9 WESTERNS: The Law of the Land, The Way of a Man, Heart's Desire, The Covered Wagon, 54-40 or Fight, The Man Next Door, The Magnificent Adventure, The Sagebrusher and more. Emerson Hough
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if I could say a word, just a hint, you know — "
"You won't!" exclaimed Sam bitterly, and in tones; of conviction. "You won't! There ain't nobody won't! I've tried, an' there won't nobody! There'll be some d——d cow-puncher blow in there some day and marry that Nory girl, an' I never will git to tell her the way I feel."
"Oh, yes, you will," said Franklin. "It'll come to you some time; and when it does, friend," he added gravely, laying a hand upon Sam's shoulder, "I hope she'll not say no to you forever."
"Forever, Cap?"
"Yes, it sometimes happens that way."
"Forever? Well, if Nory ever said no to me onct, that shore would settle it. I know what I'd do: I'd sell out my barn an' I'd hit the trail mighty quick. Do they ever do that way, Cap?"
"Yes," said Franklin, "they tell me that they sometimes do. They're strange creatures, Sam."
"An' that's no lie!" said Sam. "But here, I'm forgettin' of your span."
He disappeared within the barn, whence presently arose sounds of tumult. The "span" emerged with one half of its constituent parts walking on its hind legs and lashing out viciously in front.
"Well, I don't know about that black," said Franklin critically. "He's a bit bronco, isn't he?"
"What, him?" said Sam. "Naw, he's all right. You don't suppose I'd run in any wild stock on you, do you? He's been hitched up sever'l times, an' he's plumb gentle. May rare up a little at first, but he's all right. Of course, you want to have a little style about you, goin' down there."
Franklin got into the buggy, while Sam held the head of the "plumb gentle" horse. When cast loose the latter reared again and came down with his fore feet over the neck yoke. Nimbly recovering, he made a gallant attempt to kick in the dashboard. This stirred up his mate to a thought of former days, and the two went away pawing and plunging. "So long!" cried Sam, waving his hand. "Good luck!"
Franklin was for a time busy in keeping his team upon the trail, but soon they settled down into a steady, shuffling trot, to which they held for mile after mile over the hard prairie road. The day was bright and clear, the air sweet and bracing. An hour's drive from the town, and the traveller seemed in a virgin world. A curious coyote sat on a hill, regarding intently the spectacle of a man travelling with wheels beneath him, instead of the legs of a horse. A band of antelope lined up on the crest of a ridge and stood staring steadfastly. A gray-winged hawk swept wide and easily along the surface of the earth on its morning hunting trip. Near by the trail hundreds of cheerful prairie dogs barked and jerked their ceaseless salutation. An ancient and untroubled scheme of life lay all around him, appealing in its freshness and its charm. Why should a man, a tall and strong man, with health upon his cheek, sit here with brooding and downcast eye, heedless of the miles slipping behind him like a ribbon spun beneath the wheels?
Franklin was learning how fast bound are all the ways of life to the one old changeless way. This new land, which he and his fellow-men coveted, why was it so desired? Only that over it, as over all the world behind it, there might be builded homes. For, as he reflected, the adventurers of the earth had always been also the home-builders; and there followed for him the bitter personal corollary that all his adventure was come to naught if there could be no home as its ultimate reward. His vague eye swam over the wide, gray sea about him, and to himself he seemed adrift, unanchored and with no chart of life.
CHAPTER XXIII MARY ELLEN
Lifting and shimmering mysteriously in the midday sun, as though tantalizing any chance traveller of that wide land with a prospect alluring, yet impossible, the buildings of the Halfway station now loomed large and dark, now sank until they seemed a few broken dots and dashes just visible upon the wide gray plain. Yet soon the tall frame of the windmill showed high above the earth, most notable landmark for many a mile, and finally the ragged arms of the corral posts appeared definitely, and then the low peak of the roof of the main building. For miles these seemed to grow no closer, but the steady trot of the little horses ate up the distance, and Franklin found himself again at the spot with which he was already so well acquainted that every detail, every low building and gnarled bit of wood, was tabulated surely in his mind. The creak of the windmill presently came to his ears as a familiar sound, but rasping and irritating on his strong nerves as the croak of the elder Fate.
Franklin drove up to the great dugout which made the main building, in front of which the soil had been worn bare and dusty by many hoofs. The Halfway House was now a business enterprise of assured success. Many signs of prosperity appeared to the eye accustomed to the crude simplicity of the frontier. These immigrants from the far-off South, incongruous and unfitted as they had seemed in this harsh new country, had apparently blundered into a material success far beyond that of their average neighbour. The first years, the hardest ones of their struggle, were past, and the problem of existence was solved. In those days one did not always concern himself about problems more intricate and more distant.
Buford met him in the yard, and the two together busied themselves in taking care of the team, the former apologizing that he still had no servant for such work, "I did have a nigger here for a while," he said, "but he turned out no account, and the first I knew he went off for a cow-puncher down the trail. I'm mighty glad to see you again, captain, for it looked as though you had forsaken us. It certainly is a comfort to see a gentleman like yourself once in a while. We meet plenty of cowmen and movers, decent folk enough, but they have a lack, sir, they have a lack. I maintain, sir, that no gentleman can flourish without that intelligent social intercourse with his kind which is as much a part of his livin', sir, as the eatin' of his daily bread. Now, as I was sayin' about General Lee, sir — but perhaps we would better go in and join the ladies. They will be glad to see you, and later on we can resume our discussion of the war. I am willing to admit, sir, that the war is over, but I never did admit, and, sir, I contend yet, that Lee was the greatest general that the world ever saw — far greater than Grant, who was in command of resources infinitely superior. Now, then — "
"Oh, uncle, uncle!" cried a voice behind him. "Have you begun the war over again so soon? You might at least let Mr. Franklin get into the house."
Mary Ellen stood at the door of the dugout, just clear of the front, and upon the second step of the stair, and her hand half shading her eyes. The sun fell upon her brown hair, changing its chestnut to a ruddy bronze, vital and warm, with a look as though it breathed a fragrance of its own. A little vagrant lock blew down at the temple, and Franklin yearned, as he always did when he saw this small truant, to stroke it back into its place. The sun and the open air had kissed pink into the cheek underneath the healthy brown. The curve of the girl's chin was full and firm. Her tall figure had all the grace of a normal being. Her face, sweet and serious, showed the symmetry of perfect and well-balanced faculties. She stood, as natural and as beautiful, as fit and seemly as the antelope upon the hill, as well poised and sure, her head as high and free, her hold upon life apparently as confident. The vision of her standing there caused Franklin to thrill and flush. Unconsciously he drew near to her, too absorbed to notice the one visible token of a possible success; for, as he approached, hat in hand, the girl drew back as though she feared.
There was something not easily to be denied in this tall man, his figure still military in its self-respect of carriage, with the broad shoulders, the compact trunk, the hard jaw, and the straight blue eye of the man of deeds. The loose Western dress, which so illy became any but a manly figure, sat carelessly but well upon him. He looked so fit and manly, so clean of heart, and so direct of purpose as he came on now in this forlorn hope that Mary Ellen felt a shiver of self-distrust. She stepped back, calling on all the familiar spirits of the past. Her heart stopped, resuming at double speed. It seemed as though a thrill of tingling warmth came from somewhere in the air — this time, this day, this hour, this man, so imperative, this new land, this new world into which she had come from that of her earlier years! She was yet so young! Could there be something unknown, some sweetness yet unsounded? Could there be that rest and content which, strive as she might, were