SCOTT HAS AN INTERVIEW WITH SEWALL
The next day Scott was still worrying over what he had overheard on the
mountain the evening before. He did not know what to do. At first he had
determined to carry a warning straight to old Jarred Morgan, but what
good would that do? Jarred could not stop the Waits from starting a
fight even if he tried, and no one had ever heard of his trying.
He wanted to see Hopwood and ask his advice but for once Hopwood did not
show up when he was wanted. He wasted all the forenoon watching for him.
Then he suddenly remembered what Hopwood had said about Sewall being the
real leader of the Waits and determined to go and see him at once. He
had two reasons for going. He wanted to see where he stood on the
question of the feud, and he wanted to know if it was he who was talking
to Foster the day before.
Immediately after lunch he started for the cabin which the agent pointed
out to him as a speck up on the mountainside. On the way up he saw
Foster approaching on his white horse, but Foster evidently did not care
to meet the man who had given him such a thrashing and turned off into
the woods. He had his rifle with him and Scott did not feel comfortable
till he was well past the spot. He half expected to hear a shot and had
an uncomfortable feeling that some one was aiming at a spot between his
shoulder blades.
When he came in sight of the cabin he was surprised at its appearance.
All the Wait cabins he had seen were slovenly and seedy-looking, as
though no one had taken any interest whatever in them since they were
first built. This one was very different. The inevitable picket fence,
which Scott had now learned was to keep out the wandering razorbacks,
was neatly whitewashed. The house was newly painted and the roof had
recently been shingled. There was real sod in the yard and there was a
bed of gorgeous flowers beside the porch.
Scott stopped at the gate and shouted. A middle-aged woman came to the
door and looked surprised at the sight of a stranger. Scott’s surprise
was even greater. Instead of the regulation Mother Hubbard which all the
women in that country seemed to wear, this woman was neatly dressed in a
blue house dress and a white apron. She quickly recovered from her
surprise and smiled pleasantly.
“Won’t you come in?” she said sweetly. “This is one house,” she
explained, “where you don’t have to stand outside and shout.”
Scott thought at first that she was criticizing his manners, but he saw
from the way she said it that she was stating this only as a matter of
pride.
“I am glad to know there is one such place,” Scott said. “I was told
that it is always safer to shout, and they did not tell me that there
were any exceptions. Does Mr. Sewall Wait live here?”
“Yes,” she replied offering him a chair. “Please have a seat and I’ll
call him. It is such a beautiful day that I am sure you will find it
pleasanter here on the porch than inside.”
Scott was a little disappointed for he would have liked to see what the
inside of this house was like, but he thanked her and took the offered
chair. He did not have long to wait. He heard quick footsteps inside the
house, and the man he had seen with Foster stepped briskly out on to the
porch.
Scott arose. “Mr. Wait, my name is Burton, and I am the new supervisor
at Caspar.”
Sewall had sized him up at a single glance and extended his hand. “Glad
to know you, Mr. Burton,” he smiled mischievously. “I have heard of you
before from my cousin Foster.”
Scott blushed like a schoolgirl. “I regret that I was forced into a
quarrel with your cousin, but I assure you, Mr. Wait, that it was not of
my seeking.”
“Pshaw!” Sewall exclaimed heartily. “Don’t let that worry you. Everybody
around here knows Foster, and I for one am glad that you thrashed him.”
“I am glad that the rest of you feel that way,” Scott said. “But it was
a shame that I had to do it when I was trying so hard to be absolutely
neutral. When I heard of this feud, Mr. Wait, I determined not to get
mixed up in it as the others had done. Unfortunately, Mr. Reynolds was
ignorant of both the feud and the regulations, and he made promises to
your family which the law would not permit me to keep. It is illegal to
let a contract without submitting it to bids and requiring a bond. I
admit frankly that I was glad of it, because I did not want to see
either party get it as long as this feud exists.”
“I don’t blame you,” Sewall agreed sadly. “It would just add to the mess
that already exists.”
“That is the reason I came to see you, Mr. Wait,” Scott exclaimed
quickly. “It seems to me a pity for this feud to continue indefinitely.
I heard that you had some influence with your family and I want to see
if we can’t figure out some way to bring it to an end.”
Sewall shook his head sadly. “Did you ever see old Jarred Morgan?” he
asked hopelessly.
“Yes,” Scott said. “I have met him and I admit that he turned my
proposition down cold.”
“That’s the trouble,” Sewall interrupted a little impatiently. “He will
never give up. He and that little vixen of a Vic nurse the feud like an
only child.”
“That’s true enough,” Scott admitted. “But they are in the minority and
I cannot blame them much. I cannot help but admire the old man’s
gameness in a way. I thought possibly the larger party could afford to
make the overture. You are an educated man, Mr. Wait, and you must see
the futility of it.”
“See it? Why, of course, I see it,” Sewall exclaimed bitterly. “I am the
only one of the Waits who had the ambition to drag myself out of the
Middle Ages in which the rest of them are living, and I’d make them drop
that feud to-morrow if I could. Foster is the only one on this side who
wants to keep it up. The rest would drop it quick enough if old Jarred
would let them, but as long as he holds out, their pride will not let
them give it up. And what would be the use of our quitting if Jarred did
not?”
“That’s true,” Scott sighed, “but I have not given up hope if you are
willing. I want to try again to persuade Jarred.”
“Go to it,” Sewall replied gloomily, “but you will not succeed.”
“Maybe not,” Scott said, “but I want to try. Can I count on you to avoid
any new outbreaks while I am trying?”
“There will never be any more outbreaks if I can prevent it, Mr. Burton.
And,” he added confidently, “I can prevent it unless Foster runs wild,
and I doubt if he has the courage for that.”
“Well,” Scott said, as he rose to go, “I certainly shall appreciate your
help, and if I can ever be of any service to you, please let me know.”
He left with the feeling that there was at least one man in the Wait
tribe, and he marveled all the way home to think how this one individual
had raised himself so far above all the others in spite of his
surroundings. It made his own accomplishments seem small.
Then he thought of the lonely old man on the other mountain, just as
good a man and just as intelligent as Sewall. With the leadership in the
hands of two such men there surely ought to be a reasonable way out. He
determined to try once more in spite of the old man’s request not to
mention it.
When he came to the Morgan cabin it was unnecessary to shout. Jarred was
sitting on the front steps and rose to welcome him. He even came part
way to the gate.
“Well,” he said with a smile, “I see you found a way to keep the
contract out of the hands of the feudists even if you had to thrash one
of them to do it.”
Scott laughed at the old man’s humor. “It does seem like a strange way
to keep neutral,” he admitted, “but it was forced on me.”
The smile left Jarred’s face and he looked at Scott gravely. “Yes, I
know it was, and let me give you a warning. Keep your eyes open from now
on. That fellow will shoot you in the back if he gets a chance.”
“I believe he would,” Scott agreed, “but I was talking to one of the
Waits this morning who seemed to be altogether different.”
“Sewall?” Jarred asked quietly.
“Yes, I heard that he was the brains of the party and I went up to see
him.”
Jarred nodded. “Yes, Sewall is different. If all the Waits were like
Sewall there would not be any feud.”
Scott took advantage of the old man’s calm mood. “You asked me not to
say anything more about dropping the feud, but I want to say something
about it just once more if you will let me.”
Old Jarred’s face turned dark with sudden anger and Scott saw that he
was going to be ordered out with little ceremony. But the order did not
come. For a moment there was intense silence. Then the old man spoke,
and his voice was quiet and rather sad.
“I know what you would say, but go ahead.”
Scott was so surprised that he could scarcely find the words now that he
had the opportunity. Then he blurted out his words like a schoolboy.
“It is only this, Mr. Morgan. I could not help thinking when I found out
what sort of men you two were, what a pity it was for you to hold out as
a matter of pride till one of you is killed, and Mr. Wait said that he
would be glad to drop the whole thing if you would. Is there no way out
of it?”
Again Jarred’s face darkened but the wave of temper passed as the other
had done.
“I suppose that is the way it looks to a stranger,” he said slowly. “I
suppose I seem like a stubborn old fool, all pride and nothing to back
it up, keeping the whole country in arms for the fun of it.”
“No, it’s not quite as bad as that,” Scott interrupted quickly.
“Maybe you would not say it in those words,” Jarred replied quietly,
“but it must be about what you think. If any one else had tried to tell
me what you have I would have ordered him off the place, but I like you
and I am deep in your debt. I am going to tell you something that I have
not mentioned before in fifteen years.” He paused as though it were a
great effort to break his prolonged silence. Then he continued with
enforced calm:
“Foster Wait shot my daughter in cold blood just fifteen years ago, shot
her just to keep the feud from dying out. He brought it to life again,”
he concluded grimly. “Now it will live till one of us dies.”
They both sat motionless for a minute staring at the opposite mountain
in silence. The old man was choked with his own suppressed fury. Scott
was awed by the significance this statement gave to the conversation
which he had overheard in the woods the day before. What if this
cold-blooded murderer should shoot Vic this time to keep the feud alive?
He knew that he dared say nothing more to Jarred. In fact, he could
think of little more to say. “Thank you for your confidence in me, Mr.
Morgan,” he said sincerely. “I promise not to mention the matter again.”
Jarred did not seem to hear him. His eyes were still fixed on the
opposite mountain, and when Scott looked back from the turn in the road
he had not moved.