"An" if I don"t want to--get busy?" Buck"s dark eyes were alight with a curious, intense warmth.
The Padre shrugged and pushed his pipe into the corner of his mouth.
"There"s nothing more to be said," he replied.
"But ther" is, Padre. There sure is," cried Buck, stepping over to him and laying one hand on the great shoulder nearest him. "I get all you say. I"ve got it long ago. You bin worryin" to say all this since ever you got back from sellin" the farm. An" it"s like you. But you an" me don"t jest figger alike. You got twenty more years of the world than me, so your eyes look around you different. That"s natural. You"re guessin" that hill is an opportunity for me. Wal, I"m guessin" it ain"t. Mebbe it is for others, but not for me. I got my opportunity twenty years ago, an" you give me that opportunity. I was starvin" to death then, an" you helped me out. You"re my opportunity, an" it makes me glad to think of it. Wher" you go I go, an" when we both done, why, I guess it won"t be hard to see that what I done an" what you done was meant for us both to do. We"re huntin" pelts for a livin" now, an"
when the time comes for us to quit it, why, we"ll both quit it together, an" so it"ll go on. It don"t matter wher" it takes us. Say,"
he went on, turning away abruptly. "Guess I"ll jest haul the drinkin"
water before I get."
The Padre turned his quiet eyes on the slim back.
"And what about when you think of marrying?" he asked shrewdly.
Buck paused to push the boiler off the stove. He shook his head and pointed at the sky.
"Guess the sun"s gettin" up," he said.
The Padre laughed and prepared to depart.
"Where you off to this morning?" he inquired presently.
"That gal ain"t got a hired man, yet," Buck explained simply, as he picked up his saddle. Then he added ingenuously, "Y" see I don"t guess she ken do the ch.o.r.es, an" the old woman ain"t got time to--for talkin"."
The Padre nodded while he bent over the breech of his Winchester. He had no wish for Buck to see the smile his words had conjured.
Buck swung his saddle on to his shoulder and pa.s.sed out of the hut in the direction of the building he had converted into a barn. And when he had gone the Padre looked after him.
"He says she"s handsome, with red-gold hair and blue eyes," he murmured. Then a far-away look stole into his steady eyes, and their stare fixed itself upon the doorway of the barn through which Buck had just vanished. "Curious," he muttered. "They"ve nicknamed her "Golden," which happened to be a nickname--her father gave her."
He stood for some moments lost in thought. Then, suddenly pulling himself together, he shouldered his rifle and disappeared into the woods.
CHAPTER XIV
A WHIRLWIND VISIT
Joan was idling dispiritedly over her breakfast. A long, wakeful night had at last ended in the usual aching head and eyes ringed with shadows. She felt dreary, and looked forward drearily to inspecting her farm--which, in her normal state, would have inspired nothing but perfect delight--with something like apprehension.
Her beginning in the new life had been swamped in a series of disastrous events which left her convinced of the impossibility of escape from the painful shadow of the past. All night her brain had been whirling in a perfect chaos of thought as she reviewed her advent to the farm. There had been nothing, from her point of view, but disaster upon disaster. First her arrival. Then--why, then the "luck"
of the gold find. In her eyes, what was that but the threat of disaster to come? Had not her aunt told her that this extraordinary luck that she must ever bring was part of the curse shadowing her life? Then the coincidence of her nickname. It was truly hideous. The very incongruity of it made it seem the most terrible disaster of all.
Surely, more than anything else, it pointed the hand of Fate. It was her father"s nickname for her, and he--he had been the worst sufferer at her hands.
The whole thing seemed so hopeless, so useless. What was the use of her struggle against this hateful fate? A spirit of rebellion urged her, and she felt half-inclined to abandon herself to the life that was hers; to harden herself, and, taking the cup life offered her, drain it to the dregs. Why should she waste her life battling with a force which seemed all-powerful? Why should she submit to the terror of it? What were the affairs of these others to her? She was not responsible. Nothing in the whole sane world of ethics could hold her responsible.
The spirit of rebellion, for the moment, obtained the upper hand. She had youth; Fortune had bestowed a face and figure upon her that she need not be ashamed of, and a healthy capacity for enjoyment. Then why should she abandon all these gifts because of a fate for which she was in no way responsible?
She pushed back her chair from the table, and crossed to the open front door.
The sun was not yet up, and the morning air was dewy and fresh with perfumes such as she had never experienced in St. Ellis. It was--yes, it was good to be alive on such a day in spite of everything.
She glanced out over the little farm--her farm. Yes, it was all hers, bought and paid for, and she still had money for all her needs and to do those things she wanted to do. She turned away and looked back into the little parlor with its simple furnishings, its mannish odds and ends upon the wall. She heard the sounds of the old housekeeper busy in her heavy, blundering way with the domestic work of her home. She had so many plans for the future, and every one in its inception had given her the greatest delight. Now--now this hideous skeleton had stepped from its cupboard and robbed her of every joy. No, she would not stand it. She would steel her heart to these stupid, girlish superst.i.tions. She would--
Her gloomy reflections were abruptly cut short. There was a rush and clatter. In a perfect whirlwind of haste a horseman dashed up, dragged his horse back on to its haunches as he pulled up, and flung out of the saddle.
It was the boy, Montana Ike. He grabbed his disreputable hat from his ginger head, and stared agape at the vision of loveliness he had come in search of.
"Good--good-morning," Joan said, hardly knowing how to greet this strange apparition.
The boy nodded, and moistened his lips as though consumed by a sudden thirst.
For a moment they stared stupidly at each other. Then Joan, feeling the awkwardness of the situation, endeavored to relieve it.
"Daylight?" she exclaimed interrogatively, "and you not yet out at the--where the gold is?"
Ike shook his head and grinned the harder. Then his tongue loosened, and his words came with a sudden rush that left the girl wondering.
"Y" see the folks is eatin" breakfast," he said. "Y" see I jest cut it right out, an" come along. I heard Pete--you know Blue Gra.s.s Pete--he"s a low-down Kentuckian--he said he tho"t some un orter git around hyar case you was queer after last night. Sed he guessed he would. Guess I"ll git back "fore they"re busy. It"ll take "em all hustlin" to git ahead o" me."
"That"s very kind," Joan replied mechanically. But the encouragement was scarcely needed. The boy rushed on, like a river in flood time.
"Oh, it ain"t zac"ly kind!" he said. "Y" see they"re mostly a low-down lot, an" Pete"s the low-downest. He"s bad, is Pete, an" ain"t no bizness around a leddy. Then Beasley Melford. He"s jest a durned skunk anyways. Don"t guess Curly Saunders ain"t much account neither. He makes you sick to death around a whisky bottle. Abe Allinson, he"s sort o" mean, too. Y" see Abe"s Slaney d.i.c.k"s pardner, an" they bin workin" gold so long they ain"t got a tho"t in their gray heads "cept gold an" rot-gut rye. Still, they"re better"n the Kid. The Kid"s soft, so we call him Soapy. Guess you orter know "em all right away. Y" see it"s easy a gal misbelievin" the rights o" folks."
Joan smiled. Something of the man"s object was becoming plain.
She studied his face while he was proceeding to metaphorically nail up each of these men"s coffins, and the curious animal alertness of it held her interest. His eyes were wide and restless, and a hardness marked the corners of his rather loose mouth. She wondered if that hardness were natural, or whether it had been acquired in the precarious life that these people lived.
"It"s just as well to know--everybody," she said gently.
"Oh, it sure is, in a country like this," the man went on confidently.
"That"s why I come along. Fellers chasin" gold is a h.e.l.l of a bad outfit. Y" see, I ain"t bin long chasin" gold, an" I don"t figger to keep at it long neither. Y" see, I got a good claim. Guess it"s sure the best. We drew lots for "em last night. It was the Padre fixed that up. He"s a great feller, the Padre. An" I got the best one--wher" the Padre found that nugget you got. Oh, I"m lucky--dead lucky! Guess I"ll git a pile out o" my claim, sure. A great big pile. Then I"m goin" to live swell in a big city an" have a great big outfit of folks workin" fer me. An" I"ll git hooked up with a swell gal. It"ll be a bully proposition. Guess the gal"ll be lucky, cos I"ll have such a big pile."
The youngster"s enthusiasm and conceit were astounding. Nor could Joan help the coldness they inspired in her voice.
"She will be lucky--marrying you," she agreed. "But--aren"t you afraid you"ll miss something if the others get out to the hill before you? I mean, they being such a bad lot."
The man became serious for a second before he answered. Then, in a moment, his face brightened into a grin of confidence.
"Course you can"t trust "em," he said, quite missing Joan"s desire to be rid of him. "But I don"t guess any of "em"s likely to try monkey tricks. Guess if any feller robbed me I"d shoot him down in his tracks. They know that, sure. Oh, no, they won"t play no monkey tricks. An" anyway, I ain"t givin" "em a chance."
He moved toward his horse and replaced the reins over its neck in spite of his brave words. Joan understood. She saw the meanness underlying his pretended solicitation for her well-being. All her s.e.x instincts were aroused, and she quite understood the purpose of the somewhat brutal youth.
"You"re quite right to give them no chances," she said coldly. "And now, I s"pose, you"re going right out to your claim?"
"I am that," exclaimed the other, with a gleam of cupidity in his shifty eyes. "I"m goin" right away to dig lumps of gold fer to buy di"monds fer that gal."