"You're a stubborn kid, ain't you?"
"Mule-headed," Ramsay agreed. "Even worse than a mule."
"Well, if you won't take good advice, there's not much I can do. Would
you like to sleep here tonight?"
"Nope. I'll be going now, and thanks for the steak."
"Well ... Good luck, kid."
"Thanks."
Ramsay walked out into the darkness and drew his jacket tightly about
him. The lake shore was cold by day, much colder by night when there was
no sun to warm it. He had brought extra clothing, but all his personal
belongings had gone down with the _Holter_. He looked dismally at the
dark town--Three Points seemed to go to bed with the setting sun--and
wandered forlornly down toward the lake front. Both the sailing vessel
from Ludington and the _Jackson_ were gone.
A little wind was driving wavelets gently against the shore, and the
lap-lap of their rising and falling made pleasant music in the night.
Ramsay wandered out on the pier, where the stacked bags of salt were
covered with tarpaulins. He looked furtively around.
Nobody else was on or even near the pier, and it seemed unlikely that
anyone would come. He curled up close to the bags of salt and drew the
flowing end of a tarpaulin over his body. He pillowed his head on a
protruding bag and snuggled very near to the stack.
The pier was hard, but he had slept on hard beds before and the barrier
of salt broke the wind's force. The tarpaulin, of heavy duck, made a
warm blanket. In spite of the odds he faced, Ramsay felt a wonderful
sense of well-being and peace. He went quietly to sleep.
When he awakened, soft gray dawn was stealing like a fawn out of the
summer sky. Three Points, not yet awake, slumbered in the dim morning.
Ramsay crawled out from beneath the tarpaulin and rose to look at the
town.
Nobody gave up any battles; but nobody knocked his head against a stone
wall or strove against hopeless odds. Even the little black horse had
not done that. He might just as well see things as they were. Devil Chad
ruled Three Points and, with his present resources, Ramsay could not
fight Devil Chad. But it was certain that Chad could not rule all of
Milwaukee, too, and Milwaukee would need workers. He could go back
there, get a job and plan his future after he had it.
A sudden inspiration seemed to fall right out of the brightening sky.
The Van Hoovens! Pieter Van Hooven had told him to come back should he
fail to find what he expected in Three Points, and Pierre LeDou had
assured him that Devil Chad did not walk so freely among the farmers and
fishermen. Maybe Pieter could give him a job, at least something that
would offer security until he was able to get himself oriented; and if
he could, Ramsay wanted to stay in this part of the country. It was
better than Milwaukee.
Briskly he left the pier and struck down the sand beach. Now that he had
decided to take this step, he felt lighter and happier. Maybe he would
and maybe he would not have liked working in the tannery, even if that
had been ruled by some other man than Devil Chad, but he knew that he
would like the Van Hoovens and their way of life.
He moved fast, staying far enough up on the beach so he need not step in
wet sand but near enough the water so he could walk on sun-baked sand
over which high water had already rolled. That was packed hard, almost
to the consistency of concrete.
The sun was well up when he came again to the Van Hooven's pleasant
home. Resolutely he walked up and knocked on the back door.
A second later it opened, and Marta Van Hooven flashed a warm smile of
welcome. "Oh! Come in."
Pieter, who had already finished his milking and was now seated at the
breakfast table, said, "Hello."
"Hello," Ramsay said. "I thought I'd stop in and see you on ..." He
fumbled. "On my way back to Milwaukee."
Pieter looked seriously at him. "You're not going to work in Three
Points?"
"No," Ramsay said bluntly. "Mr. Chadbourne and I did not see eye to eye.
In fact, three minutes after we met our fists were flying in each
other's eyes."
"You fought Devil Chad?"
"I did, and got well-beaten."