BIRTH OF LAFE JOHNSON, JR.
We were going down the Canon when Hetty called after us: "Well, don't
take any bad money, you two."
She stood in the doorway, wiping flour from her hands. Bob was grinning
over her shoulder. The caution must have reminded Lafe. He slapped his
hip pocket and extracted a wallet, from which he drew two soiled bills.
"Here," he said, riding back, "you keep this, Hetty. I've got three
dollars in silver. That'll do me."
"You're learning," was her composed comment, and she slipped the money
inside the bosom of her waist. After this agreeable exhibition of
domestic foresight, we rode down the Canon and started across the
valley. It may be that I showed amusement.
"What's hurting you?" Lafe asked; "what I done then? That's the only way
I can save money. It's right queer, Dan, but whenever I have any and get
to town, it goes like a bat out of hell."
This information was wholly superfluous. "I usually have to charge my
horse's keep and my meals," I confessed.
"Sure. It's in the blood, I reckon. But if me and you and all the others
don't learn to sweat a dollar, all these here new people a-coming in
from the States will take everything off'n us. Yes, sir, they'll have us
bare to the hides. Some of 'em have got the first two-bits they ever
earned."
The only previous occasion on which I had seen Johnson hoard his money
was once when he hid it in the band of his hat as a safeguard against
new-found friends, and, during subsequent operations, forgot its hiding
place. Lafe had been bitterly chagrined on discovering it later, holding
himself cheated of entertainment. Assuredly his new responsibilities
were working a change of heart.
"Lafe, I never knew Hetty was so pretty."
"You're whistlin'," he said. An accompanying sniff signified surprise
and contempt that my recognition was so tardy. We jogged along and he
became thoughtful. Finally he asked: "Did you notice it, too?"
"Notice what?"
"Well, I kind of got the idea that Hetty was prettier now than she used
to was. When you said that just now, it made me think you seen it, too."
I nodded earnestly. There had come a look into Hetty's eyes which caused
one to wait expectantly for a halo to appear.
"But she's sort of poorly," he went on; "seems like everything I do
makes her mad. I expect everybody gets that way some time or other,
more especially if they live off by themselves where they never see no
one. Don't you reckon?"
"Perhaps it's Bob."
"No-oo, I don't think so. But she does get mad about him sometimes--not
at Bob, though. Anything that lazy scamp does is all right. No, sir; at
me. She got mad because I said I wouldn't let him have that money. I
can't spare it, Dan. Honest, I can't. And she says I leave her alone too
much."
"She'll soon get over that."
"Sometimes she's worse'n others. Yeow, how she gives it to me some
days."
We reached town in good time and put up at the Fashion, where were three
of the Anvil boys. Johnson hailed their presence with proper ceremonies,
and then drew me to one side.
"Say," said he, "I've got to see the new sheriff for a minute. I'll pull
out right after dinner. What're you going to do? Stick around?"
"Oh, I suppose so. Nothing else to do."
"Well, if you should happen for to play pitch," he advised, "don't bid
more'n your hand's worth. Remember your weakness. Adios."
Two months later we two again rode together up Hope Canon. Bob Ferrier
was behind us and was soberly elated, for that afternoon Johnson had
loaned him three hundred dollars and I had gone security. He would wed
Mary Lou on the morrow.
The sun was setting behind The Hatter as we neared the house. It was a
blissful twilight, and Lafe sang in gladness of heart.
But he chanced one day to run agin
A bullet made o' lead,
Which was harder than he bargained for,
And now poor Bill is dead;
And when they brung his body home
A barrel of tears was shed.
He ended with a halloo as we topped the last rise. There was no response
or sign from the house. A puzzled look came over his face and he was
down before his horse came to a stop. He sprang through the door.
"Hetty!" he shouted. "Hetty!" Then in a voice hoarse from fear: "She
ain't here. She ain't here. Hetty, where are you?"
He was rushing frantically from one room to another. Ferrier was more
methodical. He found a piece of paper under a cup on the kitchen table,
which he read and handed to his brother-in-law.
I can't stand it any longer. I am going away. You'll soon get
over it. Be sure to feed the dog. Good-by.
Johnson held the penciled lines at arm's length, while I waited for him
to say something. It is my belief that he did not distinguish the words
after the first perusal. Then he began to laugh.
"Why, it can't be--Hetty, she wouldn't--say, it must be a joke--what
does it mean?"
Bob lifted his shoulders in a shrug he had picked up from the Mexicans.
It stung Lafe.
"Where has she gone? Do you know anything about this?"
"Not me. She's been mighty queer lately, Lafe. Where could she go?"
We could only look at one another while we mentally debated
possibilities. Hetty had no kith or kin in this region, and the nearest
point was Badger. She could not have gone there, else we should have
passed her on the road.
"Mary Lou's!" Bob exclaimed. "I'll swear that's where she's hit for."
Johnson remained beside the table a moment, deep in thought. Then he
smote his hands together and an expression of relief lighted his face.
"I'll go get her," he told us.
We were for accompanying him to the Hardins' place, but had not gone
more than a few hundred yards when he pulled up and requested that we go
back. This matter was between him and Hetty--he said it with some
hesitation--and it were better that he go alone. So we turned back, only
to halt again.
"He might need some help," was Bob's excuse. "Supposing she's sick. What
do you say if we trail him?"
"Come on."
It was now after nine o'clock and there was small probability of Johnson
perceiving us. Yet we kept far in rear lest he hear our horses. We had
proceeded perhaps a mile when he amazed us by riding back. Lafe was
going at a lope and he did not pause. To our utter consternation he took
no notice of our presence, but went by at a clatter and swerved to the
right up a narrow ravine.
"He's crazy," said Ferrier. "He must have gone out of his head. Let's
drift."
"Wait, Lafe. Wait!" I bellowed.
We jabbed with the spurs and went in pursuit. Presently we saw Lafe's
horse standing riderless amid the post-oak, nibbling at the grass, and
some distance in front we heard the stroke of his spur. He must have
stubbed his toe, for he fell, and swore with freedom. That permitted us
to gain on him, but he picked himself up and went forward at an ungainly
run.
"What's got into him?" said Bob. He was puffing. We had abandoned our
horses and were legging it after him as best we could.
"Search me!" I said breathlessly.
Far ahead I could see a spark burning. It was going steadily up the
ravine. Surely Lafe could not be smoking; I dismissed this idea at once,
for we could see him dimly and he was much nearer than the spark. It
seemed to expand and cavort with glee as we came on.
The ravine had always been a favorite spot with Hetty. There were shady
places in it during the day, however merciless the aching void of sky,
and often had she brought her sewing to sit there, listening to the
acorns drop in the hushed stillness.
"Gee, I can't run another step," said Ferrier. "You go on. Lafe! Stop!"
We both ceased running. I was compelled to clutch the limb of a tree to
hold myself upright. The spark ahead of us was now grown to a ball of
fire, giving off a vaporous sheen. Still it kept on, and the runner in
front slowed to a walk: Lafe was as little accustomed to this exercise
as we were. Then I perceived that Jack-o'-Lantern had come to a stop. He
flashed above a tree, dipped downward, poised in midair.
"Hal-loo," came a cry from Johnson. "Here I am. Hurry! Hurry!"
"Let's try again," Bob gasped, and we forced our cramped limbs into a
run.
Lafe was bending over a white object that lay huddled at the base of a
tree.
"It's her," said he, as we arrived.
Hetty was unconscious, and had her head pillowed in the crook of one
arm. Often so had Lafe seen her lying asleep, on tiptoeing into the room
when returned from distant parts of the range.
"Here," Bob grunted. "Give me her legs. Help with the shoulders, Dan."
"I'll take 'em myself," Lafe said fiercely.
We lifted her very slowly and tenderly, and started back. Twice were we
obliged to set our burden down and rest, but we managed to carry her
back to the house. As we were placing her on the bed, Hetty revived and
opened her eyes.
"Get away," she said fretfully to her husband. "You're always smelling
of that tobacco. Get away. You make me tired."
"Hetty," Lafe whispered, groping for her hand.
"What're you looking so scared about?" his wife asked. "Leave me be,
now. I hate you."
"Better get out," I cautioned. "Go and fetch Armstrong."
A few minutes later we heard the rattle of his horse's hoofs, going at
full speed towards Badger. He had saddled a fresh mount. And we composed
ourselves there in chairs beside the bed, to wait--listening to Hetty's
moans when she would rouse from the semi-trance which held her. Never
had I felt so helpless and so wholly wretched.
"Tut-tut," said Dr. Armstrong, when knocked up from bed. "Keep your
shirt on, man. It isn't the first time in the history of the world, nor
the last, I take it. She's a strong woman. Brace up."
Nevertheless, he made all speed, and although three score years had
beaten over his rugged head, he never once complained during the long
ride. Johnson went at a gallop, with brief, impatient periods of
dogtrotting to breathe their horses. They covered the fourteen miles in
fifty-seven minutes, and it was not much after one o'clock when they
clattered up to the door.
Lafe would have pushed into the room had not the doctor thrust him back.
At the same time Hetty turned in the bed and cried petulantly that she
would not have him near.
"Out you go," he ordered, "do you hear me? Don't go whining round here.
That's nothing unusual."
The husband demurred, but Armstrong shoved him outside. As he was
passing from the room, the doctor said to him over his shoulder in a
tone of intense joy--the joy of the born physician in a fair fight
against the Enemy: "She's liable to swear at you in a minute. Does she
know how to swear? I've heard some of 'em cuss me everything they could
lay their tongues to." It was almost a chortle he emitted, but he was
solemn enough before Lafe had closed the door.
There is a flat rock on the slope in front of the Johnson house, and
Lafe and Bob and I sat thereon and tried to smoke. It was of no use.
Lafe simply could not remain still. He suddenly remembered the horses,
which we had entirely forgotten, and led them to the spring to be
watered. That done, he unsaddled and turned them into the pasture. The
beasts gave a long sigh of relief, shook themselves, lay down to roll,
and began to graze. We joined him at the fence. Johnson spread his
elbows on the top rail and kept his gaze on a brilliant spark that was
rocketing among the cottonwoods. He turned away at last and took to
wandering round and round the house, staring at the light in their
bedroom window. Ferrier and I followed dumbly, finding no words to
comfort. Lafe left us and rapped timidly on the door.
"I told you to get out and stay out!" Armstrong hissed. The doctor was
not a nervous person, but he was strung to high tension. We caught
Hetty's voice, raised in querulous supplication. It was very weak and
seemed to carry reproach of Lafe, and he shrank back.
"Get out, I tell you. Go 'tend the horses," said Armstrong, giving him a
push.
"I done 'tended 'em."
"Well, take a run up and kill that wildcat that's screeching up there.
Don't shoot it. Smash him with a rock, or something; but drag it out of
here. Move, now. Send that brother-in-law of yours to me. I need him."
Johnson faded from the door, and we paced the ground in front of the
porch. Something moist touched his hand and Lafe whipped it away, but it
was only his mongrel dog come for a caress. For the first time since
manhood Lafe knew real fear--not the nervous tension of an emergency,
but sick, craven fear. A peculiar nausea where his stomach ought to be
took all his courage away, and he rolled another cigarette in the hope
of steadying his nerves. As he struck a match, he recalled what his wife
had said about the brand of tobacco he favored and he threw the stub
away.
"Why, she ain't much more'n a girl"--he was fondling the dog's
ears--"just a kid."
I guessed what was passing in his mind. Thoughts of trifling things he
might have done for Hetty, to the easement of her lot, rose up to
reproach. When a man has gone through that, he has known anguish of
soul. But they were instantly submerged in a new tenderness. In that
hour of trial, Lafe learned many things.
The creak of a cautious step on the boards of the porch brought him
standing and when Armstrong emerged, Lafe was there to meet him, pallid
of face, but entirely calm.
"It's all right. Don't look that way, Lafe. No, you can't come in. I
came out for a drink. Where's the bucket? Whew, it's hot."
Johnson poured him a cup of water and carried the canteen to the spring
to be refilled. On his return he stepped into the kitchen. Growing
uneasy over his long absence, I went in search of him, strolling
carelessly to the door. The room was in darkness, so I struck a match.
There was Lafe behind the door, with an old apron of Hetty's clutched in
both hands. He was simply looking at it, and looking.
"Lafe," I said. He dropped the apron hurriedly and came out. We did not
face each other. "Tell me something."
"Let's have it. What do you want to know?"
I hesitated, doubtful how he might take the question.
"Well?"
"How did you know where to hunt? What made you think Hetty was up
there?"
"I didn't think," he replied. "Didn't you see that li'l firefly? The
minute I set eyes on him, he sort of seemed to wave at me. Yes, sir. I
remembered what you'd said, too, Dan. Jim-in-ee, there he is again.
Look!"
Jack-o'-Lantern had abandoned his game of hide-and-seek among the trees
and was now circling the house. He twinkled from door to window, as
though to peep in. Perhaps something discouraged him; at any rate, he
continued to flit in long, soaring glides. Lafe noted these, marveling,
and we squatted on the rock again, determined to stay there. Then,
looking upward to a star which shone in line with the chimney, he
perceived the eerie light quivering above the roof. The location
evidently suited Jack-o'-Lantern, for there he hung.
At last there were sounds within, and Johnson clutched the dog where it
crouched between his knees. The brute whined under the grip of his
fingers. We got to our feet and the dog looked up at us in doubt, much
mystified as to what all this could mean.
The merry spark above the roof gave a final twinkle and went out. At the
same moment an inner door opened, releasing a flood of light into the
hall-way, and a high-pitched, treble yell that lifted the hair at the
nape of my neck and set Johnson to shaking, rent the night air with the
suddenness of a popping cork.
The doctor stuck his head out of the door. He called in suppressed glee:
"Come on in, Lafe. She wants you. Say, he's a dandy."
Jack-o'-Lantern had found a habitation.