"And am I to stop the train because that fool don't know enough or care
enough to picket his horses? Is it always to be him? Excuses made and
things done for him as if he was a sick girl or a baby. Let him be
lost, and stay lost, and be damned to him."
Daddy John looked up from the sheaf of newly gathered sage with the
alertness of a scared monkey. Susan stepped back, feeling suddenly
breathless. Courant made a movement as if to follow her, then stopped,
his face rived with lines and red with rage. He was shaken by what to
her was entirely inexplicable anger, and in her amazement she stared
vacantly at him.
"What's that, what's that?" chirped Daddy John, scrambling to his feet
and coming toward them with chin thrust belligerently forward and
blinking eyes full of fight.
Neither spoke to him and he added sharply:
"Didn't I hear swearing? Who's swearing now?" as if he had his doubts
that it might be Susan.
Courant with a stifled phrase turned from them, picked up his hammer
and began driving in the stakes.
"What was it?" whispered the old man. "What's the matter with him? Is
he mad at David?"
She shook her head, putting a finger on her lip in sign of silence, and
moving away to the other side of the fire. She felt the strain in the
men and knew it was her place to try and keep the peace. But a sense
of forlorn helplessness amid these warring spirits lay heavily on her
and she beckoned to the old servant, wanting him near her as one who,
no matter how dire the circumstances, would never fail her.
"Yes, he's angry," she said when they were out of earshot. "I suppose
it's about David. But what can we do? We can't make David over into
another man, and we can't leave him behind just because he's not as
strong as the rest of us. I feel as if we were getting to be savages."
The old man gave a grunt that had a note of cynical acquiescence, then
held up his hand in a signal for quiet. The thud of a horse's hoofs
came from the outside night. With a quick word to get the supper
ready, she ran forward and stood in the farthest rim of the light
waiting for her betrothed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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