An Oregon Girl: A Tale of American Life in the New WestRice, Alfred Ernest
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An Oregon Girl: A Tale of American Life in the New West
Rice, Alfred Ernest
Oregon -- Fiction; Western stories; Women pioneers -- Fiction
"Twenty thousand dollars!" angrily exclaimed Virginia, for the moment
forgetting herself, and then again her voice fell almost to a whisper.
"You dare ask that from me! Knowing that I have but to call and the
police would hound you to prison."
Jack swiftly wheeled about and rolled his eyes in alarm. The word
police startled him, and for the moment he verily believed they were
within call, a circumstance he at once set down to his lax
watchfulness, but he soon felt reassured, and, turning upon her said,
sarcastically:
"Oh, that-a beesa a lettle a da game-a. He, he, he, he," he laughed
low and gleefully, in strange contrast to the white of his eyeballs,
which shone with sinister effect as he leered at her.
"Two play-a dees-a da trick, Signora! Wouldn't yous-a look-a da well
bees-a compan-e-on ove-a mine, in a da pen, eh, Signora. He, he, he,
he," he again laughed.
"Eesa don-a da know some-a da ting about eesa da Duc, eh! Eesa don-a
da hear a da game between ee mand a da Signora da Virginia, eh!
Sacremento!" He fairly ground out the last word between his teeth.
Virginia shuddered and then involuntarily exclaimed: "Villain!"
Jack turned upon her swiftly, ceremoniously bowed, and again leered at
her. Then, with a most offensive smirk playing about his mouth, said:
"Tank-a da Signora, my a da pard."
Her face burned with the red that flushed up. She felt that even the
darkness could not conceal her flaming cheeks. She bent her head in
humiliation and shame at the all too well merited rebuke.
For a moment there followed intense stillness. She thought of what he
had possibly heard at the Harris reception. "His disclosure would
incriminate me with Rutley. Still, it matters not. My duty to my God,
my home and Constance is to make reparation for the wrong I have
done."
She broke the silence in an assumed, haughty tone. "Well, as you are
poor and in need, I will give you five hundred dollars upon return of
the child; but if you do not comply by noon tomorrow I shall inform
the police."
"Eesa bett-a note!" he replied, with an unmistakable menace in his
voice. "Eef yourse da squeal on a da ma, Signora--look-a da out!" And
so saying, he slowly drew his finger across his throat.
The action was most significant. "Eesa bett-a da keep a da mum!
Understand-a! Youse-a geeve a me a da twenty da thouse-a dollair,
youse-a take a da kid--but youse-a da squeal!" and he drew close and
hissed at her--"Bett-a da look a for her eesa mong a da weeds in a da
Willamette."
His attitude was so threatening, and his speech uttered with such
savage earnestness, that it drove all courage from her heart. Again
she felt, as once before, at the Harris reception, how puny a thing
she was in the presence of a strong, masculine rascal.
She, however, quickly mastered the momentary sickening alarm that had
seized her, and assuming a bold, threatening manner, in which she
astonished herself, for she felt anything but defiant just then, said
in a voice low and determined:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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