Part 20 (1/2)

The old man smiled widely. ”Et's jes' er li'l snack er broth,” he said.

”Reck'n et'll kinder float eroun' de yuddah things. Daph ain' got no use fo' _tea_. She say she boun' ter mek yo' fit fo' ernuddah ra.s.sle wid dem moc'sins. Dis' yeah pot's dat apple-b.u.t.tah whut Miss Mattie Sue sen' yo'

by Rickey Snyder.”

Valiant sniffed with satisfaction. ”I'm getting so confoundedly spoiled,” he said, ”that I'm tempted to stay sick and do nothing but eat. By the way, Uncle Jefferson, where did Rickey come from? Does she belong here?”

”No, suh. She come f'om h.e.l.l's-Half-Acre.”

”What's that?”

”Dat's dat ornery pa.s.sle o' folks yondah on de Dome,” explained Uncle Jefferson. ”Dey's been dah long's Ah kin recommembah--jes' er ramshackle lot o' s.h.i.+f'less po'-white trash whut git erlong anyways 't all. Ain'

n.o.body boddahs erbout dem 'less'n et's er guv'ment agint, fo' dey makes dey own whisky, en dey drinks et, too.”

”That's interesting,” said Valiant. ”So Rickey belonged there?”

”Yas, suh; nebbah'd a-come down heah 'cep'n fo' Miss s.h.i.+rley. She de one whut fotch de li'l gal outen dat place, en put huh wid Miss Mattie Sue, three yeah ergo.”

A sudden color came into John Valiant's cheeks. ”Tell me about it.” His voice vibrated eagerly.

”Well, suh,” continued Uncle Jefferson, ”dey was one o' dem low-down h.e.l.l's-Half-Acrers, name' Greef King, whut call hese'f de mayah ob de Dome, en he went on de ram_page_ one day, en took ahtah his wife. She was er po' sickly 'ooman, wid er li'l gal five yeah ol' by er fus'

husban'. He done beat huh heap o' times befo', but _dis_ time he boun'

ter finish huh. Ah reck'n he was too drunk fo' dat, en she got erway en run down heah. Et was wintah time en dah's snow on de groun'. Dah's er road f'om de Dome dat hits de Red Road clost' ter Rosewood--dat ar's de Dandridge place--en she come dah. Reck'n she wuz er pitiful-lookin'

obstacle. 'Peahs lak she done put de li'l gal up in de cabin lof' en hid de laddah, en she mos' crazy fo' feah Greef git huh. She lef' he huntin' fo' de young 'un when she run erway. Dey was on'y Mis' Judith en Miss s.h.i.+rley en de gal Em'line at Rosewood, 'case Ranston de butlah en de yuddahs gone ter disstracted meetin' down ter de Cullud Mefodis'

Chu'ch. Well, suh, dey wa'nt no time ter sen' fo' men. Whut yo' reck'n Miss s.h.i.+rley do? She ain' afeahd o' nuffin on dis yerf, en she on'y sebenteen yeah ol' den, too. She don' tell Mis' Judith--no, _suh!_ She run out ter de stable en saddle huh hoss, en she gallop up dat road ter h.e.l.l's-Half-Acre lak er shot outen er shovel.”

Valiant brought his hands together sharply. ”Yes, yes,” he said. ”And then?”

”When she come ter Greef King's cabin, he done foun' de laddah, en one er he foots was on de rung. He had er ax in he han'. De po' li'l gal was peepin' down thoo' de cracks o' de flo', en prayin' de bestes' she know how. She say arterwuhds dat she reck'n de Good Lawd sen' er angel, fo'

Miss s.h.i.+rley were all in white--she didn' stop ter change huh close. She didn' say nuffin, Miss s.h.i.+rley didn'. She on'y lay huh han' on Greef King's ahm, en he look at huh face, en he drop he ax en go. Den she clumb de laddah en fotch de chile down in huh ahms en take huh on de hoss en come back. Dat de way et happen, suh.”

”And Rickey was that little child!”

”Yas, suh, she sho' was. In de mawnin' er posse done ride up ter h.e.l.l's-Half-Acre en take Greef King in. De majah he argyfy de case fo'

de State, en when he done git thoo', dey mos' put de tow eroun' King's nek in de co'ot room. He done got th'ee yeah, en et mos' broke de majah's ha'at dat dey couldn' give him no mo'. He wuz cert'n'y er bad aig, dat Greef wuz. Dey say he done sw'ah he gwineter do up de majah when he git out. De po' 'ooman she stay sick dah at Rosewood all wintah, but she git no bettah moughty fas', en in de spring she up en die. Den Miss s.h.i.+rley she put li'l Rickey at Miss Mattie Sue's, en she pay fo'

huh keep eber sence outer huh own money. Dat whut she done, suh.”

Such was the story which Uncle Jefferson told, standing in the doorway.

When his shuffling step had retreated, Valiant went to the table and picked up a slim tooled volume that lay there. It was the _Lucile_ he had found in the hall the night of his arrival. He opened it to a page where, pressed and wrinkled but still retaining its bright red pigment, lay what had been a rose.

He stood looking at it abstractedly, his nostrils widening to its crushed spicy scent, then closed it and slipped it into his pocket.

CHAPTER XXIV

IN DEVIL-JOHN'S DAY