COULDN'T QUARREL IN PEACE.
When Jim and Mrs. Mayfield were near the door, just before starting for
the post-office, she with graceful ceremony and he with the simple grin
of devout worship, Old Jasper had stood looking at them, with an
expression of mock seriousness; and when they went out, Starbuck slapped
his leg and snorted with laughter. Margaret reproved him with her ever
industrious eye.
"Blamed if I didn't think they was goin' to dance right thar," said the
old man.
"Jasper, what makes you wanter talk thatter way?"
"Didn't see how they could keep from it, Margaret. Couldn't see no way
to hold 'em back. Jest as ready to dance as the b'ar and the monkey that
the feller come along the road with last year, mebbe year befo' last. I
tell you, Jim ain't been a readin' them books on the hill-top fur
nothin'. I gad, every time he looks at her he flips a star." He walked
about the room, shaking his head. "The po' feller's hit. I gad, when you
flutter fine calico the preachers come a runnin' with the rest of 'em.
She's caught him, but he'll suffer an' say nuthin'. It's mighty hard
work to wring a squeal outen a Starbuck. In that respeck we air sorter
like wild hogs. I've seed a dog chaw a wild pig all to pieces an' he
tuck it with never a squeal--mout have grunted a little, but he didn't
squeal. Puffeckly nat'ral to grunt under sich circumstances, ain't it?"
"Oh, what do I care for yo' nonsense?"
"Nonsense! The affairs of the human fam'ly ain't nonsense, is they?
Heigho, but she's a mighty good woman."
"Of course," said Margaret, crossing the room and sitting down in a
rocking-chair. "Of course. A man thinks every woman's good--but his
wife."
"Had to break out, didn't you? Have I said you wan't good?"
"Might as well say it as to act it."
"How am I actin' it?"
"By not lovin' me, that's how."
"Not lovin' you. Have you got any postal-kyard or tillygram to that
effeck? I ain't sent you no sich news. Look here, did you ever notice
that when a woman's daughter gits up about grown--when the young fellers
begin to cut scollops about her--did you ever notice that about that
time she begins to complain that her husband don't love her? Hah? Did
you?"
"Oh, it's no sich of a thing," she replied, slowly rocking. "You know
you don't love me as much as you did yo' fust wife."
For a time the old fellow gazed at her, saying nothing; and then came
slow, deep-rumbling words: "Margaret, air you jealous o' that po' little
grave down yander under the hill? You never seed her, the mother o' my
two sons that went with me to pour out their blood fur their country;
and when she hearn that they wan't a comin' back, she pined away and
died and was buried under the tree whar we seed her standin' jest befo'
we went down beyant the hill. You ain't jealous o' that weak little
woman, air you?"
Slowly rocking, and reflecting for a few moments, she replied: "Jasper,
it's the weak little women that air so strong with the men."
"Yes," he declared, "and it's the weak little women that have sons that
air so ready to march to the tap of the drum. But I give you and our
daughter all the love thar is in this old heart o' mine, and that ought
to be enough."
"But you don't appear to want to talk to me," she whimpered.
"Talkin' to you now, ain't I?"
"Yes," she admitted, "sich talk as it is."
"Well, what do you want me to do? Stand like that young feller Elliott
and read stuff writ in short lines?"
Margaret flounced out of the chair. "Oh, I never seed a man that could
be as big a fool when he tried. I do know that--" Here she was
interrupted by the unheralded entrance of Mose Blake, the stuttering boy
with the tea-cup. He nodded at Starbuck and began to stutter. "Mother
sent me atter--atter a c--c--c--cup o' v--v--v--"
"How's all the folks, Mose?" Margaret broke in.
"W--w--w--w--w--"
"Glad to know it," said Starbuck. Mose looked at him with a dry grin,
sat down in the rocking-chair and began to rock himself.
"What did yo' mother send you after, Mose?" Margaret inquired.
"Cup o' v--v--v--v--v--"
"Can't you write it down?" Jasper inquired.
"Kik--kik--kik--ki--kan'--can't write."
"Don't you think you mout go off somewhar an' l'arn?"
"Ain't got--got tity--tity--t----t--time."
"Wall," said Jasper, "it appears to me like you've got all the time thar
is. Wall. All right, jest set thar till it comes to you and then let us
know what you want." He went over to a table where his wife was
standing, drew out a stool, sat down and said to her: "So, you think I
can be a bigger fool when I try than--"
"Hush," she cautioned, pointing to Mose, "he's a hearin' you."
Starbuck slowly turned his head, looked at Mose and then said to his
wife: "Wall, whar's the difference, he can't tell about it."
"Come atter a c--c--c--cup o' v--v--v--v--"
"Jest hold her down, Mose," Jasper encouragingly remarked, "and mebby
she'll come right side up atter a while."
"Jasper," said Margaret, "don't distress him."
"I ain't distressin' him half as much as he is me. 'Bout ready to give
her another trial, Mose?"
"Want a cup o' vin--vin--vin--"
"Oh, you air gettin' thar."
"Cup o' v--v--vinegar."
"Thank goodness," Margaret exclaimed.
"Thar you go distressin' him," said Jasper.
Margaret took the cup and went into the kitchen and Mose, looking at
Starbuck, grinned in self-celebration of his victory.
"Ain't as h--h--hot as it was when it was h--h--h--hotter, is it?"
"Come to think of it, don't believe it is."
"M--m--m--might r--r--r--rain, soon."
"Yes, and it looks like we mout have snow some time next winter."
"Thank y--y--y--you," said Mose; and as Margaret entered and handed him
the cup of vinegar he thanked her, rewarded her with a grin, and
departed. For some time after his exit nothing was said, but finally
Margaret, standing near the window, began to look for the ends of the
broken thread of discourse.
"Now, let me see."
To help her out Starbuck volunteered his services. "We had got to whar I
was the biggest fool when I tried. Don't you ricolleck?"
"Oh, you want to git back to whar you was tryin' to pick a quarrel with
me, do you?"
"No, jest thought I'd help you out."
"It's no sich of a thing. You know you don't love me an' you jest want a
chance to tell me so."
"Did it ever hit you, Margaret, that a woman ought to put herself in a
condition to be loved? Scoldin' don't fetch out love no mo' than b'ilin'
water would fetch out blossoms."
"I don't scold, and I don't see why you always keep a hintin' that I do.
Scold! I never scolded in my life. You know you git mad every mornin' at
breakfust. Man's always mad till he gits suthin' to eat. Scold indeed.
And if I was to scold, which I don't, I'd have a cause."
"Cause! Did you ever know a woman to look fur a cause an' not find one?
Jest make a cause of the needle in the hay-stack an' the woman will find
it. And I want to tell you that the mo' causes a woman has the mo'
disagreeable she is."
"Oh, it's no sich of a thing. A woman may slave an' slave an' never go
off the place and--"
"Go off the place! Didn't you go to the barbecue over at the cross-roads
last year?"
"Last year," she repeated; "it was year befo' last. Yes, an' look how
you acted on that day--eat till I was ashamed o' you--acted like you
never got anythin' at home. I never was so mortified in my life. Saw you
standin' thar with the leg of a shote in yo' hand, a makin' of a
speech."
"I was askin' a blessin' over the meat. I admit that I was hungry on
that occasion; I'd been savin' myse'f up. Thar ain't no use in goin' to
a barbecue unless you take yo' appetite with you."
"But thar's no sense in eatin' till everybody talks about it, goodness
knows."
"Who talked about it?"
"Everybody, that's who. Oh, you wouldn't love me if I was a dyin'."
"I'd much ruther have you livin'."
"No you wouldn't. If I was a dyin' it would tickle you mighty nigh to
death, you--"
In came Laz Spencer, the boy with the meal-bag on his arm.
"Glad to see you," Starbuck exclaimed, catching him by the hand; and
Laz, astonished at the warmth of the welcome, stood mute, as if
expecting for something to happen. "You got here jest in time, Laz."
"Howdy, Laz," Margaret greeted him, smoothing her countenance.
"Wall," said he, "ain't a standin' on my head," and speaking to Jasper
he added: "Come to fetch yo' meal-bag home."
"About when did you borry it, Laz," Jasper inquired, taking the bag and
throwing it upon the table.
"Last fall, some time."
"Well, how did you happen to fetch it back so soon?"
"Oh, jest got to thinkin' about it last month."
"Well, no tellin' what's goin' to happen when a feller gits to thinkin'.
What's the matter with yo' coat-tail?"
"Was a settin' on a stump, drapped off to sleep an' the calf chawed it."
"I do wish you two would hush yo' foolishness," said Margaret. "How's
yo' mother, Laz."
"Give her some interestin' news, Laz," said Starbuck. "Tell her the old
lady ain't expected to live."
"Now did anybody ever hear the like o' that," Margaret retorted. "I
never seed sich a man."
"Mother ain't so powerful well," said Laz. "She ain't bed sick, but
she's a chillin' a good deal. Got the shakes when she went down to the
creek bottoms. Can't eat nuthin' but spoon vittuls."
Margaret, dismissing the visitor from further attention, took up a
coffee-mill and sat down near the fire-place. Starbuck asked Laz how his
brother Bill was getting along since the fellow cut him with a knife,
an affair of no particular consequence, but serving as an incidental
topic for thoughtless talk.
"Sorter slow," said Laz, never changing a line of his countenance. His
face was as fixed as a mask, stupid and expressionless. Whenever he
smiled it was a neighborhood event.
"Wall, how did it happen, any way?" Starbuck inquired, biting an apple.
"Wall, Bill he war settin' thar on a log, lookin' out over the new
ground, not a thinkin' about bein' stobbed nur nuthin', an' this feller
jest slipped up an' stobbed him."
There came a hoarse cry from without.
"Somebody's a hollerin' helloa," said Margaret, grinding her coffee by
the fire-place.
Jasper went to the door.
"Helloa, that you, Gabe?"
"What's left of me," a voice replied.
"Won't you light an' look at yo' saddle?"
"No, don't believe I got time. Was goin' down to town an' didn't know
but you mout want to send fur suthin'."
"No, don't believe I'm pinched for anythin' at present."
"You might tell him to fetch me a newspaper," said Margaret.
"Wife 'lows you might fetch her a newspaper, Gabe."
"What sorter one?"
"Oh, one o' last year or year befo' last."
"Last year," Margaret repeated contemptuously. "If I can't get this
month's paper, I won't have none."
"Wife's mighty particular about her paper, Gabe," Jasper shouted. "Say,
fetch her one o' them farmer papers and then it won't make no diffunce
how old it is."
"All right. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, Gabe," and then thinking of something important Starbuck
hastened to cry out: "Say, Gabe, you might fetch me a can of cove
oysters and about a straw hat full o' crackers." The last request was
shouted through the window, on the sill of which there was a tin cup and
near by, in a corner, was a jug. Taking up the jug and the cup
Starbuck, approaching his visitor, inquired: "Have a sneeze, Laz?"
The young fellow did not look round; he saw neither the jug nor the cup,
but he knew what was meant, and with a slight change of countenance as
he arose, he replied: "Ain't snoze ter-day."
Jasper gave him the cup, raised the jug and said: "Shout when you've got
enough."
Instantly Laz became animated, but without a change of countenance:
"Say, ricolleck that feller lived over our way, had a white hoss--one
day come along and--" The cup ran over.
"You ain't very good at shoutin', air you?"
"Whoa," said Laz.
Jasper tilted the jug to his own lips and Laz drained the cup. Starbuck
made a motion with the jug toward Margaret and she shook her head with a
shudder.
"Tastes like the milk of human kindness," said Laz, and Jasper replied:
"Yes, till you git too much an' then it's like the juice b'iled outen
the hoof of old Satan. Say," he added, as he put the jug in its
accustomed place, "have you hearn the new preacher over at Ebenezer?"
"Went over to hear," Laz replied, "but a passel of us fellers got to
swoppin' saddles down at the spring an' didn't. They say Jim Starbuck
kin preach all round him."
"Bet Jim kin whup him," said Jasper.
"Now, Jasper," his wife spoke up, "why do you allus want to talk about
fightin', an' among preachers at that?"
"I ain't allus doin' that, Margaret. I happened to mention Jim because
fightin' was about the hardest temptation he had to give up, bein' a
Starbuck. But, Laz, the preacher over thar is good."
"How do you know?" Margaret struck in. "You went to sleep."
"Yes," said Jasper, "but he woke me up a time or two, and it takes a
putty good one to do that. The last feller they had over thar didn't; he
jest let me sleep an' dream--one day I dreamed I was a killin' of a wild
cat an' I come mighty nigh a breakin' up the meetin'. But this new man
is a high flyer, Laz. He chaws flat terbacker an' spits right out over
the dash-board." He took out his watch, shook it, held it to his ear,
and glancing at the clock on the mantle-piece, declared: "Either that
clock is a liar or this here watch can't tell the truth. I reckon I have
mo' trouble with time than anybody in the neighborhood. None of my
time-pieces can't git along with one another."
"What diffunce do that make?" Laz drawled. "The sun rises an' sets jest
like thar wan't no watches nur clocks. Wouldn't make no diffunce to me
ef thar wan't none. Shore ter git a feller inter trouble ef he pays much
attention to 'em. The only way for a man to live is jest to let time
take care of itse'f. It always did and I reckon it always will." He went
over to the table, took up the bag and looking at it as if studying a
problem, remarked to Jasper: "I'd like to borry this meal bag ag'in ef
you ain't got no particular use for it."
"All right, Laz, but I mout need it by year after next."
"Ah, hah. Wall, I'll try to have it back by then." He started off slowly
toward the door, halted and looked about.
"Don't see nuthin' else you want to borry, do you, Laz?"
"Nuthin' I can use. Good-day."
Margaret stood near the window, meditating. "Now, let me see."
"Want to know whar we was when he broke in?" Jasper asked, and she gave
him a pathetic look.
"I wan't a thinkin' about that."
"Glad to hear it. Look here, it's a gittin' so a man can't set down and
quarrel with his wife in peace. We air gittin' too crowded in this
neighborhood. Man moved in five miles from here day befo' yistidy."
"Then let's don't quarrel," said Margaret, holding out her hands.
He put his arms about her. "No, we won't. An' don't be jealous of that
po' little grave."
"No, Jasper, for she was the mother of soldiers."
Lije Peters came in, clearing his throat. Starbuck looked round at him
and said: "An' Satan come also."
"Starbuck," Peters began, "I want to see you a minit, by yo'se'f."
"I don't know that I've got anythin' to say to you, Lije, but that door
thar allus stands open, and I ain't in the habit of orderin' folks out
of my house. Margaret, will you please go in thar?" he added, motioning
with his head.
"But you won't have no trouble, will you, Jasper?"
"Trouble mostly comes to them that looks for it. I ain't lookin'."
Margaret went to the door, halted, looked back and then passed into the
adjoining room. Starbuck sat on a corner of the table. Peters stood
looking at him. Peters was much the larger man, and lifting at a
handspike, in the clearing at a log-rolling, would have been stronger;
but the bully, the half-coward, in combat, is rarely as strong as the
brave man. The blood of courage case-hardens a muscle.
They looked at each other, these two men whose relationship, never
agreeable, was nearing a crisis. Starbuck's voice was never softer than
when he said: "Won't you sit down, Lije?"
"Hardly wuth while. Did the folks tell you that I was over here earlier
in the day?"
"Nobody said anythin' about it, Lije. Couldn't have been very
important--what you said to 'em on that occasion."
Peters cleared his rasp-like throat. "Mo' important than some folks mout
think."
"Some folks don't think," Starbuck replied.
"And then ag'in," said Peters, "thar air others that does."
"Ah, hah, an' ef you air one of 'em, out with what you air thinkin'. Up
in the hills one time a dog bit an old feller, and his son's cotch the
dog an' put a rope around his neck to hang him. But they kept on a
standin' thar till finally the old feller 'low: 'Say, boys, when you've
got to hang a dog, do it as quick as you kin. Do you see whut I am a
drivin' at?"
Peters gave a gurgling, mirthless chuckle; and loose-jointed, shifted
his weight from one leg to the other. "Well, nobody ain't never accused
me of not understandin' things--yit."
"Mebbe it's because nobody ain't never paid you that much attention."
"Oh, you know how to talk. Ain't nobody ever denied that, but talk
that don't lead up don't amount to nuthin'. Starbuck, our families wan't
right good friends in the past."
"Wan't in love," Old Jasper agreed, and Peters coughed.
"Yes, that's a fact. An' I've got an old-fashioned, single-barrel,
cap-and-ball pistol that uster belong to a Starbuck."
"Yes, and a way back yander it killed a Peters, I've hearn."
"Yes, Starbuck, with a three-inch slug. But that's nuther here nur thar,
jest now. I'm willin' to furgit the past."
Starbuck gave him a knife-thrust glance, and replied: "When a Peters
says he is, it's ten to one he ain't."
"You air still talkin' fust rate. But come to think of it, you an' me
ain't been very much at outs."
"That's so, Lije. I've slept all night many a time without dreamin' of
you."
"Yes. But I reckon I've been doin' a leetle mo' dreamin' than you have.
Yo' daughter--"
"Only a dream so fur as you air consarned."
"Do you mean to say she won't marry me if you tell her to?"
Starbuck left the table upon which he had been sitting, and moved over
closer to his visitor. "Look here: you know she can't love you, an'
don't you want her because you think I've got a little money? Hah, ain't
that it?" And slowly the old man went over to the fire-place, took down
his pipe, filled it and stood twisting a piece of paper. "When you git
right down to it, Lije, ain't that the reason--money?"
"Well," said Peters, shifting about, "if thar is money, I reckon I know
how you come by some of it." He put his foot on a chair and pulled at
his beard. "Yes, I reckon I know how you got a good deal of it.
Starbuck, I know an old feller about yo' size an' with gray ha'r that
has made a good deal o' licker when the sun wan't shinin'. And that
fetches me down to the p'int. I have applied fur appointment as Deputy
United States Marshal. Do you know what that means--if I git it?"
Starbuck leaned over and thrust the piece of paper into the fire,
turned about with it blazing in his hand and applied it to his pipe.
"Do you know what that means, Starbuck?"
The old man puffed at his pipe, drew the blazing paper through his hand,
put out the fire, removed his pipe, studied a moment and said: "Yes. It
means that I may have to kill you."