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Show ft P .WOLFPEW CHAPTER XIV Continued 17 Abral and the men at the dam beard the uncommon rumble of the truck. Doug came furiously Into sight around the bend, preceded by the roar of the wheels on the Infirm tracks. "It's Doug Mason. He's gone plum crazy," Abral said. While he was yet speaking, the heavy load struck a weak joint In the wooden rails In the middle of the curve and plunged down the foot of the hill to the creek bank. They rolled the worthless log from his torn body and carried him bleeding to the camp. Sparrel must hurry. There was nothing much Sparrel could do for the left hand, flattened and punctured, with the white broken brok-en bones, hanging by a single string of skin at the wrist. The left eye was struck too hard by the heavy links of the log chain, and was no lonser an eye. Sparrel did well by him with his turpentine and salve and castile soap. When the worst of pain had passed, they carried him out of the bunk In the lumber camp to his own house. A moan came sometimes from his lips out of his control. He would twitch the handless stump of his arm, his teeth grinding, and stare at the blank wall with a bitter bit-ter eye. His mother, hobbling about on her poor legs, and his sister Hes-sie Hes-sie did the weeping. Cynthia, preparing things to bear to the Masons, riding down Wolf-pen Wolf-pen anu Gannon Creek with them on the Finemare, kept thinking over and over, "Worrying and regretting are what you can't help and they don't make things a bit different. But a body can't hardly see why things in the world can be the way they sometimes are. Seems like there has been a plague on this year that Just hangs around Dry Creek Hollow waiting to reach out and do everybody un ill turn. I'm downright sorry about Doug." December was dreary and full of heaviness.' It was as if the sorrow for Doug Mason had taken visible form over the houses. Day after day the thick clouds lay on the hills. All day long the house was as quiet as death. Shellenberger was still away down the river somewhere some-where getting ready for the rafts In the spring. Jasper was busy In the hollows and at the barn. Abral went each day to Dry Creek. Nearly every day Sparrel would go down to see Doug, and when Cynthia asked about him, replied: "Poorly, Cynthia, he's getting well, but he's In bad shape. And he's that proud he won't let anybody see him only me." They were trying days, and they trailed one another through the gloom. Then Jesse came one warm week-end when the wind blew into the hollows and pressed the rain from the clouds, driving them from before the sun. The darkness lifted for a moment, the grass looked up wondering and the birds sang. Jesse was happy. He filled the house with his enthusiasm and goodwill. good-will. He talked about the law and the lawsuits pending next term of court, of the people and the activity activ-ity of I'lkevllle, feeling himself no longer a spectator but a part of It Ho described the new brick Jail to be built on the lower corner of the courthouse square, the new Baptist church by the Institute, the general store the George Brothers were putting up, the stone sidewalks being be-ing laid all through the town, and the talk about even lighting up the streets at night He could see all this progress from Tandy Morgan's cilice. It was good to have Jesse come back, but it was somehow different from the way she had Imagined It. He was changed and all this talk sounded strange from lilra. He was already more of the I'lkevllle lawyer, law-yer, Cynthia thought, than the boy who set out the plants in the spring and read Blackstone haltingly under un-der the haycock. She realized with heartache that even the Jesse of those days existed no longer excei t in her memory, and would return no more to Wolfpen. It was idle to think of It being otherwise, and yet the thought of placing Jesse In the vault along with all the other treasured treas-ured things that had died In that year was full of grief. And the days after he was gone were less happy than before. Shellenberger and Dry Creek seemed to have conquered and possessed pos-sessed Wolfpen. Shellenberger returned re-turned from his Journey down the river. He was still talking about the progress of business-minded men who were developing the country for a profit. For themselves. Everything was going to come along big very soon now. Just at the moment mo-ment things were a little tight because be-cause it required a steady outlay of capital to get an operation going and a long time to get returns on it. Vision, co-operation, enterprise were the necessary qualities. A few days later he came up from Dry Creek to the mill where Sparrel was grinding. "I was wondering whether you couldn't help me out for a few weeks," Shellenberger said in his pleasantest manner. "What could I do to help you out, Mr. Shellenberger?" "Those fellows are grumbling for their pay again, and the God's truth of it is, Mr. Pattern, that I'm just a little short of cash right at this minute. I was wondering If I couldn't borrow a thousand dollars from you for a short time. I'll give you my personal note for It, and at the end of the month when I go down I'll have Judge Wade of the Catlettsburg bank endorse it If you wish." "I don't hardly see . . "You ought to have Interest at six per cent. Say fifteen dollars for the loan. That's the way men make money, by making it work. Tou let it Idle In the bank and the bank lends It out and gets the Interest. Just for ninety days and you'll do me a great favor and help my work along." Sparrel thought It over; the end of May, a thousand dollars, fifteen dollars Interest, enough cash for Jasper, a real favor to Shellenberger. Shellenber-ger. "I guess I could spare that to help you out," he said. "And I don't see any cause to bother Judge Wade with it." "I'm certainly much obliged to you, Mr. Pattern." Dry Creek kept pushing in ' like Its new owner. Abral was much engrossed en-grossed in the technique of lumbering lumber-ing and the prospect of driving a raft in the spring. He could even bring a fleeting moment of cheer Into the house when he stood In the middle of the kitchen floor In Cynthia's way, with a broom locked In the back of a chair, swinging It like an oar-blade and shouting to his imaginary helper on the raft to shove on the pole and keep the headlogs away from the bank. Then, the stiff curve cleared, he would relax while the raft rode safely on the current, and turn to Cynthia and say, "That's the way to take her around a sharp bend." "I bet you run right into a sandbar, sand-bar, Abral." "All right, I bet you. What'll you bet?" "Well, how many rafts have you ever run?" Cynthia asked. "I can take one around any bend In Gannon Creek or the Big Sandy. I learned all about It from Mullens." Mul-lens." Cynthia would carry It on, or she would drop it and be happy for a time In the presence of his energy and his confidence. She lived In the rich world of her imagination, for the most part, above the routine of the house where Julia was not Soft white fluffs of snow, small hard pellets of Ice, the sun and the thaws carried away the colorless days of January. The wind and the rain, the sleet freezing enamel on the pear tree, the sun cracking It and dropping it to the ground, brought In February. In Dry Creek more and ever more logs were piling up, and the rough men were getting more restive In the loins and irritable with one another an-other In the long Isolation from a town with good drink and women. Cynthia could know little about them, but Sparrel was concerned. He mentioned it to Shellenberger who dismissed It with a word. Sparrel Spar-rel said no more, except to himself. him-self. "A body hates to see that kind of life In here but It's just the men he brought up from down the river. I don't reckon a little drinking will hurt any man, except It's encouraging encourag-ing some pretty bad characters to make it I'd hate like anything to see Gannon Creek get a had name from It Things are bad enough down below where they come from, killings and then more killings if somebody witnesses against them In court These feuds already give a black name to a lot bigger country coun-try than has title to it I wouldn't want any of that around here even on Shellenberger's land. Maybe it'll be all right and I'm just touchy about things." While he was pretending to himself him-self that everything was all right, it went abruptly awry. Sparrel himself him-self was In the blacksmith shop at the camp when it occurred. The men came down from the woods with the tools to be sharpened. They were rough-looking laborer type of men. White liquor was heavy on their breath and red In some of their eyes. The trouble between tte Dallow and Jack Caher had begun in rough humor when Ike said that Jack had been cutting timber for three months and still didn't know which way a tree was g"ing to fall and would have got his fool self killed long ago if somebody didn't always pull him out of the way. The men, glad of words to break the silence and isolation, laughed; their laughter laugh-ter inspired Ike to keep it up, elaborate elab-orate it, and go on baiting Jack. Then Jack Caher lost the humor of it feeling himself in ridicule out of the usual good-natured butt, and showed resentment. Ike Dallow couldn't very well stop without seeming to back down. So they carried car-ried on through the drink they had behind a pile of brush and down to the shop. Sparrel tried to quiet them, but they were too excited now to listen to him. They grew more boisterous, drawing others into the baiting. "That's about enough now, rke," Jack Caher said. "Listen to the little rat-eared poodle," Ike said. "Enough what?" Then Jack lunged at Ike and hit him under the eye. - Jack stumbled as he swung, and was carried to his knees past Ike Dallow and against the bellows by the forge. In the flash of blind anger, Ike seized a cant-hook, swTung It over his shoulder, shoul-der, and before Jack could recover his feet he brought it down with crushing force on his neck and shoulders. Had the hook not caught in the bellows, the blow would have slain Jack Caher outright and instantly. in-stantly. He crumpled with a cry and groan, his bleeding head pushing push-ing into the soft leather of the bellows, bel-lows, causing the smoldering forge to throw up a shower of sparks. It was all too quick for anybody to Intervene; the sudden flash of the long smoldering antecedents. Ike Dallow stood for a moment with the cant-hook in his hand, be- itiiy Then Jack Lunged at Ike and Hit Him Under the Eye. reft of the anger, bewildered by the unwilled act some part of him had leapt forth to perform. Then he dropped the bloody cant-hook, cant-hook, stared In fright at the dying man ; then he got out of the shop and began to run up Dry Creek toward to-ward the woods. The other men gathered around Sparrel who was working over Jack Caher. He was unconscious, bleeding, but not quite dead. They carried him into the bunk where Sparrel watched over him until he died in the early morning. morn-ing. Sparrel laid him out with the soiled blanket covering his ftice. Tired and worried, Sparrel tramped toward Wolfpen through the last of the dark, thinking It over and over. "I felt It In my bones, somehow, the way you know something you don't want to know, hope you won't have to know. Then, bang, and it's all done. No warning. Sheriff Hat-ler'll Hat-ler'll have to come now, and a grand Jury and all. Sheriff Hatler never rode down this creek before in his life only as a neighbor. Now he has to come on a murder. Right on the Pattern land it was. Only I reckon it's not Pattern land but Shellenberger land. Never any disgrace dis-grace on it before. I'd like to have seen It stay that way. There was Just no reason in It happening. Bad blood breaking out, It was. Seems like In the last year something's been at the heart of these hills, like it was sick or giving up. Not Just here on my place. It's the whole Sandy Valley. Swamped with too many floating people I reckon, coming com-ing up the river and loafing around the new mine towns and lumber camps, not Interested In the good of the land, making corn liquor and gambling, and things like this. "Never been so busy in all his life, Sheriff Hatler told me at l'ike, such a sight of lawbrenking going on In the country here lately. Trouble Trou-ble right there In Plkevllle, too, about the Jail, and that witness In the Harrison-McClurg feud getting shot Jesse's only been there a few months and he's soon a sliht of cases come up. We've been here about a century now. I feel kind of disgraced mvsolf, like I was In It. And I reckon I am, because I'll he summoned. The loggers and the moonshiners will want to get It hushed over. Potter get It all out In the clear light now before It goes further. Better Just tell Sheriff Hatler. Hat-ler. and the grand Jury all about if and clean It all away. This Is where we have to live. We must keep this country clean and decent and a fit place where a man's grandchildren can grow up good men wuh a pride' like all their folk before them back to Saul and the time he saw this land as a place for a man to live in.'' CHAPTER XV SPARREL passed it over as lightly light-ly as possible with Cynthia, and Abral added nothing to it. It was just another accident. You had to expect them, on a big job, Sbellen-' berger said. Men would not be careful. But Cynthia knew from the worried look on Sparrel's face that It was more than that. It involved in-volved the law and a sheriff, and that was a sinister thing quite apart from Jesse and Tandy Morgan and Blackstone. Shellenberger. found business calling him down the river; he was gone when Sheriff Hatler came. Cynthia heard the sheriff talking in low tones to Sparrel after aft-er dinner, standing on the porch In the cold. "You're right, Sparrel. We'll clean it all up right now," he said. "I think we ought to," Sparrel said. "We'll have Ike Dallow in Pike-ville Pike-ville tomorrow. They picked him up down at Beaver. You tell what you know about the liquor, too, Sparrel, and we'll get this cleaned up." "I'm sorry you had to come here on this business, but there wasn't any way of getting out of It." "Don't worry about it, Sparrel. We'll just get it cleaned up now. How's Doug Mason getting?" "He's up and around now, Hatler, Hat-ler, and he's learning to do things again. He says he'll do the farm work in the spring." "It wuz a darn shame, Sparrel. Didn't your girl have an eye for him?" T don't reckon so only just as a neighbor." "Well, she's too fine a girl for any cripple." Cynthia could not listen any more. She ran to the kitchen and began to scour the pots she had used to cook the dinner. "I couldn't ever have married you, Doug, not even If it hadn't happened. Why did you want me to, and why did you go and do that, and why don't you take Judy Wooton who always has wanted you, and why does Hatler talk about It? Things would drive a body plumb crazy if you didn't think about something else. Oh, Reuben, wherever you are In the woods, the place is different from when you liked It so much. It's been so long. April Is so far away. Will you forget how you said, 'I will come back'?" On a gray winter morning Cynthia Cyn-thia opened the gate for Sparrel and watched him ride away on the Finemare to obey the summons. He smiled to her about his worry, and again at the orchard he turned, straight-shouldered and handsome, to wave to her. "It's a sin and a shame that he takes it so to heart. I'll try to make an apple pie for him and have it hot the way Mother always did when he gets back tonight from his hard trip." She was busy all day, weaving at the loom, cleaning the house, making the pies, cooking dinner for Jasper, tending to the milk, getting supper for Jasper, Abral and the return of Sparrel. Then the flutter of the hens in the pear tree, the nervousness In the stalls and the barnyard . among the mules, the sheep and the cows; and the dark slid into Wolfpen. Abral came in from Dry Creek, hungry after his day In the open. Jasper sat quietly by the log fire looking Into the flames, waiting. The crust of the dried apple pies browned In crisp flakes, deep stained with the juice in the fork holes In the dough patterning ferns. Cynthia kept them in the oven as long as possible, and then set them on the warming shelf by the stovepipe. stove-pipe. The special dinner for Sparrel Spar-rel was ready. "He ought to be back now," Abral said. "You can't always tell about getting get-ting an early start back from the trials," Jasper said. "They can use up more time doing nothing. I've watched them." "Maybe we might just go ahead and eat," Abral said. "I'm hungry." "We'll wait a while longer," Cynthia Cyn-thia said, prolonging the cooking. Jasper nearly dozing before the heat after the outside cold, Abral poking the fire, Cynthia about the stove, while time went on into an hour beyond custom. "He might have to stay over," Abral said. "Let's eat. I'm hungry." "It's not like Daddy to say when he'll be back and then not be," Cynthia said. "He don't usually go to a law case either. You can't tell about them lawyers and a Jury," Jasper said. They wailed still longer, and then Cynthia at last took ud the supper.! "I wish he'd come," she said. "1 reckon he's stayed over with Jesse," Jasper said, going out j "I'll keep things warm for a while just to make sure," Cynthia said. j Abral finished and went outside following Jasper. Cynthia lingered at the table, resting, waiting. Then Abral came bounding back into the kitchen. "She's down at the gate and scared as a rabbit."' he shouted. Cynthia ran to the kitchen with the lamp. "Who? Who. Ahral !" "The Finemare," he said, cr.'ih bine his coat from t ho p.-i by tl door. (TO F.E COTIMEL |
