Читать книгу The Secret of the Storm Country - Grace Miller White - Страница 13

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The next day, directly after the midday meal, Tessibel went to see Mrs. Longman, whose triple tragedy had made the woman an invalid, with broken nerves and useless hands. Every few days since the drowning of Myra Longman and Ben Letts and the baby, the squatter girl had carried to the sick woman some little offering to gladden her lonely existence. As Tess walked along the rocks, the image of Frederick Graves persistently pervaded her thoughts. Before the going down of another sun he would be her husband. Of course, just now she couldn't leave Daddy Skinner and Andy Bishop, but by the time Frederick had a home ready, Andy would be free from the charge of murder, and Daddy would live with them.

Tess never paused on the rocks between her home and the Longman shanty that she did not think of Myra, and thinking of Myra brought the vision of Teola Graves. A lonely little heart twist followed for the dead baby who had been born in her hut. This day she did not hesitate as long as usual. She must return quickly to Daddy Skinner and help keep guard over Andy Bishop. Waldstricker was coming at two o'clock!

Rounding the lake point, on which stood the hut of her squatter friends, she spied "Satisfied" seated on the bench near the doorway. Tess waved her hand, and the old fisherman signaled in return.

"Ma thought ye'd be comin' soon, brat," was Longman's greeting.

"I air brung her some salt-risin' bread," Tess announced, sitting down beside the fisherman.

Longman moved his pipe to one corner of his mouth.

"It air good o' ye, Tess," he thanked her, puffing. "Me an' ma air lonesome—me an' ma air."

Tessibel touched him with affectionate assurance.

"I love ye, an' Mammy Longman, too," she smiled. "I air glad to bring somethin' when I can."

For a few moments they sat quietly, the man smoking his pipe. Then he slowly knocked the ashes from its bowl, giving it a final rap in the hollow of his hand.

"Every day me an' ma miss Myry an' Ezry more," said he, stolidly. "Us uns just plumb lately made up our minds both them kids was too good to live, but us uns'd be awful satisfied to know if they air happy."

Tessibel brightened. She flashed a radiant smile at the sad-faced man.

"Sure, they be happy!" she ejaculated. "Everybody air happy in Heaven; Ben Letts air a singin' 'round the throne jest the same's the rest of 'em air."

In open disbelief Longman slowly shook his head.

"Myry never could sing—Myry couldn't," he answered, moodily, and his voice sank on the last two words.

Tess knew that, too, for she had heard the young mother try many times to quiet the brat with the uneven, discordant tones of her voice; but she knew, too, the great difference between Heaven and earth. She gazed out over the lake dreamily.

"But ye see, 'Satisfied' darlin'—" she began.

"An' once, when Ben were soused," interrupted Longman, hoarsely, "I heard 'im singin', 'Did ye ever go into an Irishman's shanty?' It were more like a frog croakin' than a man singin'."

"But folks don't never get soused in Heaven," Tessibel imparted, reverently, "an' they got a mess o' angels up there—" She looked upward, a solemn expression on her young face—"angels what Jesus keeps jest to learn folks how to sing. The brat's singin' too, as much as a little kid can, 'Satisfied'."

She edged a little nearer and slipped an arm around the fisherman's shoulders.

"It air just like this, honey, down here there air such a lot of work jest to get fish an' beans. Up in Heaven they don't do nothin' but dance around the throne an' sing all day. So everybody's got to learn how or he wouldn't have nothin' to do."

"Well, I swan!" ejaculated "Satisfied," smiling wryly. "Will ye tell ma about it like ye did me, Tessie? Ma air been worryin' fearin' Myry weren't comf'table."

Tess bobbed her curly head.

"I'll tell 'er in a minute," she assured him; "but, 'Satisfied,' I were a goin' to ask ye somethin'."

Longman nodded.

"An' I were goin' to ask you somethin' too, brat," he said. "How air the singin' goin' in church?"

Tessibel sparkled like the morning dew.

"Oh, it air goin' fine, 'Satisfied.' I love it more'n more. Miss Young helps me with my songs an' she's learnin' me to sew, too. Why, I git my five dollars every Sunday jest as reg'lar as Sunday comes. I ain't never knew how far a fiver could go afore. We won't be needin' nothin' this winter, Daddy and me won't, dear."

She gave a delicious giggle to which Longman added a chuckle.

"That air good, brat," he replied. "There ain't nothin' like home comfort in this world."

"An' ye see, 'Satisfied,' I ain't lettin' my Daddy fish much now, only 'nough fer us an' fer Professor Young an' Ma Moll. … Daddy ain't very well."

"He air gettin' old," sighed Longman, taking up his pipe.

"No, he ain't," contradicted Tessibel, quickly. "He air got somethin' the matter with 'is heart. Mr. Young had a doctor fer him, an' he says he mustn't work. Now I got my singin' he don't have to. … Why, 'Satisfied,' I air savin' 'nough money to get a new bed an' a overcoat for Daddy. A bran new overcoat, too! Nothin' second-hand, ye bet! He ain't goin' to git no cold this winter, bless 'im!"

Longman allowed one of his thin arms to fall around the straight young figure.

"That air nice, Tessie," he returned admiringly. "Ye be a pert brat, you be!"

Tess paused a moment or two.

"'Satisfied,'" she hesitated, going back mentally to her former unspoken query, "do ye know the Waldstrickers?"

Longman nodded.

"I knowed the old man who was murdered—young Eb's father. Made some stir in town when he got shot!"

"Eb's been home quite a while now," observed Tess thoughtfully.

Longman's head and shoulders moved several times in affirmation.

"So ma read out'n the paper," he then said, "an' Bishop's lit out from the coop, too, ain't he? … Funny how he done it! … Bigger men'n him stay there all their days. … They'll find 'im, though, them prison folks will, poor little duffer!"

Tess caught the sympathy in the squatter's voice.

"I air hopin' they don't," she sighed quickly.

An inquisitive, almost furtive expression shot into the fisherman's face.

"When ye goin' to git married, Tess?" he hesitated.

Tessibel shook her red curls, flushing.

"Oh, I ain't knowin' jest the time yet," she parried. "Ye know, 'Satisfied,'—"

"Don't ye ever see much of the student nowadays, eh?" the squatter cut in.

Because of its sudden palpitation, Tess laid her hand over her heart. Oh, if she could only tell her old friend that that very night she'd belong to Frederick forever! Passion leapt alive into her eyes, and her cheeks flushed.

"I air a lovin' him, 'Satisfied,'" she murmured.

Longman made a nervous movement with one hand and shook his head.

"Tess, I been goin' to tell ye somethin' fer a long time," he stammered, almost inaudibly. "Ye won't git miffed with a old friend, will ye?"

"Sure not, 'Satisfied'," asserted Tess, gently.

"It air 'bout Student Graves," explained Longman.

A glint of gold flashed from under her lowered lids and a slow, deep scarlet ran in waves upward from her chin.

"What 'bout the student?" she demanded, dropping again to the bench and placing the basket at her feet.

The squatter looked down. It was hard to say what he must with the young face so confidently questioning.

"He air a goin' round with a nuther girl," he barked presently. "I been hearin' an' so air ma—"

Tessibel rose, startled, and once more took up the basket. Some gossiping tongue had been reviling her dear one.

"It air a big lie, 'Satisfied'," she uttered breathlessly. "I don't want to hear nothin' against 'im uther. What tongue told ye that only wanted to make ye feel sad fer me." She paused, then turned, but whirled back. "When ye love a person an' love 'im hard, lies told about 'im don't set well. Ye know they don't, Daddy Longman."

"Sure, I know it," replied the squatter, in quick-spoken sympathy. "Only ma and me thought as how ye ought to know the things we heard."

Tess was standing rigid, gazing stormily defiant into the weather-beaten old face. Wasn't she going to be married to the student that night! And how many, many times Frederick had told her he loved but her; that no other woman could ever take her place!

"I ain't goin' to believe it, if the hull hellish world tells me so," she flashed forth tempestuously. "Now I air goin' to give the bread to Mammy Longman, 'Satisfied'."

Longman stayed her with a word.

"Ye ain't mad at me, brat, be ye?"

Tess stretched forth impetuous fingers.

"Nope, only I love the student, that air all! An', 'Satisfied,' I air a cussed brat to be swearin' when Frederick says as how it air wicked. I keep forgettin' when I git mad."

The squatter sighed, making a quick shake of his head and several weird clicks with his tongue. Moodily he watched the bounding youthful figure until it disappeared through the shanty doorway. Fully ten minutes passed before Tess reappeared.

"Ma were satisfied with the bread, eh, brat?" asked Longman, in a cuddling tone. "Ain't she likin' it, honey?"

Tessibel choked suddenly. There was something in the quavering tones of the old fisherman, of the lonely, bereaved old man, that saddened her loving heart. She went to him and touched him impulsively.

"Yep, she liked it, 'Satisfied'," she murmured, "an' I told 'er all about the singin' in Heaven. She hadn't thought Ben Letts might be there with Myry an' the brat. … Most folks ain't knowin' how awful long the forgivin' arm of Jesus air."

And kissing the old squatter once more, Tessibel started homeward.