Part 11 (2/2)
His voice lifted until it was its shriller, more natural falsetto.
”I wouldn't 'a' believed myself today, at twelve o'clock noon,” he stated flatly. ”No, sir-e-e! After takin' stock of myself, as you might say, the way I done this morning, I wouldn't 'a' believed myself on oath!”
His feet dropped noisily to the floor, and he sat bolt upright again.
”But she's a-goin' to believe me! G.o.dfrey, yes, she'll believe me when I git through tellin' her!”
His pale eyes clung to the boy's face, tinged with astonishment before so much vehemence.
”And ain't it kinda struck you--ain't it sorta come to you that she wa'n't quite fair, either, any more than the rest of us, a-thinkin'--a-thinkin' what she did, without any real proof?”
Young Denny did not have time to reply.
”No, I reckon it ain't,” Old Jerry rushed on. ”And I don't know's I've got much right criticizing either. Not very much! I've been a tidy hand at jedgin' other folks' matters until jest lately. Some way I ain't quite so handy at it as I was. And I kinda expect she's goin' to be sorry she even thought it, soon enough, without my tryin' to make her any more so. She's goin' to be mighty uncomfortable sorry, if she's anything like me!”
He rose and shuffled across to the door, and stopped there. Denny could not understand the new thrill there was in his cracked voice, nor the light in those pale eyes. But he knew that the old man before him had been making something close akin to an eleventh-hour confession; making it out of a profound thankfulness for the opportunity. With the same gesture with which he bade the old man wait, his big hand went inside his s.h.i.+rt, and came out again. And he reached out and pressed something into Old Jerry's knotty fingers.
”I--I was sure you'd do it,” he told him. ”I knew you would. And I want you to take this, too, and keep it. I don't want to go away like this, but I have to. If I didn't start right now I--I might not go at all. I hate to leave her alone--in this town. That's half of what the Judge let me have today on this place. It's not much, but it's something if she should need anything while I'm gone. I thought you might--see that she was all right--till I got back?”
The servant of the ”Gov'mint” stood and stared down at the limp little roll of bills in his hand; he stared until something caught in his throat and made him gulp again noisily. But his face was shamelessly defiant of the mist that smarted under his eyelids when he looked up again.
”Take care of her?” he whispered. ”Me take care of her for you?
Why--why, G.o.dfrey--why, man----”
He dashed one hand across his eyes.
”I'm a old gossipy fool,” he exclaimed. ”Nothin' but a old gossipy fool; but I reckon you don't hev to _count_ them bills over before you leave 'em with me. Not unless you want to. I've been just an ordinary, common waggle-tongue. That's what I really come for in such a hurry tonight, once I'd thought of it. Jest to see if I couldn't nose around into business that wa'n't no concern of mine. But I'm gittin' over that--I'm gittin' over that fast! Learning a little dignity of bearin', too, as you might say. And I don't deny I ain't a little curious yet--more'n a little curious. But I want to tell you this: There's some folks that lies mostly for profit, and some that lies largely for their own amus.e.m.e.nt, and they both do jest about as much damage in the long run, and I ain't no better, jest because I never made nothin' outen mine. But if you could kinda drop me a line, maybe once in a while, and tell me how you're gittin' on, I'd be mighty glad to hear. An' it wouldn't do no harm, either.” He nodded his head, in turn, in the direction of the drab cottage across the valley.
”Because--because she's goin' to be waitin' to hear--she's goin' to be sorry, and kinda wonderin'. I know--well, jest because I know!”
Still he lingered, with his fingers on the door catch. He shoved out his free hand.
”I--I suppose we'd ought to shake hands, hedn't we,” he faltered; ”bein' as it's kinda considered the reg'lar and customary thing to do on such occasions?”
Denny was smiling as his hand closed over those clawlike fingers; he was smiling in a way that Old Jerry had never seen before. Because the noise in his throat was growing alarmingly louder every moment, the latter went on talking almost wildly, to cover that weakness which he could not control.
”I hope you git on,” he said. ”And I reckon you will. It's funny--it's more'n that--and I don't know where I got the idea. But it's kinda come to me, somehow, that maybe it was that account in the paper--that story of Jeddy Conway--that's set you to leavin'. It ain't none of my business, and I ain't askin' no questions, but I do want to say that there never was a time when you couldn't lick the everlastin' tar outen him. And you've growed some since then. Jest a trifle--jest a trifle!”
The boy's smile widened and widened. Then he laughed aloud softly and nodded his head.
”I'll send you the papers,” he promised. ”I'll send you all of them.”
Old Jerry stood with his outstretched hand poised in midair while he realized that his chance shot had gone home. And suddenly, unaccountably, he began to chuckle; he began to cackle noisily.
”I might 'a' knowed it,” he whispered. ”I ought to hev knowed it all along. Now, you don't hev to worry--they ain't one mite of a thing I ain't a-goin' to see to while you're away. You don't want nothin' on your mind, because you're goin' to hev a considerable somethin' on your hands. And I got to git along now. G.o.dfrey, but it's late for me to be up here, ain't it? I got to hustle, if I ever did; and there ain't too much time to spare. For tonight--tonight, before I git through, I aim to put a spoke in the Jedge's wheel, down to the Tavern, that'll make him think the axles of that yello'-wheeled gig of his'n needs greasin'. Jest a trifle--jest a trifle!”
He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him even before the boy could reply. Still smiling whimsically, Young Denny stood and listened to the grating of the wheels as the buggy was turned about outside--heard the old rig groan once, and then complain shrilly as it started on its way. But no one witnessed Old Jerry's wild descent to the village that night; no one knew the mad speed he made, save the old mare between the shafts; and she was kept too busy with the lash that whistled over her fat flanks to have given the matter any consistent thought.
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