A CLEVER WOMAN AND A MISUNDERSTANDING
I met the train at The Tanks and drove the party to the ranch. There
were Mr. and Mrs. Prouty, a colorless pair, and the young man Peck
aforementioned. I think Prouty had once been Horne's financial backer.
When we arrived at headquarters, everybody was on the steps to welcome
them, with the big hospitality of cowland. Hetty was there, too, more
radiant than I had ever seen her.
It is true that her dress suffered considerably by comparison with Mrs.
Vining's, but she had advantages which that expert lady would have given
all her aids to possess. Young Peck looked in Hetty's direction just
once, and gravitated there as by natural laws. He had met many women
like Mrs. Vining. She tried all her wiles on him and he responded gaily,
with a poise equal to her own, and then went on about his business. This
business appeared to concern Hetty.
Shame on the graceless woman!--she had not been married five months and
here she was giving open encouragement to a man who had seen too many
sides of life for anybody's good. Yet Mrs. Horne did not chide her.
Indeed, she watched the progress of events with undisguised pleasure.
The same cannot be said for Lafe. First he seemed at a loss, then dazed.
After that he sulked. It was noticeable that he was absentminded now
when Mrs. Vining cooed to him, and appeared to give ear more to what
Hetty was saying to the mining man at the other side of the room. Peck's
manner was joyous and eager. There was much merriment in their corner.
The boss was very gloomy as he helped me at the stables that night. It
would appear that Mrs. Horne planned a ride to the Wolf place on the
morrow and he grumbled that he supposed it would be just his luck to
draw Mrs. Vining for the entire day. It was not for me to remind him he
had seemed sufficiently satisfied with this arrangement on other
occasions.
By dint of maneuvering her horse next morning, Mrs. Vining enticed Peck
to her assistance. However, on perceiving that Hetty was riding off with
me, Mr. Peck utilized his privileges of guest to call out to Lafe: "I
say, Johnson, you know more about these things than I do? Will you fix
this girth for Mrs. Vining?" Upon which he loped away after Hetty.
Throughout that ride I kept far ahead of the procession, driving a
pack-mule that carried our provisions. The brute was stubborn and gave
trouble, persisting in efforts to scrape off its burden under every
tree; but they were troubles more easily handled than those I suspected
Mr. Johnson to have laid up for himself.
The Wolf place is a heavenly retreat in a brown, stern land. The day was
warm, and old man Horne, who thought a good deal of his comfort,
proposed that we wait until sundown before starting for home. Everybody
was agreeable except, perhaps, Lafe, and he said nothing. He spent the
entire afternoon in wake of Mrs. Vining--such a very evident victim,
though, that she gave up in disgust and went to sit beside Mrs. Horne
and the Proutys. Lafe affected not to watch Hetty and Peck, who were
gathering wild flowers and behaving like two children released from
school.
It was dark when we went home. As before, I was assigned to the mule.
Next came old man Horne and Mrs. Prouty, his wife and Mr. Prouty; then
Mrs. Vining and Lafe; and last--very far behind--rode the mining
engineer and Hetty. We had gone about five miles when Lafe mumbled some
excuse to Mrs. Vining and went back.
It happened that Peck had just reached out to take a flower from Hetty's
hand. They had been tossing them about all evening. I grant you there
was no occasion for this move, but these are the facts. Let us assume
that Hetty never divined his purpose. He seized her wrist and was
drawing her towards him when Lafe arrived. Hetty jerked free. Peck
laughed.
"Go ahead with Miz Horne," Lafe ordered. It was the primal man speaking
to the woman who belonged to him. "You wait here, Peck. We'll settle
this thing right now."
"Don't be an ass--"
"Lafe!" Hetty protested. She was flurried and much frightened, for never
before had she seen him really angry. She brought her horse against his,
so that they could see each other plainly. There must have been signs of
weakening in him, for she suddenly flicked her reins upon his riding
boot and said: "Perhaps this'll teach you."
"Teach me what?" asked Lafe uncertainly.
"Never mind. You ask Mrs. Horne. She'll tell you all about it."
Peck had drawn near. He entertained fears for Mrs. Johnson, but none for
himself. When he heard this, he laughed. He was disappointed, but he had
seen a lot of the world.
"So that's it," said Peck. "You little rascal."
He pinched Hetty lightly on the cheek, but Lafe did not object. Instead,
he looked rather sheepish and drew alongside his wife in proper
humility. At a word from her they galloped to the front, passed the
others of the party, and took charge of the pack-animal. Peck lighted a
cigar and joined Prouty. He was smiling and seemed not at all put out.
I fell back to ride with old man Horne. Hetty and Lafe were far in the
lead, going at a long lope and beating the mule joyously with a rope-end
when it lagged in its pace. She threw a flower at him and he caught it
and stuck it inside the bosom of his shirt.
Old man Horne departed at dawn on some cow business, and when his wife
went to bed that night, she left injunctions that she was on no account
to be disturbed before eleven in the morning. Yet at midnight she was
wakened by a knock at her door.
"Wha-what--who's there?" she cried.
Mrs. Vining padded into the room in her bare feet and crawled into bed
beside her friend, snuggling against her shoulder. It was black in the
room and the older woman winked solemnly at the wall. She waited with
patience for the other to speak her mind.
"I couldn't sleep," said Mrs. Vining.
"I could."
"Martha, I've been so catty."
"Yes, you have," said Mrs. Horne stoutly.
"Well, you needn't tell me like that. I'm sure there was nothing to make
all this--"
"Don't let's go over all that again, Judy. Why did you do it? That's
what I want to know. The whole thing was ridiculous."
"Because I did--that's why. And one has to have _some_ amusement out
here."
"Well! that _is_ nice."
"You know I didn't mean it that way, Martha."
There was silence, so long that Mrs. Horne thought her friend must be
sleeping. Gradually she became aware that she was crying.
"Judy, what's the matter, dear?" She drew the younger woman closer and
patted her in motherly fashion.
"No-nothing. She's--she's so pretty and I'm getting--getting old.
Martha, it's lonely. I can't stand it. I'm only thirty-four and all
alone. I'm afraid to look ahead. Think of all the dreadful years. You
can't blame me for--sometimes I think I'll--"
Mrs. Horne comforted her as she would have comforted a daughter. She was
thinking intently as she soothed. Presently she asked: "Judy, have you
ever heard from Harry?"
"Never."
"Don't you know where he is?"
She felt Mrs. Vining's body stiffen.
"No--that is--no, I'm not sure. I don't know."
Mrs. Horne cleared her throat and offered the sort of consolation we are
apt to accord our friends.
"You know, Judy, dear, what everybody said when Harry left. Of course, I
knew it was all his own fault and his drinking. I never did believe what
people said--"
"No, of course you didn't," said Mrs. Vining, with a trace of
bitterness.
They fell silent again. At last Mrs. Vining moved.
"She's so sweet," she murmured. Shortly afterwards she kissed Mrs. Horne
and rose to go to her own room.
"Stay here, Judy. You won't bother me."
"No, but you'll bother me. You snore dreadfully."
"Judy, that's a lie," Mrs. Horne cried after her.
By Hetty's orders, Lafe accompanied us to The Tanks when Mrs. Vining
departed. A truly womanly stab, this, in victory. And the Burro express
bore Mrs. Vining away, the conductor winking at Lafe from the platform
of the last car, his countenance sad and composed. We watched him take
his cap off in order to mop his brow and Mrs. Vining waved her glove at
us. Then we turned our horses about. Mrs. Horne shed a few tears and
instructed Manuel to whip the team, lest she be late home for supper.
The Burro express crawled away up the valley. At a point six miles from
The Tanks, an unkempt man with matted hair flung a stone through the
window of the last car. Later I came on him on a mesa and he was
counting the tops of the hills.