Mrs. Skaggs's Husbands Page #6

"Mrs. Skaggs's Husbands" is a humorous and insightful short story by Bret Harte, set in the American West during the late 19th century. The narrative follows Mrs. Skaggs, a resilient and resourceful woman who has had multiple husbands, each with their own unique quirks and characteristics. The story explores themes of gender roles, love, and the complexity of relationships, all while offering a satirical look at frontier life. Harte's deft storytelling and vibrant characters make this tale a delightful reflection on the challenges and triumphs of marriage in a rugged landscape.

• Short story

								

lying on a boulder on the river-bank by outside passengers of the
Wingdam night coach, and when Finn of Robinson's Ferry admitted to have
fired three shots from a revolver at a dark object struggling in the
water near the ferry, which he "suspicioned" to be a bear, the question
seemed to be settled. Whatever might have been the fallibility of
his judgment, of the accuracy of his aim there could be no doubt. The
general belief that Johnson, after possessing himself of the muleteer's
pistol, could have run amuck, gave a certain retributive justice to this
story, which rendered it acceptable to the camp.

It was also characteristic of Angel's that no feeling of envy or
opposition to the good fortune of Tommy Islington prevailed there. That
he was thoroughly cognizant, from the first, of Johnson's discovery,
that his attentions to him were interested, calculating, and speculative
was, however, the general belief of the majority,--a belief that,
singularly enough, awakened the first feelings of genuine respect for
Tommy ever shown by the camp. "He ain't no fool; Yuba Bill seed thet
from the first," said the barkeeper. It was Yuba Bill who applied for
the guardianship of Tommy after his accession to Johnson's claim, and on
whose bonds the richest men of Calaveras were represented. It was
Yuba Bill, also, when Tommy was sent East to finish his education,
accompanied him to San Francisco, and, before parting with his charge on
the steamer's deck, drew him aside, and said, "Ef at enny time you want
enny money, Tommy, over and 'bove your 'lowance, you kin write; but ef
you'll take my advice," he added, with a sudden huskiness mitigating
the severity of his voice, "you'll forget every derned ole spavined,
string-halted bummer as you ever met or knew at Angel's,--ev'ry one,
Tommy,--ev'ry one! And so--boy--take care of yourself--and--and God
bless ye, and pertikerly d--n me for a first-class A 1 fool." It was
Yuba Bill, also, after this speech, glared savagely around, walked down
the crowded gang-plank with a rigid and aggressive shoulder, picked a
quarrel with his cabman, and, after bundling that functionary into his
own vehicle, took the reins himself, and drove furiously to his hotel.
"It cost me," said Bill, recounting the occurrence somewhat later at
Angel's,--"it cost me a matter o' twenty dollars afore the jedge the
next mornin'; but you kin bet high thet I taught them 'Frisco chaps
suthin new about drivin'. I didn't make it lively in Montgomery Street
for about ten minutes,--O no!"

And so by degrees the two original locaters of the great Cinnabar lode
faded from the memory of Angel's, and Calaveras knew them no more. In
five years their very names had been forgotten; in seven the name of the
town was changed; in ten the town itself was transported bodily to the
hillside, and the chimney of the Union Smelting Works by night flickered
like a corpse-light over the site of Johnson's cabin, and by day
poisoned the pure spices of the pines. Even the Mansion House was
dismantled, and the Wingdam stage deserted the highway for a shorter cut
by Quicksilver City. Only the bared crest of Deadwood Hill, as of
old, sharply cut the clear blue sky, and at its base, as of old, the
Stanislaus River, unwearied and unresting, babbled, whispered, and
hurried away to the sea.

A midsummer's day was breaking lazily on the Atlantic. There was not
wind enough to move the vapors in the foggy offing, but where the vague
distance heaved against a violet sky there were dull red streaks that,
growing brighter, presently painted out the stars. Soon the brown rocks
of Greyport appeared faintly suffused, and then the whole ashen line of
dead coast was kindled, and the lighthouse beacons went out one by one.
And then a hundred sail, before invisible, started out of the vapory
horizon, and pressed toward the shore. It was morning, indeed, and some
of the best society in Greyport, having been up all night, were thinking
it was time to go to bed.

For as the sky flashed brighter it fired the clustering red roofs of
a picturesque house by the sands that had all that night, from open
lattice and illuminated balcony, given light and music to the shore.
It glittered on the broad crystal spaces of a great conservatory that
looked upon an exquisite lawn, where all night long the blended odors
of sea and shore had swooned under the summer moon. But it wrought
confusion among the colored lamps on the long veranda, and startled
a group of ladies and gentlemen who had stepped from the drawing-room
window to gaze upon it. It was so searching and sincere in its way,
that, as the carriage of the fairest Miss Gillyflower rolled away, that
peerless young woman, catching sight of her face in the oval mirror,
instantly pulled down the blinds, and, nestling the whitest shoulders in
Greyport against the crimson cushions, went to sleep.

"How haggard everybody is! Rose, dear, you look almost intellectual,"
said Blanche Masterman.

"I hope not," said Rose, simply. "Sunrises are very trying. Look how
that pink regularly puts out Mrs. Brown-Robinson, hair and all!"

"The angels," said the Count de Nugat, with a polite gesture toward
the sky, "must have find these celestial combinations very bad for the
toilette."

"They're safe in white,--except when they sit for their pictures in
Venice," said Blanche. "How fresh Mr. Islington looks! It's really
uncomplimentary to us."

"I suppose the sun recognizes in me no rival," said the young man,
demurely. "But," he added, "I have lived much in the open air, and
require very little sleep."

"How delightful!" said Mrs. Brown-Robinson, in a low, enthusiastic
voice and a manner that held the glowing sentiment of sixteen and the
practical experiences of thirty-two in dangerous combination;--"how
perfectly delightful! What sunrises you must have seen, and in such
wild, romantic places! How I envy you! My nephew was a classmate of
yours, and has often repeated to me those charming stories you tell of
your adventures. Won't you tell some now? Do! How you must tire of us
and this artificial life here, so frightfully artificial, you know" (in
a confidential whisper); "and then to think of the days when you roamed
the great West with the Indians, and the bisons, and the grizzly bears!
Of course, you have seen grizzly bears and bisons?"

"Of course he has, dear," said Blanche, a little pettishly, throwing
a cloak over her shoulders, and seizing her chaperon by the arm; "his
earliest infancy was soothed by bisons, and he proudly points to the
grizzly bear as the playmate of his youth. Come with me, and I'll tell
you all about it. How good it is of you," she added, sotto voce, to
Islington, as he stood by the carriage,--"how perfectly good it is of
you to be like those animals you tell us of, and not know your full
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