“When the time comes around I’ll hand over my checks wi’out no fuss nor botheration; guess I’ll cash in wi’ as much grit as George Washington. I don’t calc’late as life is wuth worritin’ over anyways. We don’t ast to be born, an’, comin’ into the world wi’out no by-your-leave, I don’t figger as folks has a right to say we’ve got to take a hand in any bluff we don’t notion.”
“Perhaps you’ve a certain amount of right on your side.” Tresler felt that this hopeless pessimism was rather the result of drink than natural to him. “But you said you had two things that you considered worth living for?”
“That’s so. I ain’t goin’ back on what I said. It’s jest that other what set me yarnin’. Say, guess you’re mostly a pretty decent feller, Tresler, though I ’lows you has failin’s. You’re kind o’ young. Now I guess you ain’t never pumped lead into the other feller, which the same he’s doin’ satisfact’ry by you? You kind o’ like most fellers?”
Tresler nodded.
“Jest so. But I’ve noticed you don’t fancy folks as gits gay wi’ you. You kind o’ make things uneasy. Wal, that’s a fault you’ll git over. Mebbe, later on, when a feller gits rilin’ you you’ll work your gun, instead of trying to thump savee into his head. Heads is mighty cur’us out west here. They’re so chock full o’ savee, ther’ ain’t no use in thumpin’ more into ’em. Et’s a heap easier to let it out. But that’s on the side. I most gener’ly see things, an’ kind o’ notice fellers, an’ that’s how I sized you up. Y’ see I’ve done a heap o’ settin’ around M’skeeter Bend fer nigh on ten years, mostly watchin’. Now, mebbe, y’ ain’t never sot no plant, an’ bedded it gentle wi’ sifted mould, an’ watered it careful, an’ sot right ther’ on a box, an’ watched it grow in a spot wher’ ther’ wa’n’t no bizness fer anythin’ but weeds?”
Tresler shook his head, wonderingly.
“No; guess not,” Joe went on. “Say,” he added, turning and looking earnestly into his companion’s face, “I’m settin’ on that box right now. Yes, sir, I’ve watched that plant grow. I’ve picked the stones out so the young shoots could git through nice an’ easy-like. I’ve watered it. I’ve washened the leaves when the blights come along. I’ve sticked it against the winds. I’ve done most everythin’ I could, usin’ soap-suds and soot waters, an’ all them tasty liquids to coax it on. I’ve sot ther’ a-smilin’ to see the lovesome buds come along an’ open out, an’ make the air sweet wi’ perfumes an’ color an’ things. I’ve sot right ther’ an’ tho’t an’ tho’t a heap o’ tho’ts around that flower, an’ felt all crinkly up the back wi’ pleasure. An’ I ain’t never wanted ter leave that box. No, sir, an’ the days wus bright, an’ nothin’ seemed amiss wi’ life nor nothin’. But I tell you it ain’t no good. No, sir, ’tain’t no good, ’cos I ain’t got the guts to git up an’ dig hard. I’ve reached out an’ pulled a weed or two, but them weeds had got a holt on that bed ’fore I sot the seedlin’, an’ they’ve growed till my pore flower is nigh to be choked. ’Tain’t no use watchin’ when weeds is growin’. It wants a feller as can dig; an’ I guess I ain’t that feller. Say, ther’s mighty hard diggin’ to be done right now, an’ the feller as does it has got to do it standin’ right up to the job. Savee? I’m sayin’ right now to you, Tresler, them weeds is chokin’ the life out o’ her. She’s mazed up wi’ ’em. Ther’ ain’t no escape. None. Her life’s bound to be hell anyways.”
“Her? Whom?” Tresler asked the question, but he knew that Joe was referring to Diane; Diane’s welfare was his other interest in life.
The little man turned with a start “Eh? Miss Dianny—o’ course.”
“And the weeds?”