The Wrong WomanStewart, Charles D. (Charles David)
General
The Wrong Woman
Stewart, Charles D. (Charles David)
Texas -- Fiction
This latter touch was more than a Texas lamb can reasonably expect; but
there were distant circumstances which prompted the act, and the
sentimental effects of these were much augmented by the fact that the
first and only lamb was disowned by its mother. She had given it a
cold-eyed look and walked away without even the formality of taking its
scent. As she was now back at her grazing again, it was plain to be
seen that she was going to give herself no further concern in the
matter; indeed, it was likely that when the lamb should come forward to
make his claims upon her, she would resent and oppose such intimacy,
sheep being different from other animals in this regard. The man felt,
naturally enough, that the first-born of such a host, and the
representative of so many idiots, mothered and motherless, who were
soon to arrive, deserved a better reception. The lamb spelled Duty as
plain as chalk; and so he rubbed away, with a look of weighty concern
which almost obliterated the smile with which he began. When the
fleece was perfectly dry and warm he stood up to await developments.
By this time the lamb, which had already tried to stand up, decided to
do it. It got part-way up and fell. Again it came up on its stilts,
wavered drunkenly and collapsed. It had made a mistake of some kind.
But the only way to learn walking is to do it; and a lamb, being more
ambitious than either a colt or a calf, rises at once and starts right
in, regardless of the fact that it does not understand the machinery.
This one was weak but game; and it went down only to rise again. It
went in for a course of Experience; and finally, having got the hang of
things, it was balancing on all fours with fair prospects of success.
Its status was a little uncertain,--like a sailor just landed on a
continent which seems to have been drinking,--but still it was up and
ready to try a step or two if necessary. But now the dog, who had been
keeping a sharp eye on every move, became so personally interested that
he gave it a poke with his nose; and over it went. This must have been
discouraging. The lamb, dazed for a moment, waited for the spirit to
move it, and up it came again, a little groggy but still in the ring.
It staggered, got its legs crossed and dug its nose in the dirt, but by
using that for an extra support it got its bearings again and was not
frustrated. This time it succeeded, its legs widely braced. With the
general demeanor of a carpenter jack it continued to stand, for that
way was solid and scientific; and now it looked straight ahead for the
sheep that was not present. In her place was empty air--nothing. This
not being according to the order of nature, the lamb was at its wits'
end.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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