_POKER-JIM._
Two motherless girls, and only a brother a few years older left toprotect them.
When the father died, the mother had turned the old homestead--for there_are_ houses in San Francisco fifteen and twenty years old--into asource of revenue from which she provided for the children. The fatherhad left nothing save debts--gambling debts--and the fraternity had notcalled on the widow to settle these. For her own existence she seemed toneed nothing--absolutely nothing--but the caresses of her children, andthe happiness and contentment mirrored in their eyes. When she died thegirls were old enough, and competent, to look after the house, which themother had made a pleasant home to many a "roomer" who had come astranger to the city, had been badgered and harassed by flint-eyed,stony-hearted landladies, and had at last, by some good fortune, foundhis way into the precincts of the widow's cozy, quiet walls. The sonhad, through the influence of some of the roomers, obtained a positionin a wholesale liquor establishment, where the salary was high, and--thetemptation great.
That the two young girls should carry on the house just as their dyingmother had left it to them, was something no one in San Francisco wouldthink of commenting upon. And as the proverbial chivalry of theCalifornian would prompt him to suffer inconvenience and loss ratherthan to deprive women in any way thrown on his care or his protection,they missed only their mother's love and presence in the home, whichremained home to them still. After a while the painful truth dawned onthem that their brother was being weaned away from it. His evenings werenow but seldom spent with them in the little sitting-room whoseivy-mantled bay-window looked out on the garden, where the flower-bedshad moved closer up to the house as the lots became more valuable, andthe orchard had been cut down to a few trees on the grass-plot.
At first the excuse was, that customers from the country, buying heavilyof the firm, had a right to expect attentions not strictly of a businessnature from him, its chief representative. Then his absence from homegrew more protracted, and often midnight tolled from St. Mary's beforehis unsteady feet mounted the door-steps. One night, a lady, attractedto the balcony by an unusually brilliant moon, when she awoke from hermidnight slumbers, wonderingly saw a carriage drive up to the housewhere the two sisters lay in peaceful sleep. She was too far off to seewhether there was a number on the carriage, or what the number was.Neither could she distinguish the face of the driver, nor that of thegentleman who assisted another, whom she rightly judged to be EdwardAshburne, from the carriage into the house. That the face of the one whosupported, or rather carried, young Edward, was deadly white, framed inby a heavy black beard, was all she could tell. "Poor girls!" shesoliloquized; "better that the boy was dead than turn drunkard, andgamble, like his father."
The carriage drove off rapidly after the gentleman--who, as she thought,had helped Ned to the door and rang the bell--had re-entered it; andcarriage-driver and ghostly-faced gentleman could never be found orheard of afterward.
What the neighbor-lady heard still further that same night was, first,the furious barking, then the doleful howling of the young Newfoundlanddog, which the Misses Ashburne had recently "adopted," and, soon after,a wild, heart-rending cry.
"The horrid boy!" she continued, full of sympathy; "is he so beastlydrunk? Could he have struck one of his sisters?"
Aye, good woman; struck them both a terrible blow, but not with hishand, for that lay powerless by his side. And the eyes were sightlessthat stared vacantly into their own, as they bent over him where he laystretched out on the hall-floor--his coat folded under his head, hislatch-key close at hand. Only a painful gasp answered their pitifulentreaties to "speak once more;" and before the sympathizing inmates ofthe stricken house could remove him to his bed, he had breathed hislast.
"Beaten to a jelly," sententiously remarked one of the men, under hisbreath, to another, as they left the chamber to the sisters and the moreintimate friends of the family.
"Some woman scrape--you can bet on that," was the response. And theyjoined the others in their efforts to discover the perpetrators of thedastard deed.
But no clue was found, and after a while San Francisco forgot thesisters and their sorrow; and one day, when the neighbor-lady told herever-fresh story to a new-made acquaintance, she added: "And now theyhave gone, the poor girls, and nobody knows where."
From the balcony of the two-story frame hotel-building a young girl waswatching the sunlight sinking behind the dimly-outlined range of theCoast Mountains. Perhaps her eyes roved so far away because theimmediate surrounding of the hotel was not attractive; though thestreets devoted to private residences of this little city--to which therailroad was fast making its way--were pleasing to the eye, and ratherSouthern in their features. The orange, ripening in one cluster with thefragrant blossom, as well as the tall-growing oleander, emboweringcottage alike with mansion, spoke of oppressive weather in the summer,and promised glorious, balmy days during the short California winter.
Had the girl, at whose feet a large Newfoundland dog lay sleeping,stepped to the end of the balcony which ran along the whole length ofthe house, she could have followed the course of the Feather River,which but a short distance away mingled its clear waters with the muddywaves of the Yuba. But she was evidently not engaged in a study of the"lay of the land," though her eyes seemed to follow with some interestthe direction of a particular road leading to the hotel. Directly shespoke to the dog, touching him lightly with her toe: "Cruiser, old dog,come, wake up, they are coming."
From out of the cloud of dust rolling up to the hotel emerged hacks andstages well filled with passengers, whom the railroad had brought fromSan Francisco to Yuba City, and who thus continued to this place andonward. Partly sheltered from sight by the boughs of a tree shading thebalcony, the young girl leaned forward to scan the faces of the peoplewho left hacks and coaches and hastened into the house to brush and washoff a little of the biting, yellowish dust clinging to them. It seemedto be a sort of pastime with the girl and her four-footed companion,this "seeing the people get in;" for she made remarks and observationson the looks and manners of people which the dog seemed fully tounderstand, for he would reply, sometimes with a wag of his bushy tail,sometimes with a short, sharp bark, and then again with a long yawn of_ennui_. Almost the last passenger who alighted was a gentleman whoselarge black eyes and raven hair would have thrilled the bosom of anymiss of sixteen--as, indeed, they startled our young friend, althoughshe might have been two or three years above and beyond that interestingage. The bough that she had drawn down to screen herself behind, sprangup with a sudden snap, which caused the upturning of a pale and rathersevere face, from which looked those black eyes with a grave, ratherthan sad, expression. A sudden thought or memory--she did not knowwhich--shot through her brain as her eyes looked down into his; it wasonly a flash, but it made her think of her childhood, of her mother--shehardly knew of what.
"Cruiser, old dog," she said; but the dog had squeezed his head underthe railing as far as he could get it, as if making a desperate attemptto get a nearer look at the stranger. When he drew his head back heraised himself, laid his forepaws on the railing, and looked hard intothe girl's face, with a low, questioning whine. "It's nothing, old boy;you don't know him. Come, now, we'll see if we can help Julia about thehouse."
Down at the bar, mine host of the "Eagle Exchange" was welcoming hisguests, nerving himself to this task with frequent libations, offered bythe fancy bartender, and paid for by such of his guests as had made the"Exchange" their stopping-place before, and knew of the landlord'sweakness. Stepping from the bar-room into the reading-room, to look forany stray guest who might have failed to offer at the shrine, he met thedark-eyed stranger face to face, and recoiled, either from some suddensurprise or the effects of deep potations, steadying himself against thedoor-frame as he reeled. The stranger, continuing on his way to thestaircase, seemed hardly to notice him, involuntarily turning his headaway as if unwilling to view so fair-looking a specimen of humanitydegrading himself to the level of the
brute.
Later at night we find our young friend, together with her older sister,in the family sitting-room of the hotel. Annie, the younger, is softlystroking the sister's hair as though she were the elder, endeavoring tocomfort a fretting, troubled child. No word was spoken until thehusband-landlord entered the room. Julia gave a nervous start, whileAnnie touched her gently and soothingly on the shoulder. Mr. Davisonwas a great deal soberer than could be expected; and his wife gave asigh of relief when she found that he was only maudlin drunk.
"Ah, there you are, both together again--as affectionate a pair ofsisters as ever I see. Well, well, Julia, girl, maybe I ain't made youas good a husband as you deserve to have, but I'll see that our littlesister there is well provided for. By-the-by, Annie, when Tom Montriecomes down from the mountains he'll find good sport: one of the nicestfellows you ever saw has come down from San Francisco, and I'll try toget him to spend at least part of the winter with us. Oh, he's on thesport," in answer to an anxious look from Julia, "but he's a mightyclever fellow--genteel, and all that sort of thing. Tom's made a prettygood stake again this summer, I know; and it'll be a good plan to keephim well entertained while Annie is away teaching the ragged youngone--for I suppose she'll insist on keeping on in that stupid school,when she might just as well marry Tom at once and set herself and herpoor relations up in the world."
The girl had listened in silence to this long tirade, a burning spot oneach cheek alone showing that she heard at all what was said. It wasJulia's turn to be elder sister now.
"Annie," she said, "I forgot to tell Peter that he had better use moreyeast for the muffins he sets to-night; will you please to tell him soas you go up-stairs?" Drawing her fingers through Annie's curly brownhair, and looking affectionately into her deep hazel eyes, she kissedher good-night; and the sister silently departed, followed up-stairs byCruiser, who kept watch through the night on his rug outside her door.
To discover the cause of Mr. Davison's unusual sobriety we must go backfor an hour or two. When night had set in, the stranger from SanFrancisco, who had registered his name as J. B. Peyton, was promenadingon the porch in front of the hotel, quietly smoking his Havana andthoughtfully regarding the stars. Presently the host opened the door ofthe reading-room, stepped out on the porch, and closed it behind himagain, as though to keep the chilly autumn air from striking the inmatesof the room. Approaching the stranger, he eyed him as keenly as hissomewhat dimmed vision, aided by the sickly light of a pale young moon,would permit, and then exclaimed, in a tone intended to be cordial:
"It's you, by ----, it is! Give us your hand, and tell us how you areand how the rest of them have fared."
The stranger, in a voice which, like his eyes, was grave rather thansad, replied, somewhat stiffly:
"I am quite well, as you see; whom else you are inquiring for, I don'tknow." Then, warming up suddenly, he went on, in a tone of bitterreproach: "And you have married one of these poor girls? You should nothave done it had I known of it, depend on it."
"Well, well, wasn't that the best I could do for them?" In his tonebravado and reason were struggling for the mastery. "To be sure," hecontinued, quailing before the flashing eye of his companion, "I havenot had much luck of late; everything seems going against me--I amalmost ruined."
"You have ruined yourself. Why should _you_ have luck?" He was silent amoment, busying himself with his cigar; then he continued; "Where isCeleste? What became of her?"
"Curse the ungrateful, perjured wretch!" answered the other, grindinghis teeth with sudden rage; "when my luck first turned she went off,mind you, with a ship-captain, to China. She knew she could never livewhere I was. I'd--"
"Do with her as you did with--"
"Hush!" whispered the shivering host; "don't speak so loud! Wasn't theresomething stirring in the tree there?" And, like Macbeth seeing Banquo'sghost, he started backward to the well-lit room.
It is generally accepted that life in California, particularly inearlier days, was full of excitement and change, every day bringing withit some horrible occurrence or startling event. Perhaps, at the date ofmy story--about 1860--this excitement had somewhat cooled down; orperhaps it was the life of our young friend only that had flowed alongso evenly while at this place. The "horrible occurrence" of her day wasthe ever-recurring period of her brother-in-law's intoxication,sometimes maudlin, sometimes violent, but always fraught with bitternessand sorrow to her on account of her gentle, long-suffering sister. The"startling event" was the coming in of the hacks and coaches from therailroad terminus, which she watched, half-hidden by the tree, andtogether with her almost inseparable companion, Cruiser, just as she haddone that day when Mr. Peyton made his first appearance at this place.Perhaps her interest in the arrivals was even greater now than it hadbeen before. Often, when about to turn from her post of observation, apair of grave black eyes, upturned from the porch below, seemed asking aquestion of her that she vainly puzzled her brain to understand. Once ortwice she had started to go to her sister's room at such times, tryingto frame the question she seemed to read in the stranger's eye. But thequestion remained unframed and unanswered; and day after day Annietaught her little pupils at school, came home and helped Julia about thehouse, and in the evening encountered the sphinx that baffled all herdreamy speculations.
It had been a matter of displeasure to her brother-in-law for some timethat the arrival of the stage from Laporte was not noticed by Annie withthe same degree of interest as the coming-in of the passengers from theopposite direction.
"Tom'll be coming some day," he said, grumblingly, to his wife, "andthat fine sister of yours will take no more notice of his arrival thanif a Chinaman had come!"
And so it proved. One morning as Annie, followed by Cruiser with thelunch-basket, was descending the front steps of the hotel porch, Mr.Davison hastened to block up her road with his portly figure.
"Annie," he spoke majestically, "how often must I tell you that I cannotallow my sister-in-law to plod over to that school-house and bother withthose dirty urchins any more? Let them find some one else, for you willnot teach there much longer. Come, Cruiser, give us the basket! Annie'llstay at home to-day, at least."
"Don't trouble Cruiser unnecessarily," replied Annie, laughingpleasantly; "I haven't fallen heir to any fortune of late, that I amaware of, and until I do, I'm afraid that both I and Cruiser will haveto follow our old vocation."
"You know that a fortune awaits you, Annie," was the persuasiveresponse, "if you would only stretch out your hand for it. How will Tomreceive the information, when he gets up this morning, that you have notpaid him the attention to remain home for one day, at least?"
"I hope you will not conceal from Mr. Montrie that it is a matter of theutmost indifference to me how he receives the information."
"Your sister will talk to you about this matter," blustered the man. "Agirl like you to throw away her chances!"
"I will listen patiently to anything my sister may have to say to me."And Annie, turning, was almost confronted by Mr. Peyton, coming in froman early walk. He lifted his hat with something like reverence, and drewaside to let the girl and her four-footed companion pass.
She did listen patiently to what her sister said to her that evening inthe little family sitting-room just back of the ladies'-parlor, on theground floor. One door of this room opened out on a porch, on the otherside of which rose the blank wall of another apartment, built of frame,with only one window looking out towards the street, and the dooropposite this window. Between this and the bar-room lay dining-room,pantry, and kitchen; so that no one from the bar-room, which lay back ofthe reading-room, on the other side of the entrance hall, could see thisroom with the single door and window.
In California parlance, "the tiger" was kept in this room. If we couldhave looked into this gaily-furnished apartment about the time Annie wason her way to her room, having left her sister's presence withtear-stained eyes, we should have beheld Mr. Peyton's pale, clear-cutface bending over a table, around which a numb
er of men were seated. Thevarious accoutrements of the game spread out before him, denoted thatthis man, with the well-modulated musical voice, with the soft, graveexpression of countenance, with the quiet, gentlemanly bearing, was "theowner of the tiger."
The individual occupying the seat just across from Mr. Peyton was hisopposite in every respect. A tall, broad-shouldered mountain-man, whoserusty beard and careless dress showed that, while "making his stake" inthe mountains, he had bestowed but little attention on his personalappearance. No one could have disputed his claims to good looks, thoughhis glittering eyes seemed small, and were certainly too deep-set; andwhen he laughed, the long white teeth gave a kind of hyena-look to thewhole face. Large hands, always twitching, and clumsy feet, forevershuffling, gave him the appearance of a bear restlessly walking thelength of his chain. Altogether, in looks and bearing, he contrastedunfavorably with Mr. Peyton; the one, smooth and polished as ivory; theother, rough and uncouth as the grizzly of his mountain home.
But Mr. Davison, who had softly opened the door, and stood silentlyregarding him a moment, seemed fairly in love with Mr. Montrie's broadshoulders and matted hair--so gently did he touch the one, and strokethe other, as he whispered into the ample ear something which causedthe small eyes to flicker with satisfaction and delight. Then, movingaround the table to where Mr. Peyton sat, he laid his hand on thisgentleman's shoulder, but much more timidly, though the faro-dealerlooked delicate, almost effeminate, compared to the huge proportions ofthe man from the mountains.
"Jim--" he said, but corrected himself--"Mr. Peyton!" in an audiblewhisper, "I don't want you to be hard on that man yonder; he'll soon beone of the family, you know."
The information was given with many winks and nods and leers, such asmen in the first stages of intoxication are generally prolific of.
A single keen glance from the eagle-eyes of the gambler was sent acrossto where the man from the mountains sat; but it sank to the depths ofthe man's heart, and went searching through every corner. The nextmoment Mr. Peyton was deeply engrossed in the "lay-out" before him.
It was long after midnight before "the tiger" was left to darkness andsolitude in the little room at the rear of the "Eagle Exchange." In thecourse of the following morning, when Mr. Davison's brain was prettywell cleared of the fumes of last night's potations, and before theearly-morning drams had yet materially affected it, he was made uneasyby the approach of Mr. Peyton, of whom he stood in unaccountable dread.
"Have a cigar, Henry?" Mr. Peyton extended one of the choice kind healways smoked himself; and then, by a motion of the hand, commanded thenow thoroughly sobered man into a chair beside his own. The reading-roomwas deserted, and the paper Mr. Peyton had picked up was carelessly heldso that the fancy bar-keeper, who was twirling his elegant blackmoustache, could not see his lips move.
"Henry," Mr. Peyton began, without further preliminaries, "if you allowthat man from the mountains to press his attentions on yoursister-in-law against her wishes, I'll break every bone in your body."
The threat seemed almost ridiculous from the delicate, white-fingeredstranger to this burly, overgrown piece of humanity; yet Mr. Davison didnot consider it so, for he answered, with pleading voice and cringingmanner:
"But if he is to marry her--"
"Marry her!" repeated the gambler, while a flash, such as the gate ofhell might emit were it opened for a moment, shot from his eyes; "Iwould kill him first; yes, and tell the girl who it was that--"
"And send them both out on the world again, to work hard for theirbread, as I found them?"
"Better that a thousand times than that Annie should be made miserable,like her sister, by being tied to a worthless sot, or a heartlessdesperado."
"You're hard on me, Jim," whined the other. "If the girl marries thisman, a part of his money will go towards paying off my debts, andsetting me straight again in this house. He'll be good to her; andwhat's the harm to anybody? You don't want the girl--I know your queernotions of honor."
"Hush!" He sprang to his feet, and for the first time his voicethrilled, and a quick flush darkened his brow. "Not another word; but sosure as you drive the girl to this step, so sure will I tell her sisterwho you are." His figure appeared tall as he moved away, and hisshoulders looked broad and strong as those of the man whom he leftcowering in his chair behind him.
This interview over, Mr. Peyton seemed utterly oblivious of theexistence of the family at the "Eagle Exchange." Mr. Davison said tohimself, with an inward chuckle, that he had "gotten round Jim before,in spite of his keen eyes, and was likely to do so again;" while Annie,still and white, looked like a bird wearied out with being chased, andready to fall into the snarer's net. Once or twice, in meeting Mr.Peyton, it seemed to him that her hazel eyes were raised to his, with amute appeal in them; and at such times he lifted his hand hastily to hisforehead, where a heavy strand of the raven hair fell rather low intoit, near the right temple, as if to assure himself of the perfectarrangement of his hair.
But in spite of all of Mr. Davison's cunning and contriving, Mr. Montrieevidently made slow progress in his suit; for his visits to "the tiger"grew longer and more frequent; and soon it came to be the order of theday that the afternoons, as well as the nights, were spent in the littleroom across the porch. A number of new arrivals from the variousmining-camps in the mountains lent additional interest to the games; andbets were higher, and sittings longer, day after day. It was impossibleto tell from Mr. Peyton's unchanging face whether luck had been with himor against him; but Mr. Montrie seemed all of a sudden elated, eitherwith the winnings he had made off "the tiger," or the success he had metwith in another quarter. Whichever it might be, Mr. Peyton, comingunexpectedly upon him, as he sat in close consultation with Mr. Davisonone morning, could not have heard the mountain-man's invitation to drinkto his luck, for he passed straight on without heeding the invitation.Mr. Davison quaked a little before the sharp glance thrown over to him;"but then," he consoled himself, "d---- it, Jim is such a curiousmortal, and, like as not, he's forgotten all about it; he don't care forthe girl, no how."
The afternoon saw them again gathered around "the tiger," the man fromthe mountains betting with a kind of savage recklessness that boded nogood to those who knew him well. He had not forgotten the slight Mr.Peyton had put on him in the morning, according to his code of honor,but was casting about in his mind for some manner in which to expresshis indignation.
"What do you want to be quarrelling to-day for, Tom?" asked alately-arrived mountain-friend of him. "I see that gal of your'n thismorning; took a good look at her when she went to school; and, bless mystars, if you don't know better than to grumble all the while on thevery day when--"
"Your interest in the game seems to be flagging, gentlemen," came Mr.Peyton's voice across the table, with a somewhat hasty utterance; "shallwe close?"
An energetic negative from the rest of the company decided the question;but Mr. Montrie, determined to play marplot, said:
"For my part, I'm tired of buckin' agin 'the tiger.' 'Pears to me a gameof poker might be healthy for a change."
Without losing a word, Mr. Peyton gathered up the faro-kit before him,and laid cards on the table. Mr. Montrie's friend, a slow-spoken,easy-going man, called Nimble Bill, was seated at the right of thisgentleman, across from Mr. Peyton's accustomed seat at the table; whilebeside Mr. Peyton sat two or three others, who had "come down in thesame batch" with Mr. Montrie's friend.
The game progressed quietly for some time, Mr. Montrie alone manifestinguneasiness by frequently consulting his watch and casting longingglances through the window.
"Tom, old fellow, I believe you're regularly 'struck' at last," laughedhis friend. "It's mighty nigh time for that school to let out, I know;so we'll let you off easy, and say no more about it; ha, ha, ha!" and heturned for approval to the snickering men at the table.
Just then Mr. Peyton raised his hand quickly to his head, and the lightfrom the diamond on his finger flashed directly into the man's eyes.
/> "By-the-by, that's a mighty fine diamond you've got; I shouldn't mindgetting one to present to Tom's wife when he gets married. Now, whatmought be about the price of one like that, Mr.--what did you say thegentleman's name was?" and he turned to his friend's working face.
"'Poker-Jim,' I should say," shouted the angered man, "from the way he'sbeen handling them cards this afternoon."
There was a hasty movement among those present; the motion of Mr.Peyton's hand, as he threw it quickly behind him, was but too wellunderstood by all, and hurried steps rushed toward the door. When thesmoke had almost cleared away he was almost alone with his victim; onlythe friend, against whom the dying man had fallen, was in the roombeside him. But from the outside approached heavy steps, while a shrillfemale voice sent shriek after shriek through the house. Mr. Davison'sashy face appeared at the door:
"Oh, Jim! what have you done? Let's lay him down here easy, Bill; andnow run for the doctor, quick; and tell the other fellows to keep still,if they can."
"Go to your wife, Henry," ordered Mr. Peyton, with extended hand; "thepoor thing is in hysterics."
A look into the gambler's face told the man he must obey; but in hisperturbation, he did not see the white figure that glided by him intothe room.
"Why did you do it?" asked the girl, wringing her hands, but lookinginto _his_ eyes without a glance at the prostrate body.
"I had to kill the brute to keep him from marrying you, Annie. How couldI let you fall into his hands--you, the daughter of the woman whosheltered me and gave me a home, when, a poor deserted boy, I laybleeding from a brutal blow on the street. Annie, do you not know me?"He raised the strand of hair that always lay low on his forehead, and adeep scar appeared under it.
"Jimmy!" she cried, between surprise and joy. "But, oh!" she continued,sadly, "I have found you but to lose you again. You must go, quick,before they can send the sheriff or the doctor."
"We must part; yes, and perhaps never meet again on earth. But, ere wepart, I must give your heart another wound. Your brother--it was Iwho--"
"Murdered him!" shrieked the girl. "Cruiser!" she called, wildly; andthe faithful animal, as if knowing the import of the conversation in theroom, threw himself with a fierce, yelping bark against the door.
"Hold!" and he caught the girl as she sprang to open it. "Hear me out,while I have yet time to speak. It was I who brought him home, so thathe might sleep quietly in the church-yard, instead of finding a grave atthe bottom of the Bay. Ask Henry who killed him; ask him whether'Celeste' was worth the blood of the poor boy, and he will not refuse totell the truth."
At the door Cruiser was scratching and whining, accompanying the man'shurried words with a weird, uncanny music; and now he howled again as hehad howled on the night of poor Ned's death.
"Farewell, Annie; your sister and that dog will soon be the only friendsyou have. I can neither claim you nor protect you. Farewell; be happy ifyou can, and--forget me."
"Never! never!" sobbed the girl.
A hand, softer even than her own, was passed tenderly through her hairand over her brow; a single kiss was breathed on her lips, and the nextmoment she was alone, the dog, her sole friend, crouching, with everydemonstration of devotion and affection, at her feet.