"That last is fine, but I guess you'd better wait for the rest."
"Wait? What for?"
"Until you know, ma'am. You see, you've only been here a little while;
you've learned a lot, but you don't know enough to talk business with
anybody yet. It won't be good for you to go talking about something you
don't understand."
"I think I am capable of judging that," she said bruskly. "I will go."
But she did not. She had intended to go the next day but as she lay
awake that morning she told herself that he had been right, she did not
know enough about her affairs to discuss her relationships with
neighbors intelligently. She still smarted from his frankness, but the
hurt was leavened by a feeling that behind his presumption had been
thought of her own welfare.
She tired quickly in the first days that she rode and once, remarking
on it, she drew this advice from Beck:
"You'd do a lot better without corsets."
Simply, bluntly, impersonally and with so much assurance that she could
not even reply. His observation had smacked of no disagreeable
intimacy. She had told him that she tired; he had given her his idea of
the cause.
She took off her corsets.
A day of cold rain came on; at noon the downpour abated for a time and
Jane asked Hepburn to ride down the creek with her to look over land
that was to be cleared and irrigated.
"Have you got a slicker, ma'am?" Beck asked when she requested that a
horse be saddled.
She had none.
"There ain't an extra one on the place," he said, "so I guess you'd
better not go."
"But the rain is over. Anyhow, what hurt will a wetting do?"
"I don't guess the rain's all over," he said. "And to get wet and cold
ain't a good thing for anybody; it'd be a mighty bad thing for you.
You're a city woman; you can't do these things yet."
An exasperating sense of inferiority came over her, bringing a helpless
sort of rage. This man was not even her foreman and yet he brought her
up short, time after time. She started to tell him so, but changed her
mind. Also, she changed her plans for the day.
He was not rough, not obtrusive in any of this. Just frank and simple,
and when she bridled under it all she saw that twinkle creep into his
eye, as though she were a child and her spirit amused him!
But she did more than amuse. She could not see, she could not know;
nights he roused from sleep and lay awake trying to fathom the
sensations he experienced; days he rode without sufficient thought for
the work that was before him. At times he was impelled to be irritable
toward her and this because his stronger impulse was to be gentle!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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