OLD JARRED
Two miles farther up that same road a little log cabin stood back from
the road about fifty feet behind its weather-beaten picket fence. The
little yard, like most of the yards in that section of the country, was
perfectly bare, and at first glance it seemed to be deserted. But if a
member of the Wait settlement had tried to enter the yard, he would
instantly have been aware of a very real presence.
Seated on the doorstep of the cabin, and so motionless that he might
have been a part of it, was a man clad in a black sateen shirt and
homespun trousers tucked into heavy Congress boots. Judging from the
silvery whiteness of his hair he might have been eighty-five, but from
the strong, stern lines of his thin, smooth-shaven face he might have
been forty-five. There was no sign of nervousness. Not a finger moved
and his eyes rested unwaveringly on a small clearing half a mile down
the mountain where he could catch a glimpse of the road to the village.
A white flag waved for an instant in the clearing and the lines of his
face relaxed. The sternness had given way to an expression of
anticipation. The man’s eyes shifted from the clearing to the bend in
the road just below the cabin. Other than that there was no movement. It
would have taken a careful student to have discovered that an
all-consuming curiosity was gnawing at this man’s heart. He seemed to be
without a care in the world. Certainly no one could have guessed that he
was suffering from a suspense which was almost unbearable.
Suddenly a slip of a girl, not more than thirteen years old, and small
for her age, came running around the bend in the road. The brown of her
sunburned legs twinkled in the patches of sunlight that came through the
trees, and her blue-checked calico dress fluttered in the wind as she
ran with unfaltering stride. It was not an impatient burst of speed at
the end of a journey. She had been running steadily all the way from the
village, almost two and a half miles away and nearly a thousand feet
below.
At the sight of her the man arose and stretched his gaunt form to its
full height. The coming of the child meant much to him, but he showed no
sign of curiosity. She stopped before him with chest heaving and dark
eyes aflame.
“He went to Wait’s,” she panted.
The lines in the old man’s face tightened, and he seemed to grow taller,
but he made no answer.
“That was the man who came yesterday,” she continued furiously. “He
bought a sack of tobacco at Wait’s this morning, and went up on the
other mountain. The other one who came this morning didn’t go in
nowhere. He ain’t much more than a boy.”
“Where is he?” the man asked sternly. “At the hotel?”
“No, he went there, but he only stayed a few minutes. Then he walked
right through the village and started up this way. I passed him just out
on the road.”
“Did he see you?”
“No,” she answered contemptuously. “I was in the brush, but he would not
have seen me if I had run right by him. He was looking at the ground and
frowning.”
The man turned the news slowly over in his mind before he answered.
“So the new supervisor is a young lad, is he?”
She nodded.
“And he did not go in anywhere,” the man continued meditatively. “What
sort of looking man is he?”
“He’s two inches shorter than you are, grandpa, but he is heavy and
strong,” she said confidently, with the air of one who is accustomed to
gauge the physical builds of men. “He’s wearing one of them uniforms,
and he’s dark and good looking.”
He gave the girl a quick, searching glance. “Well, don’t make friends
with him yet, Vic. He has not gone into Wait’s, but he has not been in
our store either. Let’s wait till we see what he is going to do.”
“Me make friends with one of those government men,” she burst out
contemptuously. “They all of them side with the Waits. I’d spit in his
face if he spoke to me.”
Her grandfather smiled approvingly. “Oh, I would not do that, Vic, not
till he gives you some reason to. This one may turn out to be all
right.”
“Then let him keep away from the Waits, if I have to be polite to him,”
she snapped.
The old man took the girl tenderly by the shoulders, and looked at her
earnestly. “You’re the best Morgan in the bunch, Vic, and we’ll have to
stick together. The boys may stick by me, but they would give the whole
thing up if they saw a good way out. You and old Jarred are the only
ones left to uphold the honor of the family.”
The child shook the mass of black hair back from her face, and looked
squarely into the old man’s eyes. The concentrated hatred and fury of
three generations gave her the appearance of a witch. “Don’t you worry,
grandpa. Let daddy and uncle Bob give up if they want to, but no Wait
will ever cross the line while I am here to help you.”
Her grandfather patted her head proudly. “That’s the girl. I knew I
could count on you, Vic. Now go in the house, and get some lunch. Then
we’ll go down to the village again. I want to get a look at that
handsome young man myself.”
Vic glared at him angrily. “I had to say that to tell you what he looked
like. Let him go into the Wait’s store, and I’ll show you what I think
of his looks.” She tossed her head defiantly and stalked into the house
with great dignity.
The old man watched her go with a twinkle of pride in his eye and smiled
affectionately. Then he turned away and looked sadly down into the
valley. These were indeed sad times when the honor of the Morgans rested
on a girl of thirteen, and an old man past sixty, but his gaunt frame
straightened unconsciously at the thought, and his chin set all the
harder. If the Waits thought that they could walk over him because he
was old they were surely reckoning without their host.