GREAT EXPECTATIONS IN JOHNSON FAMILY
"Say, Dan."
"Huh-huh?"
"Did you ever feel kind of sudden like you'd done something before?" Lafe inquired.
It was a month later and we were riding through the dusk up the Cañon towards his home. This was too abstruse.
"I mean," he explained, "sometimes when you're at some place or looking at something, haven't you had a quick idea that you'd done the same thing in the same place a long time ago? Haven't you ever felt that way, Dan?"
"Often."
"I wonder," said he, "what's the reason?"
"It's probably a recurring impression—a remembrance of an act performed years ago."
He shook his head. "No-oo. It ain't that. I ain't never rode up here with you before. This is the first time me and you have been here together, ain't it? Yet I swear it struck me just now that, so long ago I can't call to mind when, me and you were trotting along just like this."
"Perhaps we were chums in a previous existence. There is the transmigration of souls, you know."
Lafe answered impatiently that the phenomenon could not be explained on any such grounds and expressed surprise that a man of my seeming sense would credit such theories. It seemed to rankle in him strangely. He grumbled to himself for a considerable distance, and was so visibly put out that I switched the talk.
"How's Bob getting along?" I ventured.
It proved an unfortunate choice of topics. Ferrier had been given a year in the cells by the commandant of the post, and then Horne had gone to his succor. And although the major had vowed to high heaven that no deserter would ever be dealt with leniently by him, he had yielded finally to the point of cutting down his punishment. It is true that there were many extenuating circumstances, and Ferrier seemed so sincere in his desire to atone that his commander was favorably inclined. So it ended by Hetty's brother escaping with thirty days' confinement. Then, anxious to get him away from old associations, and comrades who knew the mistakes of his past, Johnson arranged through Horne to pay for his discharge.
All this had he done. Indeed, Lafe had labored unceasingly for his brother-in-law. Yet he railed against him, even while he aided. Like many men who never shirk from helping when it is most needed, Johnson could never hear the object of his benefactions mentioned without falling a victim to spleen. I should have avoided all reference to Ferrier.
"There's a brother-in-law for you," he snorted. "Yes, sir, he's sure a treasure. I no sooner get him out of the cells for deserting, than off he goes and—guess what he wants to do now?"
"Borrow some money?"
"You've hit it. Yes, sir, you've nailed it dead to rights. Here, after all the trouble me and ol' Horne took with that general at the Fort, that there feller Ferrier asks me to stake him, just as cool as you'd ask for a match. Say, have you got one? I'm plumb out."
"Oh, well," said I, "a man has to stand by his family."
"He ain't my family."
"He's Hetty's brother."
"Sure. He's Hetty's brother and I ain't allowed to forget it, either. I tell you what, Dan—when a man marries a woman, he marries all her kin, too."
With which bitter reflection Johnson borrowed some tobacco and rolled a cigarette. After a space he remarked that Ferrier planned to settle on a quarter-section within the Horne range, and that he required three hundred dollars to make a start. Mary Lou Hardin was included in this scheme of settlement, said Lafe, the idea being that two could live as cheaply as one and that Bob would never amount to a row of beans unless anchored and domesticated. He had nothing but scorn for such adolescent reasoning.
"When I think of the way a young feller cares for a girl, I want to laugh," he said. "Pshaw, it's all mush. Nothing but talk, and those kids make the talk do instead of work. And if it ain't mush, it's wind. I tell you what—a man and a woman don't rightly care for each other, Dan, until they're married."
I stared at him. "Is that so? Well, well. Suppose they only wake up then and find they don't care at all. That would be fierce."
"Sure," he answered gravely. "It's a gamble. Why don't you take a chance?"
"That's my business."
"Well, you needn't get all swelled up about it. Hetty was saying to me only the other day—say, what're you so red in the face about?"
"You and Hetty stick to housekeeping and let me run my own affairs," I retorted hotly. Their presumption passed all bounds. "Whenever a man's friends get married, they begin picking out a girl for him right off. I suppose misery likes company."
Johnson chuckled and said: "All right, let's forget it." It was very apparent in what channel his thoughts moved, however, for he would keep turning on me a broad smile.
"What good are bachelors, anyhow?" he demanded. "They'd ought for to tax 'em heavy."
"You talk like a mothers' meeting, Lafe."
"Well, I've got the rights of this thing, anyhow. Bachelors make me think of what Frank Hastings said once about a mule—up on the Plains, this was—'without pride of ancestry or hope of posterity,' Frank said."
"Huh! Frank read that somewhere."
For an hour we were silent. Night closed down over the Cañon. The mountains seemed to take a long breath and settle to rest. It was warm, and so we were hopeful of rain within a week, or perhaps two. Our ponies swashed the dust lazily side by side, and we said no word, for the coming of dark in our country will still speech in anyone but a clod or a fool.
A Jack-o'-Lantern rose in front of us, twinkling like a diamond against black velvet. It held steady for a moment, then flitted eerily in darting curves, soaring high until it appeared a tiny star. Our folk say that little Jack is a lost soul, doomed to haunt the place of his earthly woes; but I have a pleasanter theory.
"Look at him," said Johnson in a tone almost reverent. "That there shiny feller's been following of me at nights now something ridiculous. If I ain't out on the range, I swan he comes loafing round the house. Honest."
"I like 'em."
"You do? I wonder what they are?"
"Why, you mean to say you don't know? I'm surprised at you, Lafe. They're human souls seeking a lodging."
He exploded into laughter. "Is that so?" said he. Facing to the front again, he fell to musing. "Is that so?" he repeated. "You're sure a wolf on souls, Dan."
Hetty was on the porch to receive us. With her was Ferrier, big and straight and indolent. She bade me welcome with frank heartiness as an old friend, but there was distinct coldness in her greeting of Lafe. I could not but observe it. When he would have kissed her, she turned her cheek to him; she submitted even to this with evident reluctance. A tiff—a doting couple's tiff—I concluded, and engaged Ferrier in conversation. He had scarcely a word to say, and walked beside me so lazily when we went to put the horses in the pasture, that my patience was sorely taxed. That was the way with soldiers, I reflected—once a soldier, never any good for anything else. Yet what little he uttered contradicted this notion, for he seemed in earnest. Apparently Bob had been doing some hard thinking and he was determined to get a foothold on the broad, straight highway.
As we were entering the house: "Oh, do be quiet. Let me alone. You worry me half to death. A lot you care what becomes of me. Here, you're off all day and sometimes long after dark, and I've got—"
"Why, hon," Lafe was pleading, "I've got my work to do. You know I stay home every minute I can. Ol' Horne says I'm tied to your apron strings. What's got into you, Hetty?"
"Nothing's the matter with me. For heaven's sake, shut up and let me have a little peace. I say you don't care what becomes of me. No, you don't. Here, I've had a splitting headache and when I tell you about it, all you do is grin. Now, don't go and try to tell me you feel for me."
"What do you want me to do? Cry on your shoulder? A man can't make a fuss over them things, Hetty."
"There you go again—making fun of me. If I was to die to-night, nobody'd care—not even Bob. I wish I could die. You could go back to Paula then."
"Hon," said Lafe, in a choked voice.
Bob wiped his feet noisily on the steps and I coughed. When we entered, there was no trace of a dispute or of anger on Hetty's countenance. Supper was ready and we sat down to it with grand appetites.
In the morning the repair of a windmill at a water tank compelled our setting out to Badger to purchase pipe and joints. Lafe explained the purpose of the trip at unusual length to his wife. She listened stonily and told him to go by all means—told him with that high air of resignation we put on when we acquiesce in anything we are powerless to prevent. Just as we started, Johnson tried to put his arm about her. On being repulsed, he slowly mounted his horse.