As if by its own volition, the hook rose threateningly to within a short
distance of the fair, appealing face. But it dropped again, as Lon
repeated:
"That ain't nothin' to do with the thing, nuther, Flea. A man ain't a
seekin' for a lovin' woman. He wants her to take care of his shanty and
what he gets by hard work, he does, and he gives her victuals and drink
for the doin' of it. That's enough for you, or for any gal what's a
squatter."
So well did Flea realize the powerlessness of the rigid boy at her side
to help her, that she dropped his hand and alone went nearer to the
thief.
"Can't I stay with you and with Granny Cronk for another year? Can't I
stay? Can't I, Pappy Lon?"
"Nope, I wouldn't keep ye in the shanty if ye had money for yer keeps.
Ye go on a Saturday to Lem's boat to be his woman, ye see?"
The iron hook by this time was hanging loosely by Lem's side; but a
cruel expression had gathered on the sullen face. A frown drew the
crafty eyes together, bespeaking wrath at the girl's words.
That he would have her at the bidding of her father, Lem never doubted.
During the last three years he had been resolved to take her home in due
time to be his woman. To subdue the proud young spirit, to make her the
mother of children like himself,--the boys destined to be thieves, and
the girls squatter women,--was his one ambition. That he was old enough
to be her father made no difference to him.
He was watching her as she stood in the darkening twilight, gloating
over the thought that his vicious dreams were so near their fulfilment.
Flea was looking into the eyes of her father, and he looked back at her
with an impudent smile.
"Ye don't like the thought of this comin' Saturday, Flea--eh?" he asked
slowly. "But, as I said before, a gal hain't nothin' to do with the
notions of her daddy. And Granny Cronk'll give ye a pork cake to take to
Lem's, and he'll let ye eat it all to yerself. Eh, Lem?"
"Yep," grunted Lem. "She eats the pork cake if she will; but after
that--"
Suddenly Lon silenced Lem's words with a wag of his head toward the
girl. "Flea," he said, "I telled Lem as how ye'd kiss him tonight."
The words stunned the girl, they were so unexpected, so terrible. She
turned her eyes upon Lem and fearfully studied his face. He was gazing
back, his open lips showing his discolored, broken teeth. The coarse,
red hair sprinkled with gray gave a fierce aspect to his whole
appearance, and from the emotion through which he was passing the
muscles under his chin worked to and fro. With a grin he advanced toward
her. Flea fell back against Flukey. The boy steadied the trembling,
slender body.
"I ain't a goin' to kiss ye," she muttered. "I hate yer kisses! I hate
'em!"
"Ye'll kiss him, jest the same!" ordered Lon.
Closer and closer Lem came toward the girl; then suddenly he sprang at
her like a tiger, crushing the slim figure against his breast. For a
moment Flea was encircled by his left arm. Then she turned fiercely to
the ugly face so close to hers, and in another instant had bitten it
through the cheek. He dropped her with a yelling oath, and Flea sprang
back, turning flashing eyes upon Lon.
"That's how I kiss him afore I go to him," she screamed, "and worser and
worser after he takes me!"
Lon laughed wickedly. He had not expected such a display of spirit. "I
guess ye'll have to wait, Lem," he said; "fer--"
Flea did not hear the rest of the sentence; for she and Flukey were
hurrying toward the hut.
Lem stood wiping the blood from his face. "The cussed spit-cat!" he
hissed. "When I take her in hand--"
"When ye take her in hand, Lem," interrupted Lon darkly, "ye can do what
ye like. Break her spirit! Break her neck, if ye want to! I don't care."
* * * * *
The children found Granny Cronk with bent shoulders and palsied hands
toiling over the supper. About the withered neck hung a red
handkerchief, and on top of the few gray whisps of hair rested a
spotless cap. She grunted as the children entered the room like a
whirlwind and climbed the long ladder to the loft, where for some time
the low voice of Flukey and the sobs of Flea could be heard in the
kitchen below.
It was not until her son had entered and hung his cap upon the peg that
the old woman ventured to speak.
"Be Flea in a tantrum, Lon?"
"Yep, ye bet she be!"
"Have ye been a beatin' her?"
"Nope, I never teched her," replied the squatter; "but I will beat her,
if she don't do what I tell her. No matter how she kicks ag'in' my
notions, she has to do 'em, Granny!"
"Yep, I know that; but I asked ye what she was a blubberin' about."
"'Cause I says as how on Saturday she's got to go and be Lem's
woman--that's what I says."
"Lem's woman! Do ye mean that she's got to go away?"
"Yep, with Lem Crabbe," replied Cronk; "he's to be her man on her next
birthday. I bet he brings the kid to his likin'!"
"Lem's a bad man, Lon," replied Mrs. Cronk, "and ye be one, too, if ye
be my own son, and Flea's your own flesh and blood, and I like her. It
would be a good thing if ye let her stay to hum while I be a livin'; and
I mean what I say, and I'm yer mammy, and that's the truth!"
"Mammy or no mammy," answered Cronk sullenly, "Flea goes to Lem, and ye
makes her a pork cake, which she can hog down at one gulp, for all I
care--the damn brat! I say it, and Lem says it. He'll dry her tears
after she's left hum, I'm a guessin'!"
Seeing the futility of arguing the question, Mrs. Cronk placed the fish
and beans on his plate and, with a shrill cry to Flea and Flukey, sat
down to eat.
* * * * *
As he stumbled along the rocks to the scow, Lem Crabbe uttered dark
threats against the girl who had bitten him. Her temper and the
spontaneous deed that had marked his face did not lessen his longing to
call her his woman, nor did it take the fever of desire from his veins.
It had strengthened his passion to such a degree that he now determined
to permit nothing to interfere with his plans. For at least three years
he had lived on the promise of Lon Cronk that he should have the girl
for weal or woe. Six months before he had offered Lon anything within
his power to set the day of Flea's coming to him nearer; but the thief
had shaken his head with the thought that Flea as a girl would not
suffer through indignities as she would as a woman. He felt no remorse
for the other girl that he had ruined so many years back; but he kept
out of the way of the crazy woman who sometimes crossed his path.
Tonight Lem entered the living-room of his boat, muttering an oath that
ended in a groan, dropped the basket on the table, and struck a match.
He was touching it to the candle, when a sound in the corner startled
him. He turned as he finished his task and saw the brilliant eyes of
Scraggy's cat as the animal sat perched on the woman's shoulder. The
presence of Screech Owl surprised him so that he did not move for a
moment, and she spoke first:
"I hain't seed ye in such a long time, Lem, that I thought I'd come and
let ye see my new kitty. He ain't but two years old."
Lem took a long breath. At first he thought that this must be Scraggy's
wraith come to haunt him after some horrible lonely death. He had far
rather deal with a living Scraggy than a dead one, and at once recovered
his composure.
"I hain't sent for ye, have I?" he asked, hanging up his coat. "And if I
ain't sent for ye, then ye needn't be sneakin' round."
"I've a lot to say to ye," sighed Scraggy mournfully, "and I thought as
how the night was better than the day. It's dark now."
"Then ye'd better trot hum," put in Lem, "if ye don't want another
beatin'."
"I ain't goin' to get no beatin' tonight," assured the woman, throwing
one arm over the bristling cat, "'cause I comed to tell ye somethin'."
Lem turned on her sharply; for Scraggy seemed to speak sanely.
"The bats be gone from my brain, Lem, and I want to tell ye somethin'
'bout Flea--Flea Cronk--and to tell ye that I be hungry."
"What about Flea?" snapped Lem. "Ye're bein' hungry ain't nothin' to do
with me. If ye got somethin' to tell me that I want to hear, lip it out,
and then scoot; for I ain't no time to bother with ye. My time's
precious, Scraggy--see?"
"Yep; but I ain't goin' to tell ye nothin' till ye give me somethin' to
eat."
She cast ravenous eyes on the small bundles Lem was placing on the
table.
"I'll give ye a piece of bread an' 'lasses," was the grudging answer.
"And mind ye, I wouldn't do that but I want to hear what ye say 'bout
Flea."
Avidly the woman ate the thick slice of bread and treacle, offering a
bit now and then to the cat. When she had devoured it Lem spoke:
"Now wash it down with this here water and tell me yer tale--and if ye
lie to me I'll kill ye!"
"I ain't a goin' to lie to ye--I'll tell ye the truth, I will!"
They both drank, the man from the bottle, the woman from a tin cup.
Presently she asked:
"Be ye goin' to marry Flea Cronk?"
"Who's been carryin' tales to ye?" shouted Lem, bounding from his chair.
"Ye better be a mindin' yer own affairs, or ye'll be havin' nothin' but
bats in yer head till ye die. Scoot for hum! Ye hear?"
"Yep; but I ain't goin' jest yet. Ye want to hear 'bout Flea, don't ye?"
"Yep."
"Then set down an' I'll tell ye."
Lem, growling impatience, seated himself.
"Flea Cronk ain't for you, Lem!"
"Who said as how she ain't?" demanded Lem, starting up. The cat spat
viciously, startled by the sudden movement. "I wish ye'd left that damn
cat to hum! I hain't no notion to be bit by no cat."
"Kitty won't bite ye if ye let me alone--will ye, Kitty? I ain't never
afeard of nothin' when I got him with me--be I, Kitty, pretty pussy?"
"Stop a cooin', ye bughouse woman," snarled Crabbe, "and tell me what ye
got to!"
"I said Flea wasn't for you."
"Ye lie!"
He made a desperate move toward her; but the cat rose threateningly, its
hair standing on end in a mound upon the humped back. Lem fell away with
an oath, and Scraggy, smiling wanly, petted the vicious brute.
"I said ye was to keep away, Lem. Wait till I get done. Flea's got to be
some 'un else's, not yers."
"Who's?" Lem's voice rose; but he did not advance toward her.
"I dunno; but I seed him. He rides a black horse, and has a fine, big
body and wears yeller boots. This afternoon when the day was darkenin' I
saw him from the railroad bed, and I saw Flea's spirit a travelin' with
him. I know that ye cared for her this long time back; but ye can't have
her."
"Who be the feller?" demanded Lem, frowning.
"I said I didn't know, and I don't."
"Were Flea with him?"
"Nope; not in her body, but jest in her spirit."
"Rats! Scoot along with ye, and take yer cat and get out!"
Scraggy had not noticed the blood oozing from Lem's, cheek until she had
received her dismissal. She passed a long, red, bare arm about the
animal and asked:
"Who bit yer cheek, Lem?"
"Who says it were bit?"
"I say it. I see white teeth a goin' in it. And I see red lips ag'in' it
with deadly hate."
Lem glanced forbiddingly at the woman. "The bats be a comin' again," he
muttered, "and there ain't no tellin' what she'll do. If it wasn't for
that blasted cat, I'd chuck her in the lake!"
But he dared not carry out his threat; for Scraggy was muttering to
herself, the cat rebuffing her rough handling.
In another minute she rose and made toward the steps. Her eyes fell upon
Lem, and sanity flashed back into them.
"I gived the boy to the woman--with golden hair," she stammered, as if
some power were forcing the words from her. "Ye would have killed him.
Yer kid be a livin', Lem!"
Truth rang in her statement, and the man got to his feet abruptly. He
had almost forgotten the black-haired little boy. Only when Scraggy's
name was mentioned to him did he remember. But the woman's words awoke a
new feeling in his heart, and mentally he counted back the years to the
date of his son's birth. Scraggy was still looking at him in
bewilderment, scarcely realizing that her story had been told to the
enemy of her child. She battled with a desire to blurt out the whole
truth; but the man's next words silenced her.
"Who be the golden-haired woman, Scraggy?" he wheedled.
"What woman--what golden-haired woman?"
"The woman who has our brat."
Like lightning a sudden joy filled Scraggy's heart. Her benumbed love
for Lem Crabbe grew mighty in a moment and rushed over her. His words
were softly spoken with an old-time inflection. She sank down with a
cry. She was so near him that the cat rose and spat venomously. Lem's
curses brought Scraggy out of her dreams.
"Chuck that damn cat to the bank," ordered Lem, "if ye want to stay with
me! Do ye hear? Chuck him out!"
"Nope, I ain't a goin' to! I'm goin' hum."
"Not till ye tell me where the boy is. Didn't ye throw him in the
river?"
"Nope."
"What did ye do with him?"
"Gived him away."
"Ye lie! That winder was open, and the river was dark as hell. Ye
throwed him in, I tell ye!"
"Nope; I gived him to a woman--"
She stopped and edged toward the stairs, all her old fear of him
returning. Reaching the short flight, she bounded up, the cat clinging
to her sleeve. Lem did not follow; for the crazy woman had frightened
him. He stood with hushed breath, holding grimly to the wooden table. A
voice from the deck of the scow came down to him.
"I gived him to a rich woman on a yacht. He's rich with mints of money.
Yer kid's a gentleman, Lem Crabbe!"
He sprang after her to the deck; but nothing greeted him save the cry of
an owl from the ragged rocks and the glistening green of the cat's eyes
as Scraggy hurried away.