The same thing happened when Aunt Beulah told his pa that he was a disgrace to the family and she didn't want him in her house any more.
Jeff was going to tell her that he wasn't going to stay either if his pa couldn't. But that strong hand on his shoulder silenced him.
Then Nathan said, “All right, Beulah, that's enough.” There was something in the quiet way he said it that made Aunt Beulah pull up short. She scowled, her round little mouth as hard as a knothole in an oaken plank.
Nathan said, “I'll get out of your house, Beulah. You don't have to say any more.”
Jeff pulled himself up as tall as possible, filled with anger. “I'll go, too!”
“No,” Nathan said quietly. “Not now. I'll tell you when.” Beulah looked as though she had been slapped, but Nathan did not look at her again. Jeff wanted to argue, but he watched his pa turn and walk ramrod-straight to the cowshed, and decided against it.
Nathan got his saddlebags from the shed. He walked stiffly to the kitchen and got his roll. The saddlebags slung across his shoulders, the roll under his arm, Nathan walked over to his son.
“I'll put up in town someplace,” he said. “Jeff, you stay here and mind your aunt and uncle.”
Jeff's mouth flew open to protest, but his pa said sternly, “This ain't the right time for palaver. You do as I say.” He put one strong hand on the boy's head and shook him gently. “I'll be seein' you.” He swung up to the saddle and rode out of the yard.
THE NEXT DAY JEFF began to feel the new status that he had achieved in Plainsville. He was heading for the academy that morning and ran across Bud Slater near the public corral.
“Did I catch the dickens when I got home last night!” Bud said proudly. “My old man was mad as hops when he found out I'd gone to the creek without tellin' him anything about the fight.”
Jeff nodded, but said nothing. Although they were nearly the same age, Jeff felt much older than he had a few days ago.
“I'll bet your aunt raised the roof,” Bud said hopefully.
“With me?” Jeff asked coolly, implying that his aunt wouldn't dare.
“Well, Beulah Sewell's got a temper. Anybody in town will tell you that.”
Jeff let it slide, suggesting that he had more important matters on his mind.
“Say,” Bud said, holding the best for the last, “did you hear Alex Jorgenson and his old man lit out of town last night?”
This was news to Jeff, and he didn't try to hide it. “They did? When?”
“In the middle of the night some time; nobody knows for sure. Sam Baxter's raisin' ned, they say. Old Feyor pulled out owin' him thirty-four dollars at the store.”
Jeff felt himself smiling, felt himself growing big inside. It was a strong, good feeling. Big, tough, hard- drinking Feyor Jorgenson pulling up stakes and leaving town in the middle of the night, just because Jeff's pa warned him he'd better! Jeff had known all along that his pa was a powerful man, but he hadn't been sure that he was this powerful.
The excitement of the thought made him want to laugh. Think what it meant having a father who could do things like that! No wonder all the other boys in Plainsville were jealous.
A change came over Bud's face when the two boys turned the corner at the Masonic Temple. “Say, I thought of something,” Bud said. “See you later, maybe.” He wheeled and hurried across the street, hands in pockets, elaborately casual.
That was a strange thing for him to do, Jeff thought, for Bud was heading for the schoolhouse, the same as Jeff was. But the reason for Bud's abrupt action was soon clear. Forrest Slater, Bud's old man, was coming toward him from the other end of the street.
It gave Jeff a queer feeling for a minute when he realized that Bud was afraid to be seen with him. But that hard core of bigness kept him from showing it. He looked old man Slater right in the eye as they passed.
A short way past the temple building Jeff saw Amy Wintworth come out of her house and head toward the academy. He quickened his step along the dirt path, coming up beside her. “Hello,” he said.
She gave him a cool glance. “Todd's gone on ahead,” she said, her chin in the air.
“I'm not lookin' for Todd.”
“Oh,” she said, walking on.
They walked silently. It grated Jeff's nerves that she wouldn't look at him but stared straight ahead. She didn't even notice the bruises that Jorgenson had put on his face.
There seemed no graceful way to fall back or hurry on past her, so he walked forward stiffly, throwing her a glance from the corner of his eye. Surely she had heard about his standing up to Alex Jorgenson, something not many boys his age and size would have done.
At last he felt that the silence had lasted long enough.
“My pa was busy this morning,” he said. “That's why I'm walking instead of riding the bay.”
All he got was a sour look.
“Well, can't you say something?”
“About what?” she demanded.
He shrugged uncomfortably and thought that he never should have caught up with her. She was in a
