MRS. WELCH ARRIVES AND GIVES HER FIRST LESSON IN ENTERPRISE
The next day, Still called to see Major Welch and made him a
proposition to sell him a part of the Red Rock place. On thinking
it over, he said, he believed he’d rather have the Major as a near
neighbor than to have him farther off, and he also believed that the
Major would find it safer to buy from him a place he had got under
decree of court, and had already held quietly for some time, than to
buy a place about which there might be a question and where he’d be
sure to incur the enmity of the old owners.
This reason, to judge from Major Welch’s expression, did not make much
impression on him. He did not wish to incur anyone’s enmity, he said.
But if he bought honestly, and became the lawful owner of a place, he
should not mind what others thought.
Still shook his head. Major Welch did not know these people, he said.
“And to be honest with you, Major, I feel as if having you right here
by me was a sort of protection. They daresn’t touch a gentleman who’s
been in the Union army, and who’s got big friends. And that’s one
reason I’d like to have you right close to me.”
His manner had something so sincere in it that it was almost pathetic.
So, as he made Major Welch what appeared to be really a very reasonable
proposal, not only as to the Stamper place, but also as to several
hundred acres of the Red Rock land adjoining, the Major agreed to take
it under advisement, and intimated that if the title should prove all
right, and Mrs. Welch should like the idea when she arrived he would
probably purchase.
Within a week or two following Major Welch’s trip to the county seat,
and Still’s offer to sell him the Stamper place and a part of Red Rock,
Mrs. Welch arrived. Mrs. Welch, in her impatience, could not wait for
the day she had set and arrived before she was expected. The telegram
she had sent had miscarried, and when she reached the station there was
no one present to meet her.
A country station is a sad place at best to one who has just left the
bustle and life of a city; but to be deposited, bag and baggage, in a
strange land and left alone without anyone to meet you, and without
knowing a soul, is forlorn to the last degree.
Strong as she was, Mrs. Welch, when the train whirled away and no one
came to her, felt a sense of her isolation strike her to the heart. A
two-horse carriage, the only one in sight, stood near a fence at some
little distance, and for a short while she thought it might have come
for her, and she waited for some moments; but presently a tall colored
man and a colored woman got into it. The man was glittering with a
shining silk-hat and a long broad-cloth coat; and the woman was in a
brand-new silk, and wore a vivid bonnet. Even then, it occurred to Mrs.
Welch that, perhaps, the man was the coachman, and, for a moment, she
was buoyed by hope, but she was doomed to disappointment. The man was
talking loudly, and apparently talked to be heard by all around him.
Mrs. Welch could hear something of what he said.
“We’re all right. We’ve got ’em down, and we mean to keep ’em down,
too, by ——!” A shout followed this.
“Yes, the bottom rail is on top, and we mean to keep it so till the
fence rots down, by ——!” Another burst of laughter. “You jest stick
to me and Leech, and we’ll bring you to the promised land. Yas, we’re
in the saddle, and we mean to stay there. We’ve got the Gov’ment behind
us, and we’ll put a gun in every colored man’s hand and give him, not
a mule, but a horse to ride, and we’ll dress his wife in silk and give
her a carriage to ride in, same’s my wife’s got.”
“Ummh! heah dat! Yes, Lord! Dat’s what I want,” cried an old woman,
jumping up and down in her ecstasy, to the amusement of the others.
“A _mule’s_ good ’nough for me—I b’lieve I ruther have mule ’n hoss,
I’se fotched up wid mules,” called out someone, which raised a great
laugh, and some discussion.
“Well, all right; you shall have your ruther. Everyone shall take his
pick. We’ll do the ridin’ now.”
Mrs. Welch was listening with keen interest. The speaker, who was
Nicholas Ash, the member from Red Rock, gathered up the reins. As he
did so, someone called:
“You better watch out for de K. K.’s,” at which there was a roar of
laughter.
“They’s the one’s I’m lookin’ for. I’m just fixed for ’em, by ——!”
shouted the statesman.
“Dee ain’ gwine meddle wid him,” said someone in the crowd, admiringly.
“Don’ know. I wouldn’ drive roun’ heah and talk ’bout ’um like he does,
not for dat mule he gwine gi’ me.” The laughter that greeted this
showed that others besides the speaker held the same views.
As the carriage drove off, Mrs. Welch’s heart sank. Her last hope was
gone. She was relieved somewhat by the approach of the station-agent,
who up to that time had been engaged about his duties, and who now,
seeing a lady standing outside, came up to her. Mrs. Welch told who she
was. He had heard that Mrs. Welch was expected, but did not know the
day. No telegrams, such as she spoke of, had passed through his office,
and it was an all-day’s ride up to Red Rock when the roads were bad.
He invited her to remain as his guest. “People right often did so when
they came, unexpected-like.”
Mrs. Welch thanked him, but thought she would prefer to go on, if she
could get a conveyance, even if she could go that night only as far as
Brutusville.
“Can’t I get some sort of wagon?” she inquired.
The agent gazed at her with a serenity that was in strong contrast with
her growing decisiveness. He did not know as she could, the mail-wagon
went over in the morning after the early train; people generally went
by that. Dill Herrick had a sort of a wagon, and folks sometimes took
it if they got there too late for the mail-wagon and were in too big a
hurry to wait till next day. But Dill was away that day. The wagon was
there, but Dill had gone away on his horse and would not be back till
next day.
All this was told in the most matter-of-fact way, as if it was quite as
much a thing of course as any other order of nature. Mrs. Welch was on
her metal. She would for once give this sleepy rustic an illustration
of energy; she would open his eyes.
“Well, is that the _only_ horse anywhere about here?” Her tone was
energetic, perhaps even exasperated. The agent was unmoved.
“No’m; Al Turley’s got a _sort_ of a horse, but he don’t work very
well. And Al ain’t got any wagon.”
This was too much for Mrs. Welch.
“Don’t you think we might get a horse of one man and the wagon and
harness of the other, and put them together?” she laughed.
The agent was not so sure. Al might be going to use his horse, and he
“didn’t work so well, anyhow.”
“But he does work?” Mrs. Welch persisted.
“Oh, yes’m—_some_. Al ploughs with him.”
“Well, now, let’s see what a little enterprise will do. I’ll pay well
for both horse and wagon.”
The agent went off, and after a time came back. Al would see what he
could do. But again he renewed his invitation to her to wait until
to-morrow. He was almost urgent; he painted the difficulties of the
journey in the gloomiest colors. Mrs. Welch now, however, had set her
mind on carrying out her plans. It had become a matter of principle
with her. She had come down here to show what energy would accomplish,
and she might as well begin now.
While she waited, she passed her time watching the negroes who were
congregated about a small building which seemed to be part store, part
bar-room, though from her observation the latter was its principal
office.
They were a loud and slovenly set, but appeared to be good-humored, and
rather like children engaged in rough horse-play; and when their voices
sounded most like quarrelling they would suddenly break out in loud
guffaws of laughter.
They were so boisterous at times that Mrs. Welch was glad when the
station-agent returned and asked if she wouldn’t go over and sit in
his house till Al came. She would have done so, but, as he evidently
intended to remain in the office, she thought it would be a good
opportunity to learn something about the negroes, and perhaps also to
teach him a little on her part.
“Were the negroes not improving?” she asked. Her companion’s whole
manner changed. She was surprised to see what a keen glance was
suddenly shot at her from under his light brows.
“Not as I can see—You can see ’em yonder for yourself.”
“Do they ever give you trouble?”
“Me?—No’m; don’t never give _me_ trouble,” he answered, negligently.
“Don’ give nobody as much trouble as they did.”
Mrs. Welch was just thinking this corroborative of her own views when
he, with his back to her, stooped for something, and the butt of a
pistol gleamed in his trousers pocket. Mrs. Welch froze up. She could
hardly refrain from speaking of it. She understood now the significance
of his speech. Just then there was quite a roar outside, followed by
the rattle of wheels, and the next instant Mrs. Welch’s vehicle drew
up to the door. For a moment Mrs. Welch’s heart failed her, and she
regretted the enterprise which had committed her to such a combination.
In the shafts of a rickety little wagon—the wheels of which wobbled
in every direction and made four distinct tracks—was a rickety little
yellow horse which at that moment, to the great diversion of the crowd
of negroes outside, was apparently attempting to back the wagon through
a fence. One instant he sat down in the shafts, and the next reared
and plunged and tried to go any way but the right way. Two negroes
were holding on to him while the others were shouting with laughter
and delight. The driver was a spare, dingy-looking countryman past
middle age, and was sitting in the wagon, the only creature in sight
that appeared to be unmoved by the excitement. Mrs. Welch’s heart sank,
and even after the plunging little animal was quieted she would have
declined to go; but it was too late now. She had never put her hand to
the plough and turned back.
“I can manage him,” said the driver serenely, seeing her hesitation.
And as there were many assurances that he was “all right now,” and
everyone was expecting her to get in, she summoned the courage and
climbed in.
It was a wearying drive. The roads were the worst Mrs. Welch had ever
seen, but, in one way, there was excitement enough. The tedium was
relieved by the occasional breaking of the harness and the frequent
necessity of dismounting to walk up the hill when the horse balked.
The day before had been very warm, and Mrs. Welch’s journey had not
been a comfortable one, and this last catastrophe capped the climax.
But she did not complain—she considered querulousness a sin—it was a
sign of weakness. Perhaps, she even found a certain satisfaction in her
discomfort. She had not come for comfort. But when the harness broke
for the half-dozenth time, she asked:
“Why don’t you keep your harness in good order?”
The somewhat apathetic look in the driver’s face changed.
“‘Tain’t my harness.”
“Well, whosever it is, why don’t he keep it in order?”
“You’ll have to ask Dill that,” he said, dryly.
When, a few minutes later, they came to their next stand she began
again:
“Why don’t you keep your roads repaired and rebuild your fences?”
“I don’t live about here.” This time the tone was a little shorter.
“Well, it’s the same all the way. It’s been just as bad from the start.
What is the reason?” she persisted.
“Indeed, ma’am I don’t know,” he drawled, “some says it’s the Yankee
carpet-baggers steals all the money—”
“Well, I don’t believe it—I believe it’s that the people are just
shiftless,” Mrs. Welch fired back.
The man, for answer, only jerked his horse: “Git up!”
“A dull fellow,” thought Mrs. Welch, and presently she essayed again:
“The Yankees are thrifty enough. In all the North there is not such a
road as this. I wish you could see their villages, how snug and trig
and shipshape they are: houses painted, fences kept up, everything nice
and neat.”
“Maybe, that’s where they puts the money they steals down here,” said
the driver, more dryly than before.
Mrs. Welch grew hot, but she could not help being amused too.
“It must be an accident, but I’ll write that home,” thought she.
She, however, had not much time to think. For just then they were
descending a steep hill and the breeching gave way, the wagon ran down
on the horse, and, without a second’s warning, the little steed, like
the Gadarine swine, ran violently down the steep hill, and on up the
road. The driver, who was swinging to him for life, was in the act of
assuring Mrs. Welch that she need not be scared as he could hold him,
when the rein broke and he went out suddenly backward over the wheel,
and Mrs. Welch herself must soon have followed him, had not a horseman
unexpectedly dashed up from behind and, spurring his fleet horse beside
the tearing little beast in the wagon, seized the runaway by the bridle
and brought it to a stand-still.
The transition from the expectation of immediate injury, if not death,
to absolute security is itself a shock, and even after the vehicle was
quite still, Mrs. Welch, who had been holding on to its sides with all
her might, could hardly realize her escape. Her first thought was for
the driver.
“Oh! I’m afraid that poor man is killed!” she exclaimed.
“Oh! he’s all right. I hope you are not hurt, madam?” said her rescuer,
solicitously. “I think I’d better hold the horse, or I would come and
take you out.”
Mrs. Welch assured him that she was not at all hurt, and she sprang out
and declared that she would go back at once and look after the driver.
Just then, however, the driver appeared, covered with dust, but not
otherwise injured.
“Well, I was just sayin’ I’d saved Al, anyhow,” he said as he came up.
“And I’m glad to find, Cap’n, you saved the others.”
“What are you going to do now?” Mrs. Welch asked when the driver had
finished talking to the gentleman, and begun to work at the harness.
“I’m going to take you to the Cote-house. I told you I’d do it.”
“Behind that horse!”
“Ain’t nothin’ the matter with the hoss—it’s the gear.”
“I think I’d better take her,” the young man who had rescued her said,
though with a little hesitation. “I can take her behind me, and get her
there by the through way.”
“What! On that horse? I can’t ride that creature,” declared Mrs. Welch
with wide-open eyes, looking at his handsome horse which was still
prancing from excitement.
“Why, he’s as quiet as a lamb—he’s carried double many a time, and
several ladies have ridden him. I could get you there much quicker than
you can drive. All you have to do is to hold on to me. Whoa, boy!”
“I know that sort of lamb,” declared Mrs. Welch, “What shall I do with
my trunk?”
The young man’s confidence was telling on her and she was beginning to
yield. The choice was between the two horses and she had had experience
with one.
“Oh! your trunk’s all right. I’ll carry your trunk on,” agreed the
driver. He had finished his mending and was gathering up his reins.
“Do you mean that you are going to get in there and try to drive that
horse again?”
“That’s what I’m agoin’ to do ’m.”
“Then I’ll get in, too,” declared Mrs. Welch, firmly. Her face was
pale, but there was a light in her eyes that made her suddenly
handsome. The two men looked at her and both began to expostulate.
“I made him come, and I don’t mean that he shall risk his neck for me
alone,” she declared, firmly, gathering up her skirts. But the horseman
suddenly interfered.
“I couldn’t let you be run away with again under my very eyes,” he
said, smiling, “I might be held accountable by your dau——by your
fam——your Government.”
Mrs. Welch was not accustomed to being talked to in this way; but she
liked him none the less for it. However, she would not yield.
It was finally agreed that a trial should be made first without her,
and then, if the horse went all right, she could get in. Both men
insisted on this, and as they explained that the driver could manage
the horse better without her, she temporized. Indeed she was obliged to
do so, for the young man who had rescued her told her plainly, though
politely, that he would not allow her to get in the wagon again until
the experiment had been made.
[Illustration: “I COULDN’T LET YOU BE RUN AWAY WITH AGAIN UNDER MY VERY
EYES,” HE SAID.]
After a little time, as the horse appeared to have been sobered by
his unwonted exertion, she was allowed to mount once more, and so
proceeded, the young gentleman riding close beside the horse, to
prevent any further trouble.
Mrs. Welch at last had time to look at her deliverer. He was a tall,
fine-looking young fellow, with the face and address of a gentleman.
A slouch hat, much weather-stained, and a suit of clothes by no means
new, at first sight made his dress appear negligent, but his voice was
as refined as any Mrs. Welch had ever heard; his manner was a mixture
of deference and protection, and his face, with clear, gray eyes, firm
mouth, and pleasant smile, gave him an air of distinction and was one
of the most attractive she had ever seen.
He had introduced himself to her when he first spoke; Captain Somebody,
he said, but as she had been rather agitated at that moment she had not
caught the name, and she waited until he should mention it again or
she should get a chance to ask the driver. When she did ask him, she
understood him to say Captain Naline.
After a time, as the horse was now quiet and there were no more bad
hills, the gentleman said he had an engagement, and would have to ride
on. So, as Mrs. Welch declared herself now entirely easy in her mind,
he bade her good-evening and galloped on, and soon afterward Mrs. Welch
was met by her husband on his way over to the station with a carriage.