before.
“‘Huh! she’s adopted you,’ Seth grins. And it looked like it. She just stood there and looked at me - at us - like a loving hound dog that you love, that you’ve caught with a string of sausages inside of him, and that just knows you ain’t going to lift a hand to him. ‘Go chase yourself!’ I told her
Mrs. Jones stiffened. Her lips moved soundlessly, but I knew to what syllables.
“And what made it hardest was Seth jeering at me. ‘You can’t shake her that way,’ he said. ‘You saved her life - ’ ‘I didn’t,’ I said sharply; ‘it was you.’ ‘But she thinks you did, which is the same thing,’ he came back at me. ‘And now she belongs to you. Custom of the country, as you ought to know.’”
“Heathenish,” said Mrs. Jones, and though her steady gaze was set upon the Tower of Jewels I knew she was making no reference to its architecture.
“‘She’s come to do light housekeeping for you,’ Seth grinned. I let him rave, though afterwards I kept him throwing in the coal too fast to work his mouth very much. Why, say, when I got to the spot where I picked her up, and stopped the train for her to get off, she just flopped down on her knees, got a hammerlock with her arms around my knees, and cried all over my shoes. What was I to do?”
With no perceptible movement that I was aware of, Mrs. Jones advertised her certitude of knowledge of what
“And the moment we pulled into Quito, she did what she’d done before - vanished. Sarah never believes me when I say how relieved I felt to be quit of her. But it was not to be. I got to my ’dobe house and managed a cracking fine dinner my cook had ready for me. She was mostly Spiggoty and half Indian, and her name was Paloma. - Now, Sarah, haven’t I told you she was older’n a grandmother, and looked more like a buzzard than a dove? Why, I couldn’t bear to eat with her around where I could look at her. But she did make things comfortable, and she was some economical when it came to marketing.
“That afternoon, after a big long siesta, what’d I find in the kitchen, just as much at home as if she belonged there, but that blamed Indian girl. And old Paloma was squatting at the girl’s feet and rubbing the girl’s knees and legs like for rheumatism, which I knew the girl didn’t have from the way I’d sized up the walk of her, and keeping time to the rubbing with a funny sort of gibberish chant. And I let loose right there and then. As Sarah knows, I never could a-bear women around the house - young, unmarried women, I mean. But it was no go! Old Paloma sided with the girl, and said if the girl went she went, too. Also, she called me more kinds of a fool than the English language has accommodation for. You’d like the Spanish lingo, Sarah, for expressing yourself in such ways, and you’d have liked old Paloma, too. She was a good woman, though she didn’t have any teeth and her face could kill a strong man’s appetite in the cradle.
“I gave in. I had to. Except for the excuse that she needed Vahna’s help around the house (which she didn’t at all), old Paloma never said why she stuck up for the girl. Anyway, Vahna was a quiet thing, never in the way. And she never gadded. Just sat in-doors jabbering with Paloma and helping with the chores. But I wasn’t long in getting on to that she was afraid of something. She would look up, that anxious it hurt, whenever anybody called, like some of the boys to have a gas or a game of pedro. I tried to worm it out of Paloma what was worrying the girl, but all the old woman did was to look solemn and shake her head like all the devils in hell was liable to precipitate a visit on us.
“And then one day Vahna had a visitor. I’d just come in from a run and was passing the time of day with her - I had to be polite, even if she had butted in on me and come to live in my house for keeps - when I saw a queer expression come into her eyes. In the doorway stood an Indian boy. He looked like her, but was younger and slimmer. She took him into the kitchen and they must have had a great palaver, for he didn’t leave until after dark. Inside the week he came back, but I missed him. When I got home, Paloma put a fat nugget of gold into my hand, which Vahna had sent him for. The blamed thing weighed all of two pounds and was worth more than five hundred dollars. She explained that Vahna wanted me to take it to pay for her keep. And I had to take it to keep peace in the house.
“Then, after a long time, came another visitor. We were sitting before the fire - ”
“Him and the hussy,” quoth Mrs. Jones.
“And Paloma,” he added quickly.
“Him and his cook and his light housekeeper sitting by the fire,” she amended.
“Oh, I admit Vahna did like me a whole heap,” he asserted recklessly, then modified with a pang of caution: “A heap more than was good for her, seeing that I had no inclination her way.
“Well, as I was saying, she had another visitor. He was a lean, tall, white-headed old Indian, with a beak on him like an eagle. He walked right in without knocking. Vahna gave a little cry that was half like a yelp and half like a gasp, and flumped down on her knees before me, pleading to me with deer’s eyes and to him with the eyes of a deer about to be killed that don’t want to be killed. Then, for a minute that seemed as long as a life-time, she and the old fellow glared at each other. Paloma was the first to talk, in his own lingo, for he talked back to her. But great Moses, if he wasn’t the high and mighty one! Paloma’s old knees were shaking, and she cringed to him like a hound dog. And all this in my own house! I’d have thrown him out on his neck, only he was so old.
“If the things he said to Vahna were as terrible as the way he looked! Say! He just spit words at her! But Paloma kept whimpering and butting in, till something she said got across, because his face relaxed. He condescended to give me the once over and fired some question at Vahna. She hung her head, and looked foolish, and blushed, and then replied with a single word and a shake of the head. And with that he just naturally turned on his heel and beat it. I guess she’d said ‘No.’
“For some time after that Vahna used to fluster up whenever she saw me. Then she took to the kitchen for a spell. But after a long time she began hanging around the big room again. She was still mighty shy, but she’d keep on following me about with those big eyes of hers - ”
“The hussy!” I heard plainly. But Julian Jones and I were pretty well used to it by this time.
“I don’t mind saying that I was getting some interested myself - oh, not in the way Sarah never lets up letting me know she thinks. That two-pound nugget was what had me going. If Vahna’d put me wise to where it came from, I could say good-bye to railroading and hit the high places for Nebraska and Sarah.
“And then the beans were spilled… by accident. Come a letter from Wisconsin. My Aunt Eliza ’d died and up and left me her big farm. I let out a whoop when I read it; but I could have canned my joy, for I was jobbed out of it by the courts and lawyers afterward - not a cent to me, and I’m still paying ’m in instalments.
“But I didn’t know, then; and I prepared to pull back to God’s country. Paloma got sore, and Vahna got the weeps. ‘Don’t go! Don’t go!’ That was her song. But I gave notice on my job, and wrote a letter to Sarah here - didn’t I, Sarah?
“That night, sitting by the fire like at a funeral, Vahna really loosened up for the first time.
“‘Don’t go,’ she says to me, with old Paloma nodding agreement with her. ‘I’ll show you where my brother got the nugget, if you don’t go.’ ‘Too late,’ said I. And I told her why.
“And told her about me waiting for you back in Nebraska,” Mrs. Jones observed in cold, passionless tones.
“Now, Sarah, why should I hurt a poor Indian girl’s feelings? Of course I didn’t.
“Well, she and Paloma talked Indian some more, and then Vahna says: ‘If you stay, I’ll show you the biggest nugget that is the father of all other nuggets.’ ‘How big?’ I asked. ‘As big as me?’ She laughed. ‘Bigger than you,’ she says, ‘much, much bigger.’ ‘They don’t grow that way,’ I said. But she said she’d seen it and Paloma backed her up. Why, to listen to them you’d have thought there was millions in that one nugget. Paloma ’d never seen it herself, but she’d heard about it. A secret of the tribe which she couldn’t share, being only half Indian herself.”
Julian Jones paused and heaved a sigh.
“And they kept on insisting until I fell for - ”
“The hussy,” said Mrs. Jones, pert as a bird, at the ready instant.
“‘No; for the nugget. What of Aunt Eliza’s farm I was rich enough to quit railroading, but not rich enough to turn my back on big money - and I just couldn’t help believing them two women. Gee! I could be another Vanderbilt, or J. P. Morgan. That’s the way I thought; and I started in to pump Vahna. But she wouldn’t give down. ‘You come along with me,’ she says. ‘We can be back here in a couple of weeks with all the gold the both of us can carry.’ ‘We’ll take a burro, or a pack-train of burros,’ was my suggestion. But nothing doing. And Paloma agreed with her. It was too dangerous. The Indians would catch us.
