“Here, Mom,” winked Daddy. “You’ll want to drop everything and call in the clan. It’s a fat letter from Marguerite! I hate to think of her up there in the city bein’ a maid fer them fussy rich folks. We sent her to that business school fer nothing, I guess. They lay it onto the bad times ‘cause they cain’t place her in a job. Sometimes I wonder –,” and Daddy sighed.
“Well, Ned,” Mother observed as she carefully opened the envelope. “What does it really matter, when she expects to get married next September? Come, girls,” she called. “A letter from Marguerite!”
With the children gathered around, Mother read: “Dearest family, Words cannot express how I long to see you all! I guess I just have a bad case of homesickness. It wouldn’t be so bad here if it weren’t for Mr. Eaton. I hate to complain, but he is too much! Last night he bawled me out because one shade was pulled down a little crooked and he went through all twenty-four rooms to see if the others were straight. And when he throws a party, and gets too many cocktails –! I just can’t be thankful enough to have been delivered from ‘this present evil world’. How good to be a real believer in Christ! Mr. Eaton is so mean to his wife and children when no one is around! Then when they have guests, he tries to present the image of the dear, old loving Dad. The poor children, Arlin and Charles, (Tee and Tod as they call them) just tremble when they have to sit on his lap.
“The butler-chauffeur is a big, tall black man. Believe me, you’ve got to make sure you don’t meet him in a dark hallway. I sure slapped his face the other day!
“Oh, well! I shouldn’t worry you with all my troubles. And it won’t be for long.
“There is some real news, though. Sit down and hold onto your chair when you read this. Mrs. Eaton, as you know, is as fine as he is awful. She can see I’m homesick and tries to comfort me. Last night Mr. E. announced that he would be gone for four days on business.
“As soon as she could, Mrs. Eaton came around and asked if I’d like to go home for a visit. I nearly cried I was so happy at the thought. But here’s the super exciting part! She wants to drive me down herself and bring Tee and Tod along! I think a peep at ranch life will do us all good.
“‘Now there is one thing you must promise, dahlin; tell your family we want life to go on as usual with no extra fuss!’ she said.
“You’ll like her, Daddy and Mamma, especially as she is from the deep South and really the sweetest thing! You can expect us sometime around 4 or 5 o’clock on this Friday afternoon, the 10th. I know it’s Mary Jane’s birthday on Saturday. I’ll bring your gift, honey, but I didn’t want to seem to fish for a present from the Eatons, so I didn’t tell them about the birthday. Don’t work too hard, now.”
A letter from my darling says – etc., etc.”, and Mamma read on to the end, but her hand trembled a little.
“Oh Ned! How can we entertain a socialite like her!” Mamma began to be a little pink in spots.
“Treat her like she was a – well, what she is, a real human being. I don’t mind her and the tots coming. Just as long as her husband doesn’t decide to come along. I’d like to have a word with that butler too! Boy, wouldn’t I make his ears burn – ‘er box ‘em! We ought to send ‘em back without her.”
While Mamma and Daddy were talking, the girls had nearly “flipped” from excitement.
Lori was looking around the kitchen. “Mamma, Oh, I wish there was time to calcimine the walls, and these windows! How can we ever get cleaned up in time?”
“Mary Jane, come back here! I’m hiding your library book. You’ve got to help, too!” Jennie dived for Mary Jane.
“Well, girls, have fun.” Daddy laughed. I reckon there’s no use in me remindin’ you of what the lady said, ‘No fuss’ and all that. Women folks was born fussin’, I declare!” Daddy left for the barn.
The women folk “fussed” and scrubbed and polished for the next day and a half until hands were rough and red and backs ached. As Daddy left to go out cultivating after lunch, Mother pleaded, “Ned? Please come in earlier today in time to shave and clean up before they come? And we don’t want supper so late; I’m sure they are used to eating around 6 or 7. Last night we didn’t sit down until 8 o’clock. Please?”
“Well, Mom, as fer as possible, I aim to. Ain’t no tellin’, though, how things’ll shape up. All bein’ well, I’ll be in by four sharp.”
She wished he’d promised three, but sighed to herself and conceded that would be asking too much of a busy farmer in August.
Things began to go wrong from the start. In the first place, Lori had the scalloped potato casserole too full, and it ran over in the oven, filling the house with a burned potato odor. The cherry pies were a little too brown, and the oven was a little hot for the ham. Only Mother’s bread that morning had turned out perfectly as usual. Adding to the confusion, Clara’s beads – a very long strand – had broken and rolled all over the upstairs area by the stairway. There was a hallway and a large game room up there. What a job cleaning them up!
Mrs. Eaton and Tee (Arlin), Tod (Charles) and Marguerite arrived at a good early 3 o’clock. “Her ladyship” was a magnificent mixer. Her relaxed, friendly, easy way just left no room for uneasiness and inferior feelings in her presence. Not only was she a handsome woman, but her charming southern drawl enhanced her already attractive person so much that everyone found her irresistible.
Mamma kept casting anxious glances toward the field where Daddy seemed to be stopped in a huddle of some sort. At five o’clock he came in the back door. He raised his hand.
“Now, Mom, it weren’t my fault that that cheap weldin’ job give out on the cultivator. I’ll hurry up now. Is the company all out in the barnyard?”
“Oh, I guess,” Mamma sighed. “Your things are ready in the bedroom, except – Oh dear – I forgot to run upstairs and get your suit! I keep it in Marguerite’s old room where the company is to sleep. I’m sure they’re outside. I’m so busy – maybe you could slip up and get it? Hurry now.”
Daddy bounded upstairs muttering about “women – puttin’ on dog-foolishness, and so forth.” The room he was to enter was at the head of the stair. Having been assured it was empty of occupants, he boldly opened the door, just as his heel caught one of Clara’s left-behind beads. Although he was still hanging to the door knob, his legs coasted out from under him, and he landed stretched out at the foot of the bed. A very startled lady sat up to confront the master of the house whom she had not met.
“Well, I’ll be hornswoggled!” Daddy gasped. “Mom said you – I had to get my suit – Well, I beg yer humble pardon!”
“Oh, Mistah Hillman?” She graciously smiled and offered her hand. “Are you – you – injured?”
“No, Ma’am. I don’t reckon there’s any way to rightly excuse me for barging in this way – except jest tellin’ the truth. Fer reasons I’ll never know, Mom, she keeps my Sunday suit up here, and she plumb fergot to get it fer me. We thought you was out – so, I’m right sorry –!” Poor Daddy! It was so embarrassing!
All sorts of sparkles twinkled from the lady’s eyes, but she did not throw back her head and laugh.
“I’m sorry to have been the cause of any inconvenience. After all, we are the intruders here, and as long as you are sure you are in one piece, we’ll forget it ever happened.” She smiled so disarmingly that the tension was fast going out the windows.
“Yes, yes, I’m not hurt – jest m’ pride and now that it’s been tooken from me I’ll jest leave you to yer restin” – and he turned, eager to be gone.
“Oh but wait, the suit, suh,” and she hopped up to fetch it. “I saw it there as I hung my things.”
Back down in the safety of his own room, he glanced in the mirror to discover with further dismay that he was minus his shirt – the top of his union suit being all his upper half was clothed in. By the time he was lathered to shave, he was able to chuckle to Mamma as she hurried in quickly, “Mom, just chuck all the fussin’ and puttin’ on all this dog. I done ruin’t it by falling right smack at her feet as she lay up there on the bed restin’. She took it fine, though. Now don’t look so ruffled! And, by the way, may I just ask – why cain’t my own clothes be kept in my own clothes closet?”
“Let me recover first – Oh, Ned! What next!” “My question?”
“Well, we have to put the dirty clothes bag somewhere! It’s so big. And you made the closets so small. If you’ll remember, I pleaded for larger closets, but –.” Mamma was getting warmed up, as she seldom became.
“Too-shay! Too-shay!” And Daddy dodged. It was time to change the subject for sure. “Now now, Mamma! Say, ain’t that a new dress yer lookin’ s’pretty in?”
Mary Jane and Ellen were having their own problems in entertaining “Tee”. She was enjoying the novelty of this simple farm life, but obviously her interest was shallow and fleeting.
“I should think you would become quite bored living away out here. It’s bad enough in the city! I’m saving my allowances; and next summer Mother, Tod and I expect to go to Paris.” She fluffed her pretty brown hair and tilted her chin a trifle. “Someday, I hope to attend a private school there too – at least Daddy wants me to. In the meantime, we have a French tutor. Mother wishes Marguerite would put off her marriage and go too. But she won’t hear of it. I expect we’ll get a chic French maid – it really would be better, anyway. Do you know any French?”
“No, but we have some neighbors named French, but they aren’t very nice except Mrs. French,” Mary Jane answered, somewhat awed. Usually she could think of something to suit, at least approaching in sensationalism, but this was too much for her.
“Oh what an odd machine! Whatever could it be?” Tee’s attention was attracted to the large “bull” tractor parked between the house and the barn. Tod was momentarily charmed with it too and was perched up in its seat, roaring away at a great rate. Suddenly, he jumped down and yelled.
“Where’s your horse? I want to ride!”
“She’s in the barn, but Daddy said –.” Robbie began.
“Oh, bosh! All you ever seem to say is tut Daddy said,’ and he usually said not to! I don’t pay any attention to my Daddy – unless I have to. When he’s dr–.” But Tee gave him a sound kick in the the shins.
“Let’s go watch all those funny cows in the barnyard! Let’s climb on top of that old shed, should we?” The children ran to comply with this request.
Tee had to have an old box to climb on and picked up a long stick to help herself scramble up on the shed. It was a long, narrow structure stretching along the northern boundary of the barnyard, designed to break the cold north wind, and, being open on the south side, to afford a shelter for the livestock.
“Ugh! How it smells here! I hate milk, and now I’ll hate it even more! Oh, is that big one the bull? Look at him tossing his head at us! Ha! Ha! Can’t get us up here, can you – you old bum! What’s his name?”
“Bimbo. He’s been kind of cranky lately. Watch out for him.” Robbie warned.
“Pooh! I’m not afraid of him!” Tod boasted. “Let me have that stick, Tee!” Grabbing the stick, he ran to the edge of the corrugated iron roof and gave his broad rump a jab. “How about a bull fight, you old Bimbo!”
Bimbo snorted, but turned away patiently. He kept an eye warily on the children.
“Daddy said never to tease the bull!” Robbie warned.
“Coward!” Tod yelled. But he lay the stick on the shed roof. Presently Tee saw her chance and made a pass at the bull’s head. She grazed his ear, and the stick fell to the ground. The naughty little girl almost fell with it. She lost her balance and had it not been for Ellen and Robbie’s quick aid, she would have landed almost in front of the now annoyed Bimbo. Tee’s back was scratched and bleeding from being pulled over the rough edge of the shed roof. She was badly shaken. When Bimbo began to paw the ground and bellow she paled.
Clara, who was inside the barn, ran to look.
“Get down from there right now, and don’t dare come into the corral! Robbie! You know better than to tease Bimbo!”
“See!” Robbie said. “I told you Daddy said not to tease the bull! Daddy always says things for a good reason!”
Tod was still full of bravado. “Daddy said, Daddy said, Daddy said,” he chanted. “I hate my Daddy!”
“Me too!” Tee added coldly. “I expect Mamma will divorce him. Most of our friends have divorces. It’s almost fashionable, you know. Why in Paris –.”
“Robbie, Mary Jane, Ellen!” called Jennie. “Come, and we’ll show the children how to milk! But come to the west door of the barn. Bimbo is all upset.”
The cows were in their stanchions munching the fragrant alfalfa in the boxes before them. Arlin looked a bit fearful, but was attempting to regain her confidence.
Lori was seated on the stool beside her favorite cow, and smiling up at Tee, asked, “Want to try it?”
“Well, of course.” She perched herself on the stool with the bucket on the ground under the cow’s udder. Then she grabbed poor Nancy’s tail and gave it a firm yank.
Wham! The bucket went flying and so did Tee over backwards, narrowly missing the feet of the cow next door.
“I hate this old barn! Isn’t there something fun we can do?” she wailed, almost ready to cry.
Mary Jane caught Clara’s eyes. They were dancing with mirth, but she caught the words “the paper dolls?” framed on her sister’s lips.
“O.K.,” she nodded good naturedly, but added, “Now come here, Tee. Before you go, see how it’s done. You squeeze and pull sorta at the same time on these teats and the milk comes out – not by pulling the tail. The tail is to switch the flies away.”
“Flies; ugh! Yes; I see, but come on, Mary Jane, let’s go to the house.”
The paper dolls were an immediate success. Hand-drawn and painted with stacks of lovely colorful dresses, coats and hats! None of the shops in the city had anything to compare. From that time forward, Tee was entertained. The children even tried painting some of their own. Mary Jane was doing very well by now. She really began to enjoy her little guest and felt somewhat co-equal. And although most of their play centered in and around Paris, it was all great fun.
The supper went quite well. Mrs. Eaton ate heartily, especially the homemade bread and butter. Leaning back in her chair with a piece in her hand she smiled her charmng smile at Daddy.
“Mistah Hillman, you live like kings and lords!” And then, “I understand that as a young man, you were a cowboy in Texas and New Mexico. Tee and Tod would adore a story from the old West!”
Daddy was pleased and flattered. Story-telling was right “down his alley,” especially of the good old days of his youth on the ranges.
“Well, now,” said he winking at Tod, “how would a real true-to-life, honest-to-goodness Indian story do?” “Great!” both children agreed at once.
“I begun my cow punching career a bit early, I guess. Fifteen years old to be exact when I left my home in Correyell County, Texas. I’d had a time gettin’ used to my stepmother – she offended us boys. Well, to make a long story short, I left and went out lookin’ fer a job on a ranch. Course, I was a big, strappin’ youth and made like I was grownup, although I was green in many respects.
“Well, I got a job on the Circle H Ranch – a big spread hirin’, oh twenty boys er so. The foreman probably thought I was too young fer the job – least-ways the boss hired me – and this foreman he didn’t seem to take too kindly to me being there. There was a bad spirit amongst the men there, and later on it broke out in some gun fire. But that’s another story. Well, anyways, the first mornin’ I reported in, he says: “ ‘Ned, boy, that young sorral in the small corral over there. I want you to break her in fer yer mount.’
“Well, I’d broke horses before, a course. In fact, the first horse I ever owned, I had to break her in order to get her from our first and only school teacher down home. So I says ‘O.K., that’s fine with me.’ I went and picked me a bridle when along comes this Indian – worked there on the Circle H.
“ ‘Ned,’ he says, quiet like, ‘Ned; you no ridum horse out there. Him outlaw. Him kill boy. Me ridum. You watch.’
“‘Naw,’ says I. ‘I’ve rode colts and broke ‘em before.’
“‘Ned, you listen Indian. Me know.’ Them black eyes of his was in dead earnest. Something told me – here’s a real friend. So I give in.
“I’m here to tell you, I’ve never seen before nor since a meaner outlaw than that there horse. But that Indian give ‘em what fer. He had tricks in his bag I didn’t know nothin’ about, and afore many days we had him eatin’ out of our hands, as it were. I was able to ride him and do my work there, but he never measured up to my later horse which I owned and kept fer a good many years as a cow puncher. Well, as time went on, my brother, Bud, came to work there too. We’d gone to town one Saturday, the two of us; and come 9 o’clock or so, we was ridin’ home by moonlight. We had to go through a narrow canyon. The trail and the Pancho River was all there was room fer. We was about half through, and the moon was shinin’ down so bright and pretty, when off up ahead we heard ‘em comin’!”
“‘What?’ queried Tod, by now spellbound.
“A band of drunk Indians! Now they’s nothin’ worse than a drunk Indian. All that hate fer the white man comes out triple force under the influence of that old “fire water.” Daddy’s face shadowed. “It’s ruint many a good Injun – or many a good white man, too, fer that matter. It’s one of the worst curses the devil ever thunk up to ruin mankind with!”
“Indeed, its ravages reach into the upper echelons of society,” Mrs. Eaton added quietly.
Mamma had been as usual very quiet. She, however, added with heated fervor, “Oh, what ruin it can bring!” We all knew of Mamma’s scarred childhood.
Mrs. Eaton turned, a little surprised. She studied the face of the humble little lady across the table. “Surely,” she thought, “No, I’m sure this is a household free from such a curse. But that little woman has had a sorrow too. It shows. But no bitterness. Not a trace.” She began to feel a kinship, a desire to know something of the soul of this gentle, patient woman. “What is her secret? Life here must surely be hard. How does she cope? What are her answers to life’s problems?” Then she sighed. “We are miles apart, and I have so little time. If only I could –.”
But Tod was recalling them to the story.
“Come on! What happened next?” he put in.
“Well, there was a showdown comin’, no two ways about it. The Indians was ‘ki-yi-in’ in their own lingo, workin theirselves into a great lather. Bud and I had pulled our pistols out handy. We became aware of one of their number yellin’ louder than the others. He was hoppin’ mad too, and was laying ‘em back single file agin the canyon wall. I couldn’t begin to say what he was tellin”em. We seen he was bein’ a friend to us. Then lo and behold! Up comes this Injun and reached out an old dirty paw. ‘How! Me friend. How, Ned?’
“It was my old friend! Never was so glad to see a man in my whole life! We wasn’t hanging around there fer long, though, believe me. We rode past them Injuns and if looks could kill, we was tommyhawked and scalped about fifteen times over – ‘cause they was about fifteen of ‘em. Soon after that, we left the Circle H as fightin’ broke out one night in the bunk house. Bud and I didn’t want no part in it – not hankerin’ to be fishin’ lead outa our hides. The bullets was whizzin’ around one night there purty hot.”
“Was the Indian’s name Tonto? Did you name your horse ‘Silver’?” asked Arlin, smiling.
“No, honey, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t a gallopin’ around yellin’ “Hi, he, Silver!’ Ther’ was very little glamor – mostly hard work and hardships. Sin and greed and gun slingin’ – same as today, I reckon only a little more short on law enforcement. My Injun friend was just ‘Shorty’ to us boys, though I guess he did say he was ‘Silver Eagle,’ er some such name. The horse I called ‘Snake Eye,’ cause you couldn’t trust him. He always had an eye peeled fer a chance to take advantage of a feller. By the time I left there, I’d earned enough to buy myself a horse – purtiest little buckskin y’ever saw. Now there was a horse!”
About this time Arlin yawned.
Mrs. Eaton looked at her diamond-studded wrist watch and exclaimed, “Can it really be nine o’clock? To bed, my dahlins!”
So the party broke up. Daddy and Mamma and Mrs. Eaton chatted while the girls clattered through the dishes.
Settled in bed that night Mr. Hillman observed to his wife. “Y’ know, Eva. It’s curious, and a shame too. Why is it so hard to be a witness for the Lord to someone like her? The old flesh jest seems to want to impress the one with the riches. We haven’t rightly give her the gospel and I reckon she needs it as much as the poor man on the street. The scripture says ‘the poor have the gospel preached unto them.’ Fer one thing, it jest seems easier to preach it to the poor. God helpin’ us, we’d ought to be more faithful to that woman.”
“You’re right, Ned. I have a feeling she has an aching heart and needs the Saviour.”