United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"I thought he knew better than this," said Douglas, pitifully.
"He hadn't any outside clothes on." Peter fingered the cotton jumper.
"Had a sudden thought and went off as crazy as Jude. Let's lift him into
the house."
They opened the door. On the floor beside the stove lay John, his right
leg bloody. They laid old Johnny carefully against the wall. Douglas
stood rigidly staring at his father. Peter hurriedly lifted the wounded
man's hands, then forced some whiskey down his throat.
"Start a fire, Doug!" he ordered.
Douglas did not stir. He stood, blue eyes haggard, cheeks frost-burned,
staring at his father. John opened his eyes.
"Get my right boot off, for God's sake!" he said faintly.
"Wait!" said Douglas peremptorily, when Peter would have obeyed. "Give
him some more whiskey so I can hear the story and be off. Those were
Judith's tracks back, there."
"The pain is killing me!" protested John.
"Where is Judith? Have you hurt her?" demanded Doug.
Peter applied his flask again to John's mouth. John drank, then groaned.
"I was drunk. Awful drunk. If Doug hadn't been so crazy about the
preacher he'd have seen that. Jude went down to the house to get some
warm things while she hunted for the preacher. I followed her. The house
was warm and got me even more fuddled than I was. I don't know what I
said but she came at me like a wild cat. Then she ran out of the house
and me after her. I never touched her. I never saw such riding. I could
just keep her in sight, and it wasn't till daylight that I came up to
her in this valley. After I sobered up I kept yelling at her, trying to
explain. But she didn't even turn her head. Then I rode my horse round
in front of her and she turned that devilish little wild mare loose on
me, kicking and biting my horse like a stallion. In the middle of the
mix-up, that blank old fool of a Johnny gallops up, half-dressed and
shooting in every direction. Jude she takes off up the valley and Johnny
gave me this leg when I tried to follow. I got up here, him following
me, and the fool wouldn't help me. Just sat guard outside the door. I
kept telling him he'd freeze to death. He kept saying he was saving Jude
for Douglas." John ended with another groan.
Douglas stood clenching and unclenching his gloved hands. Suddenly he
turned on his heel. "Come on, Peter."
"We can't leave your father this way, Doug."
"Come on, I tell you!" Doug's low voice was as hard as his eyes.
"Wait!" cried Peter.
"Wait! Wait! While Judith freezes to death too!" exclaimed Douglas.
"She couldn't freeze to death. She's too mad!" groaned John.
"An hour won't make any difference," urged Peter. "I guess Jude had this
thing planned out."
"Planned!" Douglas' blue eyes burned. "She's gone off her head with
anger and disgust and she doesn't care where she goes as long as she's
rid of him. I know Jude!"
"You don't know Jude!" contradicted Peter. "Help me to lift John to the
bunk. He's gat to be taken care of."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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