Mary-'Gusta Part 65

"No, no!" he said. "There was one time when even me and Zoeth figgered there might be--er--well, we didn't know but what he and she was liable to be more'n just friends. But it's all off now, seems so. They don't even write each other, I guess. I cal'late maybe Mary-'Gusta got tired of him," he explained. "He was a real nice young feller, but he probably wan't quite good enough for her. Fur's that goes," he added, with the emphasis of absolute conviction, "I never laid eyes on one that was."

Keith looked relieved. "Well, I'm glad if I didn't make a mistake," he said. "She seemed so startled when I said that the man was dead and her manner was so odd. Didn't you notice it yourself, Captain?"

Shadrach nodded.

"I noticed she seemed sort of sot all aback," he said, "but I don't know's that's so strange when you consider that she and Crawford used to be such friends. More'n probable she's heard him talk a good deal about his father."

"Well, perhaps so. No doubt that is it. I'm afraid she is working too hard and worrying too much over her various enterprises here. She is succeeding wonderfully, of course, but I don't like to see her losing those roses in her cheeks. They're much too precious to lose. Keep your eye on her, Captain, and don't let her wear herself out."

He soon said good-by. Captain Shadrach accompanied him to the door.

Zoeth remained where he was, not rising even when he shook hands with his departing friend. But when the Captain turned back he saw his partner standing by the end of the counter and clutching it with one hand while he beckoned with the other. Shadrach gave him one look and then crossed the s.p.a.ce between them in two strides.

"For the land sakes, Zoeth," he begged, "what's the matter?"

Zoeth waved him to silence. "Sshh! sshh!" he pleaded in a whisper.

"Don't holler so; she'll hear you. Shadrach, I--I--"

"What IS it?" broke in his friend. "What's the matter, Zoeth? Shall I fetch the doctor?"

"No, no. I'm--I'm all right, Shadrach. I've just had--had a kind of shock--a surprise, that's all. I ain't very strong yet and it--it kind of upset me. But, Shadrach, I want to talk to you. I want to tell you somethin' right away. I can't keep it to myself any longer. Can't we go home--to my room or somewheres--where we can talk? Please, Shadrach!"

"There, there, s.h.i.+pmate; take it easy. Go home? Course we can! Hey, Sim!" shouting to Mr. Crocker, who was in the back room. "You and Mary can take care of the store, can't you? Zoeth and me are goin' home for dinner."

Simeon replied that Mary was not there; she had gone out the back way, down to the house, he thought. "But you go ahead, Cap'n Shad," he added.

"I can take care of the store all right."

At home, and in Mr. Hamilton's room, the Captain pulled forward the most comfortable chair, forced his partner to sit in it, closed and locked the door, sat down on the edge of the bed, and said:

"There! Now we're all taut and s.h.i.+pshape and n.o.body can get aboard to interrupt. Fire away, Zoeth. What is it you've got to tell?"

Zoeth, his hand trembling, reached into the inside pocket of his coat, took out an old-fas.h.i.+oned wallet and from it produced a much-crumpled envelope.

"Shadrach," he said, "I don't hardly know how to begin. It seems so strange to think that you and me, who've been so close to each other all these years, should have a secret between us, if only for a little while. It seems wicked. I guess 'tis wicked, and I'm the wicked one for keepin' it from you."

The Captain laughed.

"You couldn't be wicked if you was apprenticed to the Old Harry for ten years, Zoeth," he said. "You don't know how to be and the devil himself couldn't teach you. Now, don't waste time tellin' me I'm speaking lightly of sacred things," he added. "For one thing, the Old Scratch ain't sacred, as I know of, and for another I want to hear that secret.

What is it?"

Zoeth shook his head. "I am wicked, all the same," he said, "but I guess I've been punished. There wan't any real reason why I shouldn't have told you afore, but somehow I couldn't make up my mind to speak of it. I just couldn't. But I'm goin' to tell you now, Shadrach."

He held up the crumpled envelope.

"You remember when I was took sick?" he said. "You remember I was struck down all of a heap in the kitchen? Yes; well, did you ever wonder what it was struck me down? I'll tell you. 'Twas a letter that came to me in the mail that morning. This was the letter. I managed to put it in my inside vest pocket that time when Isaiah run off after you and left me lyin' there. I didn't want him to see it. I didn't want anybody to--not then. Now I want you to read it, Shadrach. But before you do, let me warn you. You should ask the Almighty to give you strength. You're goin'

to be surprised, Shadrach, surprised and shocked. Here it is; read it."

He handed the envelope to his partner. The latter took it, wonderingly, and looked at the inscription.

"n.o.body's handwritin' that I know," he said.

"You knew it once well enough."

"I did? And it was mailed out in Carson City, Nevada. Why, that's where the Crawford Smith boy lives, ain't it? What on earth?"

He opened the envelope and from it took several sheets closely covered with finely written lines. He began to read and, as he read, his expression changed from curiosity to wonder, to amazement, to anger, to a mixture of the last three. The final sheet fell from his fingers to the floor. He looked up with a very white face.

"My G.o.d!" he said solemnly.

A half-hour later they were still talking. Shadrach had not entirely recovered from the surprise, but now he could think and speak more coherently, although the wonder of it all was overpowering.

"It seems as if the hand of the Lord was in it," he declared.

"It is," agreed Zoeth, with absolute conviction. "See how it worked out accordin' to His promise. The wicked flourished for a time, but G.o.d sent the punishment in due season, didn't He? Can't you see the poor feller's agonizin' in every line of that letter?"

"POOR feller! Good Lord above, Zoeth Hamilton, you ain't pityin' HIM, are you? You ain't sorry for him--YOU?"

Zoeth nodded. "I wan't at first," he said. "At first the whole thing, comin' on me out of a clear sky as you might say, knocked me flat. The doctor, when he came, said he thought I must have had a sudden shock. I did; that was it, that letter. But later on, when I was gettin' better and could think again, and when I was alone and had the chance and could read the letter again, I began to--to--well, not forgive him for what he done--I don't suppose I can ever do that"

"I should say not! d.a.m.n him!"

"Hush, Shadrach; he's dead."

"So he is. I forgot. Then he's d.a.m.ned, I guess, without any orders from me."

"He was d.a.m.ned here on earth, Shadrach. All his life--the last part of it, anyhow--must have been a torment. He must have idolized that boy of his. He says so in the letter, but it's plain on every line of the writin' without his sayin' it. And can't you just imagine him as the boy grew up and they loved each other more and more, tremblin' and scared every minute for fear that somehow or other his son'll learn that the father he loves and respects is a--a thief--and--and worse? Seems to me I can imagine it. And then all at once the boy comes to him and says he wants to marry--Oh, my soul! Shadrach, think of it!--he wants to marry your girl and mine--Marcellus's stepdaughter. Why, it must have driven him nigh crazy. And then they quarrel, and the boy, the only bein' on earth he's livin' for, goes off and leaves him. And he knows he's comin' here--to us--and that some time or other he's sartin to learn everything. No wonder he wrote that letter. No wonder--"

The Captain interrupted.

"Writin' you, of all people!" he said. "Writin' you and beggin' you not to let Mary-'Gusta marry his son: and for what? To save the boy from somethin' bad? No! For all he knew, Mary-'Gusta might be what she is, the best and finest girl on earth. What he was beggin' for was himself--that his son shouldn't know what HE was, that's all. No, Zoeth, I can't pity him much. He's dead, and that's a good thing, too. The wonder of it is that he's been alive all this time and we didn't know.

And to think--but there; it's all wonderful."

Both were silent for a moment. Then Zoeth said:

"The one thing that's troubled me most in all this, Shadrach, is about Mary-'Gusta herself. How does she really feel towards Crawford? She sent him away, you told me that, but are you sure she did it because she didn't care enough for him to marry him? Are you sure there wan't any other reason?"

"She gave me to understand there wan't. What other reason could there be?"

"Well--well, Shadrach, it all depends, seems to me. You know Mary-'Gusta; the last person she thinks about on earth is herself. If she did think a sight of Crawford, if she thought ENOUGH of him, she wouldn't let him suffer on account of her, would she? She knew, probably, that he loved and respected his father and a father's good name must mean a lot to a son. Then, there is us--you and me, Shadrach.

She wouldn't let us suffer, if she could help it. Do you see what I mean?"

"Humph!" mused the Captain, thinking aloud, "I cal'late I do, Zoeth. You mean if Mary-'Gusta had found out the facts about Ed Farmer, who he was and what he done, and if she knew Crawford Smith's dad WAS Ed Farmer and that Crawford didn't know it and we didn't know it--you mean that, BEIN'

Mary-'Gusta, rather than bring sorrow and trouble on Crawford and on us, she'd sacrifice her own feelin's and--and would pretend she didn't care for him so as to get him to go away and save him and us. That's what you mean, I presume likely."

"That's it, Shadrach."

"Um--yes. Well, there's just one thing that makes that notion seem consider'ble more than unlikely. How in the world could she have found out that there ever was an Edgar Farmer--"