The Starbucks Part 33

Peters held up his hand. "Ricolleck I ain't in yo' house. You told me not to darken yo' door ag'in, and I hain't. Don't overlook that fact.

And I wouldn't be here, but my app'intment has come."

"Wall."

"An' I go on duty day atter to-morrer. Do you know what that means?"

"I told you not long ago what it mout mean."

"But it mout not turn out that way."

"Shot fo' an' s...o...b..d three," muttered the old man, his mind reverting to the story paper.

"Starbuck, is that young feller Elliott any kin to Jedge Elliott in Nashville?"

"That's for you to fin' out."

"Wall, I didn't know, an' I come mighty nigh havin' trouble with him not long ago."

"Yes, an' I reckon he come mighty nigh a robbin' me of a pleasure--when the time comes."

"It was about Lou."

"Miss Lou, you viper."

"Oh, that's all right. Starbuck, you ricolleck I told you I had that old-fas.h.i.+oned, single-barrel cap-an'-ball pistol. Here it is." He drew forth an old pistol.

"Peters, I'd advise you to come after me with a mo' improved weepin."

"Oh, I'll do that an' with help from off yander, when the time comes. I ain't atter you yit. I jest wanted to give you one mo' chance. An' when I come sh.o.r.e enough, I'll fetch improved weepins. I ain't quite in my official capacity now."

"Yo' app'intment has teached you big words."

"Yes," said Peters, tapping the barrel of the pistol, "as big as the slug this thing is loaded with. My daddy told me that this here slug went through his brother's heart an' was buried in a tree. It was dug out an' now it's here--in this pistol ag'in. Jest fetched it along to remind you of the past."

"Oh, my ricolliction is good, Peters. But I don't ricolleck how you come by that old pistol. None of yo' folks ever tuck it away from any of mine. I reckon some of yo' folks stold it outen the cou't house."

"That's all right, Starbuck. No matter how it come, it is here. But I don't want no trouble with you, an' won't have none if you do the right an' easy thing. Raise that thousand dollars fur me. You've got it hid somewhar."

"If I had a million I wouldn't give you a cent."

"Mout change yo' tune befo' this thing is over with."

"Yes," said Jasper, "I mout whistle a dead march."

"Not over me," Peters replied.

"Yes, over you."

"You're a liar."

Starbuck slapped him in the face, and springing back, Lije c.o.c.ked the pistol and raised it to shoot.

"Hold on a minute--just one minute," said Starbuck, and with the pistol leveled, Peters stood looking at him.

"Yes, I'll give you one minute, Starbuck, an' that is all. If you move I'll kill you."

"If I do move, you scoundrel, it will be to kill you. Why, you po'

fool--"

"Starbuck, any fool can be game--I thought I know'd all about you, but I never know'd befo' that you was so cool."

"Cool," Jasper repeated, "I ain't half as cool as you air keerless. I could kill you with that axe an' you couldn't help yo'se'f. That pistol won't shoot. Look! When you c.o.c.ked it the cap fell off."

CHAPTER XVIII.

DOWN THE ROAD.

With his old pistol useless in his hand the ruffian walked away, shaking his head and muttering that a time was coming soon. "And with help from off yander," Jasper heard him shout from the road. "I have cut down the tree whar that bullet lodged and burnt it with a slow fire, and the fire that's to burn another tree, a scrub oak, may be slow but it is a comin'. Do you hear me over thar?"

"A man has to be mighty deaf not to hear a wolf howl," Jasper replied, and took his way back to the mill where Laz and Margaret were waiting for him.

"Was it Peters you saw goin' into the yard?" Margaret inquired, and the old fellow answered: "Looked mighty like him--fur a time I thought it was, but my eyes ain't as good as they was."

In the meantime Jim was fighting his way through the briars and over the rough ground of the short cut from the little county town. And when he reached the road he saw Mrs. Mayfield coming to meet him. "The preacher wasn't at home," he said, as he came near to her, "but I left word for him and he will be here soon. Do the folks know anything about it yet?"

"I told your uncle, but he seemed already to know." She gave a tender account of the scene in the yard, of Tom and Lou, and he said that like his uncle he had already known. "Fate got out of the wagon when you drove up to the gate, ma'm--honey," he said; "and I am thankful to the Lord that in no wise was it cruel onesidedness. I couldn't tell that Tom loved Lou, but I knew she loved him."

"There is no need now of walking so fast," she playfully remarked, and he checked his haste. "No, for I am not walking toward you, but with you. I left time back yonder where I met you and after this there can't be any time, just a rising and a setting of the sun with time in a sweet dream between."

"Jim, I ought to tell you something about my married life; and when I have told you the truth, you may not hold me so blameless."

"Mary, I don't date you back beyond the time when you drove up to the gate. I don't want to know anything about your past. It didn't include me."

"Your faith is simple and beautiful now, Jim, but may there not come a time when it will begin to inquire--when perhaps I might fret you?

Weariness is a close critic, Jim."

"You may teach me many things, Mary, but not to find fault. Look back to your home in the town and think of what you are giving up for me--for a life of toil among the hills."

She took hold of his arm and drew him close to her. "I am giving up cold glitter for warm glow."

They turned aside to sit in the cool shade at the water-fall, and there they found Tom and Lou, dreaming with their heads together. High above there had been a heavy rain and the falls were pouring with such a roar that there was no talk; but the four of them sat there on a great rock, gazing at the rainbow hanging above the yellowish water. But when they withdrew to a cove where it was quiet, Tom told Jim that he had put a boy on a horse and sent him after a marriage license.

"When we come to think," said Mrs. Mayfield, "it is all very hasty. It might look better to wait."

"That's what I wanted to say," Lou replied. "I always thought that folks had to make up some new clothes when they were married--or befo'. But here I am with hardly any clothes at all."