CHAPTER XVI
BILL PRESCOTT PROPOSES
Summertime over the prairie country; summertime when the rainfall hasbeen abundant, is a time of happiness to all settlers in a new land. Andsuch a summer it was in the land of our story. God had been unusuallykind to the settlers; he had blessed them with abundant moisture; withsunshine, not too warm and not too cold. The railroad was under courseof construction and would be completed far enough west for the settlersfrom the most remote part--from the farthest corner of the reservationto journey with their grain or hogs, chickens or cattle to it and returnto home the same day. And now the fields which had been seeded to winterwheat had turned to gold. Only a few thousand acres had been sowed overthe county, and of this amount one hundred thirty acres grew on thehomestead of Jean Baptiste. The season for its growth had been ideal,and the prospects for a bumper yield was the best. Ripe now, and readyto cut, the air was filled with its aroma.
He had brought a new self-binder from Gregory which now stood in theyard ready for action, its various colors green, red, blue and white,resplendent in the sunlight.
So now we see Jean Baptiste the cheerful, Jean Baptiste the hopeful,with hopes in a measure about realized; Jean Baptiste the Ethiopian in acountry where he alone was black. He whistles at times, he sings, he ismerry, cheery and gay.
But while Jean Baptiste was happy, cheerful and gay, there was in himwhat has been, what always will be that which makes us appreciate thecourage that is in some men.
Bill Prescott, from the first day he had seen Agnes, had considered amatch between her and himself a suggestive proposition. Bill Prescottmight be referred to as a "feature." He was not so fortunate as to havebeen born handsome, and could not be called attractive. He had not,moreover, improved the situation by cultivation of wit, of art or pride.The West had meant no more to him than had the East, the South--or theWest Indies, for that matter. Because Bill had no homestead, no deededland, and had not tried to get any. His wealth consisted of a fewhorses, among which, an old, worn out, bought-on-credit-stallion, washis pride.
Of this stallion Bill talked. He told of his pedigree, tracing him backalmost to the Ark. He was fond of tobacco, was Bill Prescott; he chewed,apparently, all the time. He had lost his front teeth; wore his thinhair long, and upon his small head a hat, oiled to the point where itsage was a matter for conjecture. He had apparently appreciated that thewind blew outrageously over those parts at times, and, therefore, hadhung a leather string to his hat which he pulled down over the back ofhis head to hold his hat in place. This succeeded in frumpling the long,thin hair and kept it in a dishevelled condition.
Now Bill had been a frequent caller at the Stewarts' home since they hadcome West. He did not always take the trouble to remove his hat wheninside. That he was fond of Agnes was apparent, and smiled always uponseeing her, and at such times showed where his front teeth had been butwhere tobacco more frequently now was, with lazy delight.
He called this day wearing a clean, patched jumper over his cottonshirt. When once inside, sprawling his legs before him, and while JackStewart worked in the sun outside, repairing harness, he said to Agnes:
"Well, old girl, how'd you like to marry?" Agnes changed color a fewtimes before she could decide whether to answer or not. In the meantime,patient and in no hurry, Bill grinned with pleasure at the ease withwhich he had started; showed tobacco where his teeth had been, and spata pound of juice, with plenty of drippings trailing out the window bywhich she sat. It made considerable argument getting through the screen,but succeeded finally--most of it, the remainder, clung, hesitated,wavered, and finally giving up, dripped slowly to the ledge below.
"Dog-gone, myself," said Bill, getting up heavily from his chair, andgoing to the window and thumping it lightly, whereupon the hesitantamber, dashed in many directions about. Agnes had observed it all withcalm disgust. Bill, however, not the least perturbed over his apparentbreach of impropriety, became reseated, and resumed:
"Well?"
She turned her eyes slowly toward him, surveyed him coldly, andcontinued at her sewing.
Bill muttered something.
She regarded him again with cold disdain.
"Haw, haw!" he laughed loudly. "You don't pretend t' hear me, haw! haw!Then I guess you're stuck on that nigger you got a hangin' round here."
"Will you go!" she cried, as she quickly jumped to her feet and swungopen the door. She controlled herself with considerable effort.
"Oh, ho! So that's the way you treat a white man--and honor a d--nnigger!" And with that he dashed out and passed to where the seniorworked away over his harness. Jack Stewart saw and heard Billapproaching without looking up. He greeted:
"Ah-ha, William. And how are you today?"
Bill was struck with a sudden inspiration. In his way he really likedAgnes, and it was all settled in his mind to wed her. He realized nowthat he had rather bungled matters, and thereupon decided to exercise alittle more discretion. So, choking down the anger that was in him, andswallowing a bit of tobacco juice at the same time, he said to Stewart:
"Good morning! Ah, by the way, Jack, I'd like to marry Agnes." Sosaying, he was pleased with himself again, and spat tobacco juice moreeasily in the next squirt. Jack continued working at his harness. Forthe moment he did not appear to comprehend, but presently he raised hiseyes with the old style glasses before them, and surveyed Bill slowly.
"You want to do what?" he said, uncomprehendingly.
"To marry Agnes," Bill repeated calmly. He paused, looked away, suckedhis soft mouth clean of amber and spat it tricklingly at Jack's feet,and looked up and at Jack with a wondrous smile.
Now Jack Stewart was possessed with certain virtues. He did not smoke,chew, drink, swear nor shave. He was rather put out, but withconsiderable effort at self control he managed to say:
"Well, if that's the way you feel about it, why don't you take it upwith the girl?" Bill hesitated at this point, sucked his mouth clearagain of tobacco juice, cleared his throat, spat the juice, and, after ahasty glance toward the house, decided not to mention that he had spokenwith Agnes. He replied:
"Well, I thought it best to speak to you, and if it's all right withyou, it ought to be all right with the gal."
Jack Stewart drew up, and then tried to relax. He did not think so muchof Bill; but he did think the world of Agnes and wanted her respected byeverybody. Moreover, he did not like to hear her "galled." He turned toWilliam; he regarded him keenly, and then in a voice and words that wereEnglish, but accent that was very much Scotch, the which we will notattempt to characterize, he said:
"You're a joke. Just a great, big joke." He paused briefly, and thencontinued: "I'd like to be patient with you; but honestly, with you itwouldn't pay. You are not worth it. And in so far as my girl--any girlis concerned, I cannot imagine how you could even expect them to beinterested." He paused and looked away, too full up to go ahead. In themeantime he heard Bill:
"Is that so!"
"Is _it_ so!" cried Stewart with a touch of vehemence. "Gad! Seeyourself. See how you go! Don't you observe what's around you closeenough to see that girls want some sedateness; they admire in somemeasure cleverness, clothes, and--well, manhood!"
"So I don't guess I have it?" retorted William, sneeringly.
"Oh, you bore me!" Jack returned disgustingly. He bent to his work in anattempt to forget it. And then he again heard from Bill:
"So that's the way yu' got it figgered out, eh!" He drew his mouth tightshut. He gave another soft suck that drew his skin close to his gums,and with his tongue, he cleared his mouth and spat tobacco, juice andall in a soft lump at Stewart's feet and said in unconcealed anger: "Sothat's the way you got me figgered out! And I want to say, now, that Idon't think I want yer gal, anyhow. I'm a white man, I am. And whatwhite man would want a gal that a nigger is allowed to hang aroun' andcourt!"
Jack Stewart was struck below the belt. He was fouled, and for a timeeverything went dark around him, he was so angry. He did not know that
Jean Baptiste had saved him from losing his stock or being forced tosell them; he had never connected Baptiste and Agnes as being other thanfriends, and friends they had a right to be. But Jack Stewart _did_regard Jean Baptiste as a gentleman and gentlemen he respected. Hisknockout therefore was brief. He soon recovered. He could not speak, hecould not even stammer; but with a sudden twitch of the tug his handsheld, he came away around with it, and the heavy leather took Billfairly in the mouth, in the middle of the mouth. And then Jack got hisvoice, and ready for another swing; but not before Bill found something,too. It was his feet.
"You stinkin', low down, pup!" cried Stewart, falling over from theforce of the swing he had missed. "You trash of the sand hills! Youtobacco chewin', ragga-muffin!" Getting his balance, and turning afterWilliam madly, he resumed: "You ornery, nasty, filthy, houn'! If I getmy han's on you, I swear t' God I'll kill you."
But Bill Prescott now held the advantage. He was younger, and more fleetof foot; so therefore out ran Jack, who was left before he reached thegate, far to the rear, and Bill gained his side of the wide road with asafe lead. Jack finally came to a stop before getting off the premiseswith his blood boiling with such heat that he drew his hat off and beathimself with it. In the meantime, Agnes, who had witnessed thecontroversy from the gate, ventured out to where her father stood andtaking him gently by the arm, she led him inside.
"My blood's up, my blood's up!" Jack kept crying and repeating. "Thatstinkin', triflin' peace a nothin', has been gittin' smart. Tryin' tolow rate me; tryin' to low rate my girl. Insultin' Jean Baptiste! Danghim, dang him!"
"Father, father!" cried Agnes soothingly.
"Did you hear'm! Did you hear'm! Why, the low down, good for nothin',I'm a good mind to go cross the road and skin him alive!"
"Father, father!" begged Agnes.
"Did you hear what he said," insisted the infuriated senior.
"Yes, father," she confessed. "I heard him."
"You did! 'N that's worse!" Whereupon he tore loose and threw up hisarms in an angered gesture.
"Now, papa," Agnes argued kindly. "I heard him, and what he said to you.He was in here and insul--spoke to me before he went out there.... Iunderstand all about it.... So you must simply be calm--and forget it.That's all...."
"I don't care so much for myself, but that he should speak about you andBaptiste! I just wish Baptiste could have heard him and just beat thegosh danged manure right out of him."
"Please be quiet, papa. Forget Bill Prescott and what he has tried toinsinuate.... We understand _him_ and what he _is_, and we understandMr. Baptiste--and what _he is_, so let us just think of other things."
"Yes, Aggie, I suppose you're right. You always seem to be right. And Iwill try to forget it; but I'll say this much: If that ornery, lazy cussever crosses this road to my place again I'll thresh him within an inchof his life!"
"You've agreed to forget it, father...."
"I agree again; but it's outrageous that he should say what he did aboutJean Baptiste, now isn't it?"
"It is, father," she admitted with downcast eyes.
"Of course it is. Never was there more of a gentleman in the world thanJean Baptiste."
"Mr. Baptiste is a real gentleman," acknowledged Agnes again.
"There never was, and he knows it, the pup!"
Agnes was strangely silent, which Jack, in his excitement overlooked.
"And even if he should like my girl--"
"Father!"
"Well?"
"Oh, please hush!"
"I will, Aggie," he said slowly. He bent forward presently, folded herclose, kissed her, and then placing his hat on his head, went back tohis work....