Book I: Chapter II

by Sherwood Anderson

　　One Sunday afternoon three boys sat on a log on the side of the hillthat looked down into Coal Creek. From where they sat they could seethe workers of the night shift idling in the sun on Main Street. Fromthe coke ovens a thin line of smoke rose into the sky. A freight trainheavily loaded crept round the hill at the end of the valley. It wasspring and over even that hive of black industry hung a faint promiseof beauty. The boys talked of the life of people in their town and asthey talked thought each of himself.

　　Although he had not been out of the valley and had grown strong andbig there, Beaut McGregor knew something of the outside world. Itisn't a time when men are shut off from their fellows. Newspapers andmagazines have done their work too well. They reached even into theminer's cabin and the merchants along Main Street of Coal Creek stoodbefore their stores in the afternoon and talked of the doings of theworld. Beaut McGregor knew that life in his town was exceptional, thatnot everywhere did men toil all day black and grimy underground, thatnot all women were pale bloodless and bent. As he went aboutdelivering bread he whistled a song. "Take me back to Broadway," hesang after the soubrette in a show that had once come to Coal Creek.

　　Now as he sat on the hillside he talked earnestly while hegesticulated with his hands. "I hate this town," he said. "The menhere think they are confoundedly funny. They don't care for anythingbut making foolish jokes and getting drunk. I want to go away." Hisvoice rose and hatred flamed up in him. "You wait," he boasted. "I'llmake men stop being fools. I'll make children of them. I'll----"Pausing he looked at his two companions.

　　Beaut poked the ground with a stick. The boy sitting beside himlaughed. He was a short well--dressed black--haired boy with rings onhis fingers who worked in the town poolroom, racking the pool balls."I'd like to go where there are women with blood in them," he said.

　　Three women came up the hill toward them, a tall pale brown-hairedwoman of twenty-seven and two fairer young girls. The black-haired boystraightened his tie and began thinking of a conversation he wouldstart when the women reached him. Beaut and the other boy, a fatfellow, the son of a grocer, looked down the hill to the town over theheads of the newcomers and continued in their minds the thoughts thathad made the conversation.

　　"Hello girls, come and sit here," shouted the black-haired boy,laughing and looking boldly into the eyes of the tall pale woman. Theystopped and the tall woman began stepping over the fallen logs, comingto them. The two young girls followed, laughing. They sat down on thelog beside the boys, the tall pale woman at the end beside red-hairedMcGregor. An embarrassed silence fell over the party. Both Beaut andthe fat boy were disconcerted by this turn to their afternoon's outingand wondered how it would turn out.

　　The pale woman began to talk in a low tone. "I want to get away fromhere," she said, "I wish I could hear birds sing and see green thingsgrow."

　　Beaut McGregor had an idea. "You come with me," he said. He got up andclimbed over the logs and the pale woman followed. The fat boy shoutedat them, relieving his own embarrassment by trying to embarrass them."Where're you going--you two?" he shouted.

　　Beaut said nothing. He stepped over the logs to the road and beganclimbing the hill. The tall woman walked beside him and held herskirts out of the deep dust of the road. Even on this her Sunday gownthere was a faint black mark along the seams--the mark of Coal Creek.

　　As McGregor walked his embarrassment left him. He thought it fine thathe should be thus alone with a woman. When she had tired from theclimb he sat with her on a log beside the road and talked of theblack-haired boy. "He has your ring on his finger," he said, lookingat her and laughing.

　　She held her hand pressed tightly against her side and closed hereyes. "The climbing hurts me," she said.

　　Tenderness took hold of Beaut. When they went on again he walkedbehind her, his hand upon her back pushing her up the hill. The desireto tease her about the black-haired boy had passed and he wished hehad said nothing about the ring. He remembered the story the black-haired boy had told him of his conquest of the woman. "More thanlikely a mess of lies," he thought.

　　Over the crest of the hill they stopped and rested, leaning against aworn rail fence by the woods. Below them in a wagon a party of menwent down the hill. The men sat upon boards laid across the box of awagon and sang a song. One of them stood in the seat beside the driverand waved a bottle. He seemed to be making a speech. The othersshouted and clapped their hands. The sounds came faint and sharp upthe hill.

　　In the woods beside the fence rank grass grew. Hawks floated in thesky over the valley below. A squirrel running along the fence stoppedand chattered at them. McGregor thought he had never had so delightfula companion. He got a feeling of complete, good fellowship andfriendliness with this woman. Without knowing how the thing had beendone he felt a certain pride in it. "Don't mind what I said about thering," he urged, "I was only trying to tease you."

　　The woman beside McGregor was the daughter of an undertaker who livedupstairs over his shop near the bakery. He had seen her in the eveningstanding in the stairway by the shop door. After the story told him bythe black-haired boy he had been embarrassed about her. When he passedher standing in the stairway he went hurriedly along and looked intothe gutter.

　　They went down the hill and sat on the log upon the hillside. A clumpof elders had grown about the log since his visits there with CrackedMcGregor so that the place was closed and shaded like a room. Thewoman took off her hat and laid it beside her on the log. A faintcolour mounted to her pale cheeks and a flash of anger gleamed in hereyes. "He probably lied to you about me," she said, "I didn't give himthat ring to wear. I don't know why I gave it to him. He wanted it. Heasked me for it time and again. He said he wanted to show it to hismother. And now he has shown it to you and I suppose told lies aboutme."

　　Beaut was annoyed and wished he had not mentioned the ring. He feltthat an unnecessary fuss was being made about it. He did not believethat the black-haired boy had lied but he did not think it mattered.

　　He began talking of his father, boasting of him. His hatred of thetown blazed up. "They thought they knew him down there," he said,"they laughed at him and called him 'Cracked.' They thought hisrunning into the mine just a crazy notion like a horse that runs intoa burning stable. He was the best man in town. He was braver than anyof them. He went in there and died when he had almost enough moneysaved to buy a farm over here." He pointed down the valley.

　　Beaut began to tell her of the visits to the hillside with his fatherand described the effect of the scene on himself when he was a child."I thought it was paradise," he said.

　　She put her hand on his arm and seemed to be soothing him like acareful groom quieting an excitable horse. "Don't mind them," shesaid, "you will go away after a time and make a place for yourself outin the world."

　　He wondered how she knew. A profound respect for her came over him."She is keen to guess that," he thought.

　　He began to talk of himself, boasting and throwing out his chest. "I'dlike to have the chance to show what I can do," he declared. A thoughtthat had been in his mind on the winter day when Uncle Charlie Wheelerput the name of Beaut upon him came back and he walked up and downbefore the woman making grotesque motions with his hands as CrackedMcGregor had walked up and down before him.

　　"I'll tell you what," he began and his voice was harsh. He hadforgotten the presence of the woman and half forgotten what had beenin his mind. He sputtered and glared over his shoulder up the hillsideas he struggled for words. "Oh to Hell with men!" he burst forth."They are cattle, stupid cattle." A fire blazed up in his eyes and aconfident ring came into his voice. "I'd like to get them together,all of them," he said, "I'd like to make them----" Words failed himand again he sat down on the log beside the woman. "Well I'd like tolead them to an old mine shaft and push them in," he concludedresentfully.

　　* * * * *On the eminence Beaut and the tall woman sat and looked down into thevalley. "I wonder why we don't go there, mother and I," he said. "WhenI see it I'm filled with the notion. I think I want to be a farmer andwork in the fields. Instead of that mother and I sit and plan of thecity. I'm going to be a lawyer. That's all we talk about. Then I comeup here and it seems as though this is the place for me."

　　The tall woman laughed. "I can see you coming home at night from thefields," she said. "It might be to that white house there with thewindmill, You would be a big man and would have dust in your red hairand perhaps a red beard growing on your chin. And a woman with a babyin her arms would come out of the kitchen door to stand leaning on thefence waiting for you. When you came up she would put her arm aroundyour neck and kiss you on the lips. The beard would tickle her cheek.You should have a beard when you grow older. Your mouth is so big."

　　A strange new feeling shot through Beaut. He wondered why she had saidthat and wanted to take hold of her hand and kiss her then and there.He got up and looked at the sun going down behind the hill far away atthe other end of the valley. "We'd better be getting along back," hesaid.

　　The woman remained seated on the log. "Sit down," she said, "I'll tellyou something--something it's good for you to hear. You're so big andred you tempt a girl to bother you. First though you tell me why yougo along the street looking into the gutter when I stand in thestairway in the evening."

　　Beaut sat down again upon the log, and thought of what the black-haired boy had told him of her. "Then it was true--what he said aboutyou?" he asked.

　　"No! No!" she cried, jumping up in her turn and beginning to pin onher hat. "Let's be going."

　　Beaut sat stolidly on the log. "What's the use bothering each other,"he said. "Let's sit here until the sun goes down. We can get homebefore dark."

　　They sat down and she began talking, boasting of herself as he hadboasted of his father.

　　"I'm too old for that boy," she said; "I'm older than you by a goodmany years. I know what boys talk about and what they say about women.I do pretty well. I don't have any one to talk to except father and hesits all evening reading a paper and going to sleep in his chair. If Ilet boys come and sit with me in the evening or stand talking with mein the stairway it is because I'm lonesome. There isn't a man in townI'd marry--not one."

　　The speech sounded discordant and harsh to Beaut. He wished his fatherwere there rubbing his hands together and muttering rather than thispale woman who stirred him up and then talked harshly like the womenat the back doors in Coal Creek. He thought again as he had thoughtbefore that he preferred the black-faced miners drunk and silent totheir pale talking wives. On an impulse he told her that, saying itcrudely so that it hurt.

　　Their companionship was spoiled. They got up and began to climb thehill, going toward home. Again she put her hand to her side and againhe wished to put his hand at her back and push her up the hill.Instead he walked beside her in silence, again hating the town.

　　Halfway down the hill the tall woman stopped by the road-side.Darkness was coming on and the glow of the coke ovens lighted the sky."One living up here and never going down there might think it rathergrand and big," he said. Again the hatred came. "They might think themen who live down there knew something instead of being just a lot ofcattle."

　　A smile came into the face of the tall woman and a gentler look stoleinto her eyes. "We get at one another," she said, "we can't let oneanother alone. I wish we hadn't quarrelled. We might be friends if wetried. You have got something in you. You attract women. I've heardothers say that. Your father was that way. Most of the women herewould rather have been the wife of Cracked McGregor ugly as he wasthan to have stayed with their own husbands. I heard my mother saythat to father when they lay quarrelling in bed at night and I laylistening."

　　The boy was overcome with the thought of a woman talking to him sofrankly. He looked at her and said what was in his mind. "I don't likethe women," he said, "but I liked you, seeing you standing in thestairway and thinking you had been doing as you pleased. I thoughtmaybe you amounted to something. I don't know why you should bebothered by what I think. I don't know why any woman should bebothered by what any man thinks. I should think you would go right ondoing what you want to do like mother and me about my being a lawyer."

　　He sat on a log beside the road near where he had met her and watchedher go down the hill. "I'm quite a fellow to have talked to her allafternoon like that," he thought and pride in his growing manhoodcrept over him.