Читать книгу Fighting Stars - H. A. Cody - Страница 7

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Henry was not anxious to hear any more solid truth, so instead of attending to things around the place, he started for the store to arrange about the mortgage, so he informed his wife. Mrs. Winters sighed as she gazed after him from the kitchen window while she washed the breakfast dishes. She knew that a visit to the store meant the rest of the morning, and that she would not see him again until dinner time. She was more discouraged than she had been at any time in her life. Henry was hopeless, and the future looked very dark. She had schemed and slaved to make an honest living, but with such a careless lazy husband the task was impossible. But something had to be done or else both of them would be in the Poor House. The mortgage was the last straw. Soon their place would be gone, for she well knew that the interest would never be paid, to say nothing of the principal. It would be only a short time when the house would be sold over their heads.

When the dishes were at last washed and put away, she went out of doors and busied herself in her flower garden in front of the house. This was her sole relaxation. When among the roses, poppies, morning-glories, gladioli, pansies, and other smiling flower-friends, she was content, and her care gradually slipped from her mind. As she dug around the roots, or tied up some weak stalks, she hummed softly to herself. She was a woman of considerable ability, and naturally sweet-tempered. But years of grinding toil and discouragement had left their marks upon her face and form. Only when among her flowers was there a renewal of her old-time enthusiasm and almost youthful buoyancy of spirit.

So engrossed was she with her work that she did not notice old Doctor Benson approaching in his light buggy. His cheery voice rang out as usual as he drew up his horse in front of the house.

"Your garden looks fine, Mrs. Winters," he complimented. "It's a pity I can't say the same about the rest of the place."

"It is, Doctor," Mrs. Winters replied as she moved close to the fence. "But Henry will not work, as you are well aware."

"Too bad, too bad, Mrs. Winters. Something will have to be done."

"But what can I do? I'm at my wit's end. I have talked and scolded until I am tired. I don't know what will cure a lazy man."

"H'm," the doctor grunted, while a twinkle shone in his eyes. "Some humorist has said that he didn't know of anything that would absolutely cure a lazy man, but that sometimes a second wife would help a great deal."

"But I'm not going to give Henry a chance to get a second wife," Mrs. Winters stoutly declared. "I don't want to die just yet, and, besides, I wouldn't like to see another woman afflicted as I have been. You will have to suggest something else, Doctor."

"I don't blame you, Mrs. Winters. Live as long as you can. But is there any way whereby we can give Henry a good downright scare? I have known that to be beneficial in several cases. Of what is he most afraid?"

"Work, of course, and next to that, dying. The thought of death sends shivers through his body. He hates to talk about it, and it is next to impossible to get him to attend a funeral."

"Then that's the way to scare him, Mrs. Winters. Don't scold him, but tell him that he isn't looking well, and that he needs a rest or he won't last long. Seize upon the first opportunity. If his appetite is not up to the mark, start in right there."

"I'd never begin, then, Doctor. Henry's appetite never fails. It has not varied since we were married. He is always hungry, and eats everything that is put before him. I am sure I wouldn't be able to make any effect upon him through his appetite."

"Dear me! Now, what can I suggest? Suppose you tackle him on his shortness of breath. If he should come into the house panting for instance, you might——"

"Nonsense, Doctor, I thought you knew Henry well enough to know that he never pants," Mrs. Winters interrupted. "He never does anything hard enough to make him out of breath, so that scheme won't work."

"But he gets excited, doesn't he? I have seen him stirred up to a great pitch of eloquence down at the store during an election. Anyway, wait your opportunity, and give him a good scare. He's contrary by nature, and if the fear of dying doesn't make him buck up just for spite then I lose my guess. Start in as soon as possible, and I will help you all I can. Well, I must be moving. Good day, and good luck to you. Get along, Jerry."

During the rest of the morning Mrs. Winters thought over the doctor's suggestion. She smiled grimly as she prepared dinner and awaited her husband's arrival. When at last he ambled into the kitchen, and braced himself just inside the door for the usual scolding, he was surprised at his wife's quiet manner.

"You are late, Henry," she accosted. "But, wash yourself and sit right down to the table. You will feel stronger after you get something to eat."

Henry's eyes bulged in astonishment, and he sagged back heavily against the wall.

"I don't feel sick, Sarah," he gasped. "What makes ye think I am?"

"From the way you walked up the road, dear. And now you are leaning against the wall. I really believe you are not well. I scolded you yesterday and also this morning, but I am sorry now. I blamed you for letting the farm run down, and neglecting things in general. But I should not have done so, for you are not strong. I am going to take better care of you after this. I was talking to the doctor this morning, and he is certain that you need special treatment. Get washed, now, and sit right down before your dinner gets cold."

For once in his life Henry was at a loss for words. He did as his wife ordered and took his seat at the table. But he did not feel hungry, a most unusual thing for him.

"Can't you eat your pie, Henry?" Mrs. Winters asked.

"Naw, don't feel like eatin' any. I can't make out what's come over me."

"You need a rest, so the doctor said. Lie down a while and I will prepare some medicine for you to take when you get up."

Henry pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

"I don't want to lay down," he growled. "I don't feel sick. It's fresh air I want. It's as hot as—as an oven here."

"You must have a fever if you feel so hot, Henry. This kitchen is quite cool."

"It is! Jist look at my forehead; it's streamin' wet."

"That is a bad sign, dear. Oh, I am afraid you are going to be very sick. Fever comes that way, and it should not be neglected. Do let me send for the doctor. I don't want you to die and leave me alone in the world."

This was more than Henry could stand. He seized his hat and made for the door. On the way he glanced at his face in a little mirror hanging over the wash-basin. Mrs. Winters smiled as she removed the dishes from the table.

"I feel very guilty," she said to herself. "I am deceiving Henry and acting a lie, which is the worst kind of a lie. And yet, what am I to do? Anyway, it is started, so I must see it through. If this will not stir him up, then nothing will."

As soon as Henry was out of the house, he sat down upon a block of wood and fumbled in his pocket for his pipe. Once he glanced toward the kitchen window, and seeing that his wife was not watching, he examined his hands, doubled up his left arm and felt the muscles.

"There's nuthin' the matter with me," he muttered. "What's comin' over Sarah, anyway? She thinks I'm sick, does she, an' need a rest an' medicine? But I'll show her a thing or two. Sick! who ever heard of me bein' sick? What stuff has old Doc. Benson been gittin' off? He wants to put me to bed, treat me, an' send in a big bill. Oh, I know his game, a'right. But it won't work on me, not by a long chalk. I'm on to his tricks. He can't fool this old boy."

After he had filled and lighted his pipe, he picked up the bucksaw lying near, and worked away steadily for over an hour. He cut enough wood to last for a week, and split it, too. When he was through he went into the milk-room for a drink of cool buttermilk, as he was hot and thirsty. And while he was there, Mrs. Winters entered.

"I am afraid you are working too hard, Henry," she began. "Won't you take a rest, as the doctor suggested?"

"The doctor kin go to blazes, Sarah," Henry retorted. "Do I look sick? Do I act sick?"

"Well, no, not now, but the doctor——"

"The doctor be hanged! Don't I know how I feel better'n he does? He wants to stuff me with medicine, an' run up a big bill. But I'll show him, an' you, too, that there's nuthin' wrong with Henry Winters. He's as sound as a nut, an' strong as a moose."

Henry flung himself out of the room, and made his way to the barn. Here he found a piece of wire and went at once to the well where he securely fastened the bucket to the pole.

"There, I guess Sarah won't be able to twit me any more about that," he muttered. "I'll tend to the fence next."

With ax over his shoulder, he went to the pasture where he worked for the remainder of the afternoon. He not only repaired the gap through which the cows had escaped on Sunday, but several other defective spots. It was supper time when he again reached home. His face and hands were well covered with balsam and dirt, and he presented a woeful picture as he entered the kitchen.

"Do I look sick now, Sarah?" he asked.

"I never saw you look worse," was the laughing reply. "What in the world have you been doing to get in such a mess?"

"Workin', of course, to prove to you an' the doctor that there's some life left in me yit. I'm goin' to fix up the hull pasture fence, an' it'll take me several days to do it. I'm not goin' to have any more long Sunday tramps after the cows. Git me some hot water, will ye? Ye kin then pour a little paraffine oil on me hands. This balsam's hard to git off."

Mrs. Winters was much encouraged at the outcome of her scheme, and she believed that her husband had turned over a new leaf. She praised him as he sat down to supper, and told him how glad she was that he was feeling so much better. And Henry was quite pleased with himself, and for a change spent the evening at home instead of going over to the store. All the next day he worked hoeing out his weedy potatoes. Toward evening, however, his enthusiasm began to wane, and he longed again for the comfort of the store, and the gossip of his neighbors.

"Guess I've proved to Sarah's satisfaction that there's nuthin' wrong with me," he mused as he leaned upon his hoe. "I've won out, a'right, this time, so I might as well have a little let-up. Jist wait till I see the doctor an' I'll give him a piece of me mind."

At supper he informed his wife that he was tired of farming, and longed for a change.

"There's nuthin' wrong with me, Sarah, as ye kin see with yer own eyes. But farmin' isn't in my line. It's too dang lonesome workin' all by one's self. I need more excitement."

Mrs. Winters realized only too truly what his words meant, and her bright hopes suddenly faded.

"Then, if you make a change, Henry, I shall do the same," she declared. "I was hoping that you were going to do better and settle down to steady work. You can do so if you only have the will, and it will not be necessary for us to mortgage our place. The stars won't help you unless you do your part, and neither will I. If you find it lonesome here, what about me? I never get any change, and as for excitement, I do not know what it means. Anyway, if you will not work, I shall make a change."

"What d'ye intend to do, Sarah?"

"I shall go to the city and get work there. It will be some change, anyway, for I am sick and tired of this humdrum grubbing life. There is nothing going on here from morning until night, and not the least bit of excitement."

"Ye'll take in the movies, I s'pose, Sarah?"

"Most likely I shall once in a while. My sister has been urging me to pay her a visit, and so I can stay with her until I find something to do. If I am to be a slave, I might as well get a little for it, and some amusement at the same time. I haven't had a new dress for years, and never have a cent of my own to spend. I have some pride left, and every woman likes to be dressed decently. I have made over my old dress so often that I am ashamed of it."

"But what am I to do, Sarah, if ye go away? Who'll look after me?"

"You can look after yourself the best way you can. If you won't work, you can starve. You might as well sleep at the store, for that is where you spend most of your time. Perhaps you can get a bite to eat there now and again."

"An' so ye want excitement, Sarah, eh?" Henry queried. "Well, there isn't much around here, that's a fact. When that hawk came an' took one of our chickens two months ago, it was the last thing of note that I kin remember. Wonder if I could start anything."

"Yes, you can, Henry. You can keep to work and build up our run-down farm. Why, I wouldn't ask for any more excitement than I have had these last two days. But that is all over now, and you are going back to your old ways."

"Yes, that was a bit excitin', Sarah, I admit. But ye see, I had to furnish the hull show, like a dog chasin' its tail. The fun soon got mighty stale. No, ye need others in the game to make it interestin' an' real lively."

"I am glad that you agree with me, Henry," Mrs. Winters replied. "You can get some change over at the store. But what about me? I never go anywhere except to church once on Sunday, and but for the comfort I get there I do not know what I should do."

"An' so ye really intend to go away, Sarah?" Henry anxiously asked.

"I not only intend but am going unless you make a very decided change."

"When, Sarah?"

"That all depends. I shall give you just another week to make up your mind what you are going to do, Henry Winters. We shall leave it at that for the present. It's all up to you now."