Peter Carradine; or, The Martindale pastoral

Front matter

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OE THE

MARTINDALE PASTORAL

Chapter I. The Bomb-bukst

THERE was a great uproar in the red schoolhouse under the hill, whose rod was swayed by Miss Miranda Roy.

Every little tongue not paralyzed by fright was wagging, and every youthful brow discernible, for there was much hiding of faces among the boys, whose prudence exceeded their curiosity, and the girls, who were ashamed of their tears—- every brow discernible, I say, was knit with displeasure or with rage, and a desire for vengeance was eminent.

The weight of the teacher's displeasure had fallen, this warm spring morning, on the shoulders of little Harry Johnson, who, after a violent struggle, had escaped from her hands, and now was flying up the hill, blazoned with fiery impressions — the herald of his own wrongs and humiliation.

Having restored the school to something like order, the teacher continued her tasks. But, though she could secure quiet, she could not command feeling. Grief and indignation, and a desire to get out where they could express emotion without danger, all this might have been evident to Miranda had she looked with questioning along the rows of little faces. Her own face seemed, to the young eyes that secretly made their observations, quite awful in its rigidity, and never before did her voice sound so harsh.

She would have the children of Martindale know who reigned in this school-room. But, secretly, she was very uneasy ; not because she saw that she had been unjust. She remembered that little Harry Johnson had not merely run honie to his father and mother. In comparison with the whole reality, that fact was a trifle. She and Mrs. Johnson understood each other so well, that it would be an easy matter to explain this difficulty. But Harry had likewise gone home to Peter Carradine, who lodged with his tenants. Peter Carradine, most impetuous, self-willed and headstrong of men, whose sole plaything in this world was Harry John-

This recollection calmed her— hut the calmness was that of the ominous lull which precedes the furious storm-break. She anticipated the worst of possibilities. At the very least, disgrace. Her flushed face paled, and it was not merely by supple bending before the authority of her own imperious will that she went through the next hour without exposing to the children her troubled state of mind.

The hour had hardly ended, when she heard voices in the path that led to the school-house, and she needed no one to announce the approach. She knew that Peter Carradine was coining on, leading Harry Johnson, but what would follow his arrival, she dared not conjecture. Hardly knowing what she did, she dismissed the class reciting, and the children huddled back into their places. Then was heard the quick, firm tread of the approaching man, and the teacher's apprehension was swiftly realized.

Carradine was a tall, strongly-built man, of swarthy complexion— features expressive of power and resolution — eyes specially remarkable for their revelations of the rich, rough nature of the man. They were now filled with wrath to overflowing.

He came with rapid strides, leading Harry Johnson by the hand, and Miranda Roy need not ask herself whether ' explanation were not possible that would justify her discipline. But though, just now, really afraid of Peter Carradine, she was not the woman to betray her fear. Self-possessed, determined on civility, she stood to learn the meaning of this intrusion. So much was expressed by her atti tide as she awaited the outbreak.

Up to this day and hour, a very different relation from that now having ominous suggestion, had been maintained between these parties. The teacher and the patron were on the best terms possible — but at this moment he was not disposed to abate his wrath for the sake of her father, the neighborhood, or herself. Old acquaintance, and friendship

----- likewise, went for nothing when his sense of justice became passionate.

"Handy," said he, " Miss Roy !" with a glance around the room, he fixed his stern eyes upon her ; eyes in which now, judgment only was conspicuous. " When I nominated you to teach here in this district, I thought you was fit for the place. I've had my suspicions since then that I made a mistake. But I said nothing before — for your sake and your father's — but other folks have fathers, beside you. You may take your things now, and go home. And don't ever ask me to recommend you for a teacher !" Then, turning shortly from her, and addressing the school, " Children, you are dismissed ! Go home and tell your folks what has happened. Tell the truth about it. Before another week goes over, I shall have a teacher here for you. Take your books and go off, all of you."

There was some stir among the children, but the teacher, not fearful of risking anything now, when she saw that all was lost, said, in a voice not elevated above its usual tone, with unusual dignity, that commanded attention and produced a hush :

" Children ! I'm your teacher, and I have not dismissed you. Keep your places ! Mr. Carradine, it is like you to hear only one side."

" I won't take fliaT, ma'am. Seeing's believing. What does a man need to hear, when he can see that boy's back, done by a woman's hand too ? That don't need an argument."

" I punished Harry Johnson for his disobedience, any boy or girl here will tell you that." She looked around, but every boy and girl was looking straight at Mr. Carradine, evidently anxious to evade the appeal.

" Well, Randy,'' said he, speaking more quietly, for her self-control had its influence on him, " your ideas about punishment won't do for me, that's all. There's ways of managing children — I should think a woman would know it without; a man's telling her — short of waling flesh like that. You're through here ! Children, what are you about ? Well, stay we'll put it to vote. That will be- according to order! Shall Miss Roy go on teaching you, or shall I look about this afternoon and see if I can find a new teacher ? Go or stay? Put that to vote."

1*

10 PETER CAKRADINE.

" Go !" cried one of the elder boys, and every little voice echoed, or seemed to echo, that decision.

" Well," said Mr. Carradine, for the first time smiling, and he wiped the great drops of sweat from his forehead as he added, addressing Miranda, " do you want anything more 1"

What right had a woman who could beat a child to any other treatment ? He was at that moment as triumphantly victorious as if he had carried a point against an opponent at the polls on an election day.

" I am sure," answered Miranda, more agitated than she had seemed to be at any moment since he came into the school-room ; " I am sure I ought to be glad to be rid of a nuisance. Your way of interfering don't agree with me When you get another teacher, recollect that."

Mr. Carradine did not reply, except with a grim smile, and she now gathered her books together and left the room.

Finding himself alone with the scholars, who had shown no disposition to move while the discussion lasted, Mr. Carradine questioned them again, and satisfied himself that he had done wisely ; then he repeated his promise that he would at once supply the school with a new teacher. The children generally, as well as Miranda, supposed that he was thinking of Sally Green, the Elder's daughter. They knew of no other person eligible to the office.

But Mr. Carradine was looking beyond Martindale, even as far as Brighton. He calculated always on finding the very thing he wanted. His "Do this!" was generally answered by a " Done !" and most of the scholars were so impressed with the notion of his authority, that not one of them now doubted his ability to perform what he had engaged to do. So they ran out in various directions to tell their folks, as he had enjoined upon them.

It was an event to talk over that afternoon — and every farm-house round about was vocal with the various versions —and not every woman, neither every man, endorsed the deed of Mr. Carradine. Indeed, the fact that it was Carradine who had taken upon him to administer justice, was enough to throw suspicion on the verdict rendered ; few persons had such confidence in him as to agree willingly to his taking on himself the duties of counsel, judge andjury Yet such was his position in the neighborhood, and especially towards the school-house, that any person might safely have prophesied that his decisions, however aggravating, would not be really interfered with.

Two brothers, named Jobson, lived opposite the schoolhouse, some distance from it, down the road. The elder brother was a bachelor and kept the Martindale tavern, this same little, low frame house, you see of what humble pretensions. But it is a marvellous corner ; a glorious place to gossip round and drink at — there is also, close at hand, a spring, whose bright, pure water ever flows into the trough, where travellers can give their horses drink — so all the purpose an inn could serve in Martindale is answered. Jobson, the blacksmith, is the inn-keeper's younger brother, and between the two the mail is distributed three times a week to the town of Martindale, for one or other of the brothers is postmaster — the inn-keeper, it is generally supposed, but the blacksmith appears to be the more reliable man of the two, and it is he who generally opens the mail and makes it up at stated intervals. The blacksmith's shop adjoins the tavern, and idlers seem to be as fond of loitering round its door as on the tavern steps, especially if they are under no immediate necessity for grog — for Senior Jobson's aspect does most conspicuously proclaim his belief that selfindulgence is the end of living ; so that a wretch whose credit was declining, pockets empty, stomach craving, really manifested no mean degree of courage when he showed himself on the tavern steps. " What will you have ?" was a question as startling and confounding as could well be proposed under such circumstances ; especially when it proceeded from a person of Senior Jobson's aspect, whose fullness and unbroken self-possession seemed so scornful of all emptiness and want.

The brothers were sunning themselves on the tavern steps, Senior Jobson portly, glowing, jocose. Junior Jobson, the likeness of his elder brother as he was in his prime, before he took to drink and idleness, (I mean not to drunken laziness,) a fair-faced, light-haired man, irascible, but withal kindly in his aims, and as good a blacksmith as ever managed bellows. Oliver Savage was cutting initials in one of the posts of the rough stoop — besides these, the Indian Doctor, famous for his root remedies, sat on the steps, to rest after his long foot journey

Towards this group came the blacksmith's boy on a run ; but, instead of halting as he approached the house, he made past at full speed.

" Holloa there !" shouted Junior. " What are you home this time of day for, sir ? Didn't I say I'd flog you, Ethan Allen, if I caught you again out o' hours ?"

" They aint no school. We've had a row. Teacher's gone home. Mr. Carradine sent her !" cried the boy, as if he saw the phantom of a raw -hide flourishing above his head.

" What's that ? Come here, sir !" The men's ears were well set when the child came nearer. Every one of them got up, and they stood round the reporter, after the fashion of idle men hungry for news, the most incorrigible gossips in the world, by whom scandal thrives. Let the obloquy fall no longer on tea-drinking old women. Lift up your heads, dear, venerable dames, and take an extra cup, while the unbelieving go to prove my words at the next corner.

The blacksmith's son, feeling himself quite secure now, for he understood, child though he was, the expression of the company, that he stood high in favor at this moment, gave his version of the occurrence in the school-room.

Then said Oliver Savage :

" That's like Pete Carradine. A devilish old tyrant, any how you can fix him."

" Six of one, half dozen of 'tother, it's my opinion," said the blacksmith. "Randy's pretty stiff, let her be sot once in her way. You must fight or go round. How d'ye 'spose Roy has got on with her all by 'mself so ? He's a meek, peaceable man, Roy is."

" Roy—he's a chicken. Thank'ee ! thank'ee ! I'm beholden to ye, sir, for letting me live, ye know," whined Senior Jobson. Then he broke into a loud laugh. " Lord ! such a toad ; I wonder if he won't set to praying off this great evil."

The Indian Doctor, a tall, slender fellow, yet powerful and wily—famous for his cures of the sickly and the weakly, and, above all, the credulous, now spoke :

" Such a girl is managed easily enough ; it's only to know

o way. You might lead her now, like a lamb— but as for

nng of her, or even interfering— bless your soul ! know

Old Roy knows a thing or two besides praying

Senior. By George, though, I'd like to have seen that fight ! I'll be bound she went off dry-eyed from it."

" Did she, Ethan Allen 1 Did Randy ? Did she cry any, you know, sonny ?"

" Yes, you young screamer, you does, if any one," said the uncle. " He's got an eye in his head for seeing, Ethan Allen has."

" Cry !" exclaimed Oliver Savage, and he turned on his heel, apparently disgusted with the ignorance that could propose the question.

" No, she didn't cry none," replied the child.

" But they talked out pretty sharp and brisk, pretty loud, I guess ?" asked the doctor.

" No, it was as still as anything. You could a'heard a pin droppit."

" He's got 'em under his thumb," said the innkeeper.

" Yes, sir, there couldn't be a tighter squeeze," observed Oliver Savage, with a knowing look at Senior Jobson. " If he's the mind to do it, they'll have to look up new quarters before they're a week'older. I shouldn't wonder."'

" /would, then, Oliver," said the blacksmith. " Carradine's ekel to anything, they say; but there's p'ints where he stops short. I've seen that man go on tippitoes all for to save ant-hills. If he's that keerful for to save a vermin— "

" That isn't it," interrupted the doctor. " The thing is n't whether he'll turn 'em out, d'ye see, but whether they'll be willing to stay in. I'd hate to have old Roy and Randy moving out of the district at the bid of any man."

" Don't borry trouble, Tom ; Martindale ground will be under old Sam's feet, till Martindale grass grows over his head. You couldn't root him out with a lever short of the one that pries the old world up when it gets stuck among the stars."

" It's a dodge that won't be come, that won't," exclaimed Oliver Savage, walking up and down the stoop, that was well marked with tobacco juice, owing to the unremitting efforts of the four men, half an hour ago, spitting at a mark. "The town of Martindell wouldn't allow it, sir — it would rise up against it."

" You talk like a fool, Savage ; what's Martindell got to do with old Sam Roy and his doings 1 I don't see."

" You don't ! Then try to get up a dance here in your old tumble-down, without Randy. You wouldn't want another proof."

" George ! you ought to know what girls are good for !" said Senior, with a vast deal of contempt in his retort. "You young carpetty knight !"

Junior, perhaps, heard a quarrel in the distance, for his brother was in one of his provoking moods this afternoon ; and he asked a question which he could as well have answered as any other man.

" He's got a moggage, has he, Carradine has, on old Samuel's place ? I'm sorry — I'm right sorry."

" Sorry ! — I wish I had your money !" exclaimed Oliver. " I'd pay the old curmudgeon afore he was half an hour older, and take the moggage myself. But he wouldn't give it up ! He's swallering everything in his reach, and Roy's land just fits into his farm. He wants it, and he'll have it. That's so."

"Lord ! Oliver, you're getting tremenjus. There won't be any living 'long side of you when your turn comes. Oh! you needn't fire up that way. I expect, for one, you'll be rolling round in your chariot yet, like old Squire Martin and the best of 'em. What was you cut out in your shape for, if you wasn't born for a gen'leman ?"

Apparently doubtful as to how Senior intended these words to be taken, Oliver was dubious how he should take them. He concluded to believe the prophecy a true one, and was confirmed in his choice when, on looking down the road, he saw Sally Green.

He pointed towards her, and was about to speak, then he changed his mind, leaped over the steps, and took the road, walking with rapid strides.

" But the girls think there's nobody like Oliver Savage," said his brother.

"Of course they do. There's Sally Green ! Suppose she didn't know he stood here on the steps, ready to follow her lead ?"

" Don't be hard on 'em," said the doctor. "We've been young, all of us — "

_ " You ! when Adam was a yearling ! But, the devil's in it, you havn't a gray hair yet, and you never will have. I believe you're the wandering Jew ! Come, take something, Boneset."

"I'm your man for that," said the doctor, with a laugh, and he followed Senior to the bar-room, and there they sat drinking till night. It was a rare time, that, for hearing the secrets of the country round about. Boneset had them at command, and Senior Jobson was a receptacle for such things, to be sure ! When ships go down with all their treasure into the ocean's depths, the grandeur of the sepulchre is at least equal to the horror of it ; and. divers have our honor ; but how is it when we know that scavengers fish out from the sewers some fair woman's plain gold marriagering, or the diamond witness of betrothal, the jewelled miniature, the baby's coral, manifold pledges to be redeemed, or forever unredeemed ! There should have been misgivings in the hearts of women while this doctor sipped his brandy and water, since pitch defiles. But no ! they trusted him, because his office was a sacred one — the priest commands confession, though vilest of animals he be.

Junior Jobson, meanwhile, had returned to his shop, and was working at his forge, and meditating on the hard case of Samuel Roy, when the old man rode up to his door and startled him by a little familiar laugh, with which he prefaced what he had to say whenever he was pleased — and he was particularly pleased just now to find the blacksmith in his shop, for he was in a hurry to get home, and the bar-room was the last place he liked to visit, even though looking for a man ; necessity seemed hardly to justify the crossing of that threshold.

" Junior, here's a little job for you, if you've got the time. Robin took to limping a mile back, down there by the bridge, a stun maybe, or a nail — I can't see — I left my eyes to hum ; feel there, that makes him wince," while he spoke he handed Robin's right fore-foot over to the blacksmith's inspection.

" Yes'ir — that's a stun — sharp as glass too — wait, I'll fetch him. There, sir ! Now, old Robin !" Honest Junior having rendered this swift service, stroked Robin's neck with kindly hand ; then he looked at Samuel, dubious and uneasy. " You won't be limping any furder, old Robin ! You don't come from home direc, then ?" he said, turning from the horse to the master.

" I've been down to Brighton," answered Roy. " Beats all — to think that the housen of the Elder's stood there — and them popples all growing fine — ere a tree was cut on Brighton ground ! And I've seen it all done — canal dug — railroad built — and, this afternoon, what was it but a balloon going up, with a party aboard ! We're getting hard on, Junior. I shan't see it — but your boy may. Says I to Randy, says I, be keerful, you're a trainin' up the childern for a great day of the Lord ; and I say the same to you, be keer- 1'ul. It's a resk you run, Junior, bringing up your boys among whiskey barr'ls."

Speaking thus, Samuel mounted his horse again, not doubting that his warning would be taken kindly. Whether it would be so taken or not, there were times when the old man felt free to speak his mind in warning and counsel as a privileged person, and this was one of them.

" Hold up, there !" cried Junior, flashing fire he would repent of in five minutes. Roy's reflections on the house seemed to him an insult to his elder brother, of whom he was so proud. " You brung up your girl 'cording to your notion, I reckon ; what's the reason, then, she must git into a row all of teaching in a quiet room, some consid'able distance from the smell of whisky barr'ls ?"

" What's that, Junior ; what's that you're saying ?" asked Samuel — and the blacksmith thought that the voice of the old man trembled, that his face grew pale, and he was sorry he had spoken.

" Nothing," said he, dropping Robin's bridle, and turning half away.

" You said a row — what ? Who's?"

" Nothing ; only she's had a misunderstanding time with Carradine — 'twould take a angel to get on peaceable with him. Yes, sir, it would ! And if Randy wouldn't take it from him, there ain't the man or woman in this town '11 wonder. So she's gone hum, and there's to be a new teacher. That's what Ethan Allen said, but they don't know nothing, there children, and I'm thinking you'll find it all right when you get up to the farm. I'm a blasted fool for trying to give you information I ain't got myself ! That's all Mr. Roy."

I'm beholden to you, Junior, for setting Robin right. Oet up, Robin— we'll be home now, sudden," and under the

THE BOMB-BURST. IT

tightened rein and the mild voice's injunction, the old gray trotted off.

" It's a tongue," said he, while his visage lengthened, " that never wagged to purpose but once, or I disremember. That was when I tolled old Carradine to take his horse to the devil to be shod, then he'd be sure to get his work well done. But he's a curious critter. He took it for a compliment, I dobelieve. And it's certain I've had more dollars from him than quarters from another farmer round. It's fair to hear both sides ! I wouldn't want any one chastising of my boy like as I would myself, or mother. Randy's overly quick. But, there ! it's none of my business. I'm sorry for old Sam."

Robin's gentle trot brought the rider duly up the road and down the lane. Randy had been waiting the return with an anxiety from which she vainly sought to rid herself. She had rehearsed again and again the story that must be told, and, while adhering to the truth, she had modified and rearranged the statement of ugly facts which any showing must prove ugly. The sound .of Robin's hoofs, striking against the stones in the lane, would have disturbed any meditated version of the story. She knew, as well as. her father, that peace with Mr. Carradine was all-important — that dismissal from the school, under these circumstances, was not only disgrace to her, but might be ruin also. And she must tell him that war had been waged, and that Mr. Carradine had punished her for her school discipline. Her pride was outraged and resentful ; and yet that did not hinder her from seeing other results that could not fail to move her more than even the displeasure of the neigborhood, and her own humiliation. She knew how painful to her father was all strife and misunderstanding , her work in this world had never been that of a peacemaker, but no disturbance in which she had ever taken a part had an aspect serious as this. Sick at heart, she turned away from her reflections as her father rode past the kitchen window, on his way to the barn ; the tea-kettle was boiling, she had only the tea to make — all would be ready for him when he should come in. And now he came in his usual slow, cautious way, that left nothing unheeded or undone ; at the spring he stopped to drink, in the shed to wash his hands — this ceremony seemed to be almost a rite with him, at least he performed it with an Israelitish scrupulosity — but at last he was sitting in his usual place, and Miranda was pouring tea for him, as she had done now these ten years, since her mother died. But never had the father and daughter sat down at that board under such constraint as at this moment oppressed them. The one thought that stood out conspicuous beyond others, in the mind of Samuel, was Junior Jobson's reproachful taunt ; certainly he had brought up Miranda since her mother's death ; he had not lived unforgetful of his obligations as a Christian man, and the child's conversion had been the burden of his daily prayers. Jobson's words seemed to show him that Miranda did no credit to his teaching. He knew her faults — knew they were many — and that they were precisely such as would expose her to suspicions ; he knew, besides, that she was greatly better than she seemed ; but, perhaps he had been to blame ; maybe he had not done for her what he might — this thought it was that made his gravity so solemn that Miranda, from moment to moment, was persuaded more and more that what she had to confess was no secret from him.

" Father," she said, " did you hear any bad news down in Brighton ?"

" No — no. It was a stirring time down there — noise enough, and crowds o' people. To see the balloon, of course —to see the balloon.3'

" I didn't know about it. What balloon ?"

" The mammoth, they called it, some such name. There was a party went up in it. I wish you had been with me, Randy. It was a sight to see."

" It wasn't to be," she answered with a sigh. " I had to stay home, and quarrel with Mr. Carradine ! First or last, it's got to come — and there it is ! We might have expected it — but if we didn't, there it is, just the same."

"Have you quit the school, then, Randy ?"

" Quit the school ! — he put me out of it ! He's going to get a new teacher !"

Randy's face turned red and pale while she spoke thus, but she did not for an instant shrink from her father's steadfast gaze.

"Put you out of it]" asked he. "And did he do it, Randy 1"

" Told me to go, to be sure — "

" Oh — I thought, if he laid hands on you," said the old man, and it almost seemed as if something like anger and threatening were in the tone of his voice, but the hint at passion was so very remote and vague, that it hardly thrilled the heart of Randy.

"Oh, as to that," said she, " he knew better. I don't think there's danger of that from any one. I'm safe so far. But they'll all say what they like. Because I punished Harry Johnson."

" Randy, it's good to bear the yoke in your youth."

" Father, what's that to do with it 1 Mr. Carradine — you know what he is. It isn't for myself I care. There's the mortgage, and living right here under his feet, and him to trample on you if it suits him ; and there's nothing would suit him better than to worry old age and insult women !"

" There ! don't!" exclaimed the old man, terrified at the spirit with which Miranda spoke, obliged as ho was to own that there was some truth in what she said. "You know, daughter, what we talked about 'tother night, and what you owned and promised. It's getting the upper hand — put it down — put it down."