Inside the lighted store four tables were going.
A bunch of cattlemen from the Upper Country were in and most of the Cathrew men were down from Sky Line.
The nine or ten bona-fide citizens of Cordova were present also, and McKane was in high fettle. The few houses of the town were dark for it was fairly late. All these things the sheriff noted1 in the quarter hour he sat patiently watching.
When he was satisfied that all the families were represented inside, that the dogs of the place were settled to inaction, and that no one was likely to leave the store for several hours at least, he did a peculiar2 thing.
He tied his horse to a tree near where it stood and went forward quietly on foot, stopping at the rack where the Cathrew horses stood in a row. They were good stock. Cattle Kate would have nothing else at Sky Line.
Selwood took plenty of time, patting a shoulder here, stroking a nose there, and finally stepped in between a big brown mare3 and the rangy grey gelding which Sud Provine always rode. He fondled the animal for a few moments, then ran his hand down the left foreleg and picked up the hoof4. It was shod, saddle-horse fashion. He placed the foot between his knees, very much after the manner of a blacksmith, and taking a small coarse file from his coat pocket, proceeded to file a small notch5 in the shoe.
Then he put the file away, gave the grey a last friendly slap, got his own horse and rode away.
He intended to have a good night’s sleep.
Several days later Kate Cathrew came down to Cordova and held a short private conversation with McKane.
“McKane,” she said, “who gives you the heaviest trade in this man’s country?”
“Do you value it?”
“Does a duck swim?”
“Then give me a moment’s attention,” said Kate Cathrew, “and keep what I say under your hat.”
“I’m like the well that old saw tells of—the stone sinks and is never seen again. Confession7 in the heart of a friend, you know.”
“Thanks. Now listen.”
When the woman rode away a half hour later, carrying another of those letters from New York which the trader had come to hate ever since Selwood’s suggestion concerning the writer, his eyes had a very strange expression. It was a mixture of several expressions, rather—astonishment, of personal gratification, and a vague, incongruous regret. If he had been a better man that last faint seeming of sorrow might have denoted the loss of an ideal, the death of something fine.
But he looked after Cattle Kate with a fire of passion that was slowly growing with every interview.
Life at the homestead on Nameless took on a new color with the advent8 of Sonny Fair. Mrs. Allison, an epitome9 of universal motherhood, looked over the scant10, well-mended belongings11 of the family and laid out such articles as she judged could be spared.
These she began expertly to make over into little garments.
“When did Brand buy you these pants, Sonny?” she inquired, but the child shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“Pretty durn stingy, I’d say,” he remarked.
“Hold judgment14, Bud,” counseled Nance15, “when a man travels for two years he don’t have much time to make money. We’re poor, too, but that don’t spell anything.”
Bud held his tongue, but it was plain he was not convinced.
“What makes him so contrary, I wonder?” said the girl later.
“He’s jealous,” said Mrs. Allison calmly, “because you champion th’ stranger. It’s natural.”
The field of corn was beautiful.
Its blades were broad and satiny, covering the brown earth from view, and the waving green floor came well up along the horses’ legs as Nance rode down the rows on the shackly cultivator.
For three days she had been at it, a labor16 of love. She had many dreams as she watched the light wimpling on the silky banners, vague, pleasant dreams that had to do with her cancelled debt at the store, with the trip to Bement about the carpet, and with the new blue dress she hoped to get with the surplus.
Bud must have some new things, too, and her Mammy needed shoes the worst way.
All these things the growing field promised her, whispering under the little wind, and she was happy deep in her innocent heart.
She wondered if she dared ask Brand to let her take Sonny on that trip to Bement, then instantly decided17 she should not.
There might be someone from Nameless in the town, and Brand was particularly insistent18 on his staying out of sight.
She never ceased to wonder about that.
What could be his reason?
What could there be in the Deep Heart country to whom a little child could make a difference?
But it was none of her business, she sagely19 concluded, and could wait the light of the future. Maybe Brand would some day tell her all about it.
So she worked and planned for two days more. At their end she drove the cultivator to the stable and stood stretching her tired shoulder muscles while Bud unharnessed the team.
She looked back at the field with smiling eyes.
“Can only get in it about once more,” she said, “it’s growing so fast.”
“Hush!” she laughed. “You’ll make me vain. Pretty is as pretty does, you know.”
“Well, the Lord knows you do enough,” returned the boy bitterly, “if I was only half a man——”
“Bud!” cried Nance quickly, “you’re the most sure-enough he-man I know. You’ve got the patience and the courage of ten common men. If it hadn’t been for your steady backing I’d never be on Nameless now. I’d have quit long back.”
“Like the dickens you would!” said Bud, but a grin replaced the shadow of bitterness on his face.
Supper that night was particularly pleasant.
There were new potatoes and green peas from the garden down by the river, and a plate of the never failing cookies of which Sonny could not get enough.
“He’s hollow to his toes,” said Mrs. Allison, “I can’t never seem to get him full.”
“The little shaver’s starved,” said Bud.
“Not starved, but he ain’t had regular food—not right to grow on. I can see a difference already.”
Nance reached over an investigating hand to feel the small shoulder. It bore proudly a brand new shirt made from one of Bud’s old ones. To be sure, there was a striking dissimilitude of colors, since part of the fabric21 had been under a pocket and had not faded, but Sonny wore it with the air of kings and princes.
“Yes, sir,” she said judicially22, “he is gaining, sure as the world!”
It seemed to Nance that night that all was well with the world, very well. There seemed a wider margin23 of hope than usual, as if success, so long denied them, was hovering24 like a gigantic bird above the homestead, as if their long labor was about to have its reward. She fell asleep thinking of the whispering field, of the trip to Bement, and—of Brand Fair’s quiet, dark eyes, the look of the chin-strap on his brown cheek.
She laid a loving hand on Sonny’s little head on the pillow of the improvised25 crib beyond her own big bed—and the world went swiftly from her consciousness. She slept quickly and deeply, as do all those who work hard in the sun and wind—the blessed boon26 of labor.
It seemed to her that she had hardly lost consciousness when Old John announced from his rafter perch27 the coming of another day and she saw the faint light of dawn on the sky outside.
She dressed as usual, looked lovingly at the small face of the little sleeper28 in the crib, and went out, soft-footed, to start the kitchen fire. That done, she took the pail and went out to the well. She rested the bucket on the curb29 a moment, lifted the well-board, and stood looking at the faint aureole of light that was beginning to crown Rainbow Cliff. The cliff itself was black, blue-black as deepest indigo30, its foot lost in the shadows that deepened down Mystery Ridge31. She could hear the murmuring of Nameless, soft and mysterious in the dawn, feel the little wind that was beginning to stir to greet the coming day. Then, as was her habit, she turned her eyes out across the waving green field of her precious corn.
It muse32 be earlier than she thought, she reflected, for there was not the shimmer33 of light which usually met her gaze.
She looked again at the eastern sky.
Why, yes—it was light as usual there.
Once more she looked at the field—then she leaned forward, peering hard, her hands still lying on the bucket’s rim34. Her brows drew down together as she strained her sharp sight to focus on what she saw—or what she thought she saw. For a long time she stood so. Then, as realization35 struck home to her consciousness, the hands on the bucket gripped down until the knuckles36 shone white under the tanned skin. Her lips fell open loosely. The breath stopped for a moment in her lungs and she felt as if she were drowning. An odd dizziness attacked her brain, so that the dim world of shadow and light wavered grotesquely37. Her knees seemed buckling38 beneath her and for the first time in her life she felt as if she might faint.... Her Mammy had fainted once—when they brought John Allison home.... But she gathered herself with a supreme39 effort, closed her lips, wet them with her tongue, straightened her shoulders and, taking her hands from their grip on the pail, walked out toward the field.
At the gate she stopped and gazed dully at the ruin before her.
Where yesterday had been a vigorous, lusty, dark green growth, fair to her sight as the edges of Paradise, there was now the bald, piteous unsightliness of destruction.
Of all the great field there was scarcely a dozen stalks left standing40. It was a sodden41 mass of trampled42 pulp43, cut and slashed44 and beaten into the loose earth by hundreds of milling hoofs45.
Far across at the upper end she could dimly see in the growing light a huge gap in the fence—two, three posts were entirely46 gone. It had taken many head of cattle, driven in and harried47, to work that havoc48. It was complete.
For a long, long time Nance Allison stood and looked at it. Then with a sigh that seemed the embodiment of all weariness, she turned away and went slowly back to the cabin.
At the open door she met Bud and pushed him back with both hands. Her mother was at the stove, lifting a lid.
At sight of her daughter’s face she held it in mid-air.
“Hold hard, girl,” she said quietly, “what’s up?”
Nance leaned against the door-jamb. Every fibre of her body longed to crumple49 down, to let go, to relax in defeat, but she would not have it so.
Instead she looked at these two, so greatly dependent upon her, and faced the issue squarely.
“It’s the cornfield,” she said with difficulty, “it’s gone.”
“What?”
“Gone? Gone—how?”
“Gone—destroyed—wiped off the earth—trampled out by cattle,” she said dully, “every blade—every stalk—root, stem and branch!”
“Cattle Kate!” cried Bud. “Oh, damn her soul to hell!”
“Oh, Bud—don’t, don’t!” said Nance, her lips beginning to quiver, “‘He who—who is guilty of damn—and damnation—shall be in danger—danger of hell fire.’”
But the boy’s blue eyes were blazing and he did not even hear her. He jerked his sagging52 shoulder up, for a moment, in line with its mate and shut his hands into straining fists.
“Gimme a gun——” he rasped, “Pappy’s gun——”
“No guns, Bud—I’ve seen feud—in Missouri. There’s land an’ sunlight in other places beside Nameless. With life we can——”
“Not for us,” he said, “I’d die first.”
Nance straightened by the door. She lifted her head and looked at his grim young face. Some of its grimness came subtly into her own.
“Right,” she said, “so would I. We belong to Nameless River—where our Pappy left us—and here we’ll stay. Only—I pray God to keep me from—from——” she wet her lips again, “from what is stirring inside me.”
“He will,” said Bud. “But I’m not so particular. We own this land—and we’ll fight for our own.”
“Amen,” said Nance, “we will. We’ve still got the hogs55 to sell. Mammy—let’s have breakfast. I’m going down to Cordova—it’s right McKane should know.”
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1
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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notch
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| n.(V字形)槽口，缺口，等级 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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8
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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9
epitome
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| n.典型，梗概 | |
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10
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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nance
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| n.娘娘腔的男人，男同性恋者 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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17
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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18
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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sagely
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| adv. 贤能地，贤明地 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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21
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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judicially
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| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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24
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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25
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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29
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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indigo
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| n.靛青，靛蓝 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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33
shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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34
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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35
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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36
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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37
grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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38
buckling
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| 扣住 | |
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39
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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41
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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42
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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43
pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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44
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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45
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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46
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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47
harried
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| v.使苦恼( harry的过去式和过去分词 )；不断烦扰；一再袭击；侵扰 | |
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48
havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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49
crumple
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| v.把...弄皱，满是皱痕，压碎，崩溃 | |
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50
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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51
blasphemy
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| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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52
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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53
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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54
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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55
hogs
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| n.（尤指喂肥供食用的）猪( hog的名词复数 )；（供食用的）阉公猪；彻底地做某事；自私的或贪婪的人 | |
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