The Girl of the Golden West, David Belasco [read with me txt] 📗

beckoning to Sid to approach, she went on in her most gentle tones: "I was jest gittin' to you, Sid, as I promised. You can stay."

Looking like a whipped dog The Sidney Duck advanced warily towards her.

Sonora's brow grew thunderous.

"What, here among gentlemen?"

And that his protest met with instantaneous approval was shown by the way the miners shifted uneasily in their seats and shouted threateningly:

"Git! Git!"

"Why, the fellow's a--" began Trinidad, but got no further, for the Girl stopped him by exclaiming:

"I know, I know, Trin--I've tho't it all over!"

For the next few minutes the Girl stood strangely still and her face became very grave. Never before had the men seen her in a mood like this, and they exchanged wondering glances. Presently she said:

"Boys, of late a man in trouble has been on my mind--" She paused, her glance having caught the peculiar light which her words had caused to appear in Rance's eyes, and lest he should misunderstand her meaning, she hastened to add: "Sid, o' course,--an' I fell to thinkin' o' the Prodigal Son. He done better, didn't he?"

"But a card sharp," objected Sonora from the depths of his big voice.

"Yes, that's what!" interjected Trinidad, belligerently.

The Girl's eyebrows lifted and a shade of resentment was in the answering voice:

"But s'pose there was a moment in his life when he was called upon to find a extra ace--can't we forgive 'im? He says he's sorry--ain't you, Sid?"

All the while the Girl had been speaking The Sidney Duck kept his eyes lowered and was swallowing nervously. Now he raised them and, with a feeble attempt to simulate penitence, he acknowledged that he had done wrong. Nevertheless, he declared:

"But if I 'adn't got caught things would 'a' been different. Oh, yes, I'm sorry."

In an instant the Girl was at his side removing the deuce of spades from his coat.

"Sid, you git your chance," she said with trembling lips. "Now go an' sit down."

A broad smile was creeping over The Sidney Duck's countenance as he moved towards the others; but Happy took it upon himself to limit its spread.

"Take that!" he blazed, striking the man in the face. "And git out of here!

"Happy, Happy!" cried the Girl. Her voice was so charged with reproach that The Sidney Duck was allowed by the men to pass on without any further molestation. Nevertheless, when he attempted to sit beside them, they moved as far away as possible from him and compelled him to take a stool that stood apart from the benches which held them together in friendly proximity.

At this point Trinidad inquired of the Girl whether she meant to infer that honesty was not the best policy, and by way of illustration, he went on to say:

"S'posin' my watch had no works an' I was to sell it to the Sheriff for one hundred dollars. Would you have much respect for me?"

For the briefest part of a second the Girl seemed to be reflecting.

"I'd have more respect for you than for the Sheriff," she answered succinctly.

"Hurrah! Whoopee! Whoop!" yelled the men, who were delighted both with what she said as well as her pert way of saying it.

It was in the midst of these shouts that Billy Jackrabbit and Wowkle, unobserved by the others, quietly stole into the room and squatted themselves down under the blackboard. When the merriment had subsided Rance rose and took the floor. His face was paler than usual, though his voice was calm when presently he said:

"Well, bein' Sheriff, I'm careful about my company--I'll sit in the bar. Cheats and road agents"--and here he paused meaningly and glanced from The Sidney Duck to the Girl--"ar'n't jest in my line. I walk in the open road with my head up and my face to the sun, and whatever I've pulled up, you'll remark I've always played square and stood by the cyards."

"I know, I know," observed the Girl and fell wearily into her seat; the next instant she went on more confidently: "An' that's the way to travel--in the straight road. But if ever I don't travel that road, or you--"

"You always will, you bet," observed Nick with feeling.

"You bet she will!" shouted the others.

"But if I don't," continued the Girl, insistently, "I hope there'll be someone to lead me back--back to the right road. 'Cause remember, Rance, some of us are lucky enough to be born good, while others have to be 'lected."

"That's eloquence!" cried Sonora, moved almost to tears; while Rance took a step forward as if about to make some reply; but the next instant, his head held no longer erect and his face visibly twitching, he passed into the bar-room.

A silence reigned for a time, which was broken at last by the Girl announcing with great solemnity:

"If anybody can sing 'My Country 'Tis,' Academy's opened."

At this request, really of a physical nature, and advanced in a spirit of true modesty, all present, curiously enough, seemed to have lost their voices and nudged one another in an endeavour to get the hymn started. Someone insisted that Sonora should go ahead, but that worthy pupil objected giving as his excuse, obviously a paltry one and trumped up for the occasion, that he did not know the words. There was nothing to it, therefore, but that the Indians should render the great American anthem. And so, standing stolidly facing the others, their high-pitched, nasal voices presently began:


"My country 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing."


"Well, if that ain't sarkism!" interjected Sonora between the lines of the hymn.


"Land where our fathers died--"


"You bet they died hard!" cut in Trinidad, rolling his eyes upward in a comical imitation of the Indians.


"Land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring."


All the while the Indians were singing the last lines of the hymn the Girl's face was a study in reminiscent dreams, but when they had finished and were leaving the room, she came back to earth, as it were, and clapped her hands, an appreciation which brought forth from Wowkle a grateful "Huh!"

"I would like to read you a little verse from a book of poems," presently went on the teacher; and when the men had given her their attention, she read with much feeling:


"'No star is ever lost we once have seen,
We always may be what we might have been.'"


"Why, what's the matter?" inquired Sonora, greatly moved at the sight of the tears which, of a sudden, began to run down the teacher's cheeks. "Why, what's--?" came simultaneously from the others, words failing them.

"Nothin', nothin', only it jest came over me that I'll be leavin' you soon," stammered the Girl. "How can I do it? How can I do it?" she wailed.

Sonora gazed at her unbelievingly.

"Do what?" he said.

"What did she say?" questioned Trinidad.

Now Sonora went over to her, and asked:

"What d'you say? Why, what's the matter?"

Slowly the Girl raised her head and looked at him through half-closed lids, the tears that still clung to them, blinding her almost. Plainly audible in the silence of the room the seconds ticked away on the clock, and still she did not speak; at last she murmured:

"Oh, it's nothin', nothin', only I jest remembered I've promised to leave Cloudy soon an', p'r'aps, we might never be together again--you an' me an' The Polka. Oh, it took me jest like that when I seen your dear, ol' faces, your dear, plucky, ol' faces an' realised that--" She could not go on, and buried her face in her hands, her glistening blonde head shaking with her sobs.

It was thus that the Sheriff, entering a moment later, found her. Without a word he resumed his seat in front of the fire.

Sonora continued to stare blankly at her. He was too dazed to speak, much less to think. He broke silence slowly.

"What--you leavin' us?"

"Leavin' us?" inquired Happy, incredulously.

"Careful, girl, careful," warned Nick, softly.

The Girl hesitated a moment, and then went recklessly on:

"It's bound to happen soon."

Sonora looked more puzzled than ever; he rested his hand upon her desk as if to support himself, and said:

"I don't quite understand. Great Gilead! We done anythin' to offend you?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" she hastened to assure him, at the same time letting her hand rest upon his.

But this explanation did not satisfy Sonora. Anxious to discover what she had at heart he went on sounding:

"Tired of us? Ain't we got style enough for you?"

The Girl did not answer; her breathing, swift and short, painfully intensified the hush that had fallen on the room; at last, the boys becoming impatient began to bombard her with questions.

"Be you goin' to show them Ridge boys we've petered out an' culture's a dead dog here?" began Happy, rising.

"Do you want them to think Academy's busted?" asked Handsome.

"Ain't we your boys no more?" put in Trinidad, wistfully.

"Ain't I your boy?" asked Sonora, sentimentally. "Why, what is it, Girl? Has anybody--tell me--perhaps--"

The Girl raised her head and dried her eyes; when she spoke one could have heard a pin drop.

"Oh, no, no, no," she said with averted face, and added tremulously: "There, we won't say no more about it. Let's forgit it. Only when I go away I want to leave the key o' my cabin with Old Sonora here, an' I want you all to come up sometimes, an' to think o' me as the girl who loved you all, an' sometimes is wishin' you well, an' I want to think o' little Nick here runnin' my bar an' not givin' the boys too much whisky." Her words died away in a sob and her head fell forward, her hand, the while, resting upon Nick's shoulder.

At last, Sonora saw what lay beneath her tears; the situation was all too clear to him now.

"Hold on!" he cried hoarsely. "There's jest one reason for the Girl to leave her home an' friends--only one: There must be some fellow away from here that she--that she likes better 'n she does any of us." And turning once more upon the Girl, he demanded excitedly: "Is that it? Speak!"

The Girl raised her tear-stained face and looked him in the eye.

"Likes--" she repeated with a world of meaning in her voice--"in a different way, yes."

"Well, so help me!" ejaculated Happy, unhappily, while Sonora, with head bent low, went over to his seat.

The next moment the boys of the front rows had joined those of the rear and were grouping themselves together to discuss the situation.

"Sure you ain't makin' a mistake?" Trinidad questioned suddenly.

The Girl came down from her seat on the platform and went over to them.

"Mistake," she repeated dreamily. "Oh, no, no, no, boys, there's no mistake about this. Oh, Trin!" she burst out tearfully, and two soft arms crept gently about his neck. "An' Sonora--Ah, Sonora!" She raised herself on her tiny toes and kissed him on the left cheek.

The next instant she was gone.