American fiction -- 19th century; California -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories; Western stories
A little curious to know the extent of this feeling, he entered one of
the shops, and by one or two questions which judiciously betrayed his
ownership of the property, he elicited only a tradesman's interest in a
possible future customer, and the ordinary curiosity about a stranger.
The barkeeper of the hotel was civil, but brief and gloomy. He had heard
the property was “willed away on account of some family quarrel which
'warn't none of his'.” Mr. Wells would find Buckeye Hollow a mighty dull
place after the mines. It was played out, sucked dry by two or three big
mine owners who were trying to “freeze out” the other settlers, so as
they might get the place to themselves and “boom it.” Brown, who had the
big house over the hill, was the head devil of the gang! Wells felt his
indignation kindle anew. And this girl that he had ousted was Brown's
friend. Was it possible that she was a party to Brown's designs to get
this three acres with the other lands? If so, his long-suffering uncle
was only just in his revenge.
He put all this diffidently before his partners on his return, and was a
little startled at their adopting it with sanguine ferocity. They hoped
that he would put an end to his thoughts of backing out of it. Such a
course now would be dishonorable to his uncle's memory. It was clearly
his duty to resist these blasted satraps of capitalists; he was
providentially selected for the purpose--a village Hampden to withstand
the tyrant. “And I reckon that shark of a lawyer knew all about it when
he was gettin' off that 'purp stuff' about people's sympathies with the
girl,” said Rice belligerently. “Contest the will, would he? Why, if we
caught that Brown with a finger in the pie we'd just whip up the boys on
this Ledge and lynch him. You hang on to that three acres and the garden
patch of your forefathers, sonny, and we'll see you through!”
Nevertheless, it was with some misgivings that Wells consented that
his three partners should actually accompany him and see him put in
peaceable possession of his inheritance. His instinct told him that
there would be no contest of the will, and still less any opposition
on the part of the objectionable relative, Brown. When the wagon
which contained his personal effects and the few articles of furniture
necessary for his occupancy of the cabin arrived, the exaggerated
swagger which his companions had put on in their passage through the
settlement gave way to a pastoral indolence, equally half real, half
affected. Lying on their backs under a buckeye, they permitted Rice to
voice the general sentiment. “There's a suthin' soothin' and dreamy in
this kind o' life, Jacksey, and we'll make a point of comin' here for a
couple of days every two weeks to lend you a hand; it will be a mighty
good change from our nigger work on the claim.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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