A very quiet, unobtrusive guest Mrs. Brandt found the man Brice; talking
little save in a sudden gush of confidence, and always of his wife and
child; choosing a quiet corner of the kitchen in the chill California
nights, where he watched his hostess's deft movements with wistful
admiration.
"Try huntin', Brice; the doctors mostly say it's healthy."
And Brice tried hunting, as Joel advised, taking the gun from its crotch
over the door after breakfast, and wandering for hours in the yellow,
wine-like air of the mesa. He came in at noon and nightfall always
empty-handed, yet no one derided his failure. There was something about
the man that smothered derision.
"A sort o' thunderin' patience that knocks a fellow," Bert Fox put it.
Mrs. Brandt had always an encouraging word for the hunter.
"Greasewood's bad fer huntin'. Joel says it don't pay to look fer quail
in the brush when he does fetch 'em down."
"Like enough. I dunno, ma'am. Reckon I've had a good many shots at the
little wild critters, but they allus turn their heads so kind o'
innocent like. A man as has been blowed up oncet hisself ain't much at
separatin' fam'lies. But I s'pose it ain't the shootin' that's healthy,
mebbe."
And so the hunting came to an end without bloodshed. Whether the doctors
were right, or whether it was the mingled resin and honey of the sage
and chaparral, no one cared to ask. Certain it is that the "pesterin'
cough" yielded a little, and the bent form grew a trifle more erect.
"I think likely it's the lookin' up, ma'am. Mountains seem to straighten
a fellow some way. 'Pears to me somebody writ oncet uv liftin' his eyes
to the hills fer help. Mebbe not, though. I ain't much at recollectin'
verses. Loisy's a powerful hand that way."
Perhaps the man was right. It was the looking up.
He followed Joel from the table one morning, stopping outside, his face
full of patient eagerness.
"I'm gittin' right smart o' strength, neighbor. Ef there's odd jobs you
could gi' me; I'd be slow, mebbe, but seems like 'most anything 'ud be
better 'n settin' 'round."
Joel scratched his head reflectively. The big, brawny-handed fellow felt
no disposition to smile at his weak brother.
"Fox and I wuz sayin' yesterday we'd like to put another man on the
ditch; it'll be easy work fer a week, till we strike rock again. Then
there's the greasewood. It's always on hand. You might take it slow,
grubbin' when you wuz able. I guess we'll find you jobs enough, man."
The scarred, colorless face brightened.
"Thank ye, neighbor. Ef you'll be so kind, there's another little
matter. I'll have a trifle over when I've paid your woman fer her
trouble. I wuz thinkin' like enough you'd let me run up a shanty on yer
place here. Loisy wouldn't mind about style--just a roof to bring 'em
to. It's fer her and the boy, you know," watching Joel's face eagerly.
"Yes, yes, Brice; we'll make it all right. Just take things kind o'
easy. I'll be goin' in with wood next week, and I'll fetch you out a
load o' lumber. We'll make a day of it after 'while, and put up your
house in a jiffy."
And so Brice went to work on the ditch, gently at first, spared from the
heaviest work by strong arms and rough kindliness. And so, ere long,
another rude dwelling went up on the mesa, the blue smoke from its
fireside curling slowly toward the pine-plumed mountain-tops.
The building fund, scanty enough at best, was unexpectedly swelled by a
sudden and obstinate attack of forgetfulness which seized good Mrs.
Brandt.
"No, Brice, you haven't made me a spark o' trouble, not a spark. I'm
sure you've paid your way twice over bringin' in wood, and grindin'
coffee, an' the like. Many a man'd asked wages for the half you've done,
so I'm gettin' off easy to call it square." And the good lady stood her
ground unflinchingly.
"You've been powerful good to me, ma'am. We'll be watchin' our chance to
make it up to you,--Loisy an' me. I'll be sendin' fer Loisy d'reckly
now."
"Yes, yes, man, and there'll be bits o' furniture and things to get.
Spread your money thin, and Mrs. Fox and me'll come in and put you to
rights when you're lookin' for her."
He brought the money to Joel at last, a motley collection of gold and
silver pieces.
"Ef ye'll be so kind as to send it to 'er, neighbor,--Mrs. Loisy Brice,
Plattsville, Indianny. I've writ the letter tellin' her how to come.
There's enough fer the ticket and a trifle to spare. The boy's a master
hand at scuffin' out shoes an' things. You'll not make any mistake
sendin' it, will you?"
"No, no, Brice; it'll go straight as a rocket. Let me see now. The
letter'll be a week, then 'lowin' 'em a week to get started"--
"Loisy won't be a week startin', neighbor."
"Never you mind, man. 'Lowin' 'em a week to get off, that's two weeks;
then them emigrant trains is slow, say thirteen days on the
road,--that's about another fortnight,--four weeks; this is the fifth,
ain't it? Twenty-eight and five's thirty-three; that'll be the third o'
next month, say. Now mind what I tell you, Brice; don't look fer 'em a
minute before the third,--not a minute."
"'Pears like a long spell to wait, neighbor."
"I know it, man; but it'll seem a thunderin' sight longer after you
begin to look fer 'em."
"I reckon you're right. Say four weeks from to-day, then. Like enough
you'll be goin' in."
"Yes, we'll hitch up and meet 'em at the train,--you and me. The
women'll have things kind o' snug ag'in' we git home. Four weeks'll soon
slide along, man."
Joel went into the house smiling softly.
"I had to be almost savage with the fellow, Barbara. The anxious seat's
no place fer a chap like him; it'd wear him to a toothpick in a week."
"But she might get here before that, you know, Joel."
"I'll fix that with the men at the depot. If she comes sooner we'll have
her out here in a hurry. Wish to goodness she would."