Barker's Luck Page #4

"Barker's Luck" is a short story by Bret Harte, set in the American West during the Gold Rush era. The narrative follows the character of Jim Barker, a down-and-out miner who experiences a series of misadventures while trying to strike it rich. With Harte's signature blend of humor and poignant insights into human nature, the story explores themes of luck, perseverance, and the complexities of fortune. As Barker navigates the challenges of life in a boomtown, he ultimately learns important lessons about failure, friendship, and the unpredictable nature of luck.

• Short story

								

hurriedly; "perhaps I had better consult my partners first; in fact,"
he added, with a gratuitous truthfulness all his own, "I hardly know
whether they will take it of me, so I think I'll wait."

Carter was staggered; this would clearly not do! He recovered himself
with an insinuating smile. "You pulled me up too short, Mr. Barker;
I'm a business man, but hang it all! what's that among friends? If you
reckoned I GAVE MY WORD at two hundred--why, I'm there! Say no more
about it--the claim's yours. I'll make you out a bill of sale at once."

"But," hesitated Barker, "you see I haven't got the money yet, and--"

"Money!" echoed Carter bluntly, "what's that among friends? Gimme your
note at thirty days--that's good enough for ME. An' we'll settle the
whole thing now--nothing like finishing a job while you're about it."
And before the bewildered and doubtful visitor could protest, he had
filled up a promissory note for Barker's signature and himself signed a
bill of sale for the property. "And I reckon, Mr. Barker, you'd like
to take your partners by surprise about this little gift of yours," he
added smilingly. "Well, my messenger is starting for the Gulch in five
minutes; he's going by your cabin, and he can just drop this bill o'
sale, as a kind o' settled fact, on 'em afore they can say anything,
see! There's nothing like actin' on the spot in these sort of things.
And don't you hurry 'bout them either! You see, you sorter owe us
a friendly call--havin' always dropped inter the hotel only as a
customer--so ye'll stop here over luncheon, and I reckon, as the old
woman is busy, why Kitty will try to make the time pass till then by
playin' for you on her new pianner."

Delighted, yet bewildered by the unexpected invitation and opportunity,
Barker mechanically signed the promissory note, and as mechanically
addressed the envelope of the bill of sale to Demorest, which Carter
gave to the messenger. Then he followed his host across the hall to the
apartment known as "Miss Kitty's parlor." He had often heard of it as a
sanctum impervious to the ordinary guest. Whatever functions the young
girl assumed at the hotel and among her father's boarders, it was
vaguely understood that she dropped them on crossing that sacred
threshold, and became "MISS Carter." The county judge had been
entertained there, and the wife of the bank manager. Barker's admission
there was consequently an unprecedented honor.

He cast his eyes timidly round the room, redolent and suggestive in
various charming little ways of the young girl's presence. There was
the cottage piano which had been brought up in sections on the backs of
mules from the foot of the mountain; there was a crayon head of Minerva
done by the fair occupant at the age of twelve; there was a profile
of herself done by a traveling artist; there were pretty little china
ornaments and many flowers, notably a faded but still scented woodland
shrub which Barker had presented to her two weeks ago, and over which
Miss Kitty had discreetly thrown her white handkerchief as he entered. A
wave of hope passed over him at the act, but it was quickly spent as Mr.
Carter's roughly playful voice introduced him:

"Ye kin give Mr. Barker a tune or two to pass time afore lunch, Kitty.
You kin let him see what you're doing in that line. But you'll have to
sit up now, for this young man's come inter some property, and will
be sasheying round in 'Frisco afore long with a biled shirt and a
stovepipe, and be givin' the go-by to Boomville. Well! you young folks
will excuse me for a while, as I reckon I'll just toddle over and get
the recorder to put that bill o' sale on record. Nothin' like squaring
things to onct, Mr. Barker."

As he slipped away, Barker felt his heart sink. Carter had not only
bluntly forestalled him with the news and taken away his excuse for a
confidential interview, but had put an ostentatious construction on his
visit. What could she think of him now? He stood ashamed and embarrassed
before her.

But Miss Kitty, far from noticing his embarrassment in a sudden concern
regarding the "horrid" untidiness of the room, which made her cheeks
quite pink in one spot and obliged her to take up and set down in
exactly the same place several articles, was exceedingly delighted. In
fact, she did not remember ever having been so pleased before in her
life! These things were always so unexpected! Just like the weather, for
instance. It was quite cool last night--and now it was just stifling.
And so dusty! Had Mr. Barker noticed the heat coming from the Gulch? Or
perhaps, being a rich man, he--with a dazzling smile--was above walking
now. It was so kind of him to come here first and tell her father.

"I really wanted to tell only--YOU, Miss Carter," stammered Barker. "You
see--" he hesitated. But Miss Kitty saw perfectly. He wanted to tell
HER, and, seeing her, he asked for HER FATHER! Not that it made the
slightest difference to her, for her father would have been sure to
have told her. It was also kind of her father to invite him to luncheon.
Otherwise she might not have seen him before he left Boomville.

But this was more than Barker could stand. With the same desperate
directness and simplicity with which he had approached her father, he
now blurted out his whole heart to her. He told her how he had loved
her hopelessly from the first time that they had spoken together at the
church picnic. Did she remember it? How he had sat and worshiped her,
and nothing else, at church! How her voice in the church choir had
sounded like an angel's; how his poverty and his uncertain future had
kept him from seeing her often, lest he should be tempted to betray his
hopeless passion. How as soon as he realized that he had a position,
that his love for her need not make her ridiculous to the world's eyes,
he came to tell her ALL. He did not even dare to hope! But she would
HEAR him at least, would she not?

Indeed, there was no getting away from his boyish, simple, outspoken
declaration. In vain Kitty smiled, frowned, glanced at her pink cheeks
in the glass, and stopped to look out of the window. The room was filled
with his love--it was encompassing her--and, despite his shy attitude,
seemed to be almost embracing her. But she managed at last to turn upon
him a face that was now as white and grave as his own was eager and
glowing.

"Sit down," she said gently.

He did so obediently, but wonderingly. She then opened the piano and
took a seat upon the music stool before it, placed some loose sheets
of music in the rack, and ran her fingers lightly over the keys. Thus
intrenched, she let her hands fall idly in her lap, and for the first
time raised her eyes to his.

"Now listen to me--be good and don't interrupt! There!--not so near; you
can hear what I have to say well enough where you are. That will do."
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes