The Girl of the Golden West by David Belasco (cool books to read txt) 📖

what do you mean by that?" presently he asked.

"Well, I mean so good that you're a teetotaller, or so bad that you're tired o' life an' whisky."

Johnson shook his head.

"On the contrary, although I'm not good, I've lived and I've liked life pretty well. It's been bully!"

Surprised and delighted with his enthusiasm, the Girl raised her eyes to his, which look he mistook--not unnaturally after all that had been said--for one of encouragement. A moment more and the restraint that he had exercised over himself had vanished completely.

"So have you liked it, Girl," he went on, trying vainly to get possession of her hand, "only you haven't lived, you haven't lived--not with your nature. You see I've got a quick eye, too."

To Johnson's amazement she flushed and averted her face. Following the direction of her eyes he saw Nick standing in the door with a broad grin on his face.

"You git, Nick! What do you mean by . . .?" cried out the Girl in a tone that left no doubt in the minds of her hearers that she was annoyed, if not angry, at the intrusion.

Nick disappeared into the dance-hall as though shot out of a gun; whereupon, the Girl turned to Johnson with:

"I haven't lived? That's good!"

Johnson's next words were insinuating, but his voice was cold in comparison with the fervent tones of a moment previous.

"Oh, you know!" was what he said, seating himself at the poker table.

"No, I don't," contradicted the Girl, taking a seat opposite him.

"Yes, you do," he insisted.

"Well, say it's an even chance I do an' an even chance I don't," she parried.

Once more the passion in the man was stirring.

"I mean," he explained in a voice that barely reached her, "life for all it's worth, to the uttermost, to the last drop in the cup, so that it atones for what's gone before, or may come after."

The Girl's face wore a puzzled look as she answered:

"No, I don't believe I know what you mean by them words. Is it a--" She cut her sentence short, and springing up, cried out: "Oh, Lord--Oh, excuse me, I sat on my gun!"

Johnson looked at her, genuine amusement depicted on his face.

"Look here," said the Girl, suddenly perching herself upon the table, "I'm goin' to make you an offer."

"An offer?" Johnson fairly snatched the words out of her mouth. "You're going to make me an offer?"

"It's this," declared the Girl with a pleased look on her face. "If ever you need to be staked--"

Johnson eyed her uncomprehendingly.

"Which o' course you don't," she hastened to add. "Name your price. It's yours jest for the style I git from you an' the deportment."

"Deportment? Me?" A half-grin formed over Johnson's face as he asked the question; then he said: "Well, I never heard before that my society was so desirable. Apart from the financial aspect of this matter, I--"

"Say," broke in the Girl, gazing at him in helpless admiration, "ain't that great? Ain't that great? Oh, you got to let me stand treat!"

"No, really I would prefer not to take anything," responded Johnson, putting a restraining hand on her as she was about to leap from the table.

At that moment Nick's hurried footsteps reached their ears. Turning, the Girl, with a swift gesture, waved him back. There was a brief silence, then Johnson spoke:

"Say, Girl, you're like finding some new kind of flower."

A slight laugh of confusion was his answer. The next moment, however, she went on, speaking very slowly and seriously: "Well, we're kind o' rough up here, but we're reachin' out."

Johnson noted immediately the change in her voice. There was no mistaking the genuineness of her emotion, nor the wistful look in her eyes. It was plain that she yearned for someone who would teach her the ways of the outside world; and when the man looked at the Girl with the lamp-light softening her features, he felt her sincerity and was pleased by her confidence.

"Now, I take it," continued the Girl with a vague, dreamy look on her face, "that's what we're all put on this earth for--everyone of us--is to rise ourselves up in the world--to reach out."

"That's true, that's true," returned Johnson with gentle and perfect sympathy. "I venture to say that there isn't a man who hasn't thought seriously about that. I have. If only one knew how to reach out for something one hardly dares even hope for. Why, it's like trying to catch the star shining just ahead."

The Girl could not restrain her enthusiasm.

"That's the cheese! You've struck it!"

At this juncture Nick appeared and refused to be ordered away. At length, the Girl inquired somewhat impatiently:

"Well, what is it, Nick?"

"I've been tryin' to say," announced the barkeeper, whose face wore an expression of uneasiness as he pointed to the window, "that I have seen an ugly-lookin' greaser hanging around outside."

"A greaser!" exclaimed the Girl, uneasily. "Let me look." And with that she made a movement towards the window, but was held back by Johnson's detaining hand. All too well did he know that the Mexican was one of his men waiting impatiently for the signal. So, with an air of concern, for he did not intend that the Girl should run any risk, however remote, he said authoritatively:

"Don't go!"

"Why not?" demanded the Girl.

Johnson sat strangely silent.

"I'll bolt the windows!" cried Nick. Hardly had he disappeared into the dance-hall when a low whistle came to their ears.

"The signal--they're waiting," said Johnson under his breath, and shot a quick look of inquiry at the Girl to see whether she had heard the sound. A look told him that she had, and was uneasy over it.

"Don't that sound horrid?" said the Girl, reaching the bar in a state of perturbation. "Say, I'm awful glad you're here. Nick's so nervous. He knows what a lot o' money I got. Why, there's a little fortune in that keg."

Johnson started; then rising slowly he went over to the keg and examined it with interest.

"In there?" he asked, with difficulty concealing his excitement.

"Yes; the boys sleep around it nights," she went on to confide.

Johnson looked at her curiously.

"But when they're gone--isn't that rather a careless place to leave it?"

Quietly the Girl came from behind the bar and went over and stood beside the keg; when she spoke her eyes flashed dangerously.

"They'd have to kill me before they got it," she said, with cool deliberation.

"Oh, I see--it's your money."

"No, it's the boys'."

A look of relief crossed Johnson's features.

"Oh, that's different," he contended; and then brightening up somewhat, he went on: "Now, I wouldn't risk my life for that."

"Oh, yes, you would, yes, you would," declared the Girl with feeling. A moment later she was down on her knees putting bag after bag of the precious gold-dust and coins into the keg. When they were all in she closed the lid, and putting her foot down hard to make it secure, she repeated: "Oh, yes, you would, if you seen how hard they got it. When I think of it, I nearly cry."

Johnson had listened absorbedly, and was strangely affected by her words. In her rapidly-filling eyes, in the wave of colour that surged in her cheeks, in the voice that shook despite her efforts to control it, he read how intense was her interest in the welfare of the miners. How the men must adore her!

Unconsciously the Girl arose, and said:

"There's somethin' awful pretty in the way the boys hold out before they strike it, somethin' awful pretty in the face o' rocks, an' clay an' alkali. Oh, Lord, what a life it is anyway! They eat dirt, they sleep in dirt, they breathe dirt 'til their backs are bent, their hands twisted an' warped. They're all wind-swept an' blear-eyed I tell you, an' some o' them jest lie down in their sweat beside the sluices, an' they don't never rise up again. I've seen 'em there!" She paused reminiscently; then, pointing to the keg, she went on haltingly: "I got some money there of Ol' Brownie's. He was lyin' out in the sun on a pile o' clay two weeks ago, an' I guess the only clean thing about him was his soul, an' he was quittin', quittin', quittin', right there on the clay, an' quittin' hard. Oh, so hard!" Once more she stopped and covered her face with her hands as if to shut out the horror of it all. Presently she had herself under control and resumed: "Yes, he died--died jest like a dog. You wanted to shoot 'im to help 'im along quicker. Before he went he sez to me: 'Girl, give it to my ol' woman.' That was all he said, an' he went. She'll git it, all right."

With every word that the Girl uttered, the iron had entered deeper into Johnson's soul. Up to the present time he had tried to regard his profession, if he looked at it at all, from the point of view which he inherited from his father. It was not, in all truthfulness, what he would have chosen; it was something that, at times, he lamented; but, nevertheless, he had practised it and had despoiled the miners with but few moments of remorse. But now, he was beginning to look upon things differently. In a brief space of time a woman had impelled him to see his actions in their true light; new ambitions and desires awakened, and he looked downward as if it were impossible to meet her honest eye.

"An' that's what aches you," the Girl was now saying. "There ain't one o' them men workin' for themselves alone--the Lord never put it into no man's heart to make a beast or a pack-horse o' himself, except for some woman or some child." She halted a moment, and throwing up her hands impulsively, she cried: "Ain't it wonderful--ain't it wonderful that instinct? Ain't it wonderful what a man'll do when it comes to a woman--ain't it wonderful?" Once more she waited as if expecting him to corroborate her words; but he remained strangely silent. A moment later when he raised his troubled eyes, he saw that hers were dry and twinkling.

"Well, the boys use me as a--a sort of lady bank," presently she said; and then added with another quick change of expression, and in a voice that showed great determination: "You bet I'll drop down dead before anyone'll get a dollar o' theirs outer The Polka!"

Impulsively the road agent's hand went out to her, and with it went a mental resolution that so far as he was concerned no hard-working miner of Cloudy Mountain need fear for his gold!

"That's right," was what he said. "I'm with you--I'd like to see anyone get that." He dropped her hand and laid his on the keg; then with a voice charged with much feeling, he added: "Girl, I wish to Heaven I could talk more with you, but I can't. By daybreak I must be a long ways off. I'm sorry--I should have liked to have called at your cabin."

The Girl shot him a furtive glance.

"Must you be a-movin' so soon?" she asked.

"Yes; I'm only waiting till the posse gets back and you're safe."