Mrs. Skaggs's Husbands Page #8

"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

								

walked toward the lodge, asked, "Why isn't he a gent?

"No gent--beggin' your pardin, sir--'ud guy a man in sarvis, sir. Takes
me 'ands so, sir, as I sits in the rumble at the gate, and puts 'em
downd so, sir, and sez, 'Put 'em in your pocket, young man,--or is it
a road agint you expects to see, that you 'olds hup your 'ands, hand
crosses 'em like to that,' sez he. ''Old 'ard,' sez he, 'on the short
curves, or you'll bust your precious crust,' sez he. And hasks for you,
sir. This way, sir."

They entered the lodge. Islington hurried down the long Gothic hall, and
opened the library door.

In an arm-chair, in the centre of the room, a man sat apparently
contemplating a large, stiff, yellow hat with an enormous brim, that
was placed on the floor before him. His hands rested lightly between his
knees, but one foot was drawn up at the side of his chair in a peculiar
manner. In the first glance that Islington gave, the attitude in some
odd, irreconcilable way suggested a brake. In another moment he dashed
across the room, and, holding out both hands, cried, "Yuba Bill!"

The man rose, caught Islington by the shoulders, wheeled him round,
hugged him, felt of his ribs like a good-natured ogre, shook his hands
violently, laughed, and then said, somewhat ruefully, "And how ever did
you know me?"

Seeing that Yuba Bill evidently regarded himself as in some elaborate
disguise, Islington laughed, and suggested that it must have been
instinct.

"And you?" said Bill, holding him at arm's length, and surveying him
critically,--"you!--toe think--toe think--a little cuss no higher nor a
trace, a boy as I've flicked outer the road with a whip time in agin, a
boy ez never hed much clothes to speak of, turned into a sport!"

Islington remembered, with a thrill of ludicrous terror, that he still
wore his evening dress.

"Turned," continued Yuba Bill, severely,--"turned into a restyourant
waiter,--a garsong! Eh, Alfonse, bring me a patty de foy grass and an
omelette, demme!"

"Dear old chap!" said Islington, laughing, and trying to put his
hand over Bill's bearded mouth, "but you--YOU don't look exactly like
yourself! You're not well, Bill." And indeed, as he turned toward the
light, Bill's eyes appeared cavernous, and his hair and beard thickly
streaked with gray.

"Maybe it's this yer harness," said Bill, a little anxiously. "When I
hitches on this yer curb" (he indicated a massive gold watch-chain with
enormous links), "and mounts this 'morning star,'" (he pointed to a very
large solitaire pin which had the appearance of blistering his whole
shirt-front), "it kinder weighs heavy on me, Tommy. Otherwise I'm all
right, my boy,--all right." But he evaded Islington's keen eye, and
turned from the light.

"You have something to tell me, Bill," said Islington, suddenly, and
with almost brusque directness; "out with it."

Bill did not speak, but moved uneasily toward his hat.

"You didn't come three thousand miles, without a word of warning, to
talk to me of old times," said Islington, more kindly, "glad as I would
have been to see you. It isn't your way, Bill, and you know it. We shall
not be disturbed here," he added, in reply to an inquiring glance that
Bill directed to the door, "and I am ready to hear you."

"Firstly, then," said Bill, drawing his chair nearer Islington, "answer
me one question, Tommy, fair and square, and up and down."

"Go on," said Islington, with a slight smile.

"Ef I should say to you, Tommy,--say to you to-day, right here, you must
come with me,--you must leave this place for a month, a year, two years
maybe, perhaps forever,--is there anything that 'ud keep you,--anything,
my boy, ez you couldn't leave?"

"No," said Tommy, quietly; "I am only visiting here. I thought of
leaving Greyport to-day."

"But if I should say to you, Tommy, come with me on a pasear to Chiny,
to Japan, to South Ameriky, p'r'aps, could you go?"

"Yes," said Islington, after a slight pause.

"Thar isn't ennything," said Bill, drawing a little closer, and lowering
his voice confidentially,--"ennything in the way of a young woman--you
understand, Tommy--ez would keep you? They're mighty sweet about here;
and whether a man is young or old, Tommy, there's always some woman as
is brake or whip to him!"

In a certain excited bitterness that characterized the delivery of
this abstract truth, Bill did not see that the young man's face flushed
slightly as he answered "No."

"Then listen. It's seven years ago, Tommy, thet I was working one o'
the Pioneer coaches over from Gold Hill. Ez I stood in front o' the
stage-office, the sheriff o' the county comes to me, and he sez, 'Bill,'
sez he, 'I've got a looney chap, as I'm in charge of, taking 'im down to
the 'sylum in Stockton. He'z quiet and peaceable, but the insides don't
like to ride with him. Hev you enny objection to give him a lift on the
box beside you?' I sez, 'No; put him up.' When I came to go and get up
on that box beside him, that man, Tommy,--that man sittin' there, quiet
and peaceable, was--Johnson!

"He didn't know me, my boy," Yuba Bill continued, rising and putting his
hands on Tommy's shoulders,--"he didn't know me. He didn't know nothing
about you, nor Angel's, nor the quicksilver lode, nor even his own name.
He said his name was Skaggs, but I knowd it was Johnson. Thar was times,
Tommy, you might have knocked me off that box with a feather; thar
was times when if the twenty-seven passengers o' that stage hed found
theirselves swimming in the American River five hundred feet below
the road, I never could have explained it satisfactorily to the
company,--never.

"The sheriff said," Bill continued hastily, as if to preclude any
interruption from the young man,--"the sheriff said he had been
brought into Murphy's Camp three years before, dripping with water, and
sufferin' from perkussion of the brain, and had been cared for generally
by the boys 'round. When I told the sheriff I knowed 'im, I got him to
leave him in my care; and I took him to 'Frisco, Tommy, to 'Frisco,
and I put him in charge o' the best doctors there, and paid his board
myself. There was nothin' he didn't have ez he wanted. Don't look that
way, my dear boy, for God's sake, don't!"

"O Bill," said Islington, rising and staggering to the window, "why did
you keep this from me?"

"Why?" said Bill, turning on him savagely,--"why? because I warn't a
fool. Thar was you, winnin' your way in college; thar was YOU, risin' in
the world, and of some account to it; yer was an old bummer, ez good ez
dead to it,--a man ez oughter been dead afore! a man ez never denied it!
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