THE INSULT
Shortly after dawn Tom awakened and became conscious of a steady
vibration and the rhythmical splash of the paddle wheel. Hurriedly
dressing he went out on deck and glanced shoreward. The
cream-and-chocolate colored water, of an opacity dense enough to hide a
piece of shell only a quarter of an inch below its surface, rioted past;
to port was a low-lying island covered with an amazing mass of piled-up
trees, logs and debris, deposited there by the racing current of the
rapidly-falling stream; and the distant shore was covered with dense
forests of walnut and cottonwood, interspersed with rich bottoms masked
by tangles of brush. Farther up he knew the sight would change into an
almost treeless expanse of green prairies, gashed by scored bluffs of
clay. The surface of the river was not smooth and the wind already had
reached disturbing strength, while an occasional gust of chilling rain
peppered the water and assaulted the boat. From the beat of the paddles
and the high frequency of the vibrations he knew the _Belle_ was going
ahead under full steam, but his momentary frown was effaced by the
thought that the pilot was competent and knew what he was doing. Still,
he felt a little uneasy, and went forward to pay the pilot a visit.
Reaching the hurricane deck he saw both pilots at the wheel and also a
lookout on the roof of the little house, while in the very point of the
bow, on the main deck, another lookout was scrutinizing the river ahead.
"We're makin' good time," said Tom pleasantly as he poked his head in
the pilot house.
"Yes," came an answering grunt; "too good, mebby."
His words and manner were not calculated to encourage conversation and
the visitor went down to see about breakfast. Fortified by a cup of
coffee he felt able to wait until the meal was ready and went out on
deck again, standing in the shelter of an angle of the cabin, pretending
to be interested in the slowly shifting panorama, but really impatiently
waiting for the appearance of Patience Cooper. He had waited for about
an hour, hardly stirring from his post near the door which she had used
the morning before, when he caught sight of her crossing the cabin.
Turning from the window and stepping forward he opened the door for her
and after a short, cheerful talk about being under way again, led her to
the breakfast table, ignoring the scowling horse-dealer who sat at a
table in a corner talking to Elias Stevens.
Their breakfast did not take as long as it had on the previous morning,
one reason being that while they ate they sensed the boat turn toward
the shore and before they had finished it stopped along the bank and
moored again.
"I do believe the rain has ceased for the day," Patience observed,
peering out of the window by her side. "It is growing brighter every
minute. I wonder why the boat has stopped?"
"Too much wind," answered her companion, nodding at the waves running
past the boat.
"If that is all, I'm going ashore," she declared.
"You may find it disagreeable," warned Tom, delighted by the prospect of
a tramp with her. "It is bound to be wet under foot and the wind will be
cold and penetrating; but if you don't mind it, I'm sure _I_ don't." He
finished his coffee and smiled. "It will be a great relief to get off
this boat."
"Come on, then; I'll meet you at the landing stage in ten minutes," she
exclaimed. "This will be a good opportunity to get accustomed to the
heavy boots Uncle Joe had made for me. They smell like tallow candles
with leather wicks, if you can imagine the combination."
He saw her enter her stateroom and then went to his own, got his rifle
and stood at the gangplank like a sentry. In less than the allotted time
she joined him, waved gaily at her uncle and the captain, who were
talking together near the pilot house, and went down the sloping plank,
eager to explore the river bank. As they reached the top of the
terrace-like bank and turned to wave again, the sun broke through the
clouds and turned the moisture-laden trees and brush into a jeweled
fairyland. They did not go far south since they were restricted to the
more open spaces where they could walk without rubbing against wet
foliage, but they found comparatively open lanes along the top of the
bank, from where they could keep watch over the packet and get back
without undue haste at the sound of her warning whistle.
They crossed the trails of several animals and she listened with
interest to her companion's description of their makers, wondering at
his intimate knowledge of animal habits. Finally, coming to a great
cottonwood log, stripped of its bark and shining in the sunlight, he
helped her upon it and sat down by her side.
"You surprised me, Miss Cooper, when you mentioned you were going to
Santa Fe," he said, turning to one of the subjects uppermost in his
mind. "It is a long, tedious, trying journey to men, and it might prove
infinitely more so to a woman."
"I suppose so," she replied reflectively. "But you know, Mr. Boyd, I
haven't seen my father in five years, and his letter, sent back by the
eastbound caravan from Santa Fe last year, told us how he missed me and
how dissatisfied he was with his housekeeping arrangements and how he
dreaded to spend another winter away from us. It was too late then, of
course, to make the trip, but I determined to go to him with the first
caravan leaving Independence this spring. Uncle Joe fumed and fussed
about it and collected all the stories of privation, loss of sanity and
sudden death, and everything else of a deterring nature and brought them
home to me to serve as warnings. I can do anything I want with him
except keep him from gambling, and when he really understood that
nothing could stop me, he gave in and I soon had him so busy explaining
away the woeful tales he had brought me, and hunting up new ones of a
bright and cheerful aspect that he half believed them himself. I learned
that all the Indians were pets, that there were miles of flowers all the
way, that people near death from all kinds of causes miraculously
recovered their health by the end of the first two days, and that the
caravan had to watch closely to keep its members from leaving it and
settling all along the trail."
They burst out laughing together. He could easily picture her uncle
frantically reversing himself. He had taken a great liking to Joseph
Cooper, who was a humorous, warm-hearted old fox among his friends,
delighting in their pleasures and sunning himself complacently in their
approbation. No trouble was too great for him to go through if it would
bring happiness to those he cared for.
They laughed and chatted and enjoyed themselves greatly, and were very
much surprised when his lean figure appeared beside the pilot house and
they saw him wave his hat and motion toward his mouth with animation and
great exaggeration.
"Good heavens! Is it dinner time already?" exclaimed Tom, sliding from
the log, and becoming aware for the first time that the log had been far
from as dry as he thought.
Laughing and scampering, they hurried back toward the landing, racing
down the hill that led to the little opening in the grove not far from
the water's edge. As they started down it Tom caught sight of several
figures sprawled on the sand, which had dried quickly under the combined
attacks of sun and wind. Among them he saw the lank form of Ephriam
Schoolcraft slowly arising to one elbow as the horse-dealer turned and
watched them come down the incline.
Patience stumbled, her heavy boots bothering her, and her companion
checked himself and caught her as she pitched forward. Swinging her
through the air, he put her down again on the other side of him and
laughingly offered his arm.
"Thar ain't nothin' like 'lasses fer to draw flies," came the drawling,
unpleasant voice of the sneering figure on the ground. "Blow flies air
included. Wrap it in skirts an' young fellers make plumb fools o'
theirselves. Any flirt kin pull th' wool over thar eyes like it war a
loose skin cap." His raucous laugh was doubly disagreeable because of
the sneer envenoming it, and Tom stiffened.
"I seed an example o' that right yere on this hyar packet; an' most
likely I'll see a hull lot more o' it if I has patience. He-he-he!"
Tom checked his stride, but the quick, reassuring pressure on his arm
made him keep on, his burning face held rigidly toward the boat. He
dared not look at his companion. They walked silently up the landing
stage and into the cabin, Tom waiting with ill concealed impatience
until his companion should join her uncle at the table. But he was
surprised, for she spoke in a pleasant, soft tone and ordered him to
remain where he was for a few minutes. Before he could make up his mind
what she meant he saw her lean over her uncle's table and say something.
The ex-gambler pushed suddenly back, patted her on the head and walked
briskly but nonchalantly toward the curious onlooker.
"You young folks never have any regard for an old man's comfort," he
chuckled as he took hold of Tom's arm. "Now, sir, I'll take great
pleasure in stretching my legs in any direction you may select, and in
stretching the neck of any officious meddler. I am at your service, Tom;
and, damn it, I'm not too old to become a principal!"
Tom stared at him for a moment as the words sunk in. "By G-d!" he
murmured. "There ain't another like her in th' whole, wide world! Thank
you, Mr. Cooper: if you'll be kind enough to stand on one side and keep
the affair strictly between myself and that polecat, I'll try not to
keep you from your dinner very long. He might have been decent enough
to have picked his quarrel in some other way!"
Schoolcraft arose alertly as they entered the little clearing, and
watched Tom hand the double-barreled rifle to his companion, slip off
his belt and throw his coat over it. The horse-dealer grinned with
savage elation as he discarded his own weapons and coat, hardly
believing in his good fortune. Not many men along the border cared to
meet him unarmed.
Tom stepped forward. "Every time I look at that terbaccer juice
a-dribblin' down yer chin, Schoolcraft, it riles me," he said evenly.
"I'm a-goin' ter wipe it off," and his open hand struck his enemy's jaw
with a resounding whack as he stepped swiftly to one side. "You've allus
had a sneakin' grudge ag'in me," he asserted, giving ground before the
infuriated horse-dealer, "since I caught ye cheatin' at Independence.
You've been tryin' ter work it off ever since we left th' levee. I
reckon this belongs to you!"
He stepped in quickly and drove his right fist into Schoolcraft's mouth,
avoiding the flailing blows. "If ye'll stand up ter it an' make it a
fight," he jeered, "I'll be much obliged to ye, fer I've promised my
friend not ter keep him from his dinner." Again he stepped in and struck
the bleeding lips. He boxed correctly according to the times, except
that he used his feet to good advantage. His education at an eastern
university had been well rounded and he never allowed himself to get out
of condition.
Schoolcraft, stung to fury, leaped forward to grapple, hoping to make it
a rough-and-tumble affair, at which style of fighting he had but few
equals. Instead of his adversary stepping to one side, he now stood
solidly planted in one spot, his left foot a little advanced, and drove
in a series of straight-arm blows that sent the horse-dealer staggering
back. The younger man pressed his advantage, moving forward with
unswerving determination, his straight punches invariably beating the
ill-timed and terrific swings of his bleeding opponent, who showed a
vitality and an ability to take punishment not unusual among the men of
his breed. The horse-dealer knew that if the fight remained an open
affair he would not last long, and he got command over his rage and
began to use his head.
Suddenly he dropped to hands and knees under a right-hand blow that was
a little short of hurting him, and sprang up under his enemy's guard,
and brought exultant ejaculations from his little group of friends. But
for the warning conveyed to Tom by the knowledge that he barely had
touched the horse-dealer's jaw with that blow, and could not have
knocked him down, the trick might have worked; and as it was it
succeeded in bringing the two men to close grips. Schoolcraft's right
arm slid around his enemy's waist and hugged him close, while the left
slipped up between them until the hand went under the younger man's chin
and began to push it up and back. It was the horse-dealer's favorite and
most deadly trick and he exulted as he arched his back and threw his
full strength into the task. Never had it failed to win, for the victim
of that hold must either quit or have his neck broken; and the choice
did not rest with the victim.
The muscles of Tom's neck stood out as though they would burst, the
veins of his forehead and throat swelling into tiny serpents, and his
crimson face grew darker and darker, a purplish tint creeping into it.
But Schoolcraft found that he was dealing with a man who had studied
wrestling as eagerly as its sister science. He also found that there was
a counter to his favorite hold, always providing that it had been robbed
of its greatest factor: surprise. For it to be deadly effective his
whole strength had to be thrown into it instantly and meet no ready,
rigid opposition; and in this he had failed because of the subtle
warning conveyed to his adversary when he fell before a harmless blow.
Almost before he knew it Tom's left arm, circling high in air, jammed in
between their heads and forced its way down to Schoolcraft's cheek. At
the same instant the right hand dashed down and got a hold inside his
left thigh, close up against the crotch; and as the left arm thrust his
head sidewise with a power not to be withstood, the right hand lifted
suddenly to the right and he struck the ground on his head and shoulder
with a shock which rendered him senseless.
The winner staggered back, braced himself and swayed a little on his
feet as he sucked in great gulps of air. He wheeled savagely as he heard
a shuffling step to one side and slightly behind him, but the precaution
was not necessary, for simultaneously with the shuffling came Joe
Cooper's snapped warning, cold and deadly.
"Better stop, Stevens! I'm only lookin' for an excuse to blow you open!"
Elias Stevens obeyed, standing irresolute and scowling. "You talk d----d
big behind a gun!" he sneered.
"Only half as big as I might, seeing it's a double gun," retorted the
older man. "If it don't suit you we can turn, step off ten paces an'
fire when we're ready. Might as well make a good job of it while we're
about it. I ain't no Mike Fink; but you ain't no Carpenter, so I reckon
it's purty even."
"I'll take care of any objectors, in any fashion," said Tom, facing
Stevens and the others. "I'll be ready fer you, Stevens, by th' time you
get your weapons an' coat off, if you choose that way. Pickin' on an old
man don't go while there's a younger one around; an', besides, it's my
quarrel. There it is, in your teeth; take it, and eat it!"
"It war a fair fight," said an onlooker in grudging admiration. He
expressed the ethics of the fighting current at that time in that part
of the country. Any kind of fighting, be it with hands, feet, nails,
teeth or other weapons was fair as long as no outsider took a hand in
it. It had been the rule of the keelboatmen and they had carried it up
and down the waterways, from New Orleans to the upper Mississippi and
from Pittsburg to the Rockies.
Tom nodded. "All right. You can tell him that he won't get in close,
next time," he said, glancing at the stirring loser. "Come on, Uncle
Joe; your dinner's plumb cold an' ruined."
"I'm hot enough to warm it as I chaw!" snapped his friend. "I was scared
for a moment, though; fighting out in this country don't get you nothin'
but a tombstone, generally, an' you'll be cussed lucky if you get that.
But you did what you started out to do; I couldn't see no tobacco juice
on his chin th' last time I looked." He followed his companion down the
bank and as they crossed the gangplank he chuckled. "I won't eat no
liver for a long time, I reckon: his face near made me sick!"
"I shouldn't 'a' cut him up so," admitted Tom; "but I was forking off a
grudge. Next time, I'll kill him." Then he thought of Patience and
glowed all over. "There ain't another like her, nowhere!" he muttered.
Uncle Joe glanced sideways at the slightly marked face of his companion,
shrewdly noting the expression of reverent awe and adoration.
"Young man," he said, "you're a little mite hasty, but I like 'em that
way. I reckon if you took my waggins inter Santa Fe you'd get patience."
At this second play on her name within the last half hour Tom whirled in
his tracks and held out his hand. "Uncle Joe, if you think I'm able to
handle 'em, I'll take 'em through h--l if I have to, without a
blister--" then he faltered and his face grew hard as he shook his head
in regret. "I can't do it," he growled. "It wouldn't be fair to bring
down Armijo's wrath on your niece and brother. He'd hound them like the
savage brute he is. No; you'll have to keep to whatever arrangements you
had in mind."
Uncle Joe shook his head. "That's too bad, Tom. I was counting on you
keeping an eye on Patience and seeing her through. It's too cussed bad."
Tom's laugh rang out across the water. "Oh I'm going to do that! I'm
bound for Santa Fe, either as a free lance or with trade goods of my
own; but I am not going with your wagons. I got it pretty well figured
out."
"I'm allus gettin' into places where I've got to back out," grumbled
Uncle Joe. "Now I reckon I'll have to tell Patience you're too young an'
giddy to handle my outfit. An' _then_ mebby I'll have to back out ag'in!
Tell you one thing, this here Santa Fe trip may be fine for invalids,
but it ain't done _my_ health no good!" While Tom laughed at him he
considered. "Huh! I don't reckon it'll be a good thing to let her know
that you an' Armijo are as friendly as a Cheyenne an' a Comanche. Cuss
it! Oh, well; put away this gun an' come on in an' eat, if there's
anything left."