The Reformation of James Reddy Page #5

"The Reformation of James Reddy" is a short story by Bret Harte that explores themes of redemption and transformation in a Western setting. The narrative follows the character of James Reddy, a man with a dubious reputation who undergoes a significant change in his behavior and perspective. Through a series of events and encounters with other characters, Reddy grapples with his past mistakes and seeks to redefine himself. Harte's storytelling combines humor and social commentary, highlighting the complexities of human nature and the possibility of change against a backdrop of frontier life.

• Short story

								

necessary to go the whole length of the room to serve the upper table.
He tactfully did not refer to the improved appearance of the room.

"Well, as long as it ain't mere finikin," said the lady graciously, "and
seems to bring the folks and their vittles nearer together--we'll try
it to-day. It does look kinder CITYFIED--and I reckoned that was all the
good it was. But I calkilated you were goin' to check the crockery this
morning."

"It's done," said Reddy, smilingly handing her the account-book.

Mrs. Woodridge glanced over it, and then surveyed her new assistant.

"And you didn't find any plates that were dirty and that had to be sent
back?"

"Yes, two or three, but I cleaned them myself."

Mrs. Woodridge glanced at him with a look of approving curiosity, but
his eyes were just then seeking her daughter's for a more grateful
sympathy. All of which the good lady noted, and as it apparently
answered the unasked question in her own mind, she only uttered the
single exclamation, "Humph!"

But the approbation he received later at dinner, in the satisfaction
of his old companions with the new arrangement, had also the effect
of diverting from him the criticism he had feared they would make
in finding him installed as an assistant to Mrs. Woodridge. On the
contrary, they appeared only to recognize in him some especial
and superior faculty utilized for their comfort, and when the
superintendent, equally pleased, said it was "all Reddy's own idea," no
one doubted that it was this particular stroke of genius which gained
him the obvious promotion. If he had still thought of offering his
flirtation with Nelly as an excuse, there was now no necessity for any.
Having shown to his employers his capacity for the highest and lowest
work, they naturally preferred to use his best abilities--and he
was kept from any menial service. His accounts were so carefully and
intelligently rendered that the entire care of the building and its
appointments was intrusted to him. At the end of the week Mr. Woodridge
took him aside.

"I say, you ain't got any job in view arter you finish up here, hev ye?"

Reddy started. Scarcely ten days ago he had a hundred projects, schemes,
and speculations, more or less wild and extravagant, wherewith he was to
avenge and recoup himself in San Francisco. Now they were gone he knew
not where and how. He briefly said he had not.

"Because," continued Woodridge, "I've got an idea of startin' a hotel in
the Oak Grove, just on the slope back o' the rancho. The company's bound
to make some sort o' settlement there for the regular hands, and the
place is pooty enough for 'Frisco people who want to run over here and
get set up for a day or two. Thar's plenty of wood and water up thar,
and the company's sure to have a wharf down on the shore. I'll provide
the capital, if you will put in your time. You can sling in ez much
style as you like there" (this was an allusion to Reddy's attempt to
enliven the blank walls with colored pictures from the illustrated
papers and green ceanothus sprays from the slope); "in fact, the more
style the better for them city folks. Well, you think it over."

He did. But meantime he seemed to make little progress in his court of
the superintendent's daughter. He tried to think it was because he had
allowed himself to be diverted by his work, but although she always
betrayed the same odd physical consciousness of his presence, it was
certain that she never encouraged him. She gave him the few directions
that his new occupation still made necessary, and looked her approval
of his success. But nothing more. He was forced to admit that this was
exactly what she might have done as the superintendent's daughter to a
deserving employee. Whereat, for a few days he assumed an air of cold
and ceremonious politeness, until perceiving that, far from piquing the
girl, it seemed to gratify her, and even to render her less sensitive
in his company, he sulked in good earnest. This proving ineffective
also,--except to produce a kind of compassionate curiosity,--his former
dull rage returned. The planting of the rancho was nearly over; his
service would be ended next week; he had not yet given his answer to
Woodridge's proposition; he would decline it and cut the whole concern!

It was a crisp Sunday morning. The breakfast hour was later on that
day to allow the men more time for their holiday, which, however, they
generally spent in cards, gossip, or reading in their sleeping sheds.
It usually delayed Reddy's work, but as he cared little for the
companionship of his fellows, it enabled him, without a show of
unsociability, to seclude himself in the dining-room. And this morning
he was early approached by his employer.

"I'm goin' to take the women folks over to Oakdale to church," said Mr.
Woodridge; "ef ye keer to join us thar's a seat in the wagon, and I'll
turn on a couple of Chinamen to do the work for you, just now; and Nelly
or the old woman will give you a lift this afternoon with the counting
up."

Reddy felt instinctively that the invitation had been instigated by the
young girl. A week before he would have rejoiced at it; a month ago he
would have accepted it if only as a relief to his degraded position, but
in the pique of this new passion he almost rudely declined it. An hour
later he saw Nelly, becomingly and even tastefully dressed,--with
the American girl's triumphant superiority to her condition and
surroundings,--ride past in her father's smart "carryall." He was
startled to see that she looked so like a lady. Then, with a new and
jealous inconsistency, significant of the progress of his passion, he
resolved to go to church too. She should see that he was not going to
remain behind like a mere slave. He remembered that he had still certain
remnants of his past finery in his trunk; he would array himself in
them, walk to Oakdale, and make one of the congregation. He managed to
change his clothes without attracting the attention of his fellows, and
set out.

The air was pure but keen, with none of the languor of spring in
its breath, although a few flowers were beginning to star the weedy
wagon-tracked lane, and there was an awakening spice in the wayside
southernwood and myrtle. He felt invigorated, although it seemed only to
whet his jealous pique. He hurried on without even glancing toward the
distant coast-line of San Francisco or even thinking of it. The bitter
memories of the past had been obliterated by the bitterness of the
present. He no longer thought of "that woman;" even when he had
threatened to himself to return to San Francisco, he was vaguely
conscious that it was not SHE who was again drawing him there, but Nelly
who was driving him away.

The service was nearly over when he arrived at the chilly little
corrugated-zinc church at Oakdale, but he slipped into one of the back
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes