“Shut up!” cut in Daniels. “Shut up!”
His dark, homely3 face turned to the larger man with a singular expression of awe4. He whispered: “D'you hear? She's in the next room whippin' Joan for runnin' away, and never a yap out of the kid!”
He held up a lean finger for caution and then Haines heard the sound of the willow5 switch. It stopped.
“If you run away again,” warned Kate, her voice pitched high and trembling, “munner will whip harder, and put you in a dark place for a long, long time.”
Still there was not a sound of the child's voice, not even the pulse of stifled6 weeping. Presently the door opened and Kate stood there.
“Go out in the kitchen and tell Li to give you breakfast. Naughty girls can't eat with munner.”
Through the door came Joan, her little round face perfectly7 white, perfectly expressionless. She did not cringe, passing her mother; she walked steadily8 across the room, rose on tip-toe to open the kitchen door, and disappeared through it. Kate dropped into a chair, shaking.
“Out!” whispered Buck to Lee Haines. “Beat it. I got to talk alone.” And as soon as Haines obeyed, Buck sat down close to the girl. She was twisting and untangling her fingers in a dumb agony.
“What has he done to her, Buck? What has he done?”
It was a maxim9 with Buck that talk is to woman what swearing is to man; it is a safety valve, and therefore he waited in silence until the first rush of her grief had passed.
“She only looked at me when I whipped her. My heart turned in me. She didn't cry; she wasn't even angry. She just stood there—my baby!—and looked at me!”
She threw herself back in the chair with her eyes closed, and he saw where the trouble had marked her face. He wanted to lean over and take her in his arms.
“I'm going mad, Buck. I can't stand it. How could he have changed her to this?”
“Listen to me, Kate. Joan ain't been changed. She's only showin' what she is.”
The mother stared wildly at him.
“Don't look like I was a murderer. God knows I'm sorry, Kate, but if they's Dan's blood in your little girl it ain't my fault. It ain't anything he's taught her. It's just that bein' alone with him has brought out what she really is.”
“I won't believe you, Buck. I don't dare listen to you!”
“You got to listen, Kate, because you know I'm right. D'you think that any kind of teachin' could make her learn how to stand and keep from cryin' when she was whipped?”
“I know.”
She spoke10 softly, as if some terrible power might overhear them talk, and Buck lowered his voice in turn.
“She's wild, Kate, I knew it when I seen the way she handled Bart. She's wild!”
“Then I'll have her tame again.”
“You tried that once and failed.”
“Dan was a man when I tried, and his nature was formed. Joan is only a baby—my baby. She's half mine. She has my hair and my eyes.”
“I don't care what the color of her eyes is, I know what's behind them. Look at 'em, and then tell me who she takes after.”
“Buck, why do you talk like this? What do you want me to do?”
“A hard thing. Send Joan back to Dan.”
“Never!”
“He'll never give her up, I tell you.”
“Oh, God help me. What shall I do? I'll keep her! I'll make her tame.”
“But you'll never keep her that way. Think of Dan. Think of the yaller in his eyes, Kate.”
“Until I die,” she said with sudden quiet, “I'll fight to keep her.”
And he answered with equal solemnity: “Until Dan dies he'll fight to have her. And he's never been beat yet.”
Through a breathing space he stared at her and she at him, and the eyes of Buck Daniels were the first to turn. Everything that was womanly and gentle had died from her face, and in its stead was something which made Buck rise and wander from the room.
He found Lee Haines and told him briefly11 all that had passed. The great battle, they decided12, had begun between Kate and Barry for the sake of the child, and that battle would go on until one of them was dead or the prize for which they struggled lost. Barry would come on the trail and find them at the ranch13, and then he would strike for Joan. And they had no help for the struggle against him. The cowpunchers would scatter at the first sign of Barry, at the first shrill14 of his ill-omened whistling. They might ride for Elkhead and raise a posse from among the citizens, but it would take two days to do that and gather a number of effective fighters for the crisis, and in the meantime the chances were large that Barry would strike the ranch while the messenger was away. There was really nothing to do but sit patiently and wait. They were both brave men, very; and they were both not unpracticed fighters; but they began to wait for the coming of Barry as the prisoner waits for the day of his execution.
It spoke well for the quality of their nerves that they would not speak to Kate of the time to come; they sat back like spectators at a play and watched the maneuvers15 of the mother to win back Joan.
There was not an idle moment from breakfast to dark. They went out to gather wildflowers on the western hill from the house; they sat on the veranda16 where Kate told Joan stories of the ranch and pointed17 out the distant mountains which were its boundaries, and explained that all between them would one day be her own land; that the men who rode yonder were doing her work; that the cattle who ranged the hills were marked with her brand. She said it all in small words so that Joan could understand, but as far as Buck and Lee could make out, there was never a flicker18 of intelligence or interest in the eyes of the child.
It was a hard battle every hour, and after supper Kate sat in a big chair by the fire with her eyes half closed, admitting defeat, perhaps. For Joan was curled up on the couch at the farthest, dimmest end of the room, and with her chin propped19 in both small hands she stared in silence through the window and over the darkening hills. Buck and Lee were there, never speaking, but now and then their eyes sought each other with a vague hope. For Kate might see that her task was impossible, send Joan back, and that would free them of the danger.
But where Kate left off, chance took up the battle and turned the scales. Old Li, the Chinese cook, had not seen Kate for six long years, and now he celebrated20 the return by hanging about her on a thousand pretexts21. It was just after he had brought in some delicacy22 from the kitchen, leaving the door a little ajar, when a small ball of gray fur nosed its way through the aperture23 and came straight for the glare of the fire on the hearth24. It was a small shepherd puppy, and having observed the faces of the men with bright, unafraid eyes, it went wobbling on to the very hearth, sniffling. Even at that age it knew enough to keep away from the bright coals of wood, but how could it know that the dark, cold-looking andirons had been heated to the danger point by the fire? It thrust out a tentative nose, touched the iron, and then its shrill yelp25 of pain went startlingly through the room. It pulled the three grown-ups out of their thoughts; it brought Joan scampering26 across the room with a little happy cry.
The puppy would have escaped if it could, for it had in mind the dark, warm, familiar corner in Li's kitchen where no harm ever came near, but the agile27 hands of Joan caught him; he was swept into her arms. That little wail28 of helpless pain, the soft fluff of fur against her cheek, wiped all other things from Joan's mind. Out the window and across the gloomy hills she had been staring at the picture of the cave, and bright-eyed Satan, and the shadowy form of Bart, and the swift, gentle hand of Daddy Dan; but the cry of the puppy blotted29 the picture out. She was no longer lonely, having this small, soft body to protect. There sat her mother, leaning a little toward her with a glance at once misted and bright, and she forgot forthwith all the agency of Kate in carrying her away from that cave of delight.
“Look, munner! He's burned his nose!”
The puppy was licking the injured nose industriously30 and whimpering the while. And Joan heard no answer from her mother except an inarticulate little sound somewhere deep in Kate's throat. Over her child mind, vaguely31, like all baby memories, moved a recollection of the same sound, coming deeply from the throat of the mother and marvelously soothing32, reassuring33. It moved a fiber34 of trust and sympathy in Joan, an emotion as real as the sound of music, and with the puppy held idly in her arms for a moment, she looked curiously35 into Kate's face. On her own, a faint smile began in the eyes and spread to the lips.
“Poor little puppy, munner,” said Joan.
The hands of Kate trembled with desire to bring Joan closer to her, but very wisely she merely stroked the cringing36 head of the dog.
“Poor little puppy,” she echoed.
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1
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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3
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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6
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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7
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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8
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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9
maxim
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| n.格言，箴言 | |
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10
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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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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12
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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14
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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15
maneuvers
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| n.策略，谋略，花招( maneuver的名词复数 ) | |
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16
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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17
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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18
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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19
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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21
pretexts
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| n.借口，托辞( pretext的名词复数 ) | |
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22
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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23
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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24
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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25
yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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26
scampering
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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27
agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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28
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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29
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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30
industriously
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31
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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32
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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33
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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34
fiber
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| n.纤维，纤维质 | |
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35
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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36
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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