SANDY'S JOB
Tessibel Skinner's flight left Ebenezer Waldstricker and Graves together
on the ragged rocks. The bigger man turned and surveyed the other,
scorn, anger and disgust struggling for expression in his face. The
latter, paying no apparent attention to the enraged elder, leaned
against an outcropping gray rock and fixed his gaze on the lake, noting
mechanically the play of sunshine and shadow upon its dazzling bosom.
Through the elder's seething mind thoughts tumbled tumultuously. Could
this moody, pale-faced man be the same nice young fellow that had
married Madelene? How had he dared to marry her, and having done so,
what had compelled him, after all this time, to acknowledge the Skinner
brat?
He walked forward a step or two, coughed and began to speak. Frederick
seemed not to hear him.
"I said," repeated Waldstricker, "I've discovered what I've suspected
for four years."
Frederick allowed his eyes to rest an instant on his brother-in-law's
dark, passionate face. Then, again, he turned his attention to the lake.
"And I don't intend to allow my sister to suffer by this," went on the
elder.
"I suppose you'll tell her, won't you?" questioned the other, foreseeing
unpleasant complications and already regretting the rashness that'd
betrayed him.
"She won't learn it from me," promised Ebenezer.
"Nor from me," agreed Frederick. "I've no wish to have a whining woman
hanging to my neck."
Waldstricker muttered an oath under his breath.
"Well, of all the contemptible pups in the world!" he snorted. "Talk of
ingratitude! Here's a girl, a good girl, too, and Madelene's that--"
"No one said she wasn't," snapped Graves. "But her goodness doesn't keep
her from nagging, my dear Ebenezer."
"Shut up!" snarled his opponent, the last atom of his patience exhausted
by the speaker's flippant criticism. "You cur, you deserve a good
thrashing, and I'm going to give it to you, now!"
Jumping for him, he lifted his arm to strike, but before the mighty fist
descended, Frederick, outworn by his long walk and the excitement of the
morning, slumped upon the rocks, a limp form at his assailant's feet.
Stunned, the tall man gazed down at the crumpled figure, and
mechanically lowered his arm. Then, he stooped, examined his fallen foe
and stretched him out upon the rocks. Leaving him there, Waldstricker
hurried to the lake and filled his hat with water, and returning, bathed
the stricken man's face and neck. In a few moments, the faintness
passed, and Frederick drew himself to a sitting posture against the
rocks.
"You great brute! It's like you to strike a sick man," the white lips
taunted, as soon as their owner could speak.
The slurring words brought a hot blush of shame to Ebenezer's face.
"I'm sorry, Fred," he stammered at length. "I was so angry I must've
forgotten you're not well. I'm glad I didn't strike you. But what are we
going to do, now?... If we don't tell Madelene, how about the Skinner
girl?... Won't she make trouble for us?"
"No, she won't say anything, I'm sure!" Frederick's voice was low, but
positive. "She doesn't want to have anything more to do with me. What
she said about not wanting me was true. She wouldn't stop to speak to
me, even, until I threatened to tell you.... I suppose Young's made her
so happy she's glad to forget me."
"What gets me is how you and Young, decent fellows, got mixed up with
such a girl," Ebenezer growled meditatively.
"If you knew Tess as I do, ... you'd understand," wailed Frederick.
"She's the dearest, bravest, sweetest girl in the world."
"Bosh!... Now, the question is about getting you home. My buggy's up in
the road. Do you think you can walk there?"
"I guess so."
With his brother-in-law's help, Frederick got to his feet. Slowly,
leaning on the big man's supporting arm, he made his way, with many
pauses for rest, to the waiting vehicle.
Waldstricker put his companion into the carriage and unhitched the
horse. Instead of getting in beside him, he handed him the reins, saying
as he did so,
"You can drive all right, can't you? Old Ned knows the way back and will
go home if you let him alone. I want to see Young."
Before turning away, the speaker chirruped to the horse, which started
obediently up the hill toward Ithaca, drawing after him what cowardly
selfishness had left of Frederick Graves.
The elder walked slowly up the path to Young's house, turning over in
his mind to what advantage he could best use his newly acquired
knowledge.
Coming out of the door hurriedly, Deforrest Young met his brother-in-law
face to face as the latter rounded the corner of the house. At the sight
of this pompous person, whose meddling threatened so much trouble to his
dear ones, the indignation which Tessibel's words had in a measure
quieted, flared up anew. He wanted to fight, to pound, and if possible
to kill with his hands the man in front of him.
"You'd better come no farther," he said between set teeth. "Just stay
where you are!... I shan't be responsible for my acts if you don't."
"So she's told you," said Waldstricker, laughing loudly. "And it hurts,
eh? Now, you know what you're keeping?"
Trembling with suppressed passion, the lawyer walked deliberately to the
steps, his face waxen-white.
"I told you to come no nearer. I'd advise you to go away," said he. His
low voice, contrasting sharply with his flushed cheeks and blazing eyes,
testified eloquently of the tremendous curb imposed upon his temper.
"Yes, she told me, ..." he continued in the same tone, "and the more she
told me, the more heartily I pitied her. She told me of your threats,
too, but I want you to understand, the moment you turn your hands
against her, I'll fix you."
"Don't forget my wife's your sister. I'll see our family's honor upheld
even if you've forgotten it." Waldstricker simulated a confidence he
didn't quite feel.
Young's fists knotted.
"You mind your business, Ebenezer, and let my house alone."
Waldstricker, kicking uneasily at a stone in his path, thought a moment.
At last he looked up.
"I'll let your house alone all right, if you'll get rid of that girl,
and that--"
He didn't use the word he'd intended. Deforrest didn't give him time.
"My house is my own," he interjected. "If you watch yours, you'll have
all you can 'tend to."
"I'll go," said the big man, hoarsely, "but I don't say I won't come
again, and I warn you, as I warned that squatter girl, when the time
comes--"
"Get out!" snarled Deforrest, starting down the steps, "and get quick."
And the elder, not daring to stay, turned and went toward the pear
orchard. It was then, that he glanced up and saw Tessibel and her little
one at an upper window, watching with startled eyes for his departure.
The baby turned from the window and raised his arms to some one within,
and a hand below a man's rough coat sleeve clasped the boy and lifted
him up out of Waldstricker's sight.
Walking along the road to Ithaca, he reviewed the exciting events of the
morning and tried to consider and determine the complications they
involved. He was unable to find a motive for Frederick's dramatic
announcement, although he did not for a moment doubt its truth. It was
queer though that, after having kept still so long, he should blurt out
his secret in that fashion. He considered his promise not to tell
Madelene and concluded he'd been wise. Probably Frederick wouldn't live
long anyway, and in the natural course of things, Madelene would soon be
free and the Graves chapter ended. He wondered what had kept Tess silent
all these years. How had she withstood his persecution even in her
betrayer's presence and made no sign? He was glad she had, but he
couldn't understand why. Evidently the girl's disclosure to Young wasn't
going to make any difference in his brother-in-law's conduct. Suddenly,
like a bolt shot into the midst of his revery, rose the question. Whose
arm was that? Young was on the porch, the girl and the baby in plain
sight at the window. But there was some one else, a man. He had seen his
arm and coat sleeve.
"That's certainly peculiar," he ruminated. "I didn't know Young had any
one else there. It may be all right, of course, but it seems mighty
suspicious."
All the way home and all the evening, the thing bothered him. In every
way imaginable he tried to account for that other man in Young's house.
He canvassed the neighborhood. A chance visitor wouldn't be upstairs,
and anyhow he'd have looked out to see the row with Young. But this man
kept away from the window. He'd only shown his hand and arm. Whoever he
was, he was hiding in Young's home.
Was his brother-in-law a party to it? A man couldn't be kept for any
length of time in the house without his knowing it. Young and Tess were
hiding someone! At bed time he decided that the next day he would find
out who was the other man in Young's house. It might give him a hold on
his obstreperous brother-in-law and the hateful squatter girl.