CHAPTER XXNEW HOMES
THE deserted cabin in the woods was falling into dilapidation; the door, sagging on its hinges, creaked at every gust; wild beasts had stolen within to make it their haunt; and from under the broken roof chittering bats arose as night came on. Yet it was an interesting spot to a little party of riders who cantering through the woods under the swaying mosses which draped the forest trees, paused before the hut one afternoon. Stephen Hayward looked at it with curiosity; Christine turned from it with a shiver. “It is a dreadful place,” she said. “It brings up to me all that dreary time; all your terrible experiences; all the long waiting. Let us ride on.”
“Do you remember this little old place?” Neal was saying.
“Yes, and I really have an affection for it,” answered Alison. “It brings back so vividly that day when you came from the war and when you told me—things.”
“We’ll have to fix it up,” said Neal. “It will be about on the edge of our land, you see; the boundary line comes just to the woods beyond.”
“I am rather glad of it,” she returned, “for all this is familiar ground, and the scene of my adventures. Some of them were not so very pleasant, though, for here I was set upon by the Blatant Beast,” she sighed.
“You needn’t remember him any more.”
“No, for I have a pleasanter recollection. It was just beyond here that I met my knight pricking along. This whole place is full of the material from which I made my dreams, and although I don’t live in dreamland nowadays, it all comes back to me when I come this way. The others are away ahead of us. We must catch up with them. What do you suppose Louisa will name her baby, Neal? I really am quite curious on the subject.”
“Laws, child, I can’t tell. What do you reckon I know about naming babies? If it was a horse, now, I might give a guess.”
Alison laughed. “We’ll soon find out,” she said, “but we must hurry or Christine will get ahead of me.”
They hastened their gait, and before long arrived at Louisa’s door. The place was neat and orderly; a border of flowers bloomed each side the walk; an open gallery had been added to the house, and there they found Louisa already welcoming Steve and Christine. In her arms she held her little baby with its fuzzy red head and blinking blue eyes. It was thefirst time Alison and Christine had seen the little one since Hannah Maria had brought it in her arms to show them when it was but a few days old.
“We thought we should never get here, to see you, Lou,” said Alison. “Since the boys got back we have been so popular that we have had no time for anything but company. I have been just dying to get hold of that baby. Do let me take her? What shall you call her? Louisa, I suppose.”
“No, Ira says he’s not going to have another Louisa in the family. I’m first and last with him, he says.”
“Now, is that a compliment or isn’t it?” said Alison, taking the baby and looking down at it with interest.
“I reckon he meant it for one,” said Louisa smiling.
“But what do you call her?” asked Christine. “Let me take her, Alison.”
“Oh, let me have her a little while,” returned Alison, sitting down with the child.
“Well,” said Louisa, “I thought it over and I remember that Mis’ Brown was real good to me, though I don’t believe I appreciated it at the time, and I thought it would please her if I give her name to my baby. I always intended to give her yours, Miss Tina, so we’ve called her Miranda Christine, and Ira thinks it’s a fine name.” She spoke proudly and the girls could but agree that it was a fine name.
“Give her straight to me,” said Christine. “She ismy namesake.” And Alison reluctantly gave up her charge.
“How is the new house getting on?” asked Louisa. “Ira says they had a big time at the raising.”
“We did have a big time,” said Alison; “I never had more fun in my life. The house is as nice as can be. You must bring the baby and come over to spend the day as soon as you can. We have heaps to tell you. Doesn’t Steve look well? Would you ever believe he was the same man who came back looking so miserable?”
“He does look well,” agreed Louisa. “When is the wedding to be? I have heard we may expect it soon.”
“That’s just what we came over for to-day; to invite you and Ira.”
“What’s that about a wedding?” said a voice at the door.
“Why Hannah Maria, we didn’t know you were here,” said Alison.
“I come over this mornin’,” Hannah Maria told her. “Bud said he’d drap in about supper-time, and I’ve been seein’ to things a little for Lou. I was that sot upon holdin’ the young un to-day I couldn’t res’ till I got over. I think they’ve picked up a real purty name for her. Now, do tell me what about that thar weddin’. Ain’t it goin’ to be a double?” she asked eagerly. “I always did want to see a double, and I’ve been hopin’ you-alls would have one.”
“Well, you are to have your wish,” Christine told her.
“Then I suppose it will be at the Van Dorns’.”
“Yes, it seemed better that way, as we have no parents and Mrs. Van Dorn is so anxious to fill a mother’s place to us. Then, too, it saves us a great deal of trouble and we can have our own house all in order for Laura.”
“An’ Steve’s is all done?”
“Yes, or will be in a few days.”
“And which is goin’ to choose Allie, you or John?” asked Hannah Maria, taking out her snuff stick.
“They won’t either one have her very long,” spoke up Neal, “if I have anything to say. There’ll be another house going up before many days.”
“Did you ever?” exclaimed Hannah Maria, dropping her snuff stick. “Ain’t that interestin’? I declar you-alls fa’r makes my head swim with so much marryin’ an’ givin’ in marriage. Whar you goin’ to build, Neal?”
“Well, I was lucky enough to make an exchange with a man, or rather I had a chance of selling out my claim, and I have taken enough land for a rancho between here and John’s, and when all these wedding doings are over Alison and I are going to pick out a site for our home. I don’t know what sort of a ranchero I shall make, but I see what Ira has accomplished and it gives me courage.”
“I reckon you won’t fail,” said Hannah Maria. “Any man that has the perseverance to go as many hundred miles as you did to find Steve and was as perseverin’ as you was, I ain’t believin’ is goin’ to set down and let his neighbors get ahead of him.”
“Isn’t it fine to think they will be so near?” said Christine. “I don’t think I could forgive Neal, if he were to take our little sister away off where we couldn’t see her.”
“Bud says Texas will fill up real rapid now the war is over,” said Hannah Maria, “and thet it won’t be no time before we’ll be havin’ railroads all about, but I tell him I don’t expect to live to see that.”
“It will come in your day, Hannah Maria,” said Steve.
“I don’t expect it. But now, ain’t all this wonderful? Things does turn out good after all, don’t they? Here we never thought Neal would be Allie’s beau, and it looked one spell like Steve would never be Tina’s. I ain’t got over my gladness an’ surprise about his comin back yet.”
“I told you I should expect you to make my wedding cake, Hannah Maria,” said Steve.
“You shorely did, and I promised I would, so I’ve got to get to work. I’ll see that you get it, Steve. My, but you’ve fleshed up sence you got back,” she exclaimed, looking at him critically. “I never thought you’d pick up so quick when I first saw you. I reckonfeastin’ your eyes on Tina done you as much good as feastin’ yer body on wittles. I shouldn’t wonder but you’d get real pusly by the time you’re middle-aged.”
“How about your wedding, Hannah Maria?” asked Steve, turning her remarks from such personalities. “When is that coming off?”
“Laws-a-me, boy, don’t talk about no weddin’ for me. I ain’t see that Bud has picked out his gal yet, and tell he does I ain’t goin’ to think of no bonds of matermony.” She looked at Alison as she spoke and gave a little sigh. No one but herself suspected that it had been a blow to poor Bud to hear that Alison had given her heart to Neal Jordan. Alison never dreamed of Bud’s sentiments towards her. He had never ceased to serve her, to watch out for her interests, to give her a faithful, doglike devotion, and she had been the light of his eyes. Those weeks under his roof had embraced the rosiest hours of his life; all of romance was held within that period, but it never had occurred to him that he could expect her to care for him, and so he had never put the question to a test. She was and always would be the object of his sincerest devotion, but he would never tell it, and only the loving eyes of Hannah Maria observed the truth: that this joyous young creature had won the abiding love of lame Bud Haley.
“And when is Lolita going to take Laura’s place?”asked Hannah Maria, rousing herself after a few minutes devoted to thought and snuff rubbing.
“There is some talk of that,” Alison told her, “though Lolita is perfectly happy as matters are, except for the fact that her father is not well. The old man has failed of late. John says he doesn’t think Pedro is long for this world.”
“That’s what Bud was a-sayin’. Well, it will be a consolation to the old man to know Lolita is provided for.”
“She will not leave him while he needs her,” said Alison.
“The poor old man won’t be needing her long, Ira thinks,” said Louisa. “I always did like old Pedro.”
“He was always as polite as a dancing-master,” said Hannah Maria, “and Bud says he’s real honest, if he is a Mexican.”
“I believe there is some talk of Blythe’s going to New York to study law,” said Alison.
“Laws, now ain’t that just what I say?” remarked Hannah Maria. “I was tellin’ Bud the other day that if Blythe would take a purty wife like Lolita to some other place where they didn’t look down on greasers he’d git along. She’s sprunted up wonderful this last year. You don’t see her always lookin’ like one of them meechin’ pictures the Mexicans pins on their walls. She’s real smiling and lively and she’ll be a credit to him yet.”
“That is what Mrs. Van Dorn thinks. She does hate to give up Blythe, but she thinks he would do better to go somewhere else till he has made a career for himself.”
“And will he git married before he goes?” asked Hannah Maria, eager for all the details.
“It would depend upon whether Lolita could leave her father or whether he would be willing to go with them. Blythe has some money and would not have to think altogether of his profession as his support. All this is only talk as yet, Hannah Maria, so don’t tell it.”
“Oh, I’ll keep it secret,” said Hannah Maria, though she inwardly regretted that she must do so. However, there were exciting events enough on hand to occupy her mind, and she might well spare Blythe’s affairs.
Her desire to behold a double wedding was granted some ten days later when from over the hills, across prairies, along the bayous, gathered guests to witness the ceremony. All was astir in the Van Dorns’ roomy house. Good little Laura looked her best in her white gown specially imported from New York, and Christine, to Steve’s eyes, seemed like some pure sweet angel crowned with pale gold hair and clothed in fleecy white.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” said Alison to Hannah Maria.
“Purty as a pictur,” answered she, “and you ain’t fur from one yourself, Allie. White becomes you mighty well. I reckon Neal will want to step up whilst the preacher’s here without waitin’ till his house is built. Thar comes Lou an’ the baby: I’ve got to go and git ’em a good place.” And she hurried away.
In a few minutes the bridal party was ready to appear before the minister, who was waiting for them at the end of the long room,—John and Laura, Steve and Christine with their attendants, Alison and Neal, Blythe and Lolita. Just at the last moment there was a little bustle outside and Mrs. Van Dorn hastened to receive two guests who were quickly given places of honor, and the ceremony went on. Alison was the first to discover these new arrivals as she turned from giving Christine a kiss. With a little cry of surprise and pleasure she grasped her sister’s arm. “Look, look,” she cried, “there are Aunt Miranda and Uncle Brown!”
It was indeed these two who pressed forward to offer their good wishes. “We have been wanting to make the trip for a long time,” said Aunt Miranda, “and this seemed the right occasion, but we came very near being a day after the fair.”
“It is so good, so very good to have some of our own relations here,” said Christine. “You remember Stephen, Aunt Miranda?”
“I remember him very well, but he was a little boywhen I saw him last. Where has your uncle gone, Alison?”
“He is talking to Louisa. She has something she wants to show you, I know, Aunt Miranda.” And Mrs. Brown went with Alison to join her husband, who was looking curiously down into the little puckered face of Louisa’s first-born.
He turned to his wife. “Here is Louisa,” he said. “What do you think she has called this babe?”
“She’s named Miranda Christine, after you and Miss Tina,” said Louisa with pride, “and the preacher is going to christen her after a while.”
Aunt Miranda held out her arms. “It is the first baby ever named after me,” she said in a gratified voice. And Louisa felt that her infant was a person of importance to others beside herself.
Mrs. Van Dorn begged to entertain these lately arrived guests and to have the first week from them, and here began a series of visits which ended only after Alison’s marriage, for Neal was diplomatic enough to get upon the good side of Aunt Miranda, so, at her earnest request, the wedding took place before the good couple returned to their own home. Aunt Miranda so far loosened her purse strings as to offer to furnish the new house for her younger niece, and sent to New Orleans for such things as were required, taking a great interest in them. The house was a good substantial one with two rooms each side a widegallery, which opened on another running along the back of the house. It overlooked the broad prairie on one side, but was sheltered from the north winds by the woods on the other.
True to her promise, Christine wore the gorgeous piece of embroidery, set in a gown, at her sister’s wedding, which took place in her brother’s house. It was a simpler affair than the other, but no one who saw the bride doubted that she was as happy a one as her sister.
It was on a lovely autumn day that Alison Jordan went forth to her new home. Out of her dreams had passed visions of knights and ladies, of moated castles and milk-white palfreys. She was entering a different world, the centre of which was that home to which she was going. There was to be a house-warming that evening, but she and Neal had started out alone to spend their first free hours under their own roof, and to make ready for those who should come later; first the helpers, Christine, Laura and Louisa, and then the company. This would be a somewhat mixed one, it is true, but all would bear good-will, rough though many might appear, inelegant of speech and astonishingly arrayed. Texan rangers and rancheros, loud of voice and ready for any sort of horse play; matrons and maids with the inevitable snuff stick; but not one among them who would not go to any lengths to do a neighborly service. Annamela Stuckett, bedizened beyond all conscience, Eliza Jane Binney, with haircurled on a hot poker, Hannah Maria in the gayest of calicoes and with her flashy breastpin fastening a collar much awry and none too clean, all these would be there, but Bud would be absent, as he had been from the wedding. Alison wondered a little when Hannah Maria told her that Bud had gone to a distant rancho on business, for when before had Bud missed an opportunity for a frolic? But she was too happy to waste many moments in regretting her friend’s absence. In contrast to these neighbors would be Mrs. Van Dorn in her quiet black silk, Aunt Maria similarly attired, and dignified Uncle Brown. Alison named them all over as she stood upon the step before her own door and waited for Neal to return from turning out the horses. One and all would have nothing in their hearts but love for her, and above all was the love of him whose home she had promised herself to make a happy one. Not her home alone, but his also, his harbor and refuge from the storms of the outside world. It was for her to keep the light of this home burning very brightly that his steps might be guided aright. It was not only her own happiness that she must look for, but his. His sorrows must be her sorrows, his cares hers. It must be share and share alike if she would fulfil the promise made to herself and to him. She watched him coming towards her, a smile of complete content upon his face. “We will go in together,” she said as she gave him her hand.