A trestle burned down on the International Railroad. The south- bound from San Antonio was cut off for the next forty-eight hours. On that train was Tonia Weaver1's Easter hat.
Espirition, the Mexican, who had been sent forty miles in a buckboard from the Espinosa Ranch2 to fetch it, returned with a shrugging shoulder and hands empty except for a cigarette. At the small station, Nopal, he had learned of the delayed train and, having no commands to wait, turned his ponies3 toward the ranch again.
Now, if one supposes that Easter, the Goddess of Spring, cares any more for the after-church parade on Fifth Avenue than she does for her loyal outfit4 of subjects that assemble at the meeting-house at Cactus5, Tex., a mistake has been made. The wives and daughters of the ranchmen of the Frio country put forth6 Easter blossoms of new hats and gowns as faithfully as is done anywhere, and the Southwest is, for one day, a mingling7 of prickly pear, Paris, and paradise. And now it was Good Friday, and Tonia Weaver's Easter hat blushed unseen in the desert air of an impotent express car, beyond the burned trestle. On Saturday noon the Rogers girls, from the Shoestring8 Ranch, and Ella Reeves, from the Anchor-O, and Mrs. Bennet and Ida, from Green Valley, would convene9 at the Espinosa and pick up Tonia. With their Easter hats and frocks carefully wrapped and bundled against the dust, the fair aggregation10 would then merrily jog the ten miles to Cactus, where on the morrow they would array themselves, subjugate11 man, do homage12 to Easter, and cause jealous agitation13 among the lilies of the field.
Tonia sat on the steps of the Espinosa ranch house flicking14 gloomily with a quirt at a tuft of curly mesquite. She displayed a frown and a contumelious lip, and endeavored to radiate an aura of disagreeableness and tragedy.
"I hate railroads," she announced positively15. "And men. Men pretend to run them. Can you give any excuse why a trestle should burn? Ida Bennet's hat is to be trimmed with violets. I shall not go one step toward Cactus without a new hat. If I were a man I would get one."
Two men listened uneasily to this disparagement16 of their kind. One was Wells Pearson, foreman of the Mucho Calor cattle ranch. The other was Thompson Burrows17, the prosperous sheepman from the Quintana Valley. Both thought Tonia Weaver adorable, especially when she railed at railroads and menaced men. Either would have given up his epidermis18 to make for her an Easter hat more cheerfully than the ostrich19 gives up his tip or the aigrette lays down its life. Neither possessed20 the ingenuity21 to conceive a means of supplying the sad deficiency against the coming Sabbath. Pearson's deep brown face and sunburned light hair gave him the appearance of a schoolboy seized by one of youth's profound and insolvable melancholies. Tonia's plight22 grieved him through and through. Thompson Burrows was the more skilled and pliable23. He hailed from somewhere in the East originally; and he wore neckties and shoes, and was made dumb by woman's presence.
"The big water-hole on Sandy Creek," said Pearson, scarcely hoping to make a hit, "was filled up by that last rain."
"Oh! Was it?" said Tonia sharply. "Thank you for the information. I suppose a new hat is nothing to you, Mr. Pearson. I suppose you think a woman ought to wear an old Stetson five years without a change, as you do. If your old water-hole could have put out the fire on that trestle you might have some reason to talk about it."
"I am deeply sorry," said Burrows, warned by Pearson's fate, "that you failed to receive your hat, Miss Weaver--deeply sorry, indeed. If there was anything I could do--"
"Don't bother," interrupted Tonia, with sweet sarcasm24. "If there was anything you could do, you'd be doing it, of course. There isn't."
Tonia paused. A sudden sparkle of hope had come into her eye. Her frown smoothed away. She had an inspiration.
"There's a store over at Lone25 Elm Crossing on the Nueces," she said, "that keeps hats. Eva Rogers got hers there. She said it was the latest style. It might have some left. But it's twenty-eight miles to Lone Elm."
The spurs of two men who hastily arose jingled26; and Tonia almost smiled. The Knights27, then, were not all turned to dust; nor were their rowels rust28.
"Of course," said Tonia, looking thoughtfully at a white gulf29 cloud sailing across the cerulean dome30, "nobody could ride to Lone Elm and back by the time the girls call by for me to-morrow. So, I reckon I'll have to stay at home this Easter Sunday."
And then she smiled.
"Well, Miss Tonia," said Pearson, reaching for his hat, as guileful31 as a sleeping babe. "I reckon I'll be trotting32 along back to Mucho Calor. There's some cutting out to be done on Dry Branch first thing in the morning; and me and Road Runner has got to be on hand. It's too bad your hat got sidetracked. Maybe they'll get that trestle mended yet in time for Easter."
"I must be riding, too, Miss Tonia," announced Burrows, looking at his watch. "I declare, it's nearly five o'clock! I must be out at my lambing camp in time to help pen those crazy ewes."
Tonia's suitors seemed to have been smitten33 with a need for haste. They bade her a ceremonious farewell, and then shook each other's hands with the elaborate and solemn courtesy of the Southwesterner.
"Hope I'll see you again soon, Mr. Pearson," said Burrows.
"Same here," said the cowman, with the serious face of one whose friend goes upon a whaling voyage. "Be gratified to see you ride over to Mucho Calor any time you strike that section of the range."
Pearson mounted Road Runner, the soundest cow-pony on the Frio, and let him pitch for a minute, as he always did on being mounted, even at the end of a day's travel.
"What kind of a hat was that, Miss Tonia," he called, "that you ordered from San Antone? I can't help but be sorry about that hat."
"A straw," said Tonia; "the latest shape, of course; trimmed with red roses. That's what I like--red roses."
"There's no color more becoming to your complexion34 and hair," said Burrows, admiringly.
"It's what I like," said Tonia. "And of all the flowers, give me red roses. Keep all the pinks and blues35 for yourself. But what's the use, when trestles burn and leave you without anything? It'll be a dry old Easter for me!"
Pearson took off his hat and drove Road Bunner at a gallop36 into the chaparral east of the Espinosa ranch house.
As his stirrups rattled37 against the brush Burrows's long-legged sorrel struck out down the narrow stretch of open prairie to the southwest.
Tonia hung up her quirt and went into the sitting-room38.
"I'm mighty39 sorry, daughter, that you didn't get your hat," said her mother.
"Oh, don't worry, mother," said Tonia, coolly. "I'll have a new hat, all right, in time to-morrow."
When Burrows reached the end of the strip of prairie he pulled his sorrel to the right and let him pick his way daintily across a sacuista flat through which ran the ragged40, dry bed of an arroyo41. Then up a gravelly hill, matted with bush, the hoarse42 scrambled43, and at length emerged, with a snort of satisfaction into a stretch of high, level prairie, grassy44 and dotted with the lighter45 green of mesquites in their fresh spring foliage46. Always to the right Burrows bore, until in a little while he struck the old Indian trail that followed the Nueces southward, and that passed, twenty-eight miles to the southeast, through Lone Elm.
Here Burrows urged the sorrel into a steady lope. As he settled himself in the saddle for a long ride he heard the drumming of hoofs47, the hollow "thwack" of chaparral against wooden stirrups, the whoop48 of a Comanche; and Wells Pearson burst out of the brush at the right of the trail like a precocious49 yellow chick from a dark green Easter egg.
Except in the presence of awing50 femininity melancholy51 found no place in Pearson's bosom52. In Tonia's presence his voice was as soft as a summer bullfrog's in his reedy nest. Now, at his gleesome yawp, rabbits, a mile away, ducked their ears, and sensitive plants closed their fearful fronds53.
"Moved your lambing camp pretty far from the ranch, haven't you, neighbor?" asked Pearson, as Road Runner fell in at the sorrel's side.
"Twenty-eight miles," said Burrows, looking a little grim. Pearson's laugh woke an owl54 one hour too early in his water-elm on the river bank, half a mile away.
"All right for you, sheepman. I like an open game, myself. We're two locoed he-milliners hat-hunting in the wilderness55. I notify you. Burr, to mind your corrals. We've got an even start, and the one that gets the headgear will stand some higher at the Espinosa."
"You've got a good pony," said Burrows, eyeing Road Runner's barrel- like body and tapering56 legs that moved as regularly as the pistonrod of an engine. "It's a race, of course; but you're too much of a horseman to whoop it up this soon. Say we travel together till we get to the home stretch."
"I'm your company," agreed Pearson, "and I admire your sense. If there's hats at Lone Elm, one of 'em shall set on Miss Tonia's brow to-morrow, and you won't be at the crowning. I ain't bragging57, Burr, but that sorrel of yours is weak in the fore-legs."
"My horse against yours," offered Burrows, "that Miss Tonia wears the hat I take her to Cactus to-morrow."
"I'll take you up," shouted Pearson. "But oh, it's just like horse- stealing for me! I can use that sorrel for a lady's animal when-- when somebody comes over to Mucho Calor, and--"
Burrows' dark face glowered58 so suddenly that the cowman broke off his sentence. But Pearson could never feel any pressure for long.
"What's all this Easter business about, Burr?" he asked, cheerfully. "Why do the women folks have to have new hats by the almanac or bust59 all cinches trying to get 'em?"
"It's a seasonable statute60 out of the testaments," explained Burrows. "It's ordered by the Pope or somebody. And it has something to do with the Zodiac I don't know exactly, but I think it was invented by the Egyptians."
"It's an all-right jubilee61 if the heathens did put their brand on it," said Pearson; "or else Tonia wouldn't have anything to do with it. And they pull it off at church, too. Suppose there ain't but one hat in the Lone Elm store, Burr!"
"Then," said Burrows, darkly, "the best man of us'll take it back to the Espinosa."
"Oh, man!" cried Pearson, throwing his hat high and catching62 it again, "there's nothing like you come off the sheep ranges before. You talk good and collateral63 to the occasion. And if there's more than one?"
"Then," said Burrows, "we'll pick our choice and one of us'll get back first with his and the other won't."
"There never was two souls," proclaimed Pearson to the stars, "that beat more like one heart than yourn and mine. Me and you might be riding on a unicorn64 and thinking out of the same piece of mind."
At a little past midnight the riders loped into Lone Elm. The half a hundred houses of the big village were dark. On its only street the big wooden store stood barred and shuttered.
In a few moments the horses were fastened and Pearson was pounding cheerfully on the door of old Sutton, the storekeeper.
The barrel of a Winchester came through a cranny of a solid window shutter65 followed by a short inquiry66.
"Wells Pearson, of the Mucho Calor, and Burrows, of Green Valley," was the response. "We want to buy some goods in the store. Sorry to wake you up but we must have 'em. Come on out, Vncle Tommy, and get a move on you."
Uncle Tommy was slow, but at length they got him behind his counter with a kerosene67 lamp lit, and told him of their dire68 need.
"Easter hats?" said Uncle Tommy, sleepily. "Why, yes, I believe I have got just a couple left. I only ordered a dozen this spring. I'll show 'em to you."
Now, Uncle Tommy Sutton was a merchant, half asleep or awake. In dusty pasteboard boxes under the counter he had two left-over spring hats. But, alas69! for his commercial probity70 on that early Saturday morn--they were hats of two springs ago, and a woman's eye would have detected the fraud at half a glance. But to the unintelligent gaze of the cowpuncher and the sheepman they seemed fresh from the mint of contemporaneous April.
The hats were of a variety once known as "cart-wheels." They were of stiff straw, colored red, and flat brimmed. Both were exactly alike, and trimmed lavishly71 around their crowns with full blown, immaculate, artificial white roses.
"That all you got, Uncle Tommy?" said Pearson. "All right. Not much choice here, Burr. Take your pick."
"They're the latest styles" lied Uncle Tommy. "You'd see 'em on Fifth Avenue, if you was in New York."
Uncle Tommy wrapped and tied each hat in two yards of dark calico for a protection. One Pearson tied carefully to his calfskin saddle- thongs72; and the other became part of Road Runner's burden. They shouted thanks and farewells to Uncle Tommy, and cantered back into the night on the home stretch.
The horsemen jockeyed with all their skill. They rode more slowly on their way back. The few words they spoke73 were not unfriendly. Burrows had a Winchester under his left leg slung75 over his saddle horn. Pearson had a six shooter belted around him. Thus men rode in the Frio country.
At half-past seven in the morning they rode to the top of a hill and saw the Espinosa Ranch, a white spot under a dark patch of live-oaks, five miles away.
The sight roused Pearson from his drooping76 pose in the saddle. He knew what Road Runner could do. The sorrel was lathered77, and stumbling frequently; Road Runner was pegging78 away like a donkey engine.
Pearson turned toward the sheepman and laughed. "Good-bye, Burr," he cried, with a wave of his hand. "It's a race now. We're on the home stretch."
He pressed Road Runner with his knees and leaned toward the Espinosa. Road Runner struck into a gallop, with tossing head and snorting nostrils79, as if he were fresh from a month in pasture.
Pearson rode twenty yards and heard the unmistakable sound of a Winchester lever throwing a cartridge80 into the barrel. He dropped flat along his horse's back before the crack of the rifle reached his ears.
It is possible that Burrows intended only to disable the horse-- he was a good enough shot to do that without endangering his rider. But as Pearson stooped the ball went through his shoulder and then through Road Runner's neck. The horse fell and the cowman pitched over his head into the hard road, and neither of them tried to move.
Burrows rode on without stopping.
In two hours Pearson opened his eyes and took inventory81. He managed to get to his feet and staggered back to where Road Runner was lying.
Road Runner was lying there, but he appeared to be comfortable. Pearson examined him and found that the bullet had "creased82" him. He had been knocked out temporarily, but not seriously hurt. But he was tired, and he lay there on Miss Tonia's hat and ate leaves from a mesquite branch that obligingly hung over the road.
Pearson made the horse get up. The Easter hat, loosed from the saddle-thongs, lay there in its calico wrappings, a shapeless thing from its sojourn83 beneath the solid carcass of Road Runner. Then Pearson fainted and fell head long upon the poor hat again, crumpling84 it under his wounded shoulders.
It is hard to kill a cowpuncher. In half an hour he revived--long enough for a woman to have fainted twice and tried ice-cream for a restorer. He got up carefully and found Road Runner who was busy with the near-by grass. He tied the unfortunate hat to the saddle again, and managed to get himself there, too, after many failures.
At noon a gay and fluttering company waited in front of the Espinosa Ranch. The Rogers girls were there in their new buckboard, and the Anchor-O outfit and the Green Valley folks--mostly women. And each and every one wore her new Easter hat, even upon the lonely prairies, for they greatly desired to shine forth and do honor to the coming festival.
At the gate stood Tonia. with undisguised tears upon her cheeks. In her hand she held Burrow's Lone Elm hat, and it was at its white roses, hated by her, that she wept. For her friends were telling her, with the ecstatic joy of true friends, that cart-wheels could not be worn, being three seasons passed into oblivion.
"Put on your old hat and come, Tonia," they urged.
"For Easter Sunday?" she answered. "I'll die first." And wept again.
The hats of the fortunate ones were curved and twisted into the style of spring's latest proclamation.
A strange being rode out of the brush among them, and there sat his horse languidly. He was stained and disfigured with the green of the grass and the limestone85 of rocky roads.
"Hallo, Pearson," said Daddy Weaver. "Look like you've been breaking a mustang. What's that you've got tied to your saddle--a pig in a poke74?"
"Oh, come on, Tonia, if you're going," said Betty Rogers. "We mustn't wait any longer. We've saved a seat in the buckboard for you. Never mind the hat. That lovely muslin you've got on looks sweet enough with any old hat."
Pearson was slowly untying86 the queer thing on his saddle. Tonia looked at him with a sudden hope. Pearson was a man who created hope. He got the thing loose and handed it to her. Her quick fingers tore at the strings87.
"Best I could do," said Pearson slowly. "What Road Runner and me done to it will be about all it needs."
"Oh, oh! it's just the right shape," shrieked88 Tonia. "And red roses! Wait till I try it on!"
She flew in to the glass, and out again, beaming, radiating, blossomed.
"Oh, don't red become her?" chanted the girls in recitative. "Hurry up, Tonia!"
Tonia stopped for a moment by the side of Road Runner.
"Thank you, thank you, Wells," she said, happily. "It's just what I wanted. Won't you come over to Cactus to-morrow and go to church with me?"
"If I can," said Pearson. He was looking curiously89 at her hat, and then he grinned weakly.
Tonia flew into the buckboard like a bird. The vehicles sped away for Cactus.
"What have you been doing, Pearson?" asked Daddy Weaver. "You ain't looking so well as common."
"Me?" said Pearson. "I've been painting flowers. Them roses was white when I left Lone Elm. Help me down, Daddy Weaver, for I haven't got any more paint to spare."
收听单词发音 |
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weaver
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| n.织布工；编织者 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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shoestring
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| n.小额资本；adj.小本经营的 | |
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convene
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| v.集合，召集，召唤，聚集，集合 | |
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aggregation
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| n.聚合，组合；凝聚 | |
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subjugate
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| v.征服；抑制 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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flicking
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的现在分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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disparagement
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| n.轻视，轻蔑 | |
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burrows
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| n.地洞( burrow的名词复数 )v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的第三人称单数 )；翻寻 | |
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epidermis
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| n.表皮 | |
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ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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pliable
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| adj.易受影响的；易弯的；柔顺的，易驾驭的 | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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jingled
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| 喝醉的 | |
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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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guileful
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| adj.狡诈的，诡计多端的 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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blues
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| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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arroyo
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| n.干涸的河床，小河 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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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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whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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awing
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| adj.& adv.飞翔的[地]v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的现在分词 ) | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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fronds
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| n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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bragging
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的现在分词 )；大话 | |
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glowered
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| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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statute
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| n.成文法，法令，法规；章程，规则，条例 | |
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jubilee
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| n.周年纪念；欢乐 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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collateral
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| adj.平行的；旁系的；n.担保品 | |
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unicorn
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| n.(传说中的)独角兽 | |
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shutter
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| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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probity
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| n.刚直；廉洁，正直 | |
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lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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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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poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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lathered
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| v.（指肥皂）形成泡沫( lather的过去式和过去分词 )；用皂沫覆盖；狠狠地打 | |
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pegging
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| n.外汇钉住，固定证券价格v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的现在分词 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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inventory
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| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
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creased
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 皱皱巴巴 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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crumpling
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| 压皱，弄皱( crumple的现在分词 )； 变皱 | |
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limestone
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| n.石灰石 | |
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untying
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| untie的现在分词 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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