“But what was it all about?” the drummer inquired.
“The start of it was away back when she was a girl, as I said,” began the storekeeper. “You’ve heard of Colonel Preston Chester, our biggest planter, who lives a mile from here—old-time chap, fighter of duels, officer in the army, and all that?”
“Oh yes, I’ve seen him; in fact, I was at college at the State University with his son Langdon. He was a terrible fellow—very wild and reckless, full half the time, and playing poker every night. He was never known to pay a debt, even to his best friends.”
“Langdon is a chip off of the old block,” said Wilson. “His father was just like him when he was a young man. Between you and me, the Colonel never had a conscience; old as he now is, he will sit and laugh about his pranks right in the presence of his son. It’s no wonder the boy turned out like he did. Well, away back when this Mrs. Boyd was a young and pretty girl, the daughter of honest, hard-working people, who owned a little farm back of his place, he took an idle fancy to her. I’m telling you now what has gradually leaked out in one way and another since. He evidently won her entire confidence, made her believe he was going to marry her, and, as he was a dashing young fellow, she must have fallen in love with him. Nobody knows how that was, but one thing is sure, and that is that he was seen about with her almost constantly for a whole year, and then he stopped off suddenly. The report went out that he’d made up his mind to get married to a young woman in Alabama who had a lot of money, and he did go off and bring home the present Mrs. Chester, Langdon’s mother. Well, old-timers say young Ann Boyd took it hard, stayed close in at home and wasn’t seen out for a couple of years. Then she came out again, and they say she was better-looking than ever and a great deal more serious and sensible. Joe Boyd was a young farmer those days, and a sort of dandy, and he fell in love with her and hung about her day and night, never seeming willing to let her out of his sight. Several other fellows, they say, was after her, but she seemed to like Joe the best, but nothing he’d do or say would make her accept him. I can see through it now, looking back on what has since leaked out, but nobody understood it then, for she had evidently got over her attachment for Colonel Chester, and Joe was a promising fellow, strong, good-looking, and a great beau and flirt among women, half a dozen being in love with him, but Ann simply wouldn’t take him, and it was the talk of the whole county. He was simply desperate, folks say, going about boring everybody he met with his love affair. Finally her mother and father and all her friends got after her to marry Joe, and she gave in. And then folks wondered more than ever why she’d delayed for she was more in love with her husband than anybody had any reason to expect. They were happy, too. A child was born, a little girl, and that seemed to make them happier. Then Mrs. Boyd’s mother and father died, and she came into the farm, and the Boyds were comfortable in every way. Then what do you think happened?”
“I’ve been wondering all along,” the drummer laughed. “I can see you’re holding something up your sleeve.”
“Well, this happened. Colonel Chester’s wife was, even then, a homely woman, about as old as he was, and not at all attractive aside from her money, and marrying hadn’t made him any the less devilish. They say he saw Mrs. Boyd at meeting one day and hardly took his eyes off of her during preaching. She had developed into about the most stunning-looking woman anywhere about, and knew how to dress, which was something Mrs. Chester, with all her chances, had never seemed to get onto. Well, that was the start of it, and from that day on Chester seemed to have nothing on his mind but the good looks of his old sweetheart. Folks saw him on his horse riding about where he could get to meet her, and then it got reported that he was actually forcing himself on her to such an extent that Joe Boyd was worked up over it, aided by the eternal gab of all the women in the section.”
“Did Colonel Chester’s wife get onto it?” the drummer wanted to know.
“It don’t seem like she did,” answered Wilson. “She was away visiting her folks in the South most of the time, with Langdon, who was a baby then, and it may be that she didn’t care. Some folks thought she was weak-minded; she never seemed to have any will of her own, but left the Colonel to manage her affairs without a word.”
“Well, go on with your story,” urged the drummer.
“There isn’t much more to tell about the poor woman,” continued Wilson. “As I said, Chester got to forcing himself on her, and I reckon she didn’t want to tell her husband what she was trying to forget for fear of a shooting scrape, in which Joe would get the worst of it; but this happened: Joe was off at court in Darley and sent word home to his wife that he was to be held all night on a jury. The man that took the message rode home alongside of Chester and told him about it. Well, I reckon, all hell broke out in Chester that night. He was a drinking man, and he tanked up, and, as his wife was away, he had plenty of liberty. Well, he simply went over to Joe Boyd’s house and went in. It was about ten o’clock. My honest conviction is, no matter what others think, that she tried her level best to make him leave without rousing the neighborhood, but he wouldn’t go, but sat there in the dark with his coat off, telling her he loved her more than her husband did, and that he never had loved his wife and that he was crazy for her, and the like. How long this went on with her imploring and praying to him to go, I don’t know; but, at any rate, they both heard the gate-latch click and Joe Boyd come right up the gravel-walk. I reckon the poor woman was scared clean out of her senses, for she made no outcry, and Chester went to a window, his coat on his arm, and was climbing out when Joe, who couldn’t get in at the front door was making for the one in the rear, met him face to face.”