THE FEAST
Joyous whoops, loud and heartfelt, brought the women to the door of the
sheriff's house in time to see their guests dismount. A perfect babel of
words greeted their appearance as the cowboys burst into a running fire
of jokes, salutations and comments. Even the ponies seemed to know that
something important and unusual was taking place, for they cavorted
and bit and squealed to prove that they were in accord with the spirit of
their riders and that thirty miles in less than three hours had not
subdued them. Bright colors prevailed, for the neck-kerchiefs in most
cases were new and yet showed the original folding creases, while new,
clean thongs of rawhide and glittering bits of metal flashed back the
sunlight. Spurs glittered and the clean looking horses appeared to have
had a dip in the Limping Water. Blake had hunted through the carpeted
rooms of his ranch-house for decorations, and in the drawer of a table
he had found a bunch of ribbons of many kinds and shades. These now
fluttered from the pommels of the saddles and in one case a red ribbon
was twined about the leg of a vicious pinto, and the pinto was not at
all pleased by the decoration.
The sheriff led the way to the house closely followed by Blake, the others
coming in the order of their nerve. The Orphan was last, not from lack of
courage, but rather because of strategy. He thought that Helen would
remain at the door to welcome each arrival and if he was in the van
he would be passed on to make way for those behind him. Being the last
man he hoped to be able to say more to her than a few words of greeting.
As he mounted the steps she was drawn into the room for something and he
stepped to one side on the porch, well knowing that she would miss him.
Bud poked his head out the door and started to say something, but The
Orphan fiercely whispered for him to be silent and to disappear, which
Bud did after grinning exasperatingly.
The man on the porch was growing impatient when he heard the light
swish of skirts around the corner of the house. Sauntering carelessly to
the corner he looked into the back-yard and saw Helen with a tray in
her hands, nearing the back door. She espied him and stopped, flushing
suddenly as he leaped lightly to the ground and walked rapidly toward
her. Her cheeks became a deeper red when he stopped before her and took
the tray, for his eyes were rebellious and would not be subdued, and the
first thing she saw was the gold pin which stood out boldly against
the dark blue neck-kerchief. She was rarely beautiful in her white dress,
and the ribbon which she wore at her throat did not detract in its
effect. Later her sister was to wonder if it was a coincidence that the
ribbon and his neck-kerchief were so good a match in color.
She welcomed him graciously and he felt a sudden new and strangely
exhilarating sensation steal over him as he took the hand she held out,
the tray all the while bobbing recklessly in his other hand.
"Why aren't you in the house paying your respects to your hostess?" she
chided half in jest and half in earnest.
"The delay will but add to my fervor when I do," he replied, "for I will
have had a stimulus then. As long as the hostesses are four and insist
on not being together, how can I pay my respects all at once?"
"But there is only one hostess," she laughingly corrected. "I am afraid
you are not very good at making excuses. You probably never felt the need
to make them before. You see, I, too, am only a guest."
"We two," he corrected daringly.
"I am very glad to see you," she said, leading away from plurals. "You
are looking very well and much more contented. And then, this is ever so
much nicer than our first meeting, isn't it? No horrid Apaches."
"I've gotten so that I rather like Apaches," he replied. "They are so
useful at times. But you mustn't try to tempt me to subordinate that
eventful day, not yet. It can't be done, although I've never tried to do
it," he hastily assured her, making a gesture of helplessness. "Sometimes
an unexpected incident will change the habits of a lifetime, making
the days seem brighter, and yet, somehow, adding a touch of sadness. I
have been a stranger to myself since then, restless, absentminded, moody
and hungry for I know not what." He paused and then slowly continued, "I
must beg to remain loyal to that day of all days when you bathed an
outlaw's head and showed your love for fair play and kindness."
"Goodness!" she cried, for one instant meeting his eager eyes. "Why, I
thought it was a terrible day! And you really think differently?"
"Very much so," he assured her as she withdrew her hand from his. "You
see, it was such a new and delightful experience to save a stage coach
and then find that it was a hospital with a wonderful doctor. I accused
that Apache of being stingy with his lead, for he might just as well have
given me a few more wounds to have dressed."
"Yes," she laughingly retorted, "it was almost as new an experience
as starting on a long and supposedly peaceful journey and suddenly
finding oneself in the middle of a desert surrounded by dead Indians
and doctoring an Indian killer who was at war with one's brother. And
that after a terrible shaking up lasting for over an hour. Truly it
is a day to be remembered. Now, don't you think you should hurry in and
greet my sister-in-law?"
"Yes, certainly," he quickly responded. "But before I lose the opportunity
I must ask you if you will care if I ride over and see you occasionally,
because it is terribly lonely on that ranch."
"You know that we shall always be glad to see you whenever you can call,"
she replied, smiling up at him. "We are all very deep in your debt and
brother and all of us think a great deal of you. Are you satisfied on the
Star C, and do you like your work and your companions?"
"Thank you," he cried happily, "I will ride over and see you once in a
while. But as for my work, it is delightful! The Star C is fine and my
companions--well, they just simply can't be beat! they are the finest,
whitest set of men that ever gathered under one roof."
"That's very nice, I am glad that you find things so congenial," she
replied in sincerity. "James was sure that you would, for Mr. Blake is an
old friend of his."
"I'm very anxious about this pin," he said, putting his hand on it. "May
I keep it for a while longer?" he asked with a note of appeal in his voice.
"Why, yes," she replied, "if you wish to. But only as long as you do
not displease me, and you will not do that, will you? James has such
deep confidence in you that I know you will not disappoint him. You will
justify him in his own mind and in the minds of his acquaintances and
prove that he has not erred in judgment, won't you?"
"If I am the sum total of your brother's trouble, he will have a path of
roses to wander through all the rest of his life," he responded earnestly.
"And I'm really afraid that you will never again wear this pin as a
possession of yours. Of course you can borrow it occasionally," and he
smiled whimsically, "but as far as displeasing you is concerned, it is
mine forever. It will really and truly be mine on that condition, won't
it? My very own if I do not forfeit it?"
"If you wish it so," she replied quickly, her face radiant with smiles.
"And you will work hard and you will never shoot a man, no matter what the
provocation may be, unless it is absolutely necessary to do it for the
saving of your own life or that of a friend or an innocent man. Promise
me that!" she commanded imperatively, pleased at being able to dictate
to him. "Men like you never break a promise," she added impulsively.
"I promise never to shoot a man, woman, child or--or anybody," he
laughingly replied, "unless it is necessary to save life. And I'll work
real hard and save my money. And on Sundays, rain or shine, I'll ride in
and report to my new foreman." Then a bit of his old humor came to him:
"For I just about need this pin--knots are so clumsy, you know."
She glanced at the knot which held the pin and laughed merrily, leading
the way into the house.
As they entered Humble was extolling the virtues of his dog, to the
broad grins of his companions, who constantly added amendments and made
corrections _sotto voce._
"Why, here they are!" cried the sheriff in such a tone as to suffuse
Helen's face with blushes. The Orphan coolly shook hands with him.
"Yes, here we are, Sheriff, every one of us," he replied. "We couldn't be
expected to stay away when Mrs. Shields put herself to so much trouble,
and we're all happy and proud to be so honored. How do you do, Mrs.
Shields," he continued as he took her hand. "It is awful kind of you to go
to such trouble for a lot of lonely, hungry fellows like us."
"Goodness sakes!" she cried, delighted at his words and pleased at the
way he had parried her husband's teasing thrust. "Why, it was no trouble
at all--you are all my boys now, you know."
"Thank you, Mrs. Shields," he replied slowly. "We will do our very best
to prove ourselves worthy of being called your boys."
The sheriff regarded The Orphan with a look of approbation and turned to
his sister Helen.
"He ain't nobody's fool, eh, Sis?" he whispered. "I'm wondering how you
ever made up your mind to share him with us!"
"Oh, please don't!" she begged in confusion. "Please don't tease me now!"
"All right, Sis," he replied in a whisper, pinching her ear. "I'll save
it all up for some other time, some time when he ain't around to turn it
off, eh? But I don't blame him a bit for exploring the yard first--you're
the prettiest girl this side of sun-up," he said, beaming with love and
pride. "How's that for a change, eh? Worth a kiss?"
She kissed him hurriedly and then left the room to attend to her duties
in the kitchen, and he sauntered over to where The Orphan was talking with
Mrs. Shields, his hand rubbing his lips and a mischievous twinkle in his
kind eyes.
"Did you notice the new flower-bed right by the side of the house as you
ran past it a while ago?" he asked, flashing a keen warning to his wife.
The Orphan searched his memory for the flower-bed and not finding it,
turned and smiled, not willing to admit that his attention had been too
fully taken up with a fairer flower than ever grew in earth.
"Why, yes, it is real pretty," he replied. "What about it?"
"Oh, nothing much," gravely replied the sheriff as he edged away. "Only
we were thinking of putting a flower-bed there, although I haven't had
time to get at it yet."
The Orphan flushed and glanced quickly at the outfit, who were too busy
cracking jokes and laughing to pay any attention to the conversation
across the room.
"James!" cried Mrs. Shields. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself!"
"When you tickle a mule," said the sheriff, grinning at his friend, "you
want to look out for the kick. Come again sometime, Sonny."
"James!" his wife repeated, "how can you be so mean! Now, stop teasing and
behave yourself!"
"For a long time I've been puzzled about what you resembled, but now
I have your words for it," easily countered The Orphan. "Thank you for
putting me straight."
The sheriff grinned sheepishly and scratched his head: "I'm an old fool,"
he grumbled, and forthwith departed to tell Helen of the fencing.
Mrs. Shields excused herself and followed her husband into the kitchen to
look after the dinner, and The Orphan sauntered over to his outfit just
as Jim looked out of a rear window. Jim turned quickly, his face wearing
a grin from ear to ear.
"Hey, Bud!" he called eagerly. "Bud!"
"What?" asked Bud, turning at the hail.
"Come over here for a minute, I want to show you something," Jim replied,
"but don't let Humble come."
Bud obeyed and looked: "Jimminee!" he exulted. "Don't that look sumptious,
though? This is where we shine, all right." Then turned: "Hey, fellows,
come over here and take a look."
As they crowded around the window Humble discovered that something was
in the wind and he followed them. What they saw was a long table beneath
two trees, and it was covered with a white cloth and dressed for a feast.
Bud turned quickly from the crowd and forcibly led Humble to a side
window before that unfortunate had seen anything and told him to put
his finger against the glass, which Humble finally did after an argument.
"Feel the pain?" Bud asked.
"Why, no," Humble replied, looking critically at his finger. "What's the
matter with you, anyhow?"
"Nothing," replied Bud. "Think it over, Humble," he advised, turning away.
Humble again put his finger to the glass and then snorted:
"Locoed chump! Prosperity is making him nutty!" When he turned he saw his
friends laughing silently at him and making grimaces, and a light suddenly
broke in upon him.
"Yes, I did!" he cried. "That joke is so old I plumb forgot it years ago!
Spring something that hasn't got whiskers and a halting step, will you?"
Jim laughed and suggested a dance, but was promptly squelched.
"You heathen!" snorted Blake in mock horror. "This is Sunday! If you want
to dance wait till you get back to the ranch--suppose one of the women was
here and heard you say that!"
"Gee, I forgot all about it being Sunday," replied Jim, quickly looking
to see if any of the women were in the room. "We're regular barbarians,
ain't we!" he exclaimed in self-condemnation and relief when he saw that
no women were present. "We're regular land pirates, ain't we?"
"You'll be asking to play poker yet, or have a race," jabbed Humble with
malice. "You ain't got no sense and never did have any."
"Huh!" retorted Jim belligerently, "I won't try to learn a Chinee cook
how to play poker and get skinned out of my pay, anyhow! Got enough?"
he asked, "or shall I tell of the time you drifted into Sagetown and
asked----"
"Shut up, you fool!" whispered Humble ferociously. "Yu'll get skun if you
say too much!"
"'Skun' is real good," retorted Jim. "Got any more of them new words to
spring on us?"
Helen had been passing to and fro past the window and Docile Thomas here
put his marveling into words, for he had been casting covert glances at
her, but now his restraint broke.
"Gee whiz!" he exclaimed in a whisper to Jack Lawson. "Ain't she a regular
hummer, now! Lines like a thoroughbred, face like a dream and a smile
what shore is a winner! See her hair--fine and dandy, eh? She's in the
two-forty class, all right!" he enthused. "Why, when this country wakes
up to what's in it the sheriff will have to put up a stockade around this
house and mount guard. Everybody from Bill up will be stampeding this way
to talk business with the sheriff. No wonder The Orphan has got a bee
in his bonnet--lucky dog!"
"She can take care of my pay every month just as soon as she says the
word," Jack replied. "But suppose you look away once in a while? Suppose
you shift your sights! You, too, Humble," he said, suddenly turning on
the latter.
"Me what?" asked Humble, without interest and without shifting his gaze.
"What are you talking about?"
"Look at something else, see?"
"Shore I see," replied Humble. "That's why I'm looking. Do you think I
look with my eyes shut! Gee, but ain't she a picture, though!"
"She shore is, but give it a rest, take a vacation, you chump!" retorted
Jack. "You're staring at her like she had you hoodooed. Come out of your
trance--wake up and make a fool of yourself some other way. Don't aim all
the time at her. Mebby Lee Lung has killed your dog!"
"If he has we'll need a new cook," replied Humble with decision.
"Come on, boys! Don't start milling!" cried the sheriff, suddenly entering
the room. "Dinner's all ready and waiting for us. And I shore hope you
have all got your best appetites with you, because Margaret likes to
see her food taken care of lively. If you don't clean it all up she'll
think you don't like it," he said, winking at Blake, "and if she once
gets that notion in her head it will be no more invitations for the Star
C."
There was much excitement in the crowd, and the replies came fast.
"I ain't had anything good to eat for fifteen long, aching years!" cried
Bud. "When I get through you'll need a new table.
"Same here, only for thirty years," replied Jim hastily. "I just couldn't
sleep last night for thinking about the glorious surprise my abused
stomach was due to have to-day. I'll bet my gun on my performance if
the track is heavy, all right. I'm not poor on speed, and I'm a stayer
from Stayersville."
"Well, I won't be among the also rans, you can bet on that," laughed
Silent. "I don't weigh very much, but I'm geared high."
"I'll bet it's good!" cried Humble, "I'll bet it's real good!"
"D----n good, you mean!" corrected Jack. "Hey, fellows!" he cried, "did
you hear what Humble said? He said that he'd bet it was _real_ good!"
"Horray for Humble, the wit of the Star C," laughed Docile.
"Me for the apricot pie!" exulted Charley. "Here's where I get square on
Blake for rubbing it in all these months about the fine pie he gets over
here."
"There ain't no apricot pie," gravely lied the sheriff in surprise.
"What!" cried Charley in alarm. "There ain't none for me! Oh, well, you
can't lose me in daylight, for I'll double up on everything else. I ain't
going to get left, all right!"
"Don't wake me up," begged Joe Haines. "Let me dream on in peace and
plenty. Grub, real, genuine grub, grub what is grub! Oh, joy!"
Mrs. Shields hurried into the room and then paused in surprise when she
saw that the outfit had not moved toward the feast.
"Land sakes!" she cried. "Aren't you boys hungry, or is James up to some
of his everlasting teasing again!"
"You talk to her, Bud," whispered Jim eagerly. "I'm so scary I shore
can't."
"Yes, go ahead, Bud!" came instant and unanimous endorsement in whispers.
"Well, ma'am," began Bud, clearing his throat, glancing around uneasily
to be sure that the crowd was giving him moral backing, and feeling
uncomfortable, "we was just getting up a--a----"
"B, C, D," prompted Jim in a whisper.
"We was just getting up a resolution of thanks, Mrs. Shields," he
continued, stabbing his elbow into the stomach of the offending Jim.
"You shut up!" he fiercely whispered. "I'm carrying one hundred and
forty pounds now without the saddle!" Then he continued: "We all of us
are plumb tickled about this, so plumb tickled we don't hardly know what
to say----"
"That's right," whispered Jim, folding his arms across his stomach.
"You're proving it, all right."
Silent and Jack hauled Jim to the rear and Bud continued unruffled: "But
we want to thank you, ma'am, from the bottoms, the very lowest bottoms of
our hearts for your kindness to a orphant outfit what ain't had anything
to eat since the war, and very little during it. Joe Haines, here, ma'am,
was just saying as how he was a-scared that it is all a dream----"
"I didn't neither!" fiercely contradicted Joe in a whisper, looking very
self-conscious. He was whisked to the rear to join Jim and the speech went
on.
"He is afraid it is a dream, ma'am, and I know we all of us have more or
less doubts about it being really true. But, ma'am, we shore are anxious
to find out all about it. We've rid thirty miles to see for ourselves,
and I don't reckon you'll have any fears about our appetites being left
at home when you sizes up the wreck left in the path of the storm after
the stampede is over. The boys want to give you three cheers even if it
is Sunday, ma'am, for your kindness to them, and I'm shore one of the
boys!"
"Hip, hip, horray!" yelled the crowd, surging forward.
"Good boy, Bud!" they cried.
"I'm proud of you, Buddie!" exulted Charley, slapping him extra heartily
on the back.
"I didn't know you had it in you, Bud!" cried Silent. "It was shore a
dandy speech, all right."
"We'll send you to Congress for that, some day, Bud," cried Jack Lawson.
"You're all right!"
"I once had a piece of pie, a piece of pie, a piece of pie,
I once had a piece of pie, when I was five years old,"
sang Charley as he pranced toward the door.
"Good! Go on, Charley, go on!" cried his companions joyously.
"Now I'll have another piece, another piece, another piece,
Now I'll have another piece, that's two all told.
Good bye, Lee Lung, good bye Lee Lung,
Good bye, Lee Lung, we're going to forget you now!"
"Again on that Lee Lung, altogether--it hits me right!" cried Bud, and the
matter pertaining to the farewells to Lee Lung was promptly and properly
attended to in heartfelt sincerity.
The ladies laughed with delight, and Mrs. Shields whispered to her
husband, who nodded and escorted The Orphan to a seat near the head of the
table, where he was flanked by Helen and Blake.
"Grab your partners, boys," the sheriff cried, pointing to the chairs.
There was a hasty piling of belts and guns on the ground, and after much
confusion all were seated.
The sheriff arose: "Boys, Mrs. Shields wants me to tell you how pleased
she is to have you all here. She has felt plumb sorry about you and she
shore has shuddered at the thought of a Chinee cook----"
"Which same we all do--it's chronic," interposed Jim to laughter.
"She wants you to make yourselves at home," continued the sheriff, "learn
the lay of the land around this range and never forget the trail leading
here, because she insists that when any of you come to town you have
simply got to pay us a visit and see if there is a piece of pie or cake
to eat before you go back to that cook. And Tom says that he'll fire
the first man who renigs----"
"I'm going to carry the mail hereafter!" cried Bud, scowling fiercely at
Joe.
"Not if I can shoot first, you don't!" retorted the mail carrier. "I was
just a-wondering if it wouldn't be better to come in twice a week for it
instead of once. We might get more letters."
"We'll bid for your job next year," laughed Silent.
"Before I coax you to eat," continued the sheriff, "I----"
"Wrong word, Sheriff," interposed Humble. "Not coax, but force."
"I am going to ask you to reverse things a little, and drink a standing
toast to the man who saved the stage, to the man who saved Miss Ritchie
and my sisters and who made this dinner possible. This would be far from a
happy day but for him. I want you to drink to the long life and happiness
of The Orphan. All up!"
The clink of glasses was lost in the spontaneous cheer which burst from
the lips of the former outlaw's new friends, and he sat confused and
embarrassed with a sudden timidity, his face crimson.
"Speech!" cried Jim, the others joining in the cry. "Speech! Speech!"
Finally, after some urging, The Orphan slowly arose to his feet, a foolish
smile playing about his lips.
"It wasn't anything," he said deprecatingly. "You all would have done it,
every one of you. But I'm glad it was me. I'm glad I was on hand, although
it wasn't anything to make all this fuss about," and he dropped suddenly
into his seat, feeling hot and uncomfortable.
"Well, we have different ideas about its being nothing," replied the
sheriff. "Now, boys, a toast to Bill Halloway," he requested. "Bill
couldn't get here to-day, but we mustn't forget him. His splendid grit
and driving made it possible for our friend to play his hand so well."
"Hurrah for Bill!" cried Silent, leaping to his feet with the others. When
seated again he looked quickly at his glass and turned to Bud.
"Real sweet cider!" he exulted. "Good Lord, but how time gallops past!
I'd almost forgotten what it was like! It's been over twenty years since I
tasted any! Ain't it fine?"
"I was wondering what it was," remarked Humble, a trace of awe in his
voice as he refilled his glass. "It's shore enough sweet cider, and blamed
good, too!"
Charley was romping with the mail carrier and he had a sudden inspiration:
"Speech from Joe! Speech for the pieces of pie and cake he's due to get!"
"Now, look here, boy," Joe gravely replied. "I'm the mail carrier. I
don't have to go on jury duty, lead religion round-ups, go to war or make
speeches. As the books say, I'm exempt. All I have to do is punch cows,
rustle the mail and eat pie and cake once a week," he said, glancing
at Bud, who glared and groaned.
"Good boy, Joe!" cried Humble, waving his glass excitedly. "You're shore
all right, you are, and I'm your deputy, ain't I?"
"No, not my deputy, but my delirium," corrected Joe.
"Glory be!" cried Silent as his plate was passed to him. "Chicken, real
chicken! Mashed potatoes, mashed turnips and dressing and gravy! And
here comes stewed corn, boiled onions and jelly and mother's bread. And
stewed tomatoes? Well, well! I guess we ain't going to be well fed, and
real happy, eh, fellows? My stomach won't know what's the matter--it'll
think it died and went to heaven by mistake. Holy smoke! It hurts my
eyes. What, cranberry jam? Well, I'm just going to close my eyes for a
minute if you don't mind; I want to recuperate from the shock. This is
where I live again!"
Humble stared in rapture at the feast before him and finally heaved a long
drawn sigh of doubt and content.
"Gee!" he cried softly, a far-away look in his eyes. "Look at it, just
look at it! Just like I used to get when I was a little tad back in
Connecticut--but that was shore a long time ago. Well," he exclaimed,
bracing up and bravely forgetting his boyhood, "there's one thing I hope,
and that is that Lee beats my dog. Then I can shoot him and get square
for all these years of imitation grub what he's handed out to me!"
"Hey, Tom!" eagerly cried Charley, "why can't we handle a herd of chickens
out on the ranch, and have a garden? Why, we could have eggs every day
and chickens on holidays!"
"No wonder Tom likes to ride to town," laughed Silent. "Gee whiz, I'd walk
it for pie and cake and real genuine coffee!"
"Walk it!" snorted Jim. "Huh, I'd crawl, and stand on my head, knock my
feet together and crow every half mile! Walk it, huh!"
Merriment reigned supreme throughout the meal and when the bashfulness had
worn off the conversation became fast and furious, abounding in terse wit,
verbal attacks and clever counters, and in concentrated onslaughts
against the unfortunate Humble, who soon found, however, a new and
loyal champion in Miss Ritchie, who took his part. Her assistance was so
doughty as to more than once put to rout his tormentors, and before the
dessert had been reached he was her devoted slave and admirer and was
henceforth to sing her praises at every opportunity, and even to make
opportunities.
At The Orphan's end of the table all was serene. He, Helen, Blake and
the sheriff found much to talk about, and all the while Mrs. Shields
regarded the four in a motherly way, and tempered the keenness of her
husband's wit, for he was prone to break lances with The Orphan and to
tease his sister, much to her confusion. She was very happy, for here
at her side were her husband and the man she had feared would harm him,
laughing and joking and the best of friends; and down the table a crowd
of big-hearted boys, her boys now, were having the time of their lives.
They were good boys, too, she told herself; a trifle rough, but sterling
at the heart, and every one of them a loyal friend. How good it was to
see them eat and hear them laugh, all happy and mischievous. The welding
of the units had been finished, and now the Star C and The Orphan were
one in spirit.