MIDDLE LIFE
Ten years have passed. Lafe is a trifle heavier, his figure more set.
The gray flecks in his hair are pronounced, and his manner has taken on
an assured poise that marks him in the company of his fellows. I have
seen Johnson in many companies, composed of men in all ranks of life. It
must be admitted that sometimes he looked out of place, because he was
so palpably not of their world; but never has he failed to win respect,
frequently has he dominated the assembly, although usually silent.
If there be good stuff buried in a man, increased responsibility will
bring it out. Larger responsibilities have contributed to develop
Johnson's latent strength. He is now not only boss of the Anvil range,
but has taken over the management of all its affairs from Horne, who has
grown feeble in accumulating wealth and depends wholly on Lafe. In
addition, he has started as a cowman in his own right and pays rental on
pasture for eleven hundred cows. Fully a thousand calves wear his brand
of the Spur.
[Illustration: Spur brand]
A visitor to Hope Canon is met by two tow-headed children, who greet him
with their fingers in their mouths, staring round-eyed. These are
Virginia and Eunice Johnson, daughters of the ex-sheriff, and they are
aged respectively six and three years. Both of the parents are very
dark, as you know, and Lafe's most reliable joke is to query Hetty very
solemnly on the marked blondness of their offspring.
Hetty herself is plump and matronly. She is now in a position to afford
domestics, and she has the calm bearing and complacence of a healthy,
fruitful woman whose lot lies in pleasant places. In her face is the
fulfillment of early promise. Selfishness and evil thinking may be slow
to leave their marks, but devotion to a noble sense of duty will
invariably light a woman's face. Although her household duties are
greatly lessened, she takes such extraordinary pains in the bringing up
of her children that her every hour is fully occupied. True, she
occasionally snatches a half day to herself; but guess what the busybody
does then? She drives over to the Ferriers', and lends her sister-in-law
aid in straightening out her domestic difficulties. Bob Ferrier is
working for Lafe, and works conscientiously, but he will never be
anything but a salaried employe, for he lacks the faculty of thinking
for himself. Perhaps he was too long under routine. Consequently their
increasing family necessities provide the industrious Hetty with ample
opportunity to exercise her desire of helping. So she is happy.
And when the Ferriers are provided for and everything is running evenly,
of course she must interest herself in the plight of less fortunate
neighbors. Many nesters have come to the country to take up farms, and
to these Hetty appears as a saving angel, however hostile their arrival
has been to her husband's interests. There are a few women in this world
who must always be doing good or they are wretched, and Lafe had
stumbled upon one of them for wife.
I have left until last any reference to a very important individual in
the Johnson household--Lafe, Jr., the heir of the Spur. My reason for so
doing has been a reluctance to take him up until something more to his
credit than his father's comments, could be offered. The truth is that
Lafe, Jr., has been a wild boy and a sore trial. He has shown tendencies
which have greatly exercised his father. Hetty is more inclined to be
lenient, which may be responsible for some of the trouble.
At the time this chapter opens, Lafe, Jr., was a tall, lank youth of
about fifteen years, all knobby joints and hands and feet. When he spoke
it gave one a scare, because his tones slid without warning from a high
falsetto to a most sonorous bass. He was, indeed, at that awkward age
when a well-grown boy is verging on manhood. Often Hetty worried over
his abstraction and fits of sullenness; also, pimples marred his
appearance, and a growth of down on chin and upper lip gave Lafe, Jr.,
food for thought.
"I swan that boy's getting worse every day," said Lafe to his wife one
morning.
"What's he done now?" she asked.
"Oh, I done caught him out behind the barn again smoking cigarettes.
Bill, he told me yesterday that he seen Lafe taking a drink out of a
bottle with the horse wrangler. I'll can that feller if he don't leave
Lafe alone."
"Oh, goodness, let the boy be, Lafe. You told me yourself you smoked
when you were nine. All the boys out here learn to do that mighty young,
and some of them know how to drink right well, too."
"That's all right," said Johnson stubbornly, "but I don't expect our son
to be a no-account feller. We've got the money to educate him fine. But
I'm scared to send him away until I'm sure he's worth it."
"Well, anyhow, don't be too hard on him. Don't go jumping on the boy all
the time, Lafe. If you do you'll make a sneak out of him."
"He's mighty nigh that now," said Lafe, and walked out of the room
before Hetty could start an argument on the point.
He had not spoken to his wife of the worry that rankled deepest. This
was nothing less than a doubt of his son's courage. To a man who had
lived as Johnson had lived, who had calmly braved danger every month in
his life, absence of pluck is the most despicable of human traits.
Little incidents he had noted in the behavior of Lafe, Jr., filled the
boss with a dread that his son might not only be lacking in aggressive
courage, but might be the victim of positive cowardice. However, he
reflected that happenings previous to his birth may have been
responsible, which gave him a patience with the boy he might not
otherwise have had. Yet Lafe, Jr.'s, shrinking fear of the ordinary
risks of range life was wholly at variance with the reckless spirit he
had shown as a child.
"He's even scared of his horse," said Lafe to me on a night. "Don't tell
anybody, Dan. I'd be 'shamed. But I've seen that boy's knees near knock
together before he crawled up on ol' Waspnest."
"He's at a bad age," I said, trying to console him. "In the first place,
he has grown too fast, and in the second place, you haven't handled him
properly. Lafe is a mighty sensitive boy and you ought to be more
companionable with him. As long as you hold him off and never give him
anything but a stern order, he's going to do things which you think are
sneaky."
The boss looked astounded. It was a new experience for him to be told
that he did not know how to manage a fellow creature, and the fact that
that fellow creature was his son sharpened the sting. He stared at me a
long time very thoughtfully.
"Maybe you're right," he said. "I'll give it a trial, anyhow."
Acting on this suggestion, he began to take Lafe, Jr., with him on his
rounds of the range. At first the boy was suspicious of his father's
motive in this move, and showed it by the reluctance and laziness with
which he executed his orders; but, discovering in his sire's attitude
nothing to confirm this view, he became more cheerful and took to the
work with alacrity. Johnson was much pleased. He told me that the boy
was shaping right to become a man yet.