Southern Lights and Shadows Part 21

Then, as Mr. Cullum afterward said, "Ole Satan swep' an' garnish_eed_ him an' tuk possession of him." He seized the heavy teacup in front of him and hurled it at his unsuspecting spouse; she gasped, paling slightly, and dodged. The missile, striking the brick chimney-jamb behind her, crashed and fell s.h.i.+vering into fragments on the hearth. The saucer followed. Then, Tobe's spirits rising, plate after plate hurtled across the table; the air fairly bristled with flying crockery. Mrs. Cullum, after the first shock of surprise, continued calmly to eat her supper, moving her head from right to left or ducking to avoid an unusually well-aimed projectile.

Little Sis scrambled down from her high chair at the first hint of hostilities, and dived, screaming, under the table; the others remained in their places, half paralyzed with terror.

In less time than it takes to tell it, Mr. Cullum, reaching out his long arms, had cleared half the board of its stone and gla.s.s ware. Finally he laid a savage hand upon a small, old-fas.h.i.+oned blue pitcher left standing alone in a wide waste of table-cloth.

At this Sissy surrendered unconditionally. "Oh, Tobe, fer Gawd's sake!" she cried, throwing out her hands and quivering from head to foot. "I give in!

I give in! _Don't_ break the little blue-chiny pitcher! You fetched it to me the day little Bud was born! An' he drunk out'n it jest afore he died!

Fer Gawd's sake, Tobe, honey! I give in!"

Tobe set down the pitcher as gingerly as if it had been a soap-bubble.

Then, with a whoop which fairly lifted the roof from the cabin, he cleared the intervening s.p.a.ce between them and caught his wife in his arms.

Minty, with ready tact, dragged Little Sis from under the table, and driving the rest of the flock before her, fled the room and shut the door behind her. On the dark porch she ran plump upon Jack Carter.

"Why, Jack!" she cried, with her tear-wet face tucked before she knew it against his breast, "what are you doing here?"

"Oh, just hanging around," grinned Mr. Carter.

"Gawd be praised!" roared Tobe, inside the house.

"Amen!" responded Jack, outside.

"An' Tobe Cullum," announced Joe Trimble at Bishop's the next day, "have ordered up the fines' set o' s.h.i.+ny in Waco fer Sissy."

"It beats _me_," said Newt Pinson; "but I allers did say that the women o'

Jim-Ned, _ez wives_, air the outbeatenes' critters in creation!"

The Courts.h.i.+p of Colonel Bill

BY J. J. EAKINS

It was early morning in the Bluegra.s.s. The triumphant sun was driving the white mist before it from wood and rolling meadow-land, rousing the drowsy cattle from their tranquil dreams and quickening into fuller life all the inhabitants of that favored region, from the warlike woodp.e.c.k.e.r with his head of flame high up in the naked tree-top to the timid ground-squirrel flitting along the graystone fences. It glorified with splendid impartiality the apple blossoms in the orchards and the vagabond blackberry bushes blooming by the roadside; and then, with many a mile of smiling pastures in its victorious wake, it burst over the low rampart of stable roofs encircling the old Lexington race-course, and, after a hasty glimpse at the horses speeding around the track and the black boys singing and slouching from stall to stall with buckets of water on their heads, it rushed impetuously into an old-fas.h.i.+oned, deep-waisted family barouche beside one of the stables, and shone full upon a slender, girlish figure within. It wasted no time upon a purple-faced old gentleman beside her, nor upon two young gentlemen on the seat opposite, but rested with bold and ardent admiration upon the young girl's face, touching her cheeks with a color as delicate as the apple blossoms in the orchards, and weaving into her rich brown hair the red gold of its own beams.

The picture was so dazzling and altogether so unprecedented that Colonel Bill Jarvis, the young owner of the stable, who had come swinging around the corner, whistling a lively tune, his hat thrown back on his head, and who had almost run plump into the carriage, stopped abruptly and stood staring. He was roused to a realizing sense of his position by Major Cicero Johnson, editor of the Lexington _Chronicle_ and president of the a.s.sociation, who was standing beside the barouche, saying, with that courtliness of manner and amplitude of rhetoric which made him a fixture in the legislative halls at Frankfort: "Colonel Bill, I want to present you to General Thomas Anderson Braxton, the hero of two wars, of whom as a Kentuckian you must be proud, and his sons Matt and Jack, and his daughter, Miss Sue, the Flower of the Blue-gra.s.s. Ladies and gentlemen," he continued, with an oratorical wave of his hand towards the Colonel, who had bowed gravely to each person in turn to whom he was introduced, "this is my friend Colonel Bill Jarvis, the finest horseman and the most gallant young turfman between the Ohio River and the Gulf of Mexico."

While the Major was speaking, Colonel Bill's eyes wandered from the two young gentlemen on the front seat to the purple-faced old General on the rear seat, and then rested on Miss Braxton. Her eyes met his, and she smiled. It was such a pleasant, gracious, encouraging smile, and there was so much kindliness in the depths of the soft brown eyes, that the Colonel was rea.s.sured at once.

"We have come to disturb you at this unearthly hour," said Miss Braxton, apologetically, "because I wanted to see the horses at their work, and father and my brothers were good enough to come with me."

Colonel Bill explained that his horses had finished their morning exercise, but that it would afford him great pleasure to show them in their stalls.

Miss Braxton was sure that they were putting him to a great deal of trouble, and she was also convinced that to see horses in their stalls must be delightful; so presently the party was marching along under the shed, looking at the calm-eyed thoroughbreds in their narrow little homes, the Colonel and Miss Braxton leading the way.

With the wisdom of her s.e.x, Miss Braxton concealed her lack of special knowledge by a generous general enthusiasm which captivated her simple-hearted host.

"And that is really Beau Brummel!" she cried, with sparkling eyes, pointing to a splendid deep-chested animal, who was regarding them with mild curiosity. "And that is Queen of Sheba next to him! What lovely heads they have, and how very proud you must be to own them!" One would have thought her days and nights had been given to a study of these two thoroughbreds.

"They are the best long-distance horses in the country," said the Colonel, flus.h.i.+ng with pleasure. And then, in reply to her eager questioning, he gave their pedigrees and performances, all their battles and victories, in detail--a list as long and glorious as the triumphs of Napoleon, and perhaps as useful. At each stall she had fresh questions to ask. Her brothers, with an eye to the coming meeting, listened eagerly to the Colonel's answers, while the Major and the General, lagging behind, discussed affairs of state. At last the horses were all seen; everybody shook hands with the Colonel and thanked him, the General with great pompousness, and Miss Braxton with a smile, and a hope that she might see him during the meeting; and the old barouche went lumbering away down the road, until it presently buried itself, like a monstrous cuttlefish, in a cloud of its own making.

Colonel Bill looked after it with a pleased expression on his face, and pulling his tawny mustache reflectively, muttered to himself with true masculine acuteness, "She knew as much about my horses as I did myself."

The great Lexington meeting was in the full tide of its success.

Peach-cheeked, bright-eyed Blue-gra.s.s girls, and their big-boned, deep-chested admirers, riding and driving in couples and parties, filled all the white, dusty tumpikes leading to the race-course, and made gay the quaint old Lexington streets. The grand-stand echoed with their merriment, and they cheered home the horses with an enthusiasm seen nowhere else in the world.

The centre of the liveliest of all these merry groups, noticeable for her grace and beauty even there, where so many lovely girls were gathered, was Miss Braxton. She was continuously surrounded by a devoted body-guard of young men, many of whom had ridden miles to catch a glimpse of her bewitching face, and who felt more than recompensed for their efforts by a glance from her bright eyes.

On the first day of the meeting Colonel Bill, arrayed with unusual care, had eagerly scanned the occupants of the grand-stand. His eyes ran heedlessly over scores of pretty faces, until finally they rested upon the group around Miss Braxton. Then carefully b.u.t.toning up his coat and straightening out his tall figure, as a brave man might who was about to lead a forlorn hope or receive his opponent's fire, he bore down upon them.

Miss Braxton welcomed him cordially, and introduced him to the gentlemen about her. She straightway became so gracious to him that he aroused an amazing amount of suspicion and dislike in the little circle, to all of which, however, he was happily oblivious. He was a capital mimic, and under the inspiration of her applause he told innumerable negro stories with such lifelike fidelity to nature that even the hostile circle was convulsed, and Miss Braxton laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks.

Time sped so swiftly that the last race was run before the Colonel was aware that the programme was half over, and he found himself saying good-bye to Miss Braxton, and wis.h.i.+ng with all his heart he were one of the half-dozen lucky young men who were waiting on their horses outside to escort her carriage back to Lexington.

It was that same evening old Elias, Colonel Bill's body-servant and general a.s.sistant, noticed a most surprising development in his young employer. One of the Colonel's most prized possessions was a fiddle. It bad never been known, in all the years he owned it, to utter aught except the most joyful sounds. Whenever he picked it up, as he frequently did on winter nights, when everybody gathered around the big wood fire in his room, the stable-boys at once made ready to beat time to "Money Musk," "Old Dan Tucker," and other cheerful airs.

On this particular night the Colonel seized the fiddle and strode gloomily to the end of the stable. Presently there came forth upon the night air such melancholy and dismal notes as made every stable-boy, from little Pete to big Mose, s.h.i.+ver. As the lugubrious sounds continued, the boys fled to their loft, leaving Elias, who had watched over the Colonel from his infancy, to keep vigil, with a troubled look on his withered face. Many nights thereafter was this singular proceeding repeated, to the ever-increasing wonderment of Elias.

Every day during the meeting when Miss Braxton was at the track Colonel Bill sought her out. Sometimes he had a chance for a long talk, but oftener he was forced to content himself with shorter interviews. More than once he noticed General Braxton join his daughter when he approached, and he found that old warrior's manner growing more and more cold.

"He's a loser," thought the Colonel, to whom it never for a moment occurred that his own presence might be disagreeable to any one. "A man oughtn't to bet when he can't stand a-losing," he concluded, philosophically, and then he dismissed the matter from his mind.

On the last day of the races, after waiting for an hour or more to speak alone to Miss Braxton, and finding her constantly guarded by her father, who looked fiercer than usual, Colonel Bill was finally compelled to join her as she and the General were leaving the grand-stand. She saw him coming, and stopped, a pleased look on her face. The General, with a frigid nod, moved on a few paces and left them together.

"I have come to ask if I might call on you this evening, Miss Braxton,"

said the Colonel, timidly, "if you have no other engagement."

"I shall be very glad indeed to have you call," she replied, cordially, adding, with a smile, "You know, Lexington is not so wildly gay that we haven't ample time to see our friends."

As he walked away the Colonel thought he heard his name mentioned by General Braxton, and although the words were inaudible, the tone was sharp and commanding. He turned and glanced back. The girl's face was flushed, and she looked excited, something unusual to her self-contained, reposeful manner. As they moved out of hearing, the General was still talking with great earnestness, and a feeling of uneasiness began to oppress him. This feeling had not altogether departed when he galloped into Lexington that night, his long-tailed, white linen duster b.u.t.toned up to his chin, the brim of his soft black hat pulled down over his eyes.

The Elms, a roomy old-fas.h.i.+oned house encircled by wide verandas, the home of the Braxtons for generations, was one of the landmarks of Lexington. A long stretch of lawn filled with shrubbery and clumps of trees protected its inmates from the city's dust and turmoil and almost concealed the house itself from view. The Colonel, to whom the Elms was perfectly well known, never drew rein till he was before it, and then, checking his horse so suddenly that a less intelligent animal would have turned a somersault, swung himself out of the saddle with the ease of one who had spent the greater part of his life there, fastened the bridle to a ring in a great oak-tree by the curbing, and opening the big iron gate, strode up the gravelled walk which wound through the shrubbery.

Miss Braxton had been sitting at the piano in the drawing-room playing softly. The long windows looking out on the veranda were opened to admit the balmy air, and before her visitor arrived she heard his approaching footsteps.

"I am very glad you have come," she said, walking out to meet him; "I was afraid that in the excitement of the race-track you might have forgotten our engagement. I felt a little depressed this evening, and that is another reason why I am glad to see you." She led the way back into the drawing-room as she talked, and invited the Colonel to sit beside her on one of the sofas. In the soft glow of the dimly lighted lamps he thought she had never appeared so beautiful; and the rich fragrance of the dew-laden roses and honeysuckle wafted in through the open windows seemed to him to be an atmosphere peculiar to her alone, like the exceeding sweetness of her soft, low voice and the easy grace of her movements.

In reply to her questions he told her of his adventures on far Southern tracks, and of the careless, reckless life he had led. He had seen many strange and stirring sights during his wanderings; and to her, whose young life lead hitherto flown along as peacefully as a meadow-brook, it seemed like a new and thrilling romance, with a living being in place of the printed page. Once he mentioned a woman's name, and she started.

"In all that time," she inquired, softly, her eyes lowered, "did no woman ever come into your life?"

"No," he answered, simply; "I never thought of a woman then."

She raised her eyes to his, and lowered them instantly, her face flus.h.i.+ng.

During a moment's lull in the conversation the hour was struck from a neighboring steeple. They both started, half-guiltily. It was midnight. He at once arose to go, apologizing for the lateness of his visit.