Salomy Jane's Kiss Page #3

"Salomy Jane's Kiss" is a short story by Bret Harte that explores themes of love, identity, and social dynamics in the American West during the Gold Rush era. The narrative centers on Salomy Jane, a strong-willed and independent woman, and her romantic encounter with a charming stranger. Through rich descriptions and vivid characterizations, Harte captures the tension between societal expectations and personal desires, ultimately leading to a poignant and memorable conclusion that highlights the complexities of human emotions amidst the rugged backdrop of frontier life.

• Short story

								

the grade pulled up short, just like a vaquero agin a lassoed bull,
almost draggin' the man leadin' him off his hoss, and then skyuted up
the grade. For that matter, on that hoss o' Judge Boompointer's he mout
have dragged the whole posse of 'em down on their knees ef he liked!
Sarved 'em right, too. Instead of stringin' him up afore the door, or
shootin' him on sight, they must allow to take him down afore the hull
committee 'for an example.' 'Example' be blowed! Ther' 's example enough
when some stranger comes unbeknownst slap onter a man hanged to a tree
and plugged full of holes. THAT'S an example, and HE knows what it
means. Wot more do ye want? But then those Vigilantes is allus clingin'
and hangin' onter some mere scrap o' the law they're pretendin' to
despise. It makes me sick! Why, when Jake Myers shot your ole Aunt
Viney's second husband, and I laid in wait for Jake afterwards in the
Butternut Hollow, did I tie him to his hoss and fetch him down to your
Aunt Viney's cabin 'for an example' before I plugged him? No!" in deep
disgust. "No! Why, I just meandered through the wood, careless-like,
till he comes out, and I just rode up to him, and I said"--

But Salomy Jane had heard her father's story before. Even one's dearest
relatives are apt to become tiresome in narration. "I know, dad," she
interrupted; "but this yer man,--this hoss-thief,--did HE get clean away
without gettin' hurt at all?"

"He did, and unless he's fool enough to sell the hoss he kin keep away,
too. So ye see, ye can't ladle out purp stuff about a 'dyin' stranger'
to Rube. He won't swaller it."

"All the same, dad," returned the girl cheerfully, "I reckon to say it,
and say MORE; I'll tell him that ef HE manages to get away too, I'll
marry him--there! But ye don't ketch Rube takin' any such risks in
gettin' ketched, or in gettin' away arter!"

Madison Clay smiled grimly, pushed back his chair, rose, dropped a
perfunctory kiss on his daughter's hair, and, taking his shotgun from
the corner, departed on a peaceful Samaritan mission to a cow who had
dropped a calf in the far pasture. Inclined as he was to Reuben's wooing
from his eligibility as to property, he was conscious that he was sadly
deficient in certain qualities inherent in the Clay family. It certainly
would be a kind of mesalliance.

Left to herself, Salomy Jane stared a long while at the coffee-pot, and
then called the two squaws who assisted her in her household duties, to
clear away the things while she went up to her own room to make her bed.
Here she was confronted with a possible prospect of that proverbial bed
she might be making in her willfulness, and on which she must lie,
in the photograph of a somewhat serious young man of refined
features--Reuben Waters--stuck in her window-frame. Salomy Jane smiled
over her last witticism regarding him and enjoyed, it, like your true
humorist, and then, catching sight of her own handsome face in the
little mirror, smiled again. But wasn't it funny about that horse-thief
getting off after all? Good Lordy! Fancy Reuben hearing he was alive and
going round with that kiss of hers set on his lips! She laughed again, a
little more abstractedly. And he had returned it like a man, holding her
tight and almost breathless, and he going to be hung the next minute!
Salomy Jane had been kissed at other times, by force, chance, or
stratagem. In a certain ingenuous forfeit game of the locality known as
"I'm a-pinin'," many had "pined" for a "sweet kiss" from Salomy Jane,
which she had yielded in a sense of honor and fair play. She had never
been kissed like this before--she would never again; and yet the man was
alive! And behold, she could see in the mirror that she was blushing!

She should hardly know him again. A young man with very bright eyes,
a flushed and sunburnt cheek, a kind of fixed look in the face, and no
beard; no, none that she could feel. Yet he was not at all like Reuben,
not a bit. She took Reuben's picture from the window, and laid it on her
workbox. And to think she did not even know this young man's name! That
was queer. To be kissed by a man whom she might never know! Of course
he knew hers. She wondered if he remembered it and her. But of course he
was so glad to get off with his life that he never thought of anything
else. Yet she did not give more than four or five minutes to these
speculations, and, like a sensible girl, thought of something else. Once
again, however, in opening the closet, she found the brown holland
gown she had worn on the day before; thought it very unbecoming, and
regretted that she had not worn her best gown on her visit to Red Pete's
cottage. On such an occasion she really might have been more impressive.

When her father came home that night she asked him the news. No, they
had NOT captured the second horse-thief, who was still at large. Judge
Boompointer talked of invoking the aid of the despised law. It remained,
then, to see whether the horse-thief was fool enough to try to get rid
of the animal. Red Pete's body had been delivered to his widow. Perhaps
it would only be neighborly for Salomy Jane to ride over to the funeral.
But Salomy Jane did not take to the suggestion kindly, nor yet did she
explain to her father that, as the other man was still living, she
did not care to undergo a second disciplining at the widow's hands.
Nevertheless, she contrasted her situation with that of the widow with
a new and singular satisfaction. It might have been Red Pete who had
escaped. But he had not the grit of the nameless one. She had already
settled his heroic quality.

"Ye ain't harkenin' to me, Salomy."

Salomy Jane started.

"Here I'm askin' ye if ye've see that hound Phil Larrabee sneaking by
yer today?"

Salomy Jane had not. But she became interested and self-reproachful,
for she knew that Phil Larrabee was one of her father's enemies. "He
wouldn't dare to go by here unless he knew you were out," she said
quickly.

"That's what gets me," he said, scratching his grizzled head. "I've been
kind o' thinkin' o' him all day, and one of them Chinamen said he saw
him at Sawyer's Crossing. He was a kind of friend o' Pete's wife. That's
why I thought yer might find out ef he'd been there." Salomy Jane
grew more self-reproachful at her father's self-interest in her
"neighborliness." "But that ain't all," continued Mr. Clay. "Thar was
tracks over the far pasture that warn't mine. I followed them, and they
went round and round the house two or three times, ez ef they mout hev
bin prowlin', and then I lost 'em in the woods again. It's just like
that sneakin' hound Larrabee to hev bin lyin' in wait for me and afraid
to meet a man fair and square in the open."

"You just lie low, dad, for a day or two more, and let me do a little
prowlin'," said the girl, with sympathetic indignation in her dark eyes.
"Ef it's that skunk, I'll spot him soon enough and let you know whar

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