,
shaking his dripping garments. “I hope Jean isn’t worse? I left her calm
and seemingly out of danger.”
“She’s fallen in a fit! I’ve come for the Doctor!”
The wind had lulled a little as the little party hurried down the muddy
highway toward the Ranch of the Whispering Firs. The Little Doctor,
nattily arrayed in a rain suit, hood and all, sat her horse securely
and plunged headlong through the darkness, while Hal rode by her side,
followed at a distance by her husband, who bumped up and down in
Scotch-English fashion on a heavy trotter, reminding himself of John
Gilpin, as his hat blew off and his stirrup slipped from his foot.
“I’ve heard rumors of the ‘coming woman’ many a time,” he thought,
bracing himself by clinging to the horn of his Spanish saddle. “But
the deuce take me if I like the article in practice, though I’ve long
advocated her cause in theory.”
He said as much in an injured tone to his wife, as they alighted at the
Ranger home, and received for answer, “We must always consider what is
the greatest good for the greatest number, dear. Won’t we be well repaid
for this night’s adventure if Jean is saved?”
The Little Doctor found her patient in a rigid, trance-like state, her
eyelids fluttering and her breathing stertorous.