CHAPTER V
MARTHY BURIES HER DEAD AND GREETS HER NEPHEW
Jase did not move or give his customary, querulous grunt when Marthynudged him at daylight, one morning in mid-April. Marthy gave anotherpoke with her elbow and lay still, numbed by a sudden dread. She movedcautiously out of the bed and half across the cramped room before sheturned her head toward him. Then she stood still and looked andlooked, her hard face growing each moment more pinched and stony andgray.
Jase had died while the coyotes were yapping their dawn-song up on therim of the Cove. He lay rigid under the coarse, gray blanket, theflesh of his face drawn close to the bones, his skimpy, gray beardtilted upward.
Marthy's jaw set into a harsher outline than ever. She dressed withslow, heavy movements and went out and fed the stock. In stolid calmshe did the milking and turned out the cows into the pasture. Shegathered an apron full of chips and started a fire, just as she haddone every morning for twenty-nine years, and she put the coffee-pot onthe greasy stove and boiled the brew of yesterday--which was also herhabit.
She sat for some time with her head leaning upon her grimy hand andstared unseeingly out upon a peach-tree in full bloom, and at a pair ofbusy robins who had chosen a convenient crotch for their nest. Finallyshe rose stiffly, as if she had grown older within the last hour, andwent outside to the place where she had been mending the irrigatingditch the day before; she knocked the wet sand off the shovel she hadleft sticking in the soft bank and went out of the yard and up theslope toward the rock wall.
On a tiny, level place above the main ditch and just under the wall,Marthy began to dig, setting her broad, flat foot uncompromisingly uponthe shoulder of the shovel and sending it deep into the yellow soil.She worked slowly and methodically and steadily, just as she dideverything else. When she had dug down as deep as she could and stillmanage to climb out, and had the hole wide enough and long enough, shegot awkwardly to the grassy surface and sat for a long while upon arock, staring dumbly at the gaunt, brown hills across the river.
She returned to the cabin at last, and with the manner of one whodreads doing what must be done, she went in where Jase lay stiff andcold under the blankets.
Early that afternoon, Marthy went staggering up the slope, wheelingJase's body before her on the creaky, home-made wheelbarrow. In thesame harsh, primitive manner in which they both had lived, Marthyburied her dead. And though in life she had given him few words savein command or upbraiding, with never a hint of love to sweeten the daysfor either, yet she went whimpering away from that grave. She brokeoff three branches of precious peach blossoms and carried them up theslope. She stuck them upright in the lumpy soil over Jase's head andstood there a long while with tear-streaked face, staring down at thegrave and at the nodding pink blossoms.
Billy Louise rode singing down the rocky trail through the deep, narrowgorge, to where the hawthorn and choke-cherries hid the opening to thecove. Just on the edge of the thickest fringe, she pulled up and brokeoff tender branches of cherry bloom, then went on, still singing softlyto herself because the air was sweet with spring odors, the sunshinelay a fresh yellow upon the land, and because the joy of life was inher blood and, like the birds, she had no other means of expression athand. Blue's feet sank to the fetlocks in the rich, black soil of thelittle meadow that lay smooth to the tumbling sweep of the river behindits own little willow fringe. His ears perked forward, his eyesrolling watchfully for strange sights and sounds, he stepped softlyforward, ready to wheel at the slightest alarm and gallop back up thegorge to more familiar ground. It was long since Billy Louise hadturned his head down the rocky trail, and Blue liked little the gloomof the gorge and the sudden change to soft, black soil that stoppedjust short of being boggy in the wet places. Where the trail led intoa marshy crossing of the big, irrigating ditch that brought the streamfrom far up the gorge to water meadow and orchard, Blue halted and casta look of disapproval back at his rider. Billy Louise stopped singingand laughed at him.
"I guess you can go where a cow can go, you silly thing. Mud's a heapeasier than lava rock, if you only knew it, Blue. Get along with you."
Blue lowered his head, snuffed suspiciously at the water-filled tracks,and would have turned back. Mud he despised instinctively, since hehad nearly mired on the creek bank when he was a sucking colt.
"Blue! Get across that ditch, or I'll beat you to death!" The voiceof Billy Louise was soft with a caressing note at the end, so that thethreat did not sound very savage, after all. She sniffed at the branchof cherry blossoms and reined the horse back to face the ditch. AndBlue, who had a will of his own, snorted and wheeled, this time infrank rebellion against her command.
"Oh, will you? Well, you'll cross that ditch, you know, sooner orlater--so you might just as well--" Blue reared and whirled again,plunging two rods back toward the cherry thicket.
Billy Louise set her teeth against her lower lip, slid her rawhidequirt from slim wrist to firm hand-grip, and proceeded to match Blue'sobstinacy with her own; and since the obstinacy of Billy Louise wasstronger and finer and backed by a surer understanding of the thing shewas fighting against, Blue presently lifted himself, leaped the ditchin one clean jump, and snorted when he sank nearly to his knees in thesoft, black soil beyond.
From there to the pink drift of peach bloom against the dull brown ofthe bluff, Blue galloped angrily, leaving deep, black prints in thesoft green of the meadow. So they came headlong upon Marthy, just asshe was knocking the yellow clay of the grave from her irrigatingshovel against the pole fence of her pig-pen.
"Why, Marthy!" Once before in her life Billy Louise had seen Marthy'schin quivering like that, and big, slow tears sliding down the networkof lines on Marthy's leathery cheeks. With a painful slump her spiritswent heavy with her sympathy. "Marthy!"
She knew without a word of explanation just what had happened. FromMarthy's bent shoulders she knew, and from her tear-stained face, andfrom the yellow soil clinging still to the shovel in her hand. Thewide eyes of Billy Louise sent seeking glances up the slope where thesoil was yellow; went to the long, raw ridge under the wall, with thepeach blossoms standing pitifully awry upon the western end. Her eyesfilled with tears. "Oh, Marthy! When was it?"
"In the night, sometime, I guess." Marthy's voice had a harshhuskiness. "He was--gone--when I woke up. Well--he's better off thanI be. I dunno what woulda become of him if I'd went first." There, atlast, was a note of tenderness, stifled though it was and fleeting."Git down, Billy Louise, and come in. I been kinda lookin' for yuh tocome, ever sence the weather opened up. How's your maw?"
Spoken sympathy was absolutely impossible in the face of that stoicalacceptance of life's harsh law. Marthy turned toward the gate, takingthe shovel and the wheelbarrow in with her. Billy Louise glancedfurtively at the raw, yellow ridge under the rock wall and rode on tothe stable. She pulled off the saddle and bridle and turned Blue intothe corral before she went slowly--and somewhat reluctantly--to thecabin, squat, old, and unkempt like its mistress, but buried deep inthe renewed sweetness of bloom-time.
"The fruit's comin' on early this year," said Marthy from the doorway,her hands on her hips. "They's goin' to be lots of it, too, if wedon't git a killin' frost." So she closed the conversational door uponher sorrow and pointed the way to trivial, every-day things.
"What are you going to do now, Marthy?" Billy Louise was perfectlycapable of opening a conversational door, even when it had been closeddecisively in her face. "You can't get on here alone, you know. Didyou send for that nephew? If you haven't, you must hire somebodytill--"
"He's comin'. That letter you sent over last month was from him. Idunno when he'll git here; he's liable to come most any time. I ain'tgoing to hire nobody. I kin git along alone. I might as well of beenalone--" Even harsh Marthy hesitated and did not finish the sentencethat would have put a slight upon her dead.
"I'll stay to-night, anyway," said Billy Louise. "Just a week ago Ihired John Pringle
and that little breed wife of his for the summer. Icouldn't afford it," she added, with a small sigh, "but Ward had to goback to his claim, and mommie needs someone in the house. She hasn'tbeen a bit well, all winter. And I've turned all the stock out for thesummer and have to do a lot of riding on them; it's that or let themscatter all over the country and then have to hire a rep for everyround-up. I can't afford that, I haven't got cattle enough to pay; andI like to ride, anyway. I've got them pretty well located along thecreek, up at the head of the canyons. The grass is coming on fine, sothey don't stray much. Are you going to turn your cattle out, Marthy?I see you haven't yet."
"No, I ain't yit. I dunno. I was going to sell 'em down to jest whatthe pasture'll keep. I'm gittin' too old to look after 'em. But Idunno-- When Charlie gits here, mebby--"
"Oh, is that the nephew? I didn't know his name." Billy Louise wastalking aimlessly to keep her thoughts away from the pitifulness of thesordid little tragedy in this beauty-spot and to drive that blank,apathetic look from Marthy's hard eyes.
"Charlie Fox, his name is. I hope he turns out a good worker. I'venever had a chance to git ahead any; but if Charlie'll jest take holt,I'll mebby git some comfort outa life yit."
"He ought, to, I'm sure. And everyone thinks you've done awfully well,Marthy. What can I do now? Wash the dishes and straighten things up,I guess."
"You needn't do nothin' you ain't a mind to do, Billy Louise. I don'twant you to think you got to slop around washin' my dirty dishes. I'mgoin' on down into the medder and work on a ditch I'm puttin' in. Youjest do what you're a mind to." She picked up the shovel and went offdown the jungly path, herself the ugliest object in the Cove, where shehad created so much beauty.
Again the sympathetic soul of Billy Louise had betrayed her intoperforming an extremely disagreeable task. Shudderingly she lookedinto the unpleasant bedroom, and comprehending all of the sordidness ofthe tragedy, spent half an hour with her teeth set hard together whileshe dragged out dingy blankets and hung them over the fence under avoluptuous plum-tree. The next hour was so disagreeably employed thatshe wondered afterward how even her sympathy could have driven her tothe things she did. She carried more water, after she had scrubbedthat bedroom, and opened the window with the aid of the hammer, and setthe tea-kettle on to heat the dish-water. Then, because her mind wasfull of poor, dead Jase, she took the branches of wild cherry andhawthorn blossoms she had gathered coming down the gorge and went upthe slope to lay them on his grave.
She sat down on the rock where Marthy had rested after digging thegrave, and with her chin in her two cupped palms, stared out across theriver at the heaped bluffs and down at the pink-and-white patch offruit-trees. She was trying, as the young will always try, to solvethe riddle of life; and she was baffled and unhappy because she couldnot find any answer at all that pleased both her ideals and her reason.And then she heard a man's voice lifted up in riotous song, and sheturned her head toward the opening of the gorge and listened, her eyesbrightening while she waited.
"Foot in the stirrup and hand on the horn, Best damn cowboy ever was born, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy-a, youpy-a, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy-a!"
Billy Louise, with her chin still in her palms, smiled and hummed thetune under her breath; that shows how quickly we throw off the burdensof our neighbors. "Wonder what he's doing down here?" she askedherself, and smiled again.
"I'll sell my outfit soon as I can, I won't punch cattle for no damn' man, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy-a, youpy-a, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy-a!
"I'm goin' back to town to draw my money, I'm going back to town to see my honey, Coma ti yi--"
Ward came into sight through the little meadow, riding slowly, withboth hands clasped over the horn of the saddle, his hat tilted back onhis head, and his whole attitude one of absolute content with life. Hesaw Billy Louise almost as soon as she glimpsed him--and she had beenwatching that bit of road quite closely. He flipped the reins to oneside and turned from the trail to ride straight up the slope to whereshe was.
Billy Louise, with a self-reproachful glance at the grave, ran down theslope to meet him--an unexpected welcome which made Ward's heart leapin his chest.
"Oh, Ward, for heaven's sake don't be singing that come-all-ye at thetop of your voice, like that. Don't you--"
"Now I was given to understand that you liked that same come-all-ye.Have you been educating your musical taste in the last week, MissWilliam Louisa?" Ward stopped his horse before her, and with his handsstill clasped over the saddle-horn, looked down at her with that hiddensmile--and something else.
"No, I haven't. I don't have to educate myself to the point where Iknow the _Chisholm Trail_ isn't a proper kind of funeral hymn, WardWarren." Billy Louise glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voiceinstinctively, as we all do when death has come close and stopped."Jase died last night; that's his grave up there. Isn't it perfectlypitiful? Poor old Marthy was here all solitary alone with him.And--Ward! She dug that grave her own self, and took him up and buriedhim--and, Ward! She--she wheeled him up in the--_wheelbarrow_! Shehad to, of course. She couldn't carry him. But isn't it awful?" Herhands were up, patting and smoothing the neck of his horse, and herface was bent to hide the tears that stood in her eyes, and the quiverof her mouth.
Ward drew in his lip, bit it, and let it go. He was a man, and he hadseen much of tragedy and trouble; also, he did not know Marthy or Jase.His chief emotion was one of resentment against anything that broughttears to Billy Louise; she had not hidden them from him; they were thefirst and most important element in that day's happenings, so far as hewas concerned. He leaned and flipped the end of his reins lightly downon her bare head.
"William Louisa, if you cry about it, I'll--do something shocking, mostlikely. Yes, it's awful; a whole lot of life is awful. But it's done,and Mrs. Martha appears to be a woman with a whole lot of grit, so thechances are she'll carry her load like a man. She'll be horriblylonesome, down here! They lived alone, didn't they?"
"Yes, and they didn't seem to love each other much." Billy Louise wasnot one to gloss over hard facts, even in the face of that grave."Marthy was always kicking about him, and he about her. But all thesame they belonged together; they had lived together more years than weare old. And she's going to miss him awfully."
Several minutes they stood there, talking, while Billy Louise pattedthe horse absently, and Ward looked down at her and did not miss onelittle light or shadow in her face. He had been alone a whole week,thinking of her, remember, and his eyes were hungry to the point ofstarvation.
"You saw mommie, of course; you came from home?"
"No, I did not. I got as far as the creek and saw Blue's tracks comingdown; so I just sort of trailed along, seeing it was mommie's daughterI felt most like talking to."
"Mommie's daughter" laughed a little and instinctively made a change inthe subject. She did not see anything strange in the fact that Wardhad observed and recognized Blue's tracks coming into the gorge. Shewould have observed and recognized instantly the tracks made by hishorse, anywhere. Those things come natural to one who has lived muchin the open; and there is a certain individuality in the hoof-prints ofa horse, as any plainsman can testify.
"I've got to go in and wash the dishes," she said, stepping back fromhim. "Of course nothing was done in the cabin, and I've been doing alittle house-cleaning. I guess the dish-water is hot by this time--ifit hasn't all boiled away."
Ward, as a matter of course, tied his horse to the fence and went intothe cabin with her. He also asked her to stake him to a dish-towel,which she did after a good deal of rummaging. He stood with his hat onthe back of his head, a cigarette between his lips, and wiped thedishes with much apparent enjoyment. He objected strongly to BillyLouise's assertion that she meant to scrub the floor, but when he foundher quite obdurate, he changed his method without in the least degreeyielding his point, though for diplomatic reasons he appeared to yield.
He carried water from the
creek and filled the tea-kettle, the big ironpot, and both pails. Then, when Billy Louise had turned her back uponhim, while she looked in a dark corner for the mop, he suddenly seizedher under the arms and lifted her upon the table; and before she hadfinished her astonished gaspings, he caught up a pail of water andsloshed it upon the floor under her. Then he grinned in his triumph.
"William Louisa, if you get your feet wet, your mommie will take a clubto you," he reminded her sternly. Whereupon he took the broom andproceeded to give that floor a real man's scrubbing, refusing toquarrel with Billy Louise, who scolded like a cross old woman from thetable--except when she simply had to stop and laugh heartily at hisviolent method of cleaning.
Ward sloshed and swept and scrubbed. He dug into the corners with agrim thoroughness that won reluctant approbation from the young womanon the table with her feet tucked under her, and he made her forgetpoor old Jase up on the hillside. He scrubbed viciously behind thedoor until the water was little better than a thin, black mud.
"You want to come up to my claim some time," he said, looking over hisshoulder while he rested a minute. "I'll show you how a man keepshouse, William Louisa. Once a week I pile my two stools on the table,put the cat up on the bunk--and she looks just about as comfortable andhappy as mommie's daughter looks right now--and get busy with the broomand good creek water." He resettled his hat on the back of his headand went to work again. "Mill Creek goes dry down below, on the dayswhen little Wardie cleans his cabin," he assured her gravely, anddamming up a muddy pool with the broom, he yanked open the door andswept out the water with a perfectly unnecessary flourish, just becausehe happened to be in a very exuberant mood.
Billy Louise gave a squeal of consternation and then sat absolutelystill, staring round-eyed through the doorway. Ward stepped back--evenhis composure was slightly jarred--and twisted his lips amusedly.
"Hello," he said, after a few blank seconds. "You missed some of it,didn't you?" His tone was mildly commiserating. "Will you come in?"
"N-o-o, thank you, I don't believe I will." The speaker looked in,however, saw Billy Louise perched upon the table, and took off his hat.He was well plastered with dirty water that ran down and left streaksof mud behind. "I must have gotten off the road," he said. "I'mlooking for Mr. Jason Meilke's ranch."
Billy Louise tucked her feet farther under her skirts and continued tostare dumbly. Ward, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes,stepped considerately between her and the stranger so that his broadshoulders quite hid her from the man's curious stare.
"You've struck the right place," he said calmly. "This is it." Hepicked up another pail of water and sloshed it upon the wet floor torinse off the mud.
"Is--ah--Mrs. Meilke in?" One could not accuse the young man ofcraning, but he certainly did try to get another glimpse of the personon the table and failed because of Ward.
"She's down in the meadow," Billy Louise murmured.
"She's down in the meadow," Ward repeated to the bespattered young man."You just go down past the stable and follow on down--" he waved a handvaguely before he took up the broom again. "You'll find her, allright," he added encouragingly.
"Oh, Ward! That must be Marthy's nephew. What will he think?"
"Does it matter such a h-- a deuce of a lot what he thinks?" Ward wenton with his interrupted scrubbing.
"His name is Charlie Fox, and he's been to college and he worked in abank," Billy Louise went on nervously. "He's going to live here withMarthy and run the ranch. What must he have thought! To have yousweep all that dirty water on him--"
"Oh, not all!" Ward corrected cheerfully. "Quite a lot missed him."
Billy Louise giggled. "What does he look like, Ward? You stoodsquarely in the way, so I--"
"He looked," said Ward dispassionately, "like a pretty mad young manwith nose, eyes, and a mouth, and a mole in front of his left ear."
"He was real polite," said Billy Louise reprovingly, "and his voice isnice."
"Yes? I mind-read a heap of cussing. The politeness was all on top."Ward chuckled and swept more water outside. "I expect you saved me alicking that time, Miss William the Conqueror."
"Can you think of any more names to call me, besides my own, I wonder?"Billy Louise leaned and inspected the floor like a chicken preparing tohop off its roost.
"Heaps more." The glow in Ward's eyes was dangerous to their calmfriendship. "Want to hear them?"
"No, I don't. I want to get off this table before that college youthcomes back to be shocked silly again. I want to see if he'sreally--got a mole in front of his ear!"
"You know what inquisitiveness did to old lady Lot, don't you?However--" He lifted her in his arms and set her down outside thedoor. "There, Wilhemina; trot along and see the nice young man."
Billy Louise sat down on the wheelbarrow, remembered its latestservice, and got up hastily. "I won't go a step," she assertedpositively.
Ward had not wanted her to go. He gave her a smile and finished offhis scrubbing with the mop, which he handled with quite surprisingskill for a young man who seemed more at home in the saddle thananywhere else.
"I'm awfully glad he came, anyway." Billy Louise pulled down a buddedlilac branch and sniffed at it. "I won't have to stay all night, now.I was going to."
"In that case, the young man is welcome as a gold mine. Here theycome--he and Mrs. Martha. You'll have to introduce me, Bill-the-Conk;I have never met the lady." Ward hastily returned the mop to itscorner, rolled down his sleeves, and picked up his gloves. Then hestepped outside and waited beside Billy Louise, looking not in theleast like a man who has just wiped a lot of dishes and scrubbed afloor.
The nephew, striding along behind Marthy and showing head and shouldersabove her, seemed not to resent any little mischance, such as muddywater flirted upon him from a broom. He grinned reminiscently as hecame up, shook hands with the two of them, and did not let his glancedwell too long or too often upon Billy Louise, nor too briefly uponWard.
"You've got a splendid place here, Aunt Martha," he told the old womanappreciatively. "I'd no idea there was such a little beauty-spot downhere. This is even more picturesque than that homey-looking ranch wepassed a few miles back, down in that little valley. I was hoping thatwas your ranch when I first saw it; and when I found it wasn't, I camenear stopping, anyway. I'm glad I resisted the temptation, now. Thisis worth coming a long way to see."
"I ain't never had a chance to do all I wanted to with it," saidMarthy, with the first hint of apology Billy Louise had ever heard fromher. "I only had one pair of hands to work with--"
"We'll fix that part. Don't you worry a minute. You're going to sitin a rocking-chair and give orders, from now on. And if I can't makegood here, I ought to be booted all the way up that spooky gorge.Isn't that right?" He turned to Warren with a certain air ofappraisement behind the unmistakable cordiality of his voice.
"A man ought to make good here, all right," Ward agreed neutrally."It's a fine place."
"It ain't as fine as I'd like to see it," began Marthy depreciatingly.
"As you will see it, let's say--if that doesn't sound too conceitedfrom a tenderfoot," supplemented the nephew, and laid his hand upon hershoulder with a gentle little pat. "Folks, I don't want to seem tooexuberantly sure of myself, but--" he waved a carefully-kept handeloquently at the luxuriance around him, "--I'm all fussed up over thisplace, honest. I thought I was coming to a shack in the middle of thesage-brush; I was primed to buckle down and make good even in thedesert. And bumping into this sort of thing without warning has goneto my alleged brain a bit. What I don't know about ranching would filla library; but there's this much, anyway. There won't be any moreditch-digging for a certain game little lady in this Cove." He gavethe shoulder another pat, and he smiled down at her in a way that madeBilly Louise blink. And Marthy, who had probably never before beencalled a game little lady, came near breaking down and crying beforethem all.
When Ward went to the stable a
fter Blue, half an hour later, CharlieFox went with him. His manner when they were alone was different; notso exuberantly cheerful--more frank and practical.
"Honest, it floored me completely to see what that poor old woman hasbeen up against down here," he told Warren, stuffing tobacco into asilver-rimmed, briar pipe while Ward saddled Blue. "I don't know ahell of a lot about this ranch game; but if that old lady can put itacross, I guess I can wobble along somehow. Too bad the old man cashedin just now; but Aunt Martha as good as told me he wasn't much force,so maybe I can play a lone hand here as easy as I could have done withhim. Live near here?"
"Fifteen miles or so." Ward was not in his most expansive mood,chiefly for the reason that this man was a stranger, and of strangershe was inclined to fight shy.
"Oh, well--it might have been fifty. I know how you fellows measuredistances out here. I'm likely to need a little coaching, now andthen, if I live up to what I just now told the old lady."
"From all I know of her, you won't need to go out of the Cove foradvice."
"Well, that's right, judging from the looks of things. A woman thatcan go up against a proposition like she did to-day and handle italone, is no mental weakling; to say nothing of the way this ranchlooks. All right, Warren; I'll make out alone, I reckon."
Afterwards, when Ward thought it over, he remembered gratefully thatCharlie Fox had refrained from attempting any discussion of BillyLouise or from asking any questions even remotely personal. He knewenough about men to appreciate the tactful silences of the stranger,and when Billy Louise, on the way home, predicted that the nephew wasgoing to be a success, Ward did not feel like qualifying the verdict.
"He's going to be a godsend to the old lady," he said. "He seems tohave his sights raised to making things come easier for her from nowon."
"Well, she certainly deserves it. For a college young man--theordinary, smart young man who comes out here to astonish thenatives--he's almost human. I was so afraid that Marthy'd get him outhere and then discover he was a perfect nuisance. So many men are."