Bunch Grass Part 9

Her eyes sparkled with pleasure.

"Two copies," I suggested rashly: "one for you, Ajax; one for me."

"Ye kin take yer copy in cloth," said the little woman, compa.s.sionately, "sein' as ye're only workin' for yer board."

"In gold and morocco," I replied firmly. "The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world. A golden word from mother cannot be fittingly bound in fustian."

"Ye must hev had awful nice mothers, both of ye," she said simply. "Do I sell many books? No, sir. Farmer-folks in Californy ain't got the money ter spend in readin' matter. They're in big luck these times if they kin pay the interest on their mortgages. With wheat at eighty cents a cental, an' barley not wuth the haulin', it seems most an impertinence to ask grangers ter buy books."

"Do you make twenty dollars a month at the business?"

She shook her head sorrowfully.

"This is September," said Ajax, "and within six weeks the rains will begin. What will you do then?"

She regarded him wistfully, but made no reply.

"Your mule," continued Ajax, "is about played out--poor beast. Will you stay here this winter, and keep house for us? I daresay you cook very nicely; and next spring, if you feel like it, you can start out bookselling again."

"My cookin' is sech as white folks kin eat, but----"

"We will pay you twenty dollars a month."

"The wages air more'n enough, but----"

"And the work will be light."

"I ain't scar't o' work," she retorted valiantly, "but----"

"It's settled, then," said Ajax, in his masterful way. "If you'll get down, I'll unhitch the mule and put him in the barn. My brother will show you the house."

She descended, protesting, but we could not catch the words that fell from her lips.

"You must tell us your name," said Ajax

"It's Gloriana," she faltered.

"Gloriana? Gloriana--what?"

"Jes--Gloriana."

"She is a type," said Ajax, a few days later.

"A type of what?"

"Of the women who suffer and are not strong There are many such in this Western country. I'd like to hear her story. Is she married or single? old or young? crazy or sane?"

"Gloriana," I answered, "satisfies our appet.i.tes but not our curiosity."

As time pa.s.sed, her reticence upon all personal matters became exasperating. At the end of the first month she demanded and received her salary. Moreover, refusing our escort, she tramped three dusty miles to the village post-office, and returned penniless but jubilant.

At supper Ajax said--"It's more blessed to give than to receive--eh, Gloriana?"

She compressed her lips, but her eyes were sparkling. After supper Ajax commented upon her improved appearance in her presence. He confessed himself at a loss to account for this singular rejuvenescence.

Expecting company, Gloriana?"

"Mebbee-an' mebbee not."

"You brought home a large parcel," said Ajax. "A precious parcel. Why, you held it as a woman holds her first baby."

She smiled, and bade us good-night.

"I've no call ter stan' aroun' ga.s.sin'," she a.s.sured us. "I've work ter do--a plenty of it, too."

During the month of October she spent all her leisure hours locked up in her own room; and, waiting upon us at meals, quoted freely that famous book--_A Golden Word from Mother_. We often heard her singing softly to herself, keeping time to the click of her needle.

When pay-day came she demanded leave of absence. The village, she told us, was sadly behind the times, and with our permission she proposed to drive her mule and buckboard to the county seat--San Lorenzo.

"I've business of importance," she said proudly, "ter transack."

She returned the following evening with a larger parcel than the first.

"I've bought a bonnet," she confessed shyly, "an' trimmins."

We prevailed upon her to show us these purchases: white satin ribbon, jet, and a feather that might have graced the hat of the Master of Ravenswood. The "locating" of this splendid plume was no easy task.

"Maxims," sighed Gloriana, "is mostly rubbish. Now, fine feathers--an'

ther ain't a finer feather than this in San Lorenzy county--don't make fine birds. A sparrer is always a sparrer, an' can't look like an ostridge noway. But, good land! feathers is my weakness."

She burned much oil that night, and on the morrow the phoenix that sprang from the flames was proudly displayed.

"I bought more'n a bonnet yesterday," she said, with her head on one side, and a slyly complacent smile upon her lips. "Yes, sir, stuff ter make a dress--a party dress, the finest kind o' goods."

Ajax stared helplessly at me. The mystery that encompa.s.sed this woman was positively indecent.

"An' shoes," she concluded. "I bought me a pair, hand sewn, with French tips--very dressy."

Later, inspired by tobacco, we agreed that the problem was solved. Our head _vaquero_, Uncle Jake, gaunt as a coyote at Christmas, and quite as hungry, had fallen a victim to Gloriana's flesh-pots. He lived in an old _adobe_ near the big corral, boarded himself and a couple of Mexicans upon _tortillas_, _frijoles_ and bacon, and was famous throughout the countryside as a confirmed bachelor and woman hater. We entertained a high regard for this veteran, because he seldom got drunk, and always drove cattle _slowly_. To him the sly Gloriana served Anglo-Saxon viands: pies, "jell'" (compounded according to a famous Wisconsin recipe), and hot biscuit, light as the laughter of children! What misogynist can withstand such arts? I remembered that at the fall calf-branding Uncle Jake had expressed his approval of our _cordon bleu_ in no measured terms.

"You've noted," he said, "that a greaser jest naterally hates ter handle mares. He rides a horse, an' he's right. The best o' mares will kick. Now, Glory Anne can't help bein' a woman, but I swear she's bin mighty well broke. She works right up into the collar--quiet an'

steady, an' keeps her tongue, whar it belongs, shet up in her mouth.

I've seen a sight o' wimmen I thot less of than Glory Anne."

I repeated these words to Ajax. He admitted their significance, in connection with bonnets and furbelows, and we both went to bed with a sound of marriage-bells in our ears. We slept soundly, convinced that neither Gloriana nor Uncle Jake would leave our service, and at breakfast the next morning discoursed at length upon the subject of wedding presents.

"What would you suggest, Gloriana," said Ajax, "as suitable for a middle-aged bridegroom?"

She considered the question thoughtfully, a delightful smile upon her lips.