The Homesteader. Micheaux Oscar

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СКАЧАТЬ he could reach the amount by the time he was thirty—providing nothing serious happened to retard him....

      He had finished his meal and was ready to go back to that little place over the hill. The girl who had made proof on the homestead he had purchased, had lived fourteen months alone in a little sod house her father had built for her in which he now had his bed. She had come of a prosperous family in the East. She had come hither and put in the time, and the requirements, and had sold the land that he had bought at a good profit to herself. Such instances were common in that country, so common indeed, that little was thought of it. In his trips back East when Baptiste told of such opportunities, he was not taken seriously. The fact that the wealth of the great Central Valley was right at their door; that from the production there they purchased the food they ate; that sheep were raised whose wool was later manufactured into the very clothes they wore, had no meaning to them. And always he felt discouraged when he returned from a visit among them.

      He had never seen Agnes so serious as she was that night. She arose and followed him to the door, and stood with him a moment before he left. Her eyes were tired and she appeared worried. He became possessed with an impulse to shake her hand. She seemed to sense his desire, and as he stepped out into the night, she extended it. He grasped and held it briefly. He whispered goodnight to her, and as he went through the yard and out into the road, she watched him from the open door until he was out of sight.

      Jean Baptiste thought he had secured a bargain in a team he had purchased a week before, and, from all appearances he had. For, after working them a week, he found them model horses—apparently. As stated, he slept in the little sod house on the place near Stewart's, and also had a barn there in which he kept his horses while working. The morning following the conversation with Agnes, just related, he went out to curry and feed this team along with the other horses, and received a kick that was almost his ending. Right at the temple one spiked him, and he knew no more for hours.

      "I wonder why Jean is so late," said Agnes, going to the window and gazing up the road. He was a hardy eater and the fact that he was late for breakfast was unusual. They waited a while longer and then ate without him. Bill who had been to care for his horses at the place before breakfast, reported that he had seen Baptiste go into the barn. So he had arisen, that was sure; but why had he not come for his meal? The subject was dismissed by all except Agnes, who was strangely uneasy.

      "Bill," said she, "see what is the matter with your boss when you go over, and tell him to come to breakfast."

      Bill had no difficulty ascertaining, and returned quickly with the news.

      "I knew it!" exclaimed Agnes, excitedly. "I just felt that something was the matter," whereupon she got into a light coat and followed her father and brothers to where he lay outside the barn door, bleeding freely from the temple.

      They carried him into their house, and were cheered to see that the blood had ceased to flow. His head was bandaged while Bill went for Doc. Slater, who pronounced the wound serious but not fatal. He awakened later in the day and called for water. It was brought him forthwith by Agnes.

      When he had drunk deeply and lay back weakly upon the pillow, he heard:

      "How do you feel, Jean?" He looked around in the semi-darkness of the room, and upon seeing her, sighed before answering. When he did it was a groan. She came quickly to where he lay and bent over him.

      "Jean," she repeated softly, tenderly. "How do you feel? Does your head pain you much?"

      "Where am I?" he said, turning his face toward her. She put her hand lightly over his bandaged head.

      "You're here, Jean. At Stewart's. You are hurt, do you understand?"

      "Hurt?" he repeated abstractedly.

      "Yes, hurt, Jean. You were kicked on the temple by one of your horses."

      "Is that so?" and he suddenly sat up in the bed.

      "Careful, careful," she cried, excitedly, pushing him gently back upon the pillow. He was silent as if in deep thought, while she waited eagerly. Presently she said in a low voice:

      "Do you feel hurt badly, Jean?"

      "I don't know." He raised his hand to his head as if trying to think more clearly. She caught his hands and held them as if trying to estimate his pulse, to see if he had any fever.

      "How did you come to get kicked, Jean?" she asked, speaking in the same low tone.

      "I don't know. When I opened the barn door I had a vision of one of the horses moving and I knew no more."

      "You must be very careful and not start the bleeding again," she advised. "You bled considerably."

      "And you say I am at your house. At where I board?"

      "Yes, Jean."

      He turned and stared at her, and for the first time seemed to be himself. He closed his eyes a moment as if to shut out something he did not wish to see.

      "And you have me here and are caring for me?"

      "We brought you here and are caring for you, Jean," she repeated.

      "It is singular," said he.

      "What is singular?"

      "That you have twice happened to be where you can serve me when I am injured or in danger." She was silent. She didn't know how to answer, or that there was to be any answer.

      "Has a doctor been here?"

      "Yes."

      "What did he seem to think of it?"

      "He said your wound was serious, but not fatal."

      "Did he say I could get up soon?"

      "He didn't say, Jean; but I don't think it would be wise." He groaned.

      "Now you must be patient and not fret yourself into a fever," she said seriously.

      "But I have so much work to do."

      "That will have to wait. Your health is first," she said firmly.

      "But the work should be done," he insisted.

      "But you must consider your health before you can even think about the work."

      He groaned again. She was thoughtful. She was considerate, and she could see that he would worry about his work and injure himself or risk fever.

      "I'll speak to papa, and perhaps George can take your place for a few days, a week or until you can get out."

      "You are so kind, Agnes," he said then. "You are always so thoughtful. I don't know how I can accept all you do for me."

      "Please hush—don't mention it." She arose and presently returned with her father.

      "Ah-ha," he always greeted. "So you've come to. Thought something would show up in that 'bargain.'"

      "Please don't, father," admonished Agnes, frowningly.

      "I'll look after everything while you are down, old man," said Stewart. СКАЧАТЬ