MRS. WELCH ARRIVES AND GIVES HER FIRST LESSON IN ENTERPRISE

The next day, Still called to see Major Welch and made him a proposition to sell him a part of the Red Rock place. On thinking it over, he said, he believed he’d rather have the Major as a near neighbor than to have him farther off, and he also believed that the Major would find it safer to buy from him a place he had got under decree of court, and had already held quietly for some time, than to buy a place about which there might be a question and where he’d be sure to incur the enmity of the old owners.

This reason, to judge from Major Welch’s expression, did not make much impression on him. He did not wish to incur anyone’s enmity, he said. But if he bought honestly, and became the lawful owner of a place, he should not mind what others thought.

Still shook his head. Major Welch did not know these people, he said. “And to be honest with you, Major, I feel as if having you right here by me was a sort of protection. They daresn’t touch a gentleman who’s been in the Union army, and who’s got big friends. And that’s one reason I’d like to have you right close to me.”

His manner had something so sincere in it that it was almost pathetic. So, as he made Major Welch what appeared to be really a very reasonable proposal, not only as to the Stamper place, but also as to several hundred acres of the Red Rock land adjoining, the Major agreed to take it under advisement, and intimated that if the title should prove all right, and Mrs. Welch should like the idea when she arrived he would probably purchase.

Within a week or two following Major Welch’s trip to the county seat, and Still’s offer to sell him the Stamper place and a part of Red Rock, Mrs. Welch arrived. Mrs. Welch, in her impatience, could not wait for the day she had set and arrived before she was expected. The telegram she had sent had miscarried, and when she reached the station there was no one present to meet her.

A country station is a sad place at best to one who has just left the bustle and life of a city; but to be deposited, bag and baggage, in a strange land and left alone without anyone to meet you, and without knowing a soul, is forlorn to the last degree.

Strong as she was, Mrs. Welch, when the train whirled away and no one came to her, felt a sense of her isolation strike her to the heart. A two-horse carriage, the only one in sight, stood near a fence at some little distance, and for a short while she thought it might have come for her, and she waited for some moments; but presently a tall colored man and a colored woman got into it. The man was glittering with a shining silk-hat and a long broad-cloth coat; and the woman was in a brand-new silk, and wore a vivid bonnet. Even then, it occurred to Mrs. Welch that, perhaps, the man was the coachman, and, for a moment, she was buoyed by hope, but she was doomed to disappointment. The man was talking loudly, and apparently talked to be heard by all around him. Mrs. Welch could hear something of what he said.

“We’re all right. We’ve got ’em down, and we mean to keep ’em down, too, by ——!” A shout followed this.

“Yes, the bottom rail is on top, and we mean to keep it so till the fence rots down, by ——!” Another burst of laughter. “You jest stick to me and Leech, and we’ll bring you to the promised land. Yas, we’re in the saddle, and we mean to stay there. We’ve got the Gov’ment behind us, and we’ll put a gun in every colored man’s hand and give him, not a mule, but a horse to ride, and we’ll dress his wife in silk and give her a carriage to ride in, same’s my wife’s got.”

“Ummh! heah dat! Yes, Lord! Dat’s what I want,” cried an old woman, jumping up and down in her ecstasy, to the amusement of the others.

“A mule’s good ’nough for me—I b’lieve I ruther have mule ’n hoss, I’se fotched up wid mules,” called out someone, which raised a great laugh, and some discussion.

“Well, all right; you shall have your ruther. Everyone shall take his pick. We’ll do the ridin’ now.”

Mrs. Welch was listening with keen interest. The speaker, who was Nicholas Ash, the member from Red Rock, gathered up the reins. As he did so, someone called:

“You better watch out for de K. K.’s,” at which there was a roar of laughter.

“They’s the one’s I’m lookin’ for. I’m just fixed for ’em, by ——!” shouted the statesman.

“Dee ain’ gwine meddle wid him,” said someone in the crowd, admiringly.

“Don’ know. I wouldn’ drive roun’ heah and talk ’bout ’um like he does, not for dat mule he gwine gi’ me.” The laughter that greeted this showed that others besides the speaker held the same views.

As the carriage drove off, Mrs. Welch’s heart sank. Her last hope was gone. She was relieved somewhat by the approach of the station-agent, who up to that time had been engaged about his duties, and who now, seeing a lady standing outside, came up to her. Mrs. Welch told who she was. He had heard that Mrs. Welch was expected, but did not know the day. No telegrams, such as she spoke of, had passed through his office, and it was an all-day’s ride up to Red Rock when the roads were bad. He invited her to remain as his guest. “People right often did so when they came, unexpected-like.”

Mrs. Welch thanked him, but thought she would prefer to go on, if she could get a conveyance, even if she could go that night only as far as Brutusville.

“Can’t I get some sort of wagon?” she inquired.

The agent gazed at her with a serenity that was in strong contrast with her growing decisiveness. He did not know as she could, the mail-wagon went over in the morning after the early train; people generally went by that. Dill Herrick had a sort of a wagon, and folks sometimes took it if they got there too late for the mail-wagon and were in too big a hurry to wait till next day. But Dill was away that day. The wagon was there, but Dill had gone away on his horse and would not be back till next day.

All this was told in the most matter-of-fact way, as if it was quite as much a thing of course as any other order of nature. Mrs. Welch was on her metal. She would for once give this sleepy rustic an illustration of energy; she would open his eyes.

“Well, is that the only horse anywhere about here?” Her tone was energetic, perhaps even exasperated. The agent was unmoved.

“No’m; Al Turley’s got a sort of a horse, but he don’t work very well. And Al ain’t got any wagon.”

This was too much for Mrs. Welch.

“Don’t you think we might get a horse of one man and the wagon and harness of the other, and put them together?” she laughed.

The agent was not so sure. Al might be going to use his horse, and he “didn’t work so well, anyhow.”

“But he does work?” Mrs. Welch persisted.

“Oh, yes’m—some. Al ploughs with him.”

“Well, now, let’s see what a little enterprise will do. I’ll pay well for both horse and wagon.”

The agent went off, and after a time came back. Al would see what he could do. But again he renewed his invitation to her to wait until to-morrow. He was almost urgent; he painted the difficulties of the journey in the gloomiest colors. Mrs. Welch now, however, had set her mind on carrying out her plans. It had become a matter of principle with her. She had come down here to show what energy would accomplish, and she might as well begin now.

While she waited, she passed her time watching the negroes who were congregated about a small building which seemed to be part store, part bar-room, though from her observation the latter was its principal office.

They were a loud and slovenly set, but appeared to be good-humored, and rather like children engaged in rough horse-play; and when their voices sounded most like quarrelling they would suddenly break out in loud guffaws of laughter.

They were so boisterous at times that Mrs. Welch was glad when the station-agent returned and asked if she wouldn’t go over and sit in his house till Al came. She would have done so, but, as he evidently intended to remain in the office, she thought it would be a good opportunity to learn something about the negroes, and perhaps also to teach him a little on her part.

“Were the negroes not improving?” she asked. Her companion’s whole manner changed. She was surprised to see what a keen glance was suddenly shot at her from under his light brows.

“Not as I can see—You can see ’em yonder for yourself.”

“Do they ever give you trouble?”

“Me?—No’m; don’t never give me trouble,” he answered, negligently. “Don’ give nobody as much trouble as they did.”

Mrs. Welch was just thinking this corroborative of her own views when he, with his back to her, stooped for something, and the butt of a pistol gleamed in his trousers pocket. Mrs. Welch froze up. She could hardly refrain from speaking of it. She understood now the significance of his speech. Just then there was quite a roar outside, followed by the rattle of wheels, and the next instant Mrs. Welch’s vehicle drew up to the door. For a moment Mrs. Welch’s heart failed her, and she regretted the enterprise which had committed her to such a combination. In the shafts of a rickety little wagon—the wheels of which wobbled in every direction and made four distinct tracks—was a rickety little yellow horse which at that moment, to the great diversion of the crowd of negroes outside, was apparently attempting to back the wagon through a fence. One instant he sat down in the shafts, and the next reared and plunged and tried to go any way but the right way. Two negroes were holding on to him while the others were shouting with laughter and delight. The driver was a spare, dingy-looking countryman past middle age, and was sitting in the wagon, the only creature in sight that appeared to be unmoved by the excitement. Mrs. Welch’s heart sank, and even after the plunging little animal was quieted she would have declined to go; but it was too late now. She had never put her hand to the plough and turned back.

“I can manage him,” said the driver serenely, seeing her hesitation. And as there were many assurances that he was “all right now,” and everyone was expecting her to get in, she summoned the courage and climbed in.

It was a wearying drive. The roads were the worst Mrs. Welch had ever seen, but, in one way, there was excitement enough. The tedium was relieved by the occasional breaking of the harness and the frequent necessity of dismounting to walk up the hill when the horse balked.

The day before had been very warm, and Mrs. Welch’s journey had not been a comfortable one, and this last catastrophe capped the climax. But she did not complain—she considered querulousness a sin—it was a sign of weakness. Perhaps, she even found a certain satisfaction in her discomfort. She had not come for comfort. But when the harness broke for the half-dozenth time, she asked:

“Why don’t you keep your harness in good order?”

The somewhat apathetic look in the driver’s face changed.

“‘Tain’t my harness.”

“Well, whosever it is, why don’t he keep it in order?”

“You’ll have to ask Dill that,” he said, dryly.

When, a few minutes later, they came to their next stand she began again:

“Why don’t you keep your roads repaired and rebuild your fences?”

“I don’t live about here.” This time the tone was a little shorter.

“Well, it’s the same all the way. It’s been just as bad from the start. What is the reason?” she persisted.

“Indeed, ma’am I don’t know,” he drawled, “some says it’s the Yankee carpet-baggers steals all the money—”

“Well, I don’t believe it—I believe it’s that the people are just shiftless,” Mrs. Welch fired back.

The man, for answer, only jerked his horse: “Git up!”

“A dull fellow,” thought Mrs. Welch, and presently she essayed again:

“The Yankees are thrifty enough. In all the North there is not such a road as this. I wish you could see their villages, how snug and trig and shipshape they are: houses painted, fences kept up, everything nice and neat.”

“Maybe, that’s where they puts the money they steals down here,” said the driver, more dryly than before.

Mrs. Welch grew hot, but she could not help being amused too.

“It must be an accident, but I’ll write that home,” thought she. She, however, had not much time to think. For just then they were descending a steep hill and the breeching gave way, the wagon ran down on the horse, and, without a second’s warning, the little steed, like the Gadarine swine, ran violently down the steep hill, and on up the road. The driver, who was swinging to him for life, was in the act of assuring Mrs. Welch that she need not be scared as he could hold him, when the rein broke and he went out suddenly backward over the wheel, and Mrs. Welch herself must soon have followed him, had not a horseman unexpectedly dashed up from behind and, spurring his fleet horse beside the tearing little beast in the wagon, seized the runaway by the bridle and brought it to a stand-still.

The transition from the expectation of immediate injury, if not death, to absolute security is itself a shock, and even after the vehicle was quite still, Mrs. Welch, who had been holding on to its sides with all her might, could hardly realize her escape. Her first thought was for the driver.

“Oh! I’m afraid that poor man is killed!” she exclaimed.

“Oh! he’s all right. I hope you are not hurt, madam?” said her rescuer, solicitously. “I think I’d better hold the horse, or I would come and take you out.”

Mrs. Welch assured him that she was not at all hurt, and she sprang out and declared that she would go back at once and look after the driver. Just then, however, the driver appeared, covered with dust, but not otherwise injured.

“Well, I was just sayin’ I’d saved Al, anyhow,” he said as he came up. “And I’m glad to find, Cap’n, you saved the others.”

“What are you going to do now?” Mrs. Welch asked when the driver had finished talking to the gentleman, and begun to work at the harness.

“I’m going to take you to the Cote-house. I told you I’d do it.”

“Behind that horse!”

“Ain’t nothin’ the matter with the hoss—it’s the gear.”

“I think I’d better take her,” the young man who had rescued her said, though with a little hesitation. “I can take her behind me, and get her there by the through way.”

“What! On that horse? I can’t ride that creature,” declared Mrs. Welch with wide-open eyes, looking at his handsome horse which was still prancing from excitement.

“Why, he’s as quiet as a lamb—he’s carried double many a time, and several ladies have ridden him. I could get you there much quicker than you can drive. All you have to do is to hold on to me. Whoa, boy!”

“I know that sort of lamb,” declared Mrs. Welch, “What shall I do with my trunk?”

The young man’s confidence was telling on her and she was beginning to yield. The choice was between the two horses and she had had experience with one.

“Oh! your trunk’s all right. I’ll carry your trunk on,” agreed the driver. He had finished his mending and was gathering up his reins.

“Do you mean that you are going to get in there and try to drive that horse again?”

“That’s what I’m agoin’ to do ’m.”

“Then I’ll get in, too,” declared Mrs. Welch, firmly. Her face was pale, but there was a light in her eyes that made her suddenly handsome. The two men looked at her and both began to expostulate.

“I made him come, and I don’t mean that he shall risk his neck for me alone,” she declared, firmly, gathering up her skirts. But the horseman suddenly interfered.

“I couldn’t let you be run away with again under my very eyes,” he said, smiling, “I might be held accountable by your dau——by your fam——your Government.”

Mrs. Welch was not accustomed to being talked to in this way; but she liked him none the less for it. However, she would not yield.

It was finally agreed that a trial should be made first without her, and then, if the horse went all right, she could get in. Both men insisted on this, and as they explained that the driver could manage the horse better without her, she temporized. Indeed she was obliged to do so, for the young man who had rescued her told her plainly, though politely, that he would not allow her to get in the wagon again until the experiment had been made.

After a little time, as the horse appeared to have been sobered by his unwonted exertion, she was allowed to mount once more, and so proceeded, the young gentleman riding close beside the horse, to prevent any further trouble.

Mrs. Welch at last had time to look at her deliverer. He was a tall, fine-looking young fellow, with the face and address of a gentleman. A slouch hat, much weather-stained, and a suit of clothes by no means new, at first sight made his dress appear negligent, but his voice was as refined as any Mrs. Welch had ever heard; his manner was a mixture of deference and protection, and his face, with clear, gray eyes, firm mouth, and pleasant smile, gave him an air of distinction and was one of the most attractive she had ever seen.

He had introduced himself to her when he first spoke; Captain Somebody, he said, but as she had been rather agitated at that moment she had not caught the name, and she waited until he should mention it again or she should get a chance to ask the driver. When she did ask him, she understood him to say Captain Naline.

After a time, as the horse was now quiet and there were no more bad hills, the gentleman said he had an engagement, and would have to ride on. So, as Mrs. Welch declared herself now entirely easy in her mind, he bade her good-evening and galloped on, and soon afterward Mrs. Welch was met by her husband on his way over to the station with a carriage.