A Cumberland Vendetta | Page 7

a century. But the incident across the river that morning had made the

old man uneasy, and he moved restlessly from his chair to the door, and
back again, while the boy watched him, wondering what the matter was,
but asking no questions. At noon an old mountaineer rode by, and the
miller hailed him.
"Any news in town?" he asked.
"Hain't been to town. Reckon fightin' 's goin' on thar from whut I
heerd." The careless, high-pitched answer brought the boy with wide
eyes to the door.
Whut d'ye hear? " asked Gabe. Jes heerd fightin' 's goin' on!
Then every man who came for his meal brought a wild rumor from
town, and the old miller moved his chair to the door, and sat there
whittling fast, and looking anxiously toward Hazlan. The boy was in a
fever of unrest, and old Gabe could hardly keep him in the mill. In the
middle of the afternoon the report of a rifle came down the river,
breaking into echoes against the cliffs below, and Isom ran out the door,
and stood listening for another, with an odd contradiction of fear and
delight on his eager face. In a few moments Rome Stetson galloped
into sight, and, with a shrill cry of relief, the boy ran down the road to
meet him, and ran back, holding by a stirrup. Young Stetson's face was
black with passion, and his eyes were heavy with drink. At the door of
the mill he swung from his horse, and for a moment was hardly able to
speak from rage. There had been no fight. The Stetsons were few and
unprepared. They had neither the guns nor, without Rufe, the means to
open the war, and they believed Rufe had gone for arms. So they had
chafed in the store all day, and all day Lewallens on horseback and on
foot were in sight; and each was a taunt to every Stetson, and, few as
they were, the young and hot-headed wanted to go out and fight. In the
afternoon a tale-bearer had brought some of Jasper's boasts to Rome,
and, made reckless by moonshine and much brooding, he sprang up to
lead them. Steve Marcum, too, caught up his gun, but old Sam's
counsel checked him, and the two by force held Rome back. A little
later the Lewallens left town. The Stetsons, too, disbanded, and on the
way home a last drop of gall ran Rome's cup of bitterness over.
Opposite Steve Brayton's cabin a jet of smoke puffed from the bushes

across the river, and a bullet furrowed the road in front of him. That
was the shot they had heard at the mill. Somebody was drawing a
dead-line," and Rome wheeled his horse at the brink of it. A mocking
yell came over the river, and a gray horse flashed past an open space in
the bushes. Rome knew the horse and knew the yell; young Jasper was
"bantering" him. Nothing maddens the mountaineer like this childish
method of insult; and telling of it, Rome sat in a corner, and loosed a
torrent of curses against young Lewallen and his clan.
Old Gabe had listened without a word, and the strain in his face was
eased. Always the old man had stood for peace. He believed it had
come after the court-house fight, and he had hoped against hope, even
when Rufe came back to trade against old Jasper; for Rufe was big and
good-natured, and unsuspected of resolute purpose, and the Lewallens'
power had weakened. So, now that Rufe was gone again, the old miller
half believed he was gone for good. Nobody was hurt; there was a
chance yet for peace, and with a rebuke on his tongue and relief in his
face, the old man sat back in his chair and went on whittling. The boy
turned eagerly to a crevice in the logs and, trembling with excitement,
searched the other bank for Jasper's gray horse, going home.
He called me a idgit," he said to himself, with a threatening shake of his
head. "Jes wouldn't I like to hev a chance at him! Rome ull git him!
Rome ull git him!"
There was no moving point of white on the broad face of the mountains
nor along the river road. Jasper was yet to come and, with ears alert to
every word behind him, the lad fixed his eyes where he should see him
first.
"Oh, he didn't mean to hit me. Not that he ain't mean enough to shoot
from the bresh," Rome broke out savagely. "That's jes whut I'm afeard
he will do. Thar was too much daylight fer him. Ef he jes don't come
a-sneakin' over hyeh, 'n' waitin' in the lorrel atter dark fer me,