Chapter IV

by Bret Harte

　　The afternoon did not, however, bring their expected visitors. Itbrought, instead, a brief note by the hands of Whiskey Dick fromFairfax, apologizing for some business that kept him and GeorgeKearney from accompanying the ladies. It added that the horseswere at the disposal of themselves and any escort they mightselect, if they would kindly give the message to Whiskey Dick.The two girls looked at each other awkwardly; Jessie did notattempt to conceal a slight pout."It looks as if they were anticipating us," she said, with a half-forced smile. "I wonder, now, if there really has been any gossip?But no! They wouldn't have stopped for that, unless--" She lookedcuriously at her sister."Unless what?" repeated Christie; "you are horribly mysterious thismorning.""Am I? It's nothing. But they're wanting an answer. Of courseyou'll decline.""And intimate we only care for their company! No! We'll say we'resorry they can't come, and--accept their horses. We can do withoutan escort, we two.""Capital!" said Jessie, clapping her hands. "We'll show them--""We'll show them nothing," interrupted Christie decidedly. "In ourplace there's only the one thing to do. Where is this--WhiskeyDick?""In the parlor.""The parlor!" echoed Christie. "Whiskey Dick? What--is he--""Yes; he's all right," said Jessie confidently. "He's been herebefore, but he stayed in the hall; he was so shy. I don't thinkyou saw him.""I should think not--Whiskey Dick!""Oh, you can call him Mr. Hall, if you like," said Jessie,laughing. "His real name is Dick Hall. If you want to be funny,you can say Alky Hall, as the others do."Christie's only reply to this levity was a look of superiorresignation as she crossed the hall and entered the parlor.Then ensued one of those surprising, mystifying, and utterlyinexplicable changes that leave the masculine being so helpless inthe hands of his feminine master. Before Christie opened the doorher face underwent a rapid transformation: the gentle glow of arefined woman's welcome suddenly beamed in her interested eyes; theimpulsive courtesy of an expectant hostess eagerly seizing a long-looked-for opportunity broke in a smile upon her lips as she sweptacross the room, and stopped with her two white outstretched handsbefore Whiskey Dick.It needed only the extravagant contrast presented by that gentlemanto complete the tableau. Attired in a suit of shining blackalpaca, the visitor had evidently prepared himself with some carefor a possible interview. He was seated by the French windowopening upon the veranda, as if to secure a retreat in case of anemergency. Scrupulously washed and shaven, some of the soapappeared to have lingered in his eyes and inflamed the lids, evenwhile it lent a sleek and shining lustre, not unlike his coat, tohis smooth black hair. Nevertheless, leaning back in his chair, hehad allowed a large white handkerchief to depend gracefully fromhis fingers--a pose at once suggesting easy and elegant langour."How kind of you to give me an opportunity to make up for mymisfortune when you last called! I was so sorry to have missedyou. But it was entirely my fault! You were hurried, I think--youconversed with others in the hall--you--"She stopped to assist him to pick up the handkerchief that hadfallen, and the Panama hat that had rolled from his lap towards thewindow when he had started suddenly to his feet at the apparitionof grace and beauty. As he still nervously retained the two handshe had grasped, this would have been a difficult feat, even had henot endeavored at the same moment, by a backward furtive kick, topropel the hat out of the window, at which she laughingly brokefrom his grasp and flew to the rescue."Don't mind it, miss," he said hurriedly. "It is not worth yourdemeaning yourself to touch it. Leave it outside thar, miss. Iwouldn't have toted it in, anyhow, if some of those high-falutin'fellows hadn't allowed, the other night, ez it were the reg'larthing to do; as if, miss, any gentleman kalkilated to ever put onhis hat in the house afore a lady!"But Christie had already possessed herself of the unlucky object,and had placed it upon the table. This compelled Whiskey Dick torise again, and as an act of careless good breeding to drop hishandkerchief in it. He then leaned one elbow upon the piano, and,crossing one foot over the other, remained standing in an attitudehe remembered to have seen in the pages of an illustrated paper asportraying the hero in some drawing-room scene. It was easy andeffective, but seemed to be more favorable to revery thanconversation. Indeed, he remembered that he had forgotten toconsult the letterpress as to which it represented."I see you agree with me, that politeness is quite a matter ofintention," said Christie, "and not of mere fashion and rules.Now, for instance," she continued, with a dazzling smile, "Isuppose, according to the rules, I ought to give you a note to Mr.Munroe, accepting his offer. That is all that is required; but itseems so much nicer, don't you think, to tell it to you for him,and have the pleasure of your company and a little chat at the sametime.""That's it, that's just it, Miss Carr; you've hit it in the centrethis time," said Whiskey Dick, now quite convinced that hisattitude was not intended for eloquence, and shifting back to hisown seat, hat and all; "that's tantamount to what I said to theboys just now. 'You want an excuse,' sez I, 'for not goin' outwith the young ladies. So, accorden' to rules, you writes a letterallowin' buzziness and that sorter thing detains you. But wot'sthe facts? You're a gentleman, and as gentlemen you and Georgecomes to the opinion that you're rather playin' it for all it'sworth in this yer house, you know--comin' here night and day, offand on, reg'lar sociable and fam'ly like, and makin' people talkabout things they ain't any call to talk about, and, what's adarned sight more, you fellows ain't got any right yet to allow 'emto talk about, d'ye see?" he paused, out of breath.It was Miss Christie's turn to move about. In changing her seat tothe piano-stool, so as to be nearer her visitor, she brushed downsome loose music, which Whiskey Dick hastened to pick up."Pray don't mind it," she said, "pray don't, really--let it be--"But Whiskey Dick, feeling himself on safe ground in this attention,persisted to the bitter end of a disintegrated and well-worn"Travatore." "So that is what Mr. Munroe said," she remarkedquietly."Not just then, in course, but it's what's bin on his mind and inhis talk for days off and on," returned Dick, with a knowing smileand a nod of mysterious confidence. "Bless your soul, Miss Carr,folks like you and me don't need to have them things explained.That's what I said to him, sez I. 'Don't send no note, but just goup there and hev it out fair and square, and say what you do mean.'But they would hev the note, and I kalkilated to bring it. Butwhen I set my eyes on you, and heard you express yourself as youdid just now, I sez to myself, sez I, 'Dick, yer's a young lady,and a fash'nable lady at that, ez don't go foolin' round on rulesand etiketts'--excuse my freedom, Miss Carr--'and you and her, sezI, 'kin just discuss this yer matter in a sociable, off-hand,fash'nable way.' They're a good lot o' boys, Miss Carr, a squarelot--white men all of 'em; but they're a little soft and green, maybe, from livin' in these yer pine woods along o' the other sap.They just worship the ground you and your sister tread on--certain!of course! of course!" he added hurriedly, recognizing Christie'shalf-conscious, deprecating gesture with more exaggerateddeprecation. "I understand. But what I wanter say is that they'dbe willin' to be that ground, and lie down and let you walk overthem--so to speak, Miss Carr, so to speak--if it would keep the hemof your gown from gettin' soiled in the mud o' the camp. But itwouldn't do for them to make a reg'lar curderoy road o' themselvesfor the houl camp to trapse over, on the mere chance of your sometime passin' that way, would it now?""Won't you let me offer you some refreshment, Mr. Hall?" saidChristie, rising, with a slight color. "I'm really ashamed of myforgetfulness again, but I'm afraid it's partly your fault forentertaining me to the exclusion of yourself. No, thank you, letme fetch it for you."She turned to a handsome sideboard near the door, and presentlyfaced him again with a decanter of whiskey and a glass in her hand,and a return of the bewitching smile she had worn on entering."But perhaps you don't take whiskey?" suggested the arch deceiver,with a sudden affected but pretty perplexity of eye, brow, andlips.For the first time in his life Whiskey Dick hesitated between twoforms of intoxication. But he was still nervous and uneasy; habittriumphed, and he took the whiskey. He, however, wiped his lipswith a slight wave of his handkerchief, to support a certain easyelegance which he firmly believed relieved the act of any vulgarquality."Yes, ma'am," he continued, after an exhilarated pause. "Ez I saidafore, this yer's a matter you and me can discuss after the fashiono' society. My idea is that these yer boys should kinder let up onyou and Miss Jessie for a while, and do a little more permiskusattention round the Ford. There's one or two families yer withgrown-up gals ez oughter be squared; that is--the boys mighter putin a few fancy touches among them--kinder take 'em buggy riding--orto church--once in a while--just to take the pizen outer theirtongues, and make a kind o' bluff to the parents, d'ye see? Thatwould sorter divert their own minds; and even if it didn't, itwould kinder get 'em accustomed agin to the old style and their ownkind. I want to warn ye agin an idea that might occur to you in aginiral way. I don't say you hev the idea, but it's kind o'nat'ral you might be thinkin' of it some time, and I thought I'dwarn you agin it.""I think we understand each other too well to differ much, Mr.Hall," said Christie, still smiling; "but what is the idea?"The delicate compliment to their confidential relations and theslight stimulus of liquor had tremulously exalted Whiskey Dick.Affecting to look cautiously out of the window and around the room,he ventured to draw nearer the young woman with a half-paternal,half-timid familiarity."It might have occurred to you," he said, laying his handkerchiefas if to veil mere vulgar contact, on Christie's shoulder, "that itwould be a good thing on your side to invite down some of yourhigh-toned gentlemen friends from 'Frisco to visit you and escortyou round. It seems quite nat'ral like, and I don't say it ain't,but--the boys wouldn't stand for it."In spite of her self-possession, Christie's eyes suddenly darkened,and she involuntarily drew herself up. But Whiskey Dick, guiltilyattributing the movement to his own indiscreet gesture, said,"Excuse me, miss," recovered himself by lightly dusting hershoulder with his handkerchief, as if to remove the impression, andher smile returned."They wouldn't stand for it," said Dick, "and there'd be someshooting! Not afore you, miss--not afore you, in course! Butthey'd adjourn to the woods some morning with them city folks, andhev it out with rifles at a hundred yards. Or, seein' ez they'recity folks, the boys would do the square thing with pistols attwelve paces. They're good boys, as I said afore; but they'requick and tetchy--George, being the youngest, nat'rally is thetetchiest. You know how it is, Miss Carr; his pretty, gal-likeface and little moustaches haz cost him half a dozen scrimmagesalready. He'z had a fight for every hair that's growed in hismoustache since he kem here.""Say no more, Mr. Hall!" said Christie, rising and pressing herhands lightly on Dick's tremulous fingers. "If I ever had any suchidea, I should abandon it now; you are quite right in this as inyour other opinions. I shall never cease to be thankful to Mr.Munroe and Mr. Kearney that they intrusted this delicate matter toyour hands.""Well," said the gratified and reddening visitor, "it ain't perhapsthe square thing to them or myself to say that they reckoned tohave me discuss their delicate affairs for them, but--""I understand," interrupted Christie. "They simply gave you theletter as a friend. It was my good fortune to find you asympathizing and liberal man of the world." The delighted Dick,with conscious vanity beaming from every feature of his shiningface, lightly waved the compliment aside with his handkerchief, asshe continued, "But I am forgetting the message. We accept thehorses. Of course we could do without an escort; but forgive myspeaking so frankly, are you engaged this afternoon?""Excuse me, miss, I don't take--" stammered Dick, scarcelybelieving his ears."Could you give us your company as an escort?" repeated Christiewith a smile.Was he awake or dreaming, or was this some trick of liquor in hisoften distorted fancy? He, Whiskey Dick! the butt of his friends,the chartered oracle of the barrooms, even in whose wretched vanitythere was always the haunting suspicion that he was despised andscorned; he, who had dared so much in speech, and achieved solittle in fact! he, whose habitual weakness had even led him intothe wildest indiscretion here; he--now offered a reward for thatindiscretion! He, Whiskey Dick, the solicited escort of these twobeautiful and peerless girls! What would they say at the Ford?What would his friends think? It would be all over the Ford thenext day. His past would be vindicated, his future secured. Hegrew erect at the thought. It was almost in other voice, and withno trace of his previous exaggeration, that he said, "Withpleasure.""Then, if you will bring the horses at once, we shall be ready whenyou return."In another instant he had vanished, as if afraid to trust thereality of his good fortune to the dangers of delay. At the end ofhalf an hour he reappeared, leading the two horses, himself mountedon a half-broken mustang. A pair of large, jingling silver spursand a stiff sombrero, borrowed with the mustang from somemysterious source, were donned to do honor to the occasion.The young girls were not yet ready, but he was shown by the Chineseservant into the parlor to wait for them. The decanter of whiskeyand glasses were still invitingly there. He was hot, trembling,and flushed with triumph. He walked to the table and laid his handon the decanter, when an odd thought flashed upon him. He wouldnot drink this time. No, it should not be said that he, theselected escort of the elite of Devil's Ford, had to fill himselfup with whiskey before they started. The boys might turn to eachother in their astonishment, as he proudly passed with his faircompanions, and say, "It's Whiskey Dick," but he'd be d----d if theyshould add, "and full as ever." No, sir! Nor when he was ridingbeside these real ladies, and leaning over them at someconfidential moment, should they even know it from his breath!No. . . . Yet a thimbleful, taken straight, only a thimbleful,wouldn't be much, and might help to pull him together. He againreached his trembling hand for the decanter, hesitated, and then,turning his back upon it, resolutely walked to the open window.Almost at the same instant he found himself face to face withChristie on the veranda.She looked into his bloodshot eyes, and cast a swift glance at thedecanter."Won't you take something before you go?" she said sweetly."I--reckon--not, jest now," stammered Whiskey Dick, with a heroiceffort."You're right," said Christie. "I see you are like me. It's toohot for anything fiery. Come with me."She led him into the dining-room, and pouring out a glass of icedtea handed it to him. Poor Dick was not prepared for this terribleculmination. Whiskey Dick and iced tea! But under pretence ofseeing if it was properly flavored, Christie raised it to her ownlips."Try it, to please me."He drained the goblet."Now, then," said Christie gayly, "let's find Jessie, and be off!"