A RAFFLE
While matters were going on quietly at home John and his friends had
been in the thick of battle, and the desperate fighting at Monterey had
left John with his arm in a sling, Ira with a bullet in his shoulder
and Neal with a sabre cut across his forehead. The Texan Rangers,
under Major Ben McCullough, having been discharged at this point, John
and Ira made ready to return home while Neal reentered service under
Colonel John Hay. “That’s what I call a soldier,” said Alison, when the
news was brought that Neal would not return with the others, “for all
that, I am glad enough that John is coming back, and Ira, too. They
have won their discharge, for both are wounded.”
“I am glad to say not seriously,” said Christine, putting down the
letter just received from her brother. “Now Alison, we must get back
home and make ready for our hero.” There was some of Christine’s old
brightness in her manner as she said this, and Alison gave her a hug.
“Won’t it be good to get back again? If we can get hold of some flour
we’ll have some biscuits first thing, and if not I shall certainly go
to making tortillas, for I am sick of soggy corn-bread.”
“We don’t have to have it soggy,” said Christine cheerfully. “We can
make some good egg pone like we used to have at home, and if we can’t
eat that we must be fastidious.”
They took their news to Hannah Maria, who voiced her regrets at their
departure as she stood at the door watching Pedro pile their “tricks”
into his queer little Mexican cart. “Now do be sociable,” was her
parting word, “and come over often. I’ll be fa’r achin’ for news. I’ll
let ye hev Dally ef ye want her to he’p,” she added as an afterthought.
“Me an’ Bud kin git along without her fo’ awhile, till ye git fixed.”
“No indeed, we wouldn’t take her from you for the world,” said Alison,
decidedly, visions of Daily’s greasy cooking rising before her. “We are
going to look out for some one to do the kitchen work. Lon Davis knows
of a girl some one wants to hire out, some new people who have just
come down from Virginia.”
“Well, they do say them Ferginny cooks is good,” said Hannah Maria,
“though fer my part I like plenty of sop for my wittles and they cook
too dry fer me.”
“Too dry,” murmured Alison as she drew Chico alongside her sister, now
mounted on Hero. “Lumps of meat swimming in grease don’t appeal to me.”
This remark was not overheard by Hannah Maria, however, who smilingly
waved her hand and called out to the departing girls that if their
servant didn’t turn up they must remember they could have Dally.
“Poor dear old Hannah Maria,” said Alison, as they cantered off. “Isn’t
she too good for anything? She would give us her head if she thought
we could make use of it. But the fates forbid that we should ever have
that dirty, slouchy old Dally in our kitchen. I am thankful we learned
what cleanliness and good housekeeping meant before we came here.”
“Where ignorance is bliss,” said Christine. “Hannah Maria is perfectly
satisfied. She likes greasy sop and heavy corn pone, so why should we
pity her?”
“Such depraved taste, though,” sighed Alison.
Christine laughed. “Never mind, we don’t have to stand it any longer,
though it does seem ungrateful to say so. Think how kind she has been
to us.”
“She surely has been. I feel mean to say a word even against old Dally.
Isn’t it a glorious morning, Tina? Do you know it is a year since we
left home, a whole year? Can you realize it?”
“I can very readily realize it,” said Christine, her face becoming
suddenly grave. “It is a very different year from what I expected. You
are not sorry you came, are you, Alison? You are not ready to go back
to Aunt Miranda, are you?”
“Not I. This life suits me exactly. I love the freedom of it, though
some of the roughness grated upon me at first, and I sometimes wish we
had some of our friends from home as neighbors. Still there are some
nice people, the Van Dorns, for example. Blythe Van Dorn is one of the
few educated men I have met, or else if they are educated they have
lost their refinement in this rough association.”
“And who are the others, if Blythe is one?”
“John, of course, and Neal Jordan, though one doesn’t discover that at
once. He is one of those who has lost his polish by mixing with all
sorts and conditions.”
Christine looked at the girl quickly, but was answered by an innocent
smile. “I believe that is true of Neal,” she said. “He is quite above
the average.”
“And very different from--Pike Smith, for example, or even dear old
Bud, or Ira.”
“Ira is pure gold, though in the rough,” returned Christine. “I wonder
if he has Lou’s token and if he will get here in time to pull the poor
girl out of her quagmire.”
“It is rather lucky that there are two whom Cy favors,” said Alison.
“The last time Bud was over there he said Lou told him that her father
was fair distracted between her two persistent suitors, that just as
he’d think he had it fixed up with Jabe, Pike would come along and
there would be a stormy scene. I really think Cy would rather not have
Pike for a son-in-law, but is afraid not to show him favor. So what
seemed a bad state of affairs is turning out rather luckily for Lou,
since this sort of seesawing puts off the evil day. Bud says there’s
more behind it all and that Lou has her reasons for not coming out flat
foot and telling her father that she will not marry either of them. I
shouldn’t wonder if there would be lively times when Ira comes.”
But in Lou’s direction matters had been hastening to a crisis more
rapidly than any one supposed, and it looked as if, were Ira to delay
his coming, his chances for obtaining the girl of his choice would be
rather slim. Cyrus chafed more and more under the enforced conditions
which his daughter’s presence made necessary. He was growing very
tired of this respectability, and, moreover, his former relations
with Pike Smith, which had been only too questionable, had really put
him in Pike’s power. He must therefore, either renew these relations,
silence Pike by giving him his daughter, or cut entirely loose from
Pike, favor Jabez Manypenny and hide his own misdeeds behind that
powerful influence. Besides there was the opinion of the neighbors to
be considered. The “boys” had made it very plain to Cyrus that it was
a free country for women as well as for men and any decided attempt to
marry off Louisa against her will would be speedily resented and would
not be allowed. Cyrus was therefore in a dilemma. How was he to please
everybody and still go scot free? The question actually kept him awake
nights, and one morning when he sat with his breakfast before him
untouched, Louisa took alarm.
“You’re fretting, dad,” she said. “I hope it ain’t about me,” she added.
Cyrus lifted his cup and took a long draught of coffee before he
answered. “What’s a man to do,” he said, “when half the boys in the
neighborhood plague him to death fer his darter?”
Louisa gave her head a jerk. “Oh, is that all? I thought it was
something particular.”
“Don’t you call that partickerlar?”
“No, I don’t. Half the men don’t mean any particular man.”
“To come down to facts, then, it is partickerlar. I saw Jabez Manypenny
last night.”
“Oh, Jabez Manypenny,” Louisa broke in pettishly, “he’s old enough to
be my father. I don’t want an old bag of bones like him.”
“He’s a much respected man, Louisy, and I take it as a great compliment
fer him to ast me fer you,” said Cyrus gravely. “But if you must hev a
young man, there’s Pike Smith.”
“Gracious! He’d want to boss us both, he’s that masterful.”
“There’s some others,” said Cyrus, doubtfully; “Tim Forbes, Matt
Cochran. Yer a favorite, Lou, in spite of yer red head.”
Louisa made no comment. The old man sat in a brown study for some
minutes, then he went on, “With all them good fellers I don’t see why
you can’t take the best and thet’s Jabe.” He paused suddenly, threw
back his head and with a chuckle, brought his hand down hard on the
table. “I tell you, Lou, I’ve got it,” he cried. “No one can say I show
partiality. I’ll make no enemies, that’s somethin’ I can’t afford to
do--and I ain’t goin’ to force you to marry any one of ’em. It’s got to
be settled somehow and I’ll--yes, I’ll be switched if I don’t raffle ye
off.”
“Raffle me off?” Louisa’s eyes opened wide in surprise.
“Yes, miss, raffle you off. I reckon you’re as good as a doll at a
church fair. I’ll raffle you off. Fifty chances at two dollars apiece
will be so much in my pocket. If the men sparking you ain’t willin’ to
go as high as two dollars fer the chanst of gittin’ ye they don’t vally
you very high, thet’s all. It’ll be a good test, too; the more chances
they take, the more they think of ye. What do ye say, miss? Ain’t it a
good scheme?”
“It’s very queer--and----”
“Queer or not, it will be done. You won’t go back on your old dad,
Lou? You’ll help him out of his troubles, won’t you? It’s a first-rate
plan; gives you a chanst to see who vally you, yes it does. Give me a
piece of paper. Here goes, one, two, three.” He laboriously set down
the figures from one to fifty, folded the sheet of paper, put it in his
pocket, picked up his hat and walked out, leaving Louisa wondering if
it were all a joke.
She discovered that he was quite in earnest, when, at the end of the
week, the paper showed every number taken, and Cyrus adding fifty
more. Jabez Manypenny had not hesitated to stake twenty dollars on his
chance; Pike Smith came next with ten; the others had risked from one
to three chances according to the state of their pocketbooks and their
hearts. Louisa felt that the time had come for her to be up and doing.
She had scarcely believed that her father would carry out his plan,
though every one had declared it was a fair way to settle matters,
that it showed a good head for business on the part of Cyrus Sparks.
Presenting itself as a game of chance it took the popular fancy and
caused a real excitement for miles around.
Just what Louisa thought not every one stopped to inquire, but Louisa
was doing a deal of thinking. If Ira did not appear to claim her little
did she care who did. She wondered if Ira would be able to reach her
before the crisis, and day by day looked for some word or sign from
him. If all else failed her she determined that she would resort to
strategy and meant to outwit chance if opportunity allowed. At all
events her friends would be on hand to see fair play for there was
bound to be a big gathering at this unusual frolic. Cyrus was in high
good humor. He was making money, was setting himself in a favorable
light before his neighbors, and was leaving to chance a matter which he
had begun to find too great a responsibility. Pike carried himself with
an amount of confidence which enraged Louisa, and she treated him with
all the disdain of which she was capable. Jabez Manypenny chuckled over
his prospects, for holding the largest number of chances he felt secure
of carrying off the prize. And in this state did matters remain till
the time came around for the raffle to take place.
It was on the afternoon of the fateful day that Alison, in a fever
of expectation, saw two riders coming rapidly up the road. “They’re
coming. Oh, Tina, they’re coming at last,” she called to her sister.
Christine came running out and the two stood watching the approach of
the men. “It’s John. Oh, John, John,” cried Alison running down to meet
her brother. He checked his horse, and the girl eagerly sprang up to
kiss him, standing in the big Mexican stirrup and clinging to his arm
till they reached the door.
“Back again, safe and sound,” cried John, as Tina ran to him. “Just a
scar, sis, to show that we’ve been where there was fighting. All well,
girls? What’s your news?”
“News enough,” returned Alison with an emphatic nod at Ira. “It’s well
you’re here, Master Ira, or there would be no more Louisa Sparks.”
Ira fairly turned pale under his tan. “What--what do you mean?” he
said, jumping from his horse and never heeding where the creature went.
“Oh, it’s an odd tale, and you must hear it at once. Come in, boys. I
know you must be hungry, and while you are eating we will tell you of
the scheme Cyrus Sparks has been getting up. It does him credit almost
every one thinks, but how it is going to turn out no one knows.” Then
she gave a rapid account of the situation, Ira listening intently.
“And all the chances taken, you say?” He brought his hand down hard on
the table.
“Every one.” Alison rather enjoyed his dismay.
“And we’ve been riding night and day to get here,” said John. “What
does Lou say to all this?”
“She isn’t saying very much. If she hadn’t agreed, there was Jabez on
one side bound to have her and Pike on the other ready to carry her off
like a Goth and Vandal.” Reminiscences of her lessons in history gave
Alison the comparison.
“But Ira,” began Christine, in spite of Alison’s frowns and shakes of
the head, “Bud has taken two chances and you are to have one or both.”
“What did you tell him for? I wanted to keep him on the rack for awhile
longer,” said Alison. “It is true, Ira; Bud took a chance for you and
one for himself. He says you shall have whichever one you choose. It
was the best he could do.”
“Good for Bud,” said John. “He’s an old trump. I knew we could trust
him to look out for our interests.”
“He’s been as true as steel,” Christine told them. “He and Hannah
Maria could not have done more if they had been our own brother and
sister. They will be along directly and we are all to go to the raffle
together. The whole countryside will be there. My, what a sensation you
two boys will make, just back from the wars.”
“And we were so afraid you might not get here in time. I really did not
give up hope till to-day, and when it got later and later I did not
know what we should do, for I know Louisa pins her faith on Ira. You
must make yourself look your prettiest, young man, and if you can’t get
Louisa any other way you’ll have to run off with her, and I’ll hold her
father to keep him from running after you.”
Every one laughed, and Ira vowed he would follow Alison’s suggestion if
there were no other way.
“She’s got to be saved from Pike Smith,” said John gravely. “Everything
right about the place, girls? Pedro still here?”
“Yes, and he’s a dear old thing,” Alison told him. “Oh, me, John, there
is so much to tell about and we’ve so many questions to ask that we
shall never get through.”
“Time enough for them,” said John, settling down to the meal now spread
before him. “The thing we’ve got to attend to now is this affair of
Louisa’s. Comes off this evening, you say?”
“This very evening, and here come Hannah Maria and Bud this minute.
We’ll go out and speak to them while you and Ira finish eating.” She
ran out to meet her friends with the cry, “John’s come, John’s come,
and Ira, too.”
“Why didn’t they stop by?” said Hannah Maria in an aggrieved tone.
“Oh, they were too anxious to get home. They have been traveling night
and day.”
“Iry might hev come anyhow,” said Bud. “He inside?”
“Yes, they are eating. They are mighty hungry after their long ride.”
Bud strode into the house, while Hannah Maria occupied herself with
Alison. “Ain’t it excitin’?” she said. “I declar’, it’s as good as
goin’ to a play. What you reckon is goin’ to happen if Ira’s number
don’t drawr?”
“He says he’ll carry Lou off rather than let Pike Smith have her.”
“Law, did you ever? Ain’t thet interestin’? You reckon he will? I
wouldn’t blame him.”
“Well, he’s bound to do something or lose her.”
“So he is. Did he say he got the ha’r she sent?”
“No, but I think he did, for they have been coming just as hard as they
could make it, and look worn out.”
“Too bad they’ve got to start right off agin, but then, bein’ soldiers
I reckon they won’t mind it like we would. The Van Dorns ain’t
a-comin’, at least the wimmin folks ain’t. Old Mis’ Van Dorn says she
thinks it’s sinful to raffle off a human bein’.”
“So it might be under some circumstances. I think Louisa is lying
low so as to outwit her father some way. She’s equal to it if she’s
pressed.”
Hannah Maria hugged herself in anticipation of the pleasures in store.
“Ain’t it fun?” she said. “I wouldn’t miss it fer a purty. I reckon
there’ll be a regular swarm thar. I don’t know whar Cy’ll put ’em all.
He ain’t so much room.”
“Those that can’t get in can stay outside,” said Alison. “Louisa said
she hoped there would be a big crowd. She said she was going to prepare
plenty to eat. She asked me to bring Lolita and we are all going in the
cart.”
“Ain’t it fun?” repeated Hannah Maria. “I’m gittin’ anxious to git
thar. Ain’t them men most ready? Oh, Bud! You Bud!” she called.
Bud came to the door. “Don’t stand thar jawin’ all day,” said his
sister. “Leave them men eat their wittles in peace. I want to git thar
airly to see all thet’s goin’ on.” Only on such occasions was Hannah
Maria known to be in a hurry, and Bud was scarcely more ready to be on
time save when his curiosity was to be gratified--so, after a few more
words, he came out.
“We’ll jog on and tell ’em you’re comin’,” he said to Alison. “I’ve
a mind not to tell ’em that Iry has come. I suppose you’ll want to
wait fer your men folks, and they’ll hev to hev fresh hosses.” Alison
watched the two ride away and then went indoors to hasten matters for
the others.
It was something more than an hour later that the Ross family drew
up before Cyrus Sparks’s house. There was already a large gathering.
Many horses were tied to the fence, men stood around in groups, women
bustled in and out of the open door, children, escaped from their
care-takers, toddled from this person to that.
“Looks like a barbecue or a meetin’ of the co’t,” said Ira, viewing the
assemblage with interest.
“It is what you might call a co’t,” laughed Bud, who had stumped out
to meet them. “I ain’t told Louisa you’ve come; wanted to give her a
surprise. ’Pears to me like she was purty skeert, pore gal. Got them
numbers all right?”
Ira nodded. He was off his horse in a twinkling, but made his way into
the house with difficulty, being frequently intercepted by those ready
to welcome him back and to ask questions. Entering the door, the first
person he saw was Cyrus Sparks, who was in high good humor. Two hundred
dollars in pocket, and ten chances out of a hundred that he would have
a rich son-in-law! The old man stood before the fire beaming a welcome
to the eager company. His jaw dropped as Ira elbowed his way to him,
but, remembering that all the chances were taken, he recovered himself
and made an attempt at playing his part of genial host. “Well, Iry,” he
exclaimed, “didn’t expect to see you. I reckon you’ve got a right smart
of soldiering stories to tell us, ain’t ye?”
But Ira did not do more than give him a brief greeting and immediately
pushed through the crowd to where Louisa, with back turned to the room,
stood surrounded by a covey of laughing girls. There was no hesitation
in Ira’s manner now. He laid his heavy hand on the girl’s shoulder. She
turned and went from white to red. “Ira!” she exclaimed. “You’ve come.”
“Yes, I’ve come. I got here quick as I could. I want a word with you.”
He drew her through the door into the lean-to, and further, to the lot
at the back of the house. “I got yer stran’ o’ ha’r,” he said. “It’s
here,” he tapped the spot over his heart. “I want to know if there’s
any way out of this. I’ll carry ye off if yer willin’; this minute, if
ye say so. Yer mine, chanst or no chanst, it’s nothin’ but sure fer
me. Will ye go with me, Lou? Ye know without my tellin’ ye that I ain’t
never wanted to marry no other woman, an’ I’ll treat ye as good as I
know how.”
“I believe that,” answered Louisa. “There is another way, I think, Ira.
If it fails I’ll go with you. I’d rather have you than any man in the
world. Bud said--he--did he tell you?”
“About the number? Yes, mine’s twenty-seven.”
“Twenty-seven, twenty-seven,” she repeated the number. “Write it down
for me.”
“And his is twenty-nine.”
“I don’t care what his is. I only want yours. If I fail, Ira, I will
give you a chance to speak to me and we’ll get away before any one
suspects. Oh, I thought you would never come.” All her endurance of the
long suspense was in her cry.
Ira gave a quick glance around. Too many were watching them; he did not
dare follow out his inclination. “Pore little gal. Pore little Lou,” he
murmured, his big hand clasping a fold of her frock. “I’ll try to make
up to ye fer all this. God knows I’ll be good to ye. I ain’t so much of
a saint, Lou, but I’ve love ye mortal hard all this time.”
“I have always believed in you, Ira,” whispered Louisa, “and I knew
you’d come if you could, but it was coming so near the end and I was
beginning to be afraid that something had happened.”
“Well, my little gal, I’m here now, and I’ll clean out the whole
lay-out before anybody else shall have ye.” Louisa gave him a look
which made his heart beat fast, and, in spite of the curious onlookers
he grasped her hand and gave it a hearty squeeze. Then the two returned
to the house.
“Where was ye at, Lou?” Cyrus asked as she came to his side.
“I was speaking to Ira Korner,” replied Louisa calmly. “He’s just back
from the wars, you know.”
“And ye couldn’t wait till ye had the war news, I suppose,” said Cyrus
with a sneer. “Well, he’s a day after the fair. His cake’s all dough.
Whit Parmly took the last chanst a Monday. I reckon most everybody’s
come and it’s time to begin, ain’t it?”
“I suppose it is,” returned Louisa, her heart beating fast. “You can
call them in, dad. Where is the paper?”
“I let Bud Haley hev it fer a minute. He said he wanted to swop numbers
with some one. He’d better not be playing any fool tricks.”
“He couldn’t,” said Louisa. “Every one must know his own number after
picking it out.”
“That’s so,” returned her father. “Well, go git it.”
Louisa obeyed, and in a few minutes returned with the well thumbed,
greasy piece of paper with its long list of names. She took occasion to
glance down the page and made sure that opposite twenty-seven Bud had
clumsily scratched out his own name and had written Ira’s in its stead.
Everybody now crowded into the room which was filled to its utmost
capacity. Around the doorway and on the outside the men stood shoulder
to shoulder, their rough faces full of expectation. Every one of them
was anxious, not so much to secure the prize, as to see that neither
Jabez nor Pike won it. Bud had done some lobbying and it began to be
known how matters stood between Louisa and Ira.
“Who’s to do the drawing?” asked Pike Smith in his stentorian voice.
“I think I should be allowed to pick out my own husband,” said Louisa,
a sudden light coming into her eyes. “Where’s your hat, dad? I want
that.”
“Here, take mine, or mine,” said half a dozen.
“No, no, I must have dad’s, his old hat; I want that,” persisted the
girl.
“Let her have her way,” said burly Timothy Forbes, “they all hev their
notions.”
“That they have,” spoke up old Jabez with a smirk. “Might as well give
’em their own gait till you want to drive ’em double.” Ira frowned, but
Pike Smith laughed loudly.
It was several minutes before Louisa returned with the hat. “Now
blindfold her, Hannah Maria,” shouted John, “and see that there is no
chance of her peeping.”
“I’ll cut off the slips first,” said Louisa quietly. “See, here, if
anybody wants to look let ’em do it.” The numbers dropped from her
scissors one by one into the old hat. Louisa tossed them lightly about.
“I’ll mix them well,” she said carelessly. “How many times shall I
draw?”
“Let the fifth drawing be the one,” said Jabez officiously.
No one objected, therefore Louisa took her place in a big rough chair
by the fireside. “Now you can blindfold me, Hannah Maria,” she said,
“and I’ll throw my handkerchief over the hat, too, so every one may be
sure that I am not peeping.”
Then fell upon the company a great silence, broken only by the uneasy
stir of a heel on the bare floor, by the snapping of the fire, by a dry
cough from Jabez Manypenny. Louisa drew from under the handkerchief the
first number and held it up.
“Fourteen,” called out Cyrus who took it from her. Timothy Forbes
laughed sheepishly and moved to the back of the room. A second slip
was produced. “Seven,” announced Cyrus. Pike Smith gave an impatient
“Tchut!” but remembered that there were four more chances left for him
and assumed his confident air.
Twenty-two was the next number, which had such an effect upon Matt
Cochran that he strode out and would have slammed the door if he could.
At seventy-eight Lew Phelps looked gloomily down at his boots.
Then there was a pause before the last drawing. Jabez moved so that
his small spare figure was silhouetted against the dancing flames.
Pike Smith drew himself up to the full height of his six feet two.
Ira fixed his eyes on Louisa. Below the handkerchief which bound the
girl’s eyes her cheeks glowed brilliantly. She lingered so long that
some one laughed nervously and Cyrus said sharply, “Hurry up, Lou.” She
caught her breath as her hand under the handkerchief found the little
duplicate slip which she had taken the precaution to hide in the lining
of her father’s old hat. She drew it forth slowly. It was withdrawn
from her cold shaking fingers by her father who looked at it, paused,
looked again, and then read out reluctantly: “Twenty-seven!”
In an instant Louisa sprang to her feet, pushed back the bandage from
her eyes, turned to the fire and dashed the remaining slips into the
flames. These leaped up and cast a bright glow upon the glad face of
Ira Korner, who grasped the girl’s hands in his and triumphantly faced
the room.