Part 22 (1/2)
”I have said that n.o.body, man, woman or child, or dog, goes hungry from the Adams wagon. The flesh must be fed as well as the soul.”
There were two women in view, busied with domestic cares. I had sensed their eyes cast now and then in my direction. One was elderly, as far as might be judged by her somewhat slatternly figure draped in a draggled snuff-colored, straight-flowing gown, and by the merest glimpse of her features within her faded sunbonnet. The other promptly moved aside from where she was bending over a wash-board, ladled food from a kettle to a platter, poured a tin cupful of coffee from the pot simmering by the fire, and bore them to me; her eyes down, shyly handed them.
I thanked her but was not presented. To the Captain's ”That will do, Rachael,” she turned dutifully away; not so soon, however, but that I had seen a fresh young face within the bonnet confines--a round rosy face according well with the buxom curves of her as she again bent over her wash-board.
”Our fare is that of the tents of Abraham, stranger,” spoke the Captain, who had resumed his whittling. ”Such as it is, you are welcome to. We are a plain people who walk in the way of the Lord, for that is commanded.”
His sonorous tones were delivered rather through the nose, but did not fail of hospitality.
”I ask nothing better, sir,” I answered. ”And if I did, my appet.i.te would make up for all deficiencies.”
”A healthy appet.i.te is a good token,” he affirmed. ”Show me a well man who picks at his victuals and I will show you a candidate for the devil. His thoughts will like to be as idle as his knife.”
The mess of pork and beans and the black unsweetened coffee evidently were what I needed, for I began to mend wonderfully ere I was half through the course. He had not invited me to further conversation--only, when I had drained the cup he called again: ”Rachael! More coffee,” whereupon the same young woman advanced, without glancing at me, received my cup, and returned it steaming.
”You are from the East, stranger?” he now inquired.
”Yes, sir. I arrived in Benton only yesterday.”
”A Sodom,” he growled harshly. ”A tented sepulcher. And it will perish. I tell you, you do well to leave it, you do well to yoke yourself with the appointed of this earth, rather than stay in that sink-pit of the eternally d.a.m.ned.”
”I agree with you, sir,” said I. ”I did not find Benton to be a pleasant place. But I had not known, when I started from Omaha.”
”Possibly not,” he moodily a.s.sented. ”The devil is attentive; he is present in the stations, and on the trains; he will ride in those gilded palaces even to the Jordan, but he shall not cross. In the name of the Lord we shall face him. What good there shall come, shall abide; but the evil shall wither. Not,” he added, ”that we stand against the railroad. It is needed, and we have pet.i.tioned without being heard. We are strong but isolated, we have goods to sell, and the word of Brigham Young has gone forth that a railroad we must have. Against the harpies, the gamblers, the loose women and the l.u.s.tful men and all the Gentile vanities we will stand upon our own feet by the help of Almighty G.o.d.”
At this juncture, when I had finished my platter of pork and beans and my second cup of coffee, a tall, double-jointed youth of about my age, carrying an ox goad in his hand, strolled to us as if attracted by the harangue. He was clad in the prevalent cowhide boots, linsey-woolsey pantaloons tucked in, red flannel s.h.i.+rt, and battered hat from which untrimmed flaxen hair fell down unevenly to his shoulder line. He wore at his belt butcher-knife and gun.
By his hulk, his light blue eyes, albeit a trifle crossed, and the general lineaments of his stolid, square, high-cheeked countenance I conceived him to be a second but not improved edition of the Captain.
A true raw-bone he was; and to me, as I casually met his gaze, looked to be obstinate, secretive and small minded. But who can explain those sudden antagonisms that spring up on first sight?
”My son Daniel,” the Captain introduced. ”This stranger travels to Zion with us, Daniel, in the employ of Mr. Jenks.”
The youth had the grip of a vise, and seemed to enjoy emphasizing it while cunningly watching my face.
”Haowdy?” he drawled. With that he tw.a.n.ged a sentence or two to his father. ”I faound the caow, Dad. Do yu reckon to pull aout to-day?”
”I have not decided. Go tend to your duties, Daniel.”
Daniel bestowed upon me a parting stare, and lurched away, snapping the lash of his goad.
”And with your permission I will tend to mine, sir,” I said. ”Mr. Jenks doubtless has work for me. I thank you for your hospitality.”
”We are commanded by the prophet to feed the stranger, whether friend or enemy,” he reproved. ”We are also commanded by the Lord to earn our bread by the sweat of our brow. As long as you are no trifler you will be welcome at my wagon. Good-day to you.”
As I pa.s.sed, the young woman, Rachael--whom I judged to be his daughter, although she was evidently far removed from parent stock--glanced quickly up. I caught her gaze full, so that she lowered her eyes with a blush. She was indeed wholesome if not absolutely pretty. When later I saw her with her sunbonnet doffed and her brown hair smoothly brushed back I thought her more wholesome still.
Mr. Jenks received me jovially.
”Got your belly full, have you?”