Judith of the Godless Valley Part 16

They were pulling through the swamp road above the home corral. It was heavy going and when they reached the shade of a little clump of blue spruce and aspen, Judith pulled the team up for a short rest. She pushed her broad straw hat back from her face and half turned to look at Douglas.

"Have you seen that new litter of pups of Sister's?" she asked Douglas.

He shook his head and Judith went on. "Peter says I can have the pick of the lot, but there's only one I'd look at. He's the image of Sister. I'm going to train him so's I can take him out to run wild horses with me when he grows up."

"Wild horses! The last time it was bronco busting you were going into.

What's it all about, anyhow, Jude?"

"You don't suppose I'm going to spend my life in Lost Chief, do you?"

demanded Judith.

Douglas swept the landscape with a lazy glance. "I don't see how you could beat it."

"O, for looks and stunts, yes!" Judith's voice was impatient. "But it's no place for a woman! I'm going to earn enough money to take me out where I can go on with my education and amount to something."

"I guess Peter's been talking to you," said Douglas.

Judith nodded. "Yes, and he offered to loan me the money for college. But I won't be beholden to a man outside the family. I'll earn it myself."

"What'll you do with a college education after you get it?" Doug's glance was not lazy now, as it rested on the young girl's eager face.

"I'll do something beside cooking and horse wrangling for some old Lost Chief rancher, I can tell you that!" cried Judith. "I'm going to get out and see the world and know life!"

"And give up your horses and dogs and the big old mountains? Jude, you'll never do it. I'd like to get out myself sometimes, but I know I'll never be happy anywhere else."

"I don't expect to be happy, but I've got to know things."

"What things, Judith?"

The girl turned from Douglas to gaze at the far light on Fire Mesa.

"The truth about things," she said at last. "Inez says there's just one big fact at the bottom of everything and that is s.e.x, and that there's only one thing worth living for, to make s.e.x beautiful."

"She's a liar!" exclaimed Douglas indignantly, as if Inez had said something shameful. "Where does she get that rotten stuff?"

"From Charleton and poetry, I guess. How do you know she's wrong, Doug?"

Douglas sat up, his clear eyes blazing like blue stars out of his sunburned face. "Because I know! I want to have the biggest, finest ranch in the Rockies. Is that s.e.x? You want a good education. Is that s.e.x?

Peter wants me to carry on some dreams my mother and grandfather had. Is that s.e.x? What does that woman think the world was made for, I'd like to know?"

"That's just it," Judith sighed with all the sadness of sixteen, "what is it made for?"

There was silence for a moment on the hay rick while the two young questioners gazed at the incomparable grandeur about them. And as he gazed there returned to Douglas the sense of panic that had hara.s.sed him after Oscar's death. What did it all mean? Whither was he directed and by what? How long before he too would be swept into the awful void beyond the grave?

"That's what religion did for folks all these years," he said suddenly.

"They never asked these questions, I'll bet. I wish I had it."

"I don't want to believe fairy tales just because I'm scared!" Judith tossed her head stoutly.

"I don't either," agreed Douglas dejectedly.

"I'm going to drive on home and get something to eat," said Judith, lifting the reins. "Food's the only thing that'll rid me of the dumb horrors."

Douglas settled back against the hay, and the rest of the ride was continued in silence.

Old Johnny Brown stayed on for a day or so to clean up odd jobs neglected during the haying season. He was a gentle, timid little chap, the b.u.t.t of the entire valley, of course, and particularly of John Spencer. Douglas often wondered why old Johnny consented to work each year at this season for his father. This wonderment was solved the day after Doug's and Jude's conversation on the load of hay and in a manner destined in a small way to have its influence on Douglas' affairs in the years to come.

Just before supper Judith returned from the post-office and rushed into the kitchen with a huge, long-legged, ugly puppy in her arms. She set him on the floor where his four knotty legs pointed in four different directions and where his long back sagged like the letter U. He was covered with rough gray hair and his eyes were huge and brown.

"Isn't he a perfect lamb? He's mine!" cried Judith, squatting beside him.

"Oh! A lamb!" grunted John, who was combing his hair at the wash-basin in the corner. "I thought it was a buffalo calf."

"Don't be stupid!" cried Judith. "Of course, you're no judge of dogs, but Peter says he's just like Sister was at two months, only bigger."

Mary Spencer looked him over critically, coffee-pot in hand. "Isn't he awful homely, even for a mongrel, Judith?" she asked.

"Mongrel! What is the matter with all you folks?" exclaimed Judith. "He's no more mongrel than anybody else! Come here to your missis, you precious!" and she gathered the great pup into her lap, where he sat complacently, his legs in a hopeless tangle.

"What's his name?" asked old Johnny, mildly.

"Wolf Cub. And you wait till I'm through with him! You'll see the best trained dog in the valley, like Sioux will be the best trained bull and Buster the best trained horse. O, look, Doug!" as Douglas came in. "See what I've got!"

"I dare you to name its pedigree, Doug!" chuckled John.

Douglas lifted the pup to the floor and ran his hands over its skull, along its back, and down its erratic legs. "Some dog, Judith! You'll have to muzzle him by the time he's six months old."

Judith smiled triumphantly. "No, I won't! Wait till you see how I train him."

"You get that from your mother, Judith. She was always gregus smart with critters," said old Johnny.

Judith laughed skeptically. "She was!" The little old man nodded his head. "I remember. I deponed that same thing to Peter the other day. How Mary could break anything when she was a girl, like you."

"Well, but Mother won't touch anything that isn't broke now!" exclaimed Judith.

"Just what I deponed," nodded Johnny. "John broke her just like he broke old Molly horse, so she lost her nerve. I deponed just that. An awful rough breaker. I deponed just that."

"O dry up, Johnny!" grunted John, drawing his chair up to the table.

"I've put up with an awful lot of drool from you, and I'm getting sick of it."

Old Johnny was always most explanatory when he was most frightened. "I wasn't drooling, John. I was just deponing. Any one can do that, can't they? And Mary did used to be like Judith."

"Will you shut up!" shouted John.

The puppy, startled, gave a sudden loud howl.

"Put that thing out and come to supper, Jude! If he howls to-night, I'll shoot him." Judith left the house indignantly.