Chapter VI

by Bret Harte

　　The abrupt departure of George Kearney from Devil's Ford excitedbut little interest in the community, and was soon forgotten. Itwas generally attributed to differences between himself and hispartners on the question of further outlay of their earnings onmining improvements--he and Philip Carr alone representing asanguine minority whose faith in the future of the mine acceptedany risks. It was alleged by some that he had sold out to hisbrother; it was believed by others that he had simply gone toSacramento to borrow money on his share, in order to continue theimprovements on his own responsibility. The partners themselveswere uncommunicative; even Whiskey Dick, who since his remarkablesocial elevation had become less oracular, much to his ownastonishment, contributed nothing to the gossip except a suggestionthat as the fiery temper of George Kearney brooked no opposition,even from his brother, it was better they should separate beforethe estrangement became serious.Mr. Carr did not disguise his annoyance at the loss of his youngdisciple and firm ally. But an unlucky allusion to his previousremarks on Kearney's attentions to Jessie, and a querulous regretthat he had permitted a disruption of their social intimacy,brought such an ominous and frigid opposition, not only fromChristie, but even the frivolous Jessie herself, that Carr sankback in a crushed and terrified silence. "I only meant to say," hestammered after a pause, in which he, however, resumed hisaggrieved manner, "that Fairfax seems to come here still, and he isnot such a particular friend of mine.""But she is--and has your interest entirely at heart," said Jessie,stoutly, "and he only comes here to tell us how things are going onat the works.""And criticise your father, I suppose," said Mr. Carr, with anattempt at jocularity that did not, however, disguise an irritatedsuspiciousness. "He really seems to have supplanted me as he haspoor Kearney in your estimation.""Now, father," said Jessie, suddenly seizing him by the shouldersin affected indignation, but really to conceal a certainembarrassment that sprang quite as much from her sister's quietlyobservant eye as her father's speech, "you promised to let thisridiculous discussion drop. You will make me and Christie sonervous that we will not dare to open the door to a visitor, untilhe declares his innocence of any matrimonial intentions. You don'twant to give color to the gossip that agreement with your viewsabout the improvements is necessary to getting on with us.""Who dares talk such rubbish?" said Carr, reddening; "is that thekind of gossip that Fairfax brings here?""Hardly, when it's known that he don't quite agree with you, anddoes come here. That's the best denial of the gossip."Christie, who had of late loftily ignored these discussions, waiteduntil her father had taken his departure."Then that is the reason why you still see Mr. Munroe, after whatyou said," she remarked quietly to Jessie.Jessie, who would have liked to escape with her father, was obligedto pause on the threshold of the door, with a pretty assumption ofblank forgetfulness in her blue eyes and lifted eyebrows."Said what? when?" she asked vacantly."When--when Mr. Kearney that day--in the woods--went away," saidChristie, faintly coloring."Oh! That day," said Jessie briskly; "the day he just gloved yourhand with kisses, and then fled wildly into the forest to concealhis emotion.""The day he behaved very foolishly," said Christie, withreproachful calmness, that did not, however, prevent a suspicion ofindignant moisture in her eyes--"when you explained"--"That it wasn't meant for me," interrupted Jessie."That it was to you that Mr. Munroe's attentions were directed.And then we agreed that it was better to prevent any furtheradvances of this kind by avoiding any familiar relations witheither of them.""Yes," said Jessie, "I remember; but you're not confounding myseeing Fairfax occasionally now with that sort of thing. Hedoesn't kiss my hand like anything," she added, as if in abstractreflection."Nor run away, either," suggested the trodden worm, turning.There was an ominous silence."Do you know we are nearly out of coffee?" said Jessie choking, butmoving towards the door with Spartan-like calmness."Yes. And something must be done this very day about the washing,"said Christie, with suppressed emotion, going towards the oppositeentrance.Tears stood in each other's eyes with this terrible exchange ofdomestic confidences. Nevertheless, after a moment's pause, theydeliberately turned again, and, facing each other with frightfulcalmness, left the room by purposeless and deliberate exits otherthan those they had contemplated--a crushing abnegation of self,that, to some extent, relieved their surcharged feelings.Meantime the material prosperity of Devil's Ford increased, if aprosperity based upon no visible foundation but the confidences andhopes of its inhabitants could be called material. Few, if any,stopped to consider that the improvements, buildings, and businesswere simply the outlay of capital brought from elsewhere, and asyet the settlement or town, as it was now called, had neitherproduced nor exported capital of itself equal to half the amountexpended. It was true that some land was cultivated on the furtherslope, some mills erected and lumber furnished from theinexhaustible forest; but the consumers were the inhabitantsthemselves, who paid for their produce in borrowed capital orunlimited credit. It was never discovered that while all roads ledto Devil's Ford, Devil's Ford led to nowhere. The difficultiesovercome in getting things into the settlement were neversurmounted for getting things out of it. The lumber waspractically valueless for export to other settlements across themountain roads, which were equally rich in timber. The theory soenthusiastically held by the original locators, that Devil's Fordwas a vast sink that had, through ages, exhausted and absorbed thetrickling wealth of the adjacent hills and valleys, was sufferingan ironical corroboration.One morning it was known that work was stopped at the Devil's FordDitch--temporarily only, it was alleged, and many of the oldworkmen simply had their labor for the present transferred toexcavating the river banks, and the collection of vast heaps of"pay gravel." Specimens from these mounds, taken from differentlocalities, and at different levels, were sent to San Francisco formore rigid assay and analysis. It was believed that this wouldestablish the fact of the permanent richness of the drifts, and notonly justify past expenditure, but a renewed outlay of credit andcapital. The suspension of engineering work gave Mr. Carr anopportunity to visit San Francisco on general business of the mine,which could not, however, prevent him from arranging furthercombinations with capital. His two daughters accompanied him. Itoffered an admirable opportunity for a shopping expedition, achange of scene, and a peaceful solution of their perplexing andanomalous social relations with Devil's Ford. In the first flushof gratitude to their father for this opportune holiday, somethingof harmony had been restored to the family circle that had of latebeen shaken by discord.But their sanguine hopes of enjoyment were not entirely fulfilled.Both Jessie and Christie were obliged to confess to a certaindisappointment in the aspect of the civilization they were nowreentering. They at first attributed it to the change in their ownhabits during the last three months, and their having becomebarbarous and countrified in their seclusion. Certainly in thematter of dress they were behind the fashions as revealed inMontgomery Street. But when the brief solace afforded them by themodiste and dressmaker was past, there seemed little else to begained. They missed at first, I fear, the chivalrous and loyaldevotion that had only amused them at Devil's Ford, and were themore inclined, I think, to distrust the conscious and morecivilized gallantry of the better dressed and more carefullypresented men they met. For it must be admitted that, for obviousreasons, their criticisms were at first confined to the sex theyhad been most in contact with. They could not help noticing thatthe men were more eager, annoyingly feverish, and self-asserting intheir superior elegance and external show than their old associateswere in their frank, unrestrained habits. It seemed to them thatthe five millionaires of Devil's Ford, in their radical simplicityand thoroughness, were perhaps nearer the type of truegentlemanhood than these citizens who imitated a civilization theywere unable yet to reach.The women simply frightened them, as being, even more than the men,demonstrative and excessive in their fine looks, their finedresses, their extravagant demand for excitement. In less than aweek they found themselves regretting--not the new villa on theslope of Devil's Ford, which even in its own bizarre fashion wasexceeded by the barbarous ostentation of the villas and privatehouses around them--but the double cabin under the trees, which nowseemed to them almost aristocratic in its grave simplicity andabstention. In the mysterious forests of masts that thronged thecity's quays they recalled the straight shafts of the pines onDevil's slopes, only to miss the sedate repose and infinite calmthat used to environ them. In the feverish, pulsating life of theyoung metropolis they often stopped oppressed, giddy, and choking;the roar of the streets and thoroughfares was meaningless to them,except to revive strange memories of the deep, unvarying monotoneof the evening wind over their humbler roof on the Sierranhillside. Civic bred and nurtured as they were, the recurrence ofthese sensations perplexed and alarmed them."It seems so perfectly ridiculous," said Jessie, "for us to feel asout of place here as that Pike County servant girl in Sacramentowho had never seen a steamboat before; do you know, I quite had aturn the other day at seeing a man on the Stockton wharf in a redshirt, with a rifle on his shoulder.""And you wanted to go and speak to him?" said Christie, with a sadsmile."No, that's just it; I felt awfully hurt and injured that he didnot come up and speak to me! I wonder if we got any fever or thatsort of thing up there; it makes one quite superstitious."Christie did not reply; more than once before she had felt thatinexplicable misgiving. It had sometimes seemed to her that shehad never been quite herself since that memorable night when shehad slipped out of their sleeping-cabin, and stood alone in thegracious and commanding presence of the woods and hills. In thesolitude of night, with the hum of the great city rising below her--at times even in theatres or crowded assemblies of men and women--she forgot herself, and again stood in the weird brilliancy of thatmoonlight night in mute worship at the foot of that slowly-risingmystic altar of piled terraces, hanging forests, and liftedplateaus that climbed forever to the lonely skies. Again she feltbefore her the expanding and opening arms of the protecting woods.Had they really closed upon her in some pantheistic embrace thatmade her a part of them? Had she been baptized in that moonlightas a child of the great forest? It was easy to believe in themyths of the poets of an idyllic life under those trees, where,free from conventional restrictions, one loved and was loved. Ifshe, with her own worldly experience, could think of this now, whymight not George Kearney have thought? . . . She stopped, andfound herself blushing even in the darkness. As the thought andblush were the usual sequel of her reflections, it is to be fearedthat they may have been at times the impelling cause.Mr. Carr, however, made up for his daughters' want of sympathy withmetropolitan life. To their astonishment, he not only plunged intothe fashionable gayeties and amusements of the town, but in dressand manner assumed the role of a leader of society. The invariableanswer to their half-humorous comment was the necessities of themine, and the policy of frequenting the company of capitalists, toenlist their support and confidence. There was something in thisso unlike their father, that what at any other time they would havehailed as a relief to his habitual abstraction now half alarmedthem. Yet he was not dissipated--he did not drink nor gamble.There certainly did not seem any harm in his frequenting thesociety of ladies, with a gallantry that appeared to be forced anda pleasure that to their critical eyes was certainly apocryphal.He did not drag his daughters into the mixed society of thatperiod; he did not press upon them the company of those he mostfrequented, and whose accepted position in that little world offashion was considered equal to their own. When Jessie stronglyobjected to the pronounced manners of a certain widow, whose actualpresent wealth and pecuniary influence condoned for a moreuncertain prehistoric past, Mr. Carr did not urge a furtheracquaintance. "As long as you're not thinking of marrying again,papa," Jessie had said finally, "I don't see the necessity of ourknowing her." "But suppose I were," had replied Mr. Carr withaffected humor. "Then you certainly wouldn't care for any one likeher," his daughter had responded triumphantly. Mr. Carr smiled,and dropped the subject, but it is probable that his daughters'want of sympathy with his acquaintances did not in the leastinterfere with his social prestige. A gentleman in all hisrelations and under all circumstances, even his cold scientificabstraction was provocative; rich men envied his lofty ignorance ofthe smaller details of money-making, even while they mistrusted hisjudgment. A man still well preserved, and free from weakeningvices, he was a dangerous rival to younger and faster SanFrancisco, in the eyes of the sex, who knew how to value a reposethey did not themselves possess.Suddenly Mr. Carr announced his intention of proceeding toSacramento, on further business of the mine, leaving his twodaughters in the family of a wealthy friend until he should returnfor them. He opposed their ready suggestion to return to Devil'sFord with a new and unnecessary inflexibility: he even met theircompromise to accompany him to Sacramento with equal decision."You will be only in my way," he said curtly. "Enjoy yourselveshere while you can."Thus left to themselves, they tried to accept his advice. Possiblysome slight reaction to their previous disappointment may havealready set in; perhaps they felt any distraction to be a relief totheir anxiety about their father. They went out more; theyfrequented concerts and parties; they accepted, with their host andhis family, an invitation to one of those opulent and barbaricentertainments with which a noted San Francisco millionairedistracted his rare moments of reflection in his gorgeous palace onthe hills. Here they could at least be once more in the countrythey loved, albeit of a milder and less heroic type, and a littledegraded by the overlapping tinsel and scattered spangles of thepalace.It was a three days' fete; the style and choice of amusements leftto the guests, and an equal and active participation by no meansnecessary or indispensable. Consequently, when Christie and JessieCarr proposed a ride through the adjacent canyon on the secondmorning, they had no difficulty in finding horses in the well-furnished stables of their opulent entertainers, nor cavaliersamong the other guests, who were too happy to find favor in theeyes of the two pretty girls who were supposed to be abnormallyfastidious and refined. Christie's escort was a good-natured youngbanker, shrewd enough to avoid demonstrative attentions, and luckyenough to interest her during the ride with his clear and half-humorous reflections on some of the business speculations of theday. If his ideas were occasionally too clever, and not alwaysconsistent with a high sense of honor, she was none the lessinterested to know the ethics of that world of speculation intowhich her father had plunged, and the more convinced, with mingledsense of pride and anxiety, that his still dominant gentlemanhoodwould prevent his coping with it on equal terms. Nor could shehelp contrasting the conversation of the sharp-witted man at herside with what she still remembered of the vague, touching, boyishenthusiasm of the millionaires of Devil's Ford. Had her escortguessed the result of this contrast, he would hardly have been asgratified as he was with the grave attention of her beautiful eyes.The fascination of a gracious day and the leafy solitude of thecanyon led them to prolong their ride beyond the proposed limit,and it became necessary towards sunset for them to seek someshorter cut home."There's a vaquero in yonder field," said Christie's escort, whowas riding with her a little in advance of the others, "and thosefellows know every trail that a horse can follow. I'll ride on,intercept him, and try my Spanish on him. If I miss him, as he'sgalloping on, you might try your hand on him yourself. He'llunderstand your eyes, Miss Carr, in any language."As he dashed away, to cover his first audacity of compliment,Christie lifted the eyes thus apostrophized to the opposite field.The vaquero, who was chasing some cattle, was evidently toopreoccupied to heed the shouts of her companion, and wheeling roundsuddenly to intercept one of the deviating fugitives, permittedChristie's escort to dash past him before that gentleman could reinin his excited steed. This brought the vaquero directly in herpath. Perceiving her, he threw his horse back on its haunches, toprevent a collision. Christie rode up to him, suddenly uttered acry, and halted. For before her, sunburnt in cheek and throat,darker in the free growth of moustache and curling hair, clad inthe coarse, picturesque finery of his class, undisguised only inhis boyish beauty, sat George Kearney.The blood, that had forsaken her astonished face, rushed as quicklyback. His eyes, which had suddenly sparkled with an electricalglow, sank before hers. His hand dropped, and his cheek flushedwith a dark embarrassment."You here, Mr. Kearney? How strange!--but how glad I am to meetyou again!"She tried to smile; her voice trembled, and her little hand shookas she extended it to him.He raised his dark eyes quickly, and impulsively urged his horse toher side. But, as if suddenly awakening to the reality of thesituation, he glanced at her hurriedly, down at his barbaricfinery, and threw a searching look towards her escort.In an instant Christie saw the infelicity of her position, and itsdangers. The words of Whiskey Dick, "He wouldn't stand that,"flashed across her mind. There was no time to lose. The bankerhad already gained control over his horse, and was approachingthem, all unconscious of the fixed stare with which George wasregarding him. Christie hastily seized the hand which he hadallowed to fall at his side, and said quickly:--"Will you ride with me a little way, Mr. Kearney?"He turned the same searching look upon her. She met it clearly andsteadily; he even thought reproachfully."Do!" she said hurriedly. "I ask it as a favor. I want to speakto you. Jessie and I are here alone. Father is away. You are oneof our oldest friends."He hesitated. She turned to the astonished young banker, who rode up."I have just met an old friend. Will you please ride back asquickly as you can, and tell Jessie that Mr. Kearney is here, andask her to join us?"She watched her dazed escort, still speechless from the spectacleof the fastidious Miss Carr tete-a-tete with a common Mexicanvaquero, gallop off in the direction of the canyon, and then turnedto George."Now take me home, the shortest way, as quick as you can.""Home?" echoed George."I mean to Mr. Prince's house. Quick! before they can come up tous."He mechanically put spurs to his horse; she followed. Theypresently struck into a trail that soon diverged again into adisused logging track through the woods."This is the short cut to Prince's, by two miles," he said, as theyentered the woods.As they were still galloping, without exchanging a word, Christiebegan to slacken her speed; George did the same. They were safefrom intrusion at the present, even if the others had found theshort cut. Christie, bold and self-reliant a moment ago, suddenlyfound herself growing weak and embarrassed. What had she done?She checked her horse suddenly."Perhaps we had better wait for them," she said timidly.George had not raised his eyes to hers."You said you wanted to hurry home," he replied gently, passing hishand along his mustang's velvety neck, "and--and you had somethingto say to me.""Certainly," she answered, with a faint laugh. "I'm so astonishedat meeting you here. I'm quite bewildered. You are living here;you have forsaken us to buy a ranche?" she continued, looking athim attentively.His brow colored slightly."No, I'm living here, but I have bought no ranche. I'm only ahired man on somebody else's ranche, to look after the cattle."He saw her beautiful eyes fill with astonishment and--somethingelse. His brow cleared; he went on, with his old boyish laugh:"No, Miss Carr. The fact is, I'm dead broke. I've lost everythingsince I saw you last. But as I know how to ride, and I'm notafraid of work, I manage to keep along.""You have lost money in--in the mines?" said Christie suddenly."No"--he replied quickly, evading her eyes. "My brother has myinterest, you know. I've been foolish on my own account solely.You know I'm rather inclined to that sort of thing. But as long asmy folly don't affect others, I can stand it.""But it may affect others--and they may not think of it as folly--"She stopped short, confused by his brightening color and eyes. "Imean-- Oh, Mr. Kearney, I want you to be frank with me. I knownothing of business, but I know there has been trouble about themine at Devil's Ford. Tell me honestly, has my father anything todo with it? If I thought that through any imprudence of his, youhad suffered--if I believed that you could trace any misfortune ofyours to him--to us--I should never forgive myself"--she stoppedand flashed a single look at him--"I should never forgive you forabandoning us."The look of pain which had at first shown itself in his face, whichnever concealed anything, passed, and a quick smile followed herfeminine anticlimax."Miss Carr," he said, with boyish eagerness, "if any man suggestedto me that your father wasn't the brightest and best of his kind--too wise and clever for the fools about him to understand--I'd--I'dshoot him."Confused by his ready and gracious disclaimer of what she had notintended to say, there was nothing left for her but to rush uponwhat she really intended to say, with what she felt was shamefulprecipitation."One word more, Mr. Kearney," she began, looking down, but feelingthe color come to her face as she spoke. "When you spoke to me theday you left, you must have thought me hard and cruel. When I tellyou that I thought you were alluding to Jessie and some feeling youhad for her--""For Jessie!" echoed George."You will understand that--that--""That what?" said George, drawing nearer to her."That I was only speaking as she might have spoken had you talkedto her of me," added Christie hurriedly, slightly backing her horseaway from him.But this was not so easy, as George was the better rider, and by animperceptible movement of his wrist and foot had glued his horse toher side. "He will go now," she had thought, but he didn't."We must ride on," she suggested faintly."No," he said with a sudden dropping of his boyish manner and aslight lifting of his head. "We must ride together no further,Miss Carr. I must go back to the work I am hired to do, and youmust go on with your party, whom I hear coming. But when we parthere you must bid me good-by--not as Jessie's sister--but asChristie--the one--the only woman that I love, or that I ever haveloved."He held out his hand. With the recollection of their previousparting, she tremblingly advanced her own. He took it, but did notraise it to his lips. And it was she who found herself halfconfusedly retaining his hand in hers, until she dropped it with ablush."Then is this the reason you give for deserting us as you havedeserted Devil's Ford?" she said coldly.He lifted his eyes to her with a strange smile, and said, "Yes,"wheeled his horse, and disappeared in the forest.He had left her thus abruptly once before, kissed, blushing, andindignant. He was leaving her now, unkissed, but white andindignant. Yet she was so self-possessed when the party joinedher, that the singular rencontre and her explanation of thestranger's sudden departure excited no further comment. OnlyJessie managed to whisper in her ear,--"I hope you are satisfied now that it wasn't me he meant?""Not at all," said Christie coldly.