Tess of the Storm Country Part 41

"Ben! Ben!" she called.

The fisherman turned impatiently.

"What air ye wantin', Myry?"

"Be you and Ezy hatin' each other?"

"He ain't nothin' but a brat," replied Ben scornfully. "Let him keep out of my way, or I fixes him."

"He air a-sayin' the same thing," cautioned Myra. "Ye air a-seekin'

Tess? He says as how ye air to keep from her."

She was walking beside him, her red hands rolled in her gingham ap.r.o.n.

The hot sun shone on her colorless hair, which was drawn back from the plain face.

"Ye air a-helpin' him with Tess," Ben grunted presently. "If ye ever wants me to come to yer hut, keep yer mouth shet, and let me and Ezy fight it out. Do ye hear?"

"Yep."

"Then scoot home now."

Myra turned, and then stopped.

"Ben," she called softly again.

"What be ye a-wantin' now?"

"If I keeps Ezy away from Tess, will ye--?"

"Ye air a-wantin' me to do somethin' for ye, Myry?" Ben answered, coming toward her eagerly.

"Yep."

"What?"

"If ye'll kiss the brat when Mammy and Satisfied ain't a-lookin'--"

"Scoot home, I says. Scoot home," shot from Ben's lips.

And home she went, this girl of but eighteen with an old woman's face, a tired young heart beating lovingly for the brat in the box and--for its father.

Her mother was still spelling from the paper when she returned.

Satisfied was stretched on the long wooden bench outside the door. Ezra, with his cap pulled over his nose, sat sulking in the corner. Ben was a powerful enemy. The boy knew that the fisherman would stop at nothing to gain an end. But Tess had told him that she wouldn't marry Ben, and Myra had as good as told him that the squatter was the cause of her trouble.

He knew another secret that would bring a halt upon Ben's pursuance of Tessibel Skinner. He had told Myra to warn him. Suddenly he rose from his chair, set his cap far back on his head, and disappeared into the underbrush that lay thick back of the hut.

The cause of the hatred between Ezra Longman and Ben Letts was quietly eating her dinner. Teola's child lay smacking the sugar from the wet rag. The large, knowing gray eyes were directed toward the sunlight upon the wall, the blood-red scar s.h.i.+ning more crimson in its rays.

Tess was picking the flesh from the spine of a fish, throwing the bones on the floor. Youthful as she was, she was already beginning to show fatigue from staying awake nights, and caring for her dark secret in the daytime.

With the alertness of an Indian she heard the crackling of twigs in the underbrush. She closed the door, slipped the lock and tucked the babe in the basket, and waited. Somebody was coming from the hill above, breaking the branches as he ran. It was Ben Letts, probably. A light tap came upon the door. To Ben she would not open, but, glancing at the window, she saw Ezra Longman's face pressed against the pane.

Slipping back the lock, she flung open the door.

"Ezy, ye air allers a-comin' when I wants to read the Bible. I tells ye to stay away from the shanty, and ye won't!"

Would the babe remain quiet until the pale squatter boy had departed?

"Ben Letts air a-comin' to see ye to-day," Ezra returned sulkily, "and I comed, too."

"Did he tell ye as how he was a-comin'?"

"Nope; but I knowed."

"He can't come in," replied Tess, crossly. "I ain't no notion for company, nohow.... Air the men a-nettin' to-night?"

"Yep."

"Air Ben a-goin' with ye?"

"Yep; Ben has a heavy hand, and nets air hard to haul."

Scarcely had the words fallen from his lips before Letts appeared at the door. Both boy and girl saw him, and Tessibel rose up.

"Sunday ain't a good day for ye to be comin' here, Ben," she said sullenly. "I air a-wis.h.i.+n' to be alone to-day."

In spite of the girl's flas.h.i.+ng eyes, Ben stepped in, glared at Ezra, and took the stool, from which he moved the Bible with trembling hands.

Tess had never been quite so frightened--never so fearful of her own squatter men-folk. Ben and Ezra had come to stay a long time, for each had dragged off his cap, leaving his dirty head exposed. Still the babe slept on, no tell-tale smack coming from it. Tess lifted the Bible, determined to let the men sit as she read, curled up in the wooden rocker, humming as she swung to and fro. A shadow dropped long upon the shanty floor. In the doorway stood Teola Graves, tall, thin, and distressingly pale. Tessibel had not seen her since the day she had carried the babe to the hill-house. That was three whole weeks ago. Tess moved awkwardly from the chair, motioned for Ezra Longman to get up, and stuttered out an invitation for the girl to be seated.

Teola shook her head, and Tess noted her quick survey of the hut.

"I can't sit down," she said weakly, although she allowed Tess to place her in the chair. "I have been ill for some time, but I could not forget how kind you were to me when you found me on the rocks, with my ankle sprained."

The white eye of Ben followed the blue one in its twisting search for the minister's daughter. Teola Graves had lost her sparkling beauty; had lost the vivid coloring and the shy expression of youth that had rested in the dark eyes until the death of Dan Jordan. From her face Ben's one eye turned to the beautiful squatter, and he settled back with a firmer resolve that she should be his. Tess stood thinking rapidly. She made no attempt to introduce the strange trio.

Then she allowed her fingers to come in contact with Teola's shoulder, pressing into the girl's mind some message.

"Ye be a-goin' to see the sick woman to-day, ain't ye?"

Tess could scarcely utter the words. Would Teola understand what she wanted to impress upon her? Her fingers sought the shoulder again.

"Yes," came the low answer.

"Might I ask ye to take her a bit of fish, what I promised her? I has company now, and can't go. And I thought as how if you was a-goin', ye might do it for me."

She stooped and raised the grape-basket in her hand, tendering it to Teola. The white lips became paler--the young mother understood.