Part 22

“And I’d give the world, if I had it, for a chance to live my life over, that I might have an opportunity to atone for the suffering I have caused you all.”

“Dear Joe, you have suffered too.”

He turned his face to the wall and relapsed into silence. And as he secretly invoked the presence of his beloved dead, he saw himself in an emigrant’s camp far away in the Black Hills. Again the tethered Flossie lowed plaintively at the wagon-wheel, bemoaning the death of her calf; again the still, white-robed form of his Annie appeared before his mental vision. And the sorrowing husband fell asleep.

XXXIX

_THE OLD HOMESTEAD_

The gray dawn of a bleak December morning found the Ranger brothers alternately stamping the snow from their feet on the front veranda of the old homestead, and listening for the first sounds of awakening within. The same denuded locust-boughs swept the lattice as of yore; and it seemed but yesterday to John Ranger as he recalled the time he had caught his gentle Annie in his arms on that momentous and well-remembered evening, and made the startling announcement, “It’s all settled, mother. Brother Lije has bought the farm, and we’ll be off in less than a month for Oregon.”

He turned to his brother, whose face was like marble as he stood in the shadow of the wall, as silent as the Sphinx.

“Who in thunder is coming here to rout a fellow out o’ bed at this time of a Sunday morning?” growled Lije Robinson, as he opened the door an inch or so and peeped out into the biting air.

“It is I and another,” cried John Ranger, pushing the door wide open. For a moment the brothers-in-law faced each other in silence. One was dumb with many conflicting emotions, the other with simple wonder.

“Your conscience must have troubled you,” said Lije, after an awkward pause, “or you wouldn’t have come back. But come in! I’ll start up the fire. Who’s this?” looking hard at Joseph, whose bronzed and bearded face was more than half concealed by the upturned collar of his fur-lined overcoat.

“Don’t you know him, Lije?”

“Naw, nor I don’t want to.”

Meanwhile Mrs. Robinson had emerged from her room after a hurried toilet.

“Sister Mollie!”

“Brother John!”

For half a minute not another word was spoken.

“I never expected to set eyes on you again,” cried the sister at last, as, half crying and half laughing, she held him at arm’s length for a better view. “It seemed as if you had left the world when you went to Oregon; and now you are back again,—the same old John.”

“This is an age of progress, Mollie. The planet doesn’t seem so very big, if you know how to get around it.”

“Will you introduce the stranger, John?” asked his sister, in a welcoming tone.

“I’ve been waiting to see if he would be recognized. There is another surprise in store for you, Mollie. Did you ever see this man before?”

“Can it be possible,” she asked, her face deathly pale, “that this is my brother Joseph?”

“Yes, Mollie,” he cried, as he caught her in his arms, “I’m your long-lost brother.”

“Then I hope you’ve come prepared to pay your honest debts,” growled the brother-in-law. “I’ve wrestled with that old mortgage till I’m demnition tired!”

“I hope you’ll permit me to atone as best I can, Lije. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Lije!” pleaded the sister, as she helped the prodigal to remove his overcoat. “You’re all right now, brother, aren’t you?”

“I will be as soon as I have settled some old scores with your bear of a husband.”

“Don’t mind Lije!” said his sister, aside. “His losses and obligations have made him discouraged and cross. It wasn’t natural that he should endure our hardships resignedly, as we did. Blood is thicker than water, you know. Oh, Joseph, if I only could buy for our parents a nice little farm, such as Annie deeded to her father and mother! There’s a ten-acre farm adjoining theirs; I cannot sleep for thinking about it. But my whole lifework has been devoted to Lije, and must count for nothing, so far as father and mother are concerned. Father gave me a cow and calf for a wedding present, as you will remember. They would have made me comfortable long ago if I could have kept them and one-half of their increase as mine.”

“Yes, Mollie; and I acted the brute beast over that gift. I was a bumptious boy then; and I encouraged Lije in the idea that he mustn’t allow his wife to own property. I waxed eloquent, as I thought, over coverture, and such other archaic injustice as merges the existence of a wife into that of her husband. Men are more appreciative of women on the Pacific coast than they are here; but there are laws and usages out there yet that call loudly for a change, the Lord knows.”

“I am not complaining of Lije, Joe. He has never offered me any bodily injury in his life, and I’ve learned not to mind the explosions from his mouth. I have everything I need for my own simple wants; but, no matter how hard I struggle, I can never help my parents to a penny unless I steal it”; and she laid her head on her brother’s shoulder and sobbed aloud.

“What’s the matter now?” growled her husband. “Can’t you stop your bawling when you have company?”

“Breakfast is ready,” said Annie Robinson, a tall and handsome girl, who had been busy in the lean-to kitchen.

“Annie, this is Uncle Joseph,” said her mother, smiling through her tears.

“I don’t want to see him,” retorted the girl, rudely, turning to Uncle John with extended hands and a smile of welcome, and saying in a half-whisper, “What did you bring him here for?”

“The hair of the dog is good for the bite sometimes, my girl. Your Uncle Joseph is all right. He’ll atone for everything if we’ll give him half a chance.”

“You owe Joseph an apology for your rudeness, Annie; I am surprised at you!” said her mother. Then, turning to Joseph: “Don’t mind Annie. She is unhappy and cross because she could not go to boarding-school this winter.”

“If I didn’t deserve what I’m getting I wouldn’t stand it, sister; but I’ve come to atone, and I must take my punishment.”

The room was severely cold, and the hot breakfast filled the air with a vapor that obscured the window-panes. The lighted candles, in their tall receivers, reflected translucent halos, and lit the lithe figure of Annie Robinson, who flitted silently between the table and the great black stove, serving the food, and looking like a weird, uncanny shade.

“The way of the transgressor is hard,” thought Joseph. “We must be ready to take the back track to-morrow, John,” he said, rising from his chair, and leaving his food almost untasted. “Whatever business you and Lije may have between you must be agreed upon to-day. Where can I hire a horse and sleigh?”

“I’ve a cutter in the barn,” said Lije, beginning to relax a little as his breakfast stirred his heart and warmed his spirits. “You’ll find half-a-dozen old sawmill horses in the big shed back of the barn. They’re spavined and ringboned, and one of ’em is knock-kneed; but you can take your pick of the lot.”

“Won’t you let me go along, Joe?” asked his brother, as they left the house together. “Where are you going, anyhow?”

“Of course you can go along if you are not needed here. I am going to see about buying that ten-acre tract that Mollie told me about. If it is suitable for the needs of our parents, I will see them installed in a home of their own before another week passes. Why, John, I’d rather murder our dear old father and mother in cold blood than leave them under the heel of that parsimonious—”

“Don’t be too hard on Lije, Joe. He’s had a whole lot to contend with since the sawmill, the debts, and other double loads have been left on his hands.”

“And no wonder,” was the significant rejoinder. “He deserves his fate.”

The sun arose in splendor, warming the air, and making the drive of three or four miles keenly invigorating and enjoyable. They found the little farm they had come to inspect in fair condition, though in need of some modern improvements, of which the brothers took note. The land had originally belonged to the senior Ranger, who had secured a title to the half-section of which it was a part, directly from the government.

“If father had been content with smaller land holdings, it might have been better for him and all the rest of us,” said John.

“There is danger that we may make the same mistake in Oregon,” replied Joseph.

“What a wealthy man father might have been, though, if he had held on to all the land he acquired in this country in an early day!” added John.

“But he’d be a happier man to-day on this ten-acre plat, with prosperous small farmers all around him and all the improvements and conveniences on the plat that it can be made to carry, than he would be with a whole township on his shoulders under the burdens of taxation and a careless tenantry.”

“I don’t know but you are right,” echoed John; “it isn’t what we own, or imagine that we own, in this world, but what we can utilize, that makes up our real possessions. Oregon will surely suffer, in years to come, as a result of the present system of land-grabbing. Most of the unhappiness of the farmers’ wives results from isolation, which small farms would remedy. This little home is a perfect gem. Mother will be delighted.”

“And the Robinson old folks will have congenial neighbors. I can shut my eyes and see father now, hobbling about the place with his cane, pulling a weed here and a flower there, tending the horse and cow and garden, planting his onions and potatoes in the dark of the moon, as of old, and his cabbage and peas and beans when it is full.”

“And think how mother will enjoy her poultry and posies! But we must do something to relieve Lije of his burden of debt, or he’ll drive Mollie to suicide.”

“I feel under no obligation to Lije, God knows! But for Mollie’s sake, I’ll see about helping him out.”

“Do you still intend to leave for the coast to-morrow?”

“No,” said Joseph. “I spoke hastily. This is Sunday. We can’t complete our business to-day. I will see the agent and settle about this little farm in the morning. After we get the old folks comfortable it will be time to consider Lije. He must wait.”

“I’ve been thinking all day,” said John, as they were journeying homeward, “that the entire running machinery of the home should be intrusted to women, who are the real home-makers. My Annie planned for the support of her parents, and made them modestly independent by a stroke of her pen. But she could not have done it if I had continued obstinate about signing the deed; and I am very much afraid I could not have been prevailed upon to do it if it hadn’t been for the persistence of Jean. She gave me no peace till the conveyance was made. If women possessed law-making power, these matters would in time be adjusted, and both men and women would be the gainers in the long run. But both men and women are as short-sighted as they are selfish. Solomon was right when he said: ‘There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty.’ It is noticeable that men of the frontier are more inclined to be just with their co-workers, the mothers, than the men of the older States.”

“It’s all settled, mother,” exclaimed Joseph, as he alighted at the cottage doorstep and threw the reins to John; “I’ve been to see that little farm adjoining Pap Robinson’s, and I’ve made terms. The little place is yours from now on, and I will not leave you till you are settled in it.”

“Your father will be so happy, son! He started to meeting a little while ago. I stayed at home to have a nice, warm supper ready. It isn’t many more meals I’ll get a chance to cook for my boys.”

“You did your share in that line long ago, mother dear.”

In the family reunion in the little cottage home that night there were no intruders. John, Mary, and Joseph held sweet communion with their parents alone.

“Our Father in Heaven,” prayed the old man, before retiring, “we thank Thee for all Thy tender mercies to us-ward. We realize Thy hand in our chastening; and we behold Thy love in our sorrows, since, but for them, we could not appreciate our joys. We thank Thee for John, for Mary, for Joseph, and for this night’s reunion. We also thank Thee for our absent dear ones, and for those whose bodies are under the snow, whose spirits are with Thee.

“Animate us all with the Christ spirit, O God; and grant that in Thine own good time we all may meet again.”

And the brothers echoed aloud the good father’s “Amen.”

XL

_THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS_

A year has passed, and the autumn of 1853 has arrived. It has been a most strenuous twelve months on the Ranch of the Whispering Firs. Rapid changes, unlooked-for vicissitudes, improvements upon the virgin soil, annoying delays, and happy reunions have made the seasons fly.

The house was now surrounded by a cultivated field, through the centre of which a broad, tree-lined avenue wound upward from the grade below. The cattle whose labor had saved the lives of the immigrants the previous year were now sleek and fat.

Behind the dwelling rose the foot-hills of the Cascade Mountains, their sides and summits clothed with the majestic forest of pointed firs from which the ranch had derived its name. Still higher up, and yet up, above the serrated steeps, loomed hoary old Mount Hood, spreading his snowy robes over the misty lesser heights, the top of his white turban hidden among the clouds, his flowing beard resting upon the pointed crests of the most distant trees.

The music of machinery filled the air. The sawmill was at its best, running day and night to supply the ever-increasing demand for lumber. The original plant had already been greatly increased.

“It is a glorious thing to be alive!” said Jean, pausing in the perusal of a letter. “The air is as balmy as springtime. What a blessed change it will be for Ashton, who has seen nothing but sagebrush, bald mountains, jack-rabbits, sage-hens, Indians, immigrants, and cacti the summer long! Oh, my darling, it is a whole year since our first meeting!

“My last day in the schoolroom is over. I have enjoyed my work. Many of the little tots are better for the training I have given them. But best of all is the improvement the experience has brought to me. Every good deed reacts upon the doer. Ashton will hardly realize the progress I have made in education, physical appearance, and culture during the vanished year”; and she smiled approvingly at her reflection in the little mirror. “And to think that to-morrow is our wedding-day!” She resumed the reading of her cherished missive.

“It will interest you to know that the fellow Hankins, whose villany came so near to wrecking our happiness, my beloved, has been sent to the Pen. at Salt Lake for forgery. What a splendid man he might have been if he had improved his opportunities! He still has a penitentiary term to serve in New York, which, added to his twenty years in Utah, will take him into the sere and yellow leaf.”

“And I’d have allowed myself to marry that fellow, I fear, if you had proved false to me, my Ashton,” exclaimed Jean, as she turned from her musings to survey her _trousseau_, upon which she and Mary had spent much time and skill.

“Are you at leisure, sister?” asked Mary.

“Of course I am always at leisure to see you, Mary. But what is the matter? You are as red as a rose and bright as a diamond!” and she fondled the sparkling gem upon her own finger lovingly.

“Something sweet and momentous has happened, my dear. Wish me joy! Mr. Buckingham and I are to make the fourth couple to join the matrimonial combination at the fateful hour to-morrow.”

“Isn’t this rather sudden, Mame? Won’t you be leaving Marjorie in the lurch at the cook-house? And, above all, what will you do for a _trousseau_?”

“No, dear, this change is not sudden. As you know, we have been engaged for over six months. But my _fiancé_, being under orders from the government, has not been certain of a permanency before. We will take Marjorie with us to Washington, and keep her in school. And now as to _trousseau_. My white dimity dress is fresh and new, and so is Marjorie’s. When we get to Washington, where Mr. Buckingham must spend the winter under orders from the Land Department, he says we can patronize the _modiste_ to our heart’s content. It was a fortunate day for me when my husband that is to be was sent out to Oregon to investigate alleged land frauds; and more fortunate still that he discovered that fellow Hankins.”

“I wish we’d known this a week ago, Mame. You might have had an ivory-white, all-wool delaine, with lace and satin trimmings, just like mine.”

“My little sister, notwithstanding her reputation for strong-mindedness, is a charming bit of femininity, after all,” laughed Mary, as she hurried away.

* * * * *

The near approach of a creaking wagon caused the sisters to approach the window.

“As I live!” cried Jean, “it’s the Reverend Thomas Rogers coming up the grade. And that is his little doll-faced wife. Wonder where they came from, and what in creation they’re coming here for.”

“You must go out to meet them, Jean,” said Mary. “I never want to see them again; but we mustn’t be remiss in hospitality.”

“He looks as if the world had gone hard with him, poor fellow,” laughed Jean. “Don’t you wish you had to pull in double harness with the like of him for the rest of your life?”

“I would never have fancied him in the first place if I had had any sense,” said Mary. “Wonder who paid their bills,” she cried with a hysterical little laugh, as she watched the preacher’s wife while she alighted over the wagon-wheel without any attention or assistance.

“Yonder goes Mrs. O’Dowd to the rescue. Do you know, Mame, I think it is a wise step for daddie to hitch up with Sally O’Dowd? He might go farther and fare a whole lot worse.”

Although the greeting the Rogers family received from the Ranger household was not exactly in keeping with the open-hearted hospitality of the border, it seemed to satisfy the preacher, who made himself as agreeable as possible.

“I went, Squire, to see your parents and Mrs. Ranger’s a few days before I left the States,” said the preacher. “The dear old people were well and prosperous and contented. They have imbibed a new theory about time and distance. They talk learnedly about vibrations, a fourth dimension in space, and other such nonsense; and they declare that there can be no real separation of souls that are in perfect accord with one another. Their new belief is making them as happy as birds. I would have no objection to such speculations if they didn’t tend to undermine the gospel. All such theories detract from the faith of our fathers.”

“Not necessarily,” said Jean. “I think that we ought always to accept truth for authority; but you want everybody to accept authority for truth.”

“I see it is the same little ‘doubting Thomas’ we used to have in the Pleasant Prairie schoolhouse,” said the minister.

“There is a whole lot of common-sense in Jean’s religion,” cried Hal; “I mean to accept her manufacture of the article as straight goods, full measure and a yard wide.”

“These discussions are not profitable,” said Captain Ranger, dryly.

“Your father and mother are certainly very happy in their theories; I can say that much for them,” said Mrs. Rogers, who, from her nook in the corner, had seldom ventured a word. “Their cottage was as neat as a new pin. It was the springtime, and climbing roses were clambering over the little porch. The old people seemed to lack for nothing but the companionship of their children.” And the little woman, amazed at her own loquacity, shrank back abashed.

“God has been very kind and gracious to both of the good old couples,” said the preacher, in a sonorous voice.

“Some people have an unlimited supply of gall,” said Hal, aside to Mary, alluding to the preacher and his wife.

“I don’t see but they are all right,” was the smiling reply of the rosy-cheeked maiden. “They have placed me under everlasting obligations, I do assure you.” She arose to greet a handsome visitor, whom she proudly introduced to them as “my affianced husband.”

The preacher’s joy was unbounded when Captain Ranger invited him to perform a quadruple marriage ceremony on the morrow,—an incident he hailed as an augury of the further social and financial assistance of which he felt so much in need that he began at once to solicit aid for the erection of a church and parsonage.

“For heaven’s sake, don’t begin to bother us about this innovation for a week or two!” exclaimed the Captain. “I’ll see that you are fed and housed for the present. As Jean will be leaving us, we shall need a school-teacher. My wife will not want an outsider to use our house for the school; so we must make a schoolhouse and meeting-house combined, and let it suffice for the present.”

The morning brought a scene of hurry, bustle, and happiness. Long tables were spread upon the lawn, under the wide-spread branches of the luxuriant fir-tree the woodman had spared when the land was cleared. Flowers and ferns from the wildwood added glow and fragrance to the loaded tables. Mary and Jean, rosy with expectation, flitted everywhere.

“Did you ever in all your born days see such a wonderful man as my daddie?” asked Jean, addressing Sally O’Dowd; and the happy woman answered, “I never did.”

Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Ranger, the latter resplendent in a satin gown of latest fashion, were conspicuous assistants; and their children, all of whom were gotten up for the occasion by their happy mother regardless of expense, were the observed of all observers. These children, added to the younger members of Captain Ranger’s brood, the three children of Mrs. O’Dowd, and Susannah’s “coon,” made a formidable array of young Americans.