The Juggernaut of the moderns; a novel

II

“When the world shall have grown ripe for it, in heaven’s own time, a new truth will be revealed, in order to establish the whole relation between men and women on a surer ground of mutual happi* ness .” — The Scarlet Letter

“When God formed worlds he failed to make A path for erring feet to take Back into light and peace again,

Unless they were the feet of men.”

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox

BOSTON

OCT 1 r fit

1 ' '

■TO I

ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY

COPLEY SQUARE 1896 t

COPYRIGHT, 1896,

By ROSA HUDSPETH .

AI,!. RIGHTS RESERVED.

TH. '

ARENA PRESS.

DEDICATED

TO

LUCY M. BUSENBARK, M. D.,

MY BEST friend:

A woman whose knowledge of life has taught her a noble generosity ^ and a Christ-like jtisHce which takes no cognizance of sex or caste ; a woman brave, broad-minded and pure, who recognizes but one stafidard of morals for women and for 7nen, in practice as in theory ; a woma^i who is 7iot afraid to sfeak to or to aid a fellow-sister upon ivhose brow the world has set its seal of co7idemnation.

Preface

If the following story does not teach men a lesson in self-control and women a finer sense of justice toward their fellowwomen, it will fail in its mission.

ROSA HUDSPETH.

Des Moines, Ia., 1896.

Ube JuGoernaut of

tbe fB>obern8.

Chapter I

After the fashion of all Western towns which suddenly spring into existence on the plains, Buffalo City lay scattered over a wide stretch of land. Main Street, which ran zigzag north and south, was bordered on either side by a motley collection of stone buildings and dwelling houses, diversified now and then by a one-story structure built in the style of an old-fashioned farmhouse. Here and there a large brick building stood out in bold contrast with the sheds standing near by.

A queer vehicle, constructed like a drosky, and drawn by a team of lank mules,

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moved slowly up the sandy road. A cowboy, his wide hat set daringly upon his head, a red handkerchief tied in a four-inhand knot about his neck, rode wildly through the streets, spurring and whipping his horse as if he were on the range in pursuit of some vicious animal. Down Main Street idly along with the crowd moved a group of Indians. Conspicuous among them was an old chief, dressed in a navy-blue uniform trimmed with yellow buttons; in his hatband he wore a bright tuft of feathers; holding above his head a child’s parasol made of red silk and bordered with lace, he pushed his way along with the warlike tread of a Douglas. Behind him came a squaw, her shawl thrown around her shoulders, forming a sort of basket for her papoose. In her arms, wrapped loosely in a piece of canvas, she carried the shoulder of a mutton; to her right foot, was attached by a string a little Indian girl about three years of age.

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Pulling at the string with a satisfied air she trudged on, while her liege master held his parasol above his head, glancing anon at his own reflection in the show windows and smoking vigorously at a long brass-mounted meerschaum.

In every direction rolled miles and miles of prairie land. An occasional shanty or sod house rose half palpably in the distance. Away off through the shimmer in the clear air lay a line of hills which grew slowly into a chain of mountains. These were the famous Black Hills, and Buffalo City lies in that portion of the country known as the Sand Hills.

It was on Main Street, at the close of the “ eighties,” that a young woman pressed through this throng with the bearing of one not accustomed to Western scenes. She was dressed in a suit of black broadcloth, made in the prevailing style. A little turban, set jauntily upon her head, was held in place by a black veil with big red

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dots. She walked along, the cynosure of all eyes. Men on the street stopped talking to look after her and ask questions; dapper young clerks left their counters and hazarded many opinions concerning her identit}’. Every now and then from some show window the curtain was deftly drawn aside although no hand or eye was visible. In the eyes of the Buffalo residents she represented the wealthy and aristocratic population of some metropolis in the East. But one used to the world and its ways would have guessed, by the poise of her head and the quick, energetic swing of her steps, that she was one of that constantly increasing class now known as self-sustaining women. She might be a clerk, a teacher, or a dressmaker.

Going into a large bank which stood on a corner, she stepped up to a gentleman whose appearance indicated that his position in the establishment was not a subordinate one. He was small, sleek and aris-

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tocratic looking. A dark beard gave to his face, which was already pale, an unusual pallor, and at the same time increased the lustre of his eyes, which were blue and deep-set. Dark semicircles below, and dark brows above, made the eyes, though really long and narrow, seem large and heavy.

“ May I trouble you to tell me where I can find the office of Bitsell & Harland?” she queried, blushing under the scrutiny of the gentleman with the dark brows.

“ Certainly,” returned the man, reaching for his hat and nearly losing his balance in his efforts to appear polite, “ come this way please.” Stepping out into the street he pointed to a door and said:

“ Take the first door to the right at the head of the stairs. Is there anything further that I can do for you ? You are evidently a stranger here and, if I can be of service to you, it will afford me great pleasure, I assure you. I am Mr. McAnnulty,

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president of the First National Bank of this place.”

He lifted his hat and bowed very low.

The girl acknowledged this introduction by a slight inclination of the head and, muttering a confused Thank you,” she turned in the direction indicated. The banker stood regarding her with interest, until she reached the top of the stairs.

There a large sign, “ Bitsell & Harland,” promised that a turn of the doorknob would bring her into the office of these gentlemen.

As she entered a tall man with a smooth, effeminate face, arose and came toward her.

“ Good-afternoon, madam,” he said bowing with professional dignity and placing a chair before her.

“Are you Judge Bitsell.^” she asked, seating herself and noting that the gentleman before her bore himself with an air of distinction. She observed also that his chin was marked by a deep dimple.

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“No,” replied the man, “I am Harland, Bitsell’s partner. Did you want to see him personally ? If not, I represent the firm. What can I do for you ? ”

He took in at a glance the soft curves of his visitor’s neck and the evident look of refinement.

“ I — yes — I wrote you some time ago, perhaps you will remember — about a position as stenographer. My name is Catherine Huntley.”

A modest blush crept over her cheeks and her tones were full of embarrassment. Harland was indeed surprised, for he had at first sight supposed her to be a client of means and position. He now looked at her critically, his manner evincing more than ordinary interest.

“ Ah, yes. Miss Huntley; I remember we received your letter some time ago. It is as we told you. There is no stenographer in Buffalo, except the court reporter and a young fellow who, I believe, is

8 XLbc Juggernaut of tbe ^oOerns.

perfecting himself in the study of shorthand and typewriting. There is no one firm here that could afford to employ a regular office assistant, but, taken collectively, the attorneys all have at different times more or less of such work. As we remarked, you might in time work up a considerable practice, if you understand your business pretty well.”

“ I — I have never worked in an office, Mr. Harland,” she said, “ and for a time I should be willing to work for the practice I should get in speed and accuracy. Couldn’t I make some arrangement with your firm to that effect ? ”

After some minutes, during which Harland had carefully studied the general make-up of the girl before him, he asked:

“Where are you from. Miss Huntley? I have forgotten the name of the place ; somewhere in Ohio, I believe?”

“ My home is in Maitland, Ohio, if I can now be said to have a home. My mother tibe Juggernaut of tbe ^oberns. 9

died a year ago and, before her death, I held a position in the public schools. I have since taken a course in business, making a specialty of bookkeeping and stenography, but I was forced to leave school before I finished on account of my health.”

“ Have you relatives or friends in Buffalo, Miss Huntley.^”

“I have no relatives; that is, no near relatives that I know anything about. But I have a friend here who married a few years ago and removed to the West. Her husband is Mr. Willis Bennett; he is an engineer on the B. & M. Possibly you know him.”

“Mr. Bennett.^ Ah yes, he is a member of our lodge. His wife is a tall dignified woman, quite remarkable for her beauty. So I presume you will live with them.?”

“ Yes, sir.”

Every bit of sympathy in Harland’s nature sprang into activity, as he thought of a being so young and charming struggling alone and lo Cbc juggernaut of tbc /Ibobcrns.

unaided amid the fierce competition of hardened men and women of the world. He wanted then and there to pledge her his undying loyalty and friendship, but aloud he said:

“You are a long way from home, Miss Huntley, and — and-you would find much more work in your line in the city, wouldn’t you?”

She hesitated before she spoke:

“Yes, I should; but my health is never good. I cannot stand the dust and smoke and stuffy air of the city. Besides, the cities are overcrowded now with stenographers and typewriters who must work, if they work at all, for a mere pittance. Then caste places restrictions on girls who work, which is annoying to one with a good deal of pride and spirit. I want freedom and fresh air, and I can get neither in the city.”

The lawyer’s interest in the young stranger before him knew no bounds. Her ways and words had charmed him, until he was on the

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II point of offering her a position without further inquiry. But at this point a man of sedate manners, wearing a heavy mustache, sauntered in with an air of easy familiarity. His hat covering the upper portion of his head, there was something peculiarly distinguished in his general appearance; but on removing that article of apparel, he exposed a forehead narrow and receding.

At his entrance Harland arose and in a dignified way said :

“This is Judge Bitsell; judge, let me introduce you to Miss Huntley. She is the young lady from Ohio who wrote us some time ago regarding a position as stenographer. She thinks she’d like to help us in the office till she gets the run of the work. What do you think about it.^ Don’t you think we need some one.^”

Bitsell had acquired the title of judge some years before on being elected to the office of county judge, which position is the next step above that of justice of the

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peace. He was now engaged principally in the practice of law and the buying and selling of real estate. His eyes, which were grey and penetrating, moved at one swift glance from the feathers in Miss Huntley’s hat to the tip of her neatly booted foot.

“Well, yes; we are in need of such services at times. Until quite recently we have had a stenographer, a young man from Omaha, who had charge of our clerical work, but owing to three successive failures in crops, we were obliged to dispense with his services. So times are a little hard just now, and we cannot afford to pay any fancy prices.”

There was a ring of business in the tone which made Catherine wince. Harland moved uneasily in his chair and cleared his throat several times.

“ Oh,” said Catherine apologetically, “ I have never worked in an office; but I can write shorthand quite readily, and for a while I would be willing to g'tve you my

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work, until I have learned the duties of an office assistant and have become familiar with the terms of law.”

“ All right,” rejoined Bitsell getting up, and making a mental note of the sheen in her hair and the red in her cheeks. “ But by having a lady in the office we shall encounter some disadvantages, which we had better consider first. > Men in this country don’t like to do business in the presence of a typewriter. We have no room which might be used for a private secretary, and if we employ Miss Huntley we shall have to make some arrangements to keep her hid. Some clients would rush away in absolute horror at the sight of a woman’s face behind a typewriter.”

They all laughed at this and Bitsell, after placing his hat on his head and putting his right forefinger horizontally across his left forefinger, said :

“ I leave the matter entirely with you and Miss Huntley, flarland. You can doubt-

14 ^bc juggernaut of tbc /Hbobcrns.

less come to some suitable arrangement. Am very busy and must meet a fellow at the courthouse at three.”

Bitsell gone, Harland wheeled his chair around and asked:

“ Will you take a dictation from me now, Miss Huntley ? In that way we can get a better idea of what we can do. You use the Remington, I suppose ? ”

He rose, opened the machine, and laid a piece of paper on the desk. Catherine removed her gloves and took the seat he had prepared for her.

“ I can write barely one hundred words per minute, Mr. Harland, and it may be necessary for me to ask you to adapt your dictation to my rate of speed.”

She smiled sweetly and three little flecks of gold glistened in her front teeth.

“Certainly, certainly. Miss Huntley; if at any time you find you cannot keep up with me, I shall be most happy to speak more slowly. You will find me a most accommodating taskmaster, I dare say.”

Jibe Juggernaut of tbc /Hboberns. 15

While speaking he had sharpened a pencil into a long point which he made nearly as sharp as a needle. Then seating himself near her side, he dictated a letter couched in didactic phrases to some gentleman in the East, wherein he extolled the natural resources of the country and offered for sale four quarter-sections of Western land, bearing an aggregate encumbrance of three thousand dollars.

The letter written, Harland, who had stationed himself at an angle where he could study her without her knowing it, took the work and glancing over the page observed :

“ What would you be willing to work for. Miss Huntley, to begin with ? That is—”

“ Oh ! ” she interrupted, “ I would rather not talk of the financial part until I am accustomed to the work. You see, I have never worked in an office and I know nothing of clerical work, and the practical application of shorthand and typewriting. I i6 Zbc 5uggernaut of tbe /llboberns.

would rather see what I can do before binding myself to a bargain.”

There was something at once so businesslike and yet so feminine in this statement, that Harland could hardly restrain himself from making some wild avowal of his admiration.

Catherine, rising, pulled on her gloves and said:

“When may I come, Mr. Harland?”

“To-morrow morning,” he responded, getting up and following her to the door. At the threshold she met Bitsell, who lifted his hat and passed into the office.

Harland went to the window and, throwing it open, leaned out over the casing and called to Bitsell:

“ Come here, judge. By jove ! there’s the finest-looking girl that ever set foot in this country. Say, what do you think of her any way?”

Bitsell looked out over Harland’s shoulder and eyed her for some seconds.

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“ She has a fine figure and an elegant carriage. Look at the flex and the breadth of her hips, and see how she holds her shoulders. vSay, did you notice her eyes in particular? There’s something back of the outer expression that I could hardly make out. They are very queer eyes in shape and expression — the kind that could make a fellow’s head get dizzy and his blood run hot, you know. She has a fine complexion, too. By jove! some of these Western duffers’ll suffer in the flesh. And you are not the sort of fellow to have a Hebe like that at your side from morning till night! If we have got to have some one in the office, we’d better get a girl with a homely face and scraggy form, or else get that young man at Norton & Wilson’s. You never did have sense enough to refuse a woman anything, if she smiled on you or had a pretty form.”

Catherine’s hair, a peculiar shade of brown, was coiled in a loose knot which, in the rays i8 ^be Juggernaut of tbc /llboberns.

of the sun, shimmered and glinted like a huge nugget of gold.

Harland, ignoring Bitsell’s last remark, broke in with:

“What color do you call that hair?”

“I’d call it sorrel, as the sun strikes it now; I thought when she first came in, it was brown. It’s fine any way. Should think she’d be after a husband instead of a position in an office. She’s probably after both.”

Bitsell looked critically around the room.

“ If we are going to have a woman in here, we have got to clean up. Take that spittoon out, and carry the ashes down stairs, and get a man up here to wash the windows and scrub the floor.”

“Darn it all,” said Harland in a tone of regret, “ if she don’t leave the office as Mrs. Judge Bitsell, I’ll miss my guess! It’s a pretty soft snap to be a judge and a widower, and have a stenographer like that.”

“A married man with half-a-dozen child-

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ren can sometimes walk all around a widower,” returned Bitsell cynically. “ Girls in general don’t take up with me; am too blunt, not devilish enough to suit ’em, I suppose.”

As Catherine turned a corner, the wind lifted her skirts and both men bent forward simultaneously.

“What an ankle!” cried Harland excitedly. “Blast the fashion that hides a curve like that! What is there any way, judge, more immoral about a woman’s ankle than her face, or the ankle of a man?”

“Pshaw!” rejoined the judge, “it’s the same inconsistency that is seen in all human affairs. The Moslem women will not expose their faces. I dare sa}^ the Mohammedan men experience the same sensation toward a veiled face that we do toward an ankle hidden by trailing skirts. If women’s dress were different we shouldn’t be the rascals most of us are.”

“ You are rabid, judge! You had better

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not air your opinions in the presence of Miss Huntley. If you do, your cake will be pretty apt to remain in the dough,” interposed Harland.

Catherine’s form lost to view, the two men left the window, Harland going to the desk, and Bitsell lighting a cigar.

“Pooh!” growled Bitsell sotto voce, “ we’ll get into a fine mess of it all around, if nothing happens to prevent you from exhibiting your characteristic idiocy. We’d better make some arrangements for her to work a part of the time for Mrs. Wollese}’. The girl is here and has got to be looked after by some one. She must have a good deal of ambition and adventure about her to come out to this country without friends or recommendations!”

Juggernaut of tbc /BboDerns.

Chapter II

Catherine attired in a grey princess dress buttoned at the side, her hat and veil now removed, was handsomer than she had been the day before. Her form, round and well developed, would have been perfect in shape and proportions, had not her waist been confined within a limit which destroyed the harmony of its outlines. The dress, without a wrinkle, covered her full and shapely bosom and fell in long, soft lines from her hips to the floor. Except for the extreme slenderness of her waist, she would have been a model for the most fastidious sculptor. Her throat, revealed by a flaring collar, was soft and white as the flesh of an infant; even in her small wrists and tapering hands the same fine texture was visible.

22 Zbe juggernaut of tbc /iboOcrns.

With the manner of one not accustomed to meeting strangers, she took her place at the desk and proceeded to sharpen a pencil. Harland’s eyes with a sly and sleepy expression rested upon the curves of her neck. A slight color suffused her face. His admiration was bold and even vulgar.

“ This is the case of Smith vs. Smith,” he began, coming up and standing at the back of her chair. “ And, by the way, I forgot to ask 3^00 if you object to dictations which savor of nastiness ; there are some cases which fairl}^ reek with things that are not usually talked about between men and women. If 3’ou have any prudish notions regarding such things, sa}’ so now, for this is one of them.”

As she turned her head he thought he saw between the lids of her downcast eyes a swift glance of something like fear. But when she spoke there was no embarrassment in her tones.

I shall not object to anything that

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comes as a matter of business. I want to fit myself for my work, and I’m not going to run away at so little a thing as that! ” She placed an emphasis on “matter of business” which did not escape him. He smiled, fixing his gaze, sly and penetrating, on the contour of her chin.

“ I admire your good sense,” he said, and slowly dictated a petition for a divorce in which the plaintiff prayed for a separation on the ground of adultery. While speaking he had moved between her and the window and stood studying her face as he would some intricate piece of mechanism.

Finishing, he placed a chair by her side and, taking up a number of letters, resumed his dictation. Catherine, her eyes upon the page before her, was conscious that he had moved his chair near enough to bring his knee in contact with her own. A slight tremor, like that produced by electricity, ran through her body. She shifted her position and, scorning to take offense where

^Tbe juggernaut of tbe /ibobcrns.

it was probably not intended, tried to assume an air of utter indifference. But Harland’s attitude was unmistakable. He sat silent, his eyes heavy with admiration, drinking in the fairness of her neck, and the soft outlines of her throat and face. Full of resentment she revolved in her mind. How shall I take him? Ignore his manners entirely, or show him that I think him impertinent and ungentlemanly ?

Harland reached across the desk and, in doing so, let his hand touch her own with the gentlest of pressures. At this juncture a large man wearing a silk hat and carrying a valise came in and handed Harland a card.

“You represent the firm of Crowfoot & Breckinridge ? I am glad to meet you, Mr. Horner; be seated, be seated, pray, and make yourself at home.”

At Horner’s entrance Harland straightened up, assuming his professional airs with the ease of a contortionist. Until this time Catherine had thought that all the gallantry

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and dignity in a man's nature come to the surface in the presence of women. Her face now burned with humiliation and anger as she saw his silly manners give way to dignified urbanity and heard his insinuating accents assume the deep round tones which ordinarily belonged to him.

“ I came in from Omaha, this morning, to see you in regard to some collections which the firm sent you about a year ago,” said Mr. Horner; and the two men entered upon a lengthy conversation concerning dates and facts, while Catherine, seeing the eyes of Mr. Horner fixed upon her, took up a book and absorbed herself in its contents.

Mr. Horner, meanwhile making use of the pauses in the conversation to bestow covert glances upon Catherine, divested his mind of many witticisms. There was a tone in his voice which seemed directed particularly toward the stenographer. He regaled Harland, who nervously shifted his position, with some of the latest stories

26 Zhc Juggernaut of tbe /llbobcrns.

told by travelling men. He spoke of the advantages and disadvantages of the West and, with evident self-admiration, gave a bombastic account of his first trip to the plains.

Harland, though all polite attention, could not conceal the fact that he was bored. At length, with a swaggering air, Mr. Horner arose.

“ I want to borrow your typewriter, Harland; if you’ve no objections. I’d like to use her awhile. I’ve got a lot of letters to get off by the first mail.”

He stood before Catherine with a broad smile of patronage, but she was so interested in her book that she never looked up.

“ None whatever, my dear sir,” responded Harland, “if Miss Huntley does not object.”

Both men looked toward Catherine, but there was nothing in her looks and manners to indicate that -she had heard what the}' were talking about.

“Very well, very well,” said Mr. Horner,

Zbc Juggernaut of tbe /iftoberns. 27

slightly perturbed. “I’ll take a ramble down the street and get some stationery. Will be back in about half-an-hour.”

His tone was full of condescending familiarity.

Mr. Horner gone Harland, with an expression of mock gravity, bowed and said:

“Allow me to congratulate you, Miss Huntley; allow me to congratulate you.”

For an instant a look of bewilderment came into her face, and then she seemed to understand.

“You have at your feet,” he went on, “so to speak, that is, metaphorically speaking, a man who at first sight is mashed, mashed beyond recovery. He would lay his life at your feet, and you never deigned to notice it. Why, the poor fellow would die for you, if you would but condescend to smile on him once. What a conquest!”

“What do you mean,?” she asked, not appearing flattered at his harangue.

“You don’t pretend to say you didn’t see

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his glances of admiration, do you? You know he gave me all that josh for your benefit only.”

“I never see a thing that I don’t 'want to see.” Her voice sounded harsh and curt, and her lip curled into a little expression of contempt which increased his admiration for her a hundred fold. man with his

breath smelling of whiskey, and who stares at a lady because she is in an office, would be quite apt to inspire a feeling deeper than admiration!”

Harland edged very close to her, so close that she moved back a little. From the first he had been struck by the charm of her face and figure. Now, to see that she possessed a highmindedness far above the frivolous girls of her class, placed her at once upon the highest pedestal of his esteem.

“ / don’t swagger; my breath don’t smell of whiskey-and-and you refuse to see that you have an admirer who — ”

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Something in the poise of her head and the look of her eye checked him. He seemed ashamed of himself, and walked to the window and stood gazing down into the street for several minutes. Catherine got up hastily and, slipping into her wrap, put on her bonnet and gloves.

That done, she came up to Harland’s side and bent her face eagerly toward his own.

“ Mr. Harland,” she faltered, “ you will excuse me for an hour, will you not.^ I can’t write that man’s letters; indeed, I can not:’

Her face looked so troubled and childlike that for an instant he cringed like a criminal.

‘‘ Most certainly, I will excuse you; most certainly. Miss Huntley. That fellow is a fool and half-drunk besides. I felt like knocking him down and then kicking him for falling. But, after all, that’s something that you must get used to. I could hardly afford to whip all the men who come in here and stare at you, because — because tlbc juggernaut of tbc /Ibobcrns.

you are a mighty good-looking girl, Miss Huntley; and that is all there is of it. You can’t blame a fellow for looking at you.”