The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains by Owen Wister (children's ebooks online .txt) 📕

a space of sky; but the shadow from the mountains' feet had drawn halfway toward the town. “About forty minutes more,” he said aloud. “She has been raised so different.” And he sighed as he turned back. As he went slowly, he did not know how great was his own unhappiness. “She has been raised so different,” he said again.

Opposite the post-office the bishop of Wyoming met him and greeted him. His lonely heart throbbed at the warm, firm grasp of this friend's hand. The bishop saw his eyes glow suddenly, as if tears were close. But none came, and no word more open than, “I'm glad to see you.”

But gossip had reached the bishop, and he was sorely troubled also. “What is all this?” said he, coming straight to it.

The Virginian looked at the clergyman frankly. “Yu' know just as much about it as I do,” he said. “And I'll tell yu' anything yu' ask.”

“Have you told Miss Wood?” inquired the bishop.

The eyes of the bridegroom fell, and the bishop's face grew at once more keen and more troubled. Then the bridegroom raised his eyes again, and the bishop almost loved him. He touched his arm, like a brother. “This is hard luck,” he said.

The bridegroom could scarce keep his voice steady. “I want to do right to-day more than any day I have ever lived,” said he.

“Then go and tell her at once.”

“It will just do nothing but scare her.”

“Go and tell her at once.”

“I expected you was going to tell me to run away from Trampas. I can't do that, yu' know.”

The bishop did know. Never before in all his wilderness work had he faced such a thing. He knew that Trampas was an evil in the country, and that the Virginian was a good. He knew that the cattle thieves—the rustlers—were gaining, in numbers and audacity; that they led many weak young fellows to ruin; that they elected their men to office, and controlled juries; that they were a staring menace to Wyoming. His heart was with the Virginian. But there was his Gospel, that he preached, and believed, and tried to live. He stood looking at the ground and drawing a finger along his eyebrow. He wished that he might have heard nothing about all this. But he was not one to blink his responsibility as a Christian server of the church militant.

“Am I right,” he now slowly asked, “in believing that you think I am a sincere man?”

“I don't believe anything about it. I know it.”

“I should run away from Trampas,” said the bishop.

“That ain't quite fair, seh. We all understand you have got to do the things you tell other folks to do. And you do them, seh. You never talk like anything but a man, and you never set yourself above others. You can saddle your own horses. And I saw yu' walk unarmed into that White River excitement when those two other parsons was a-foggin' and a-fannin' for their own safety. Damn scoundrels!”

The bishop instantly rebuked such language about brothers of his cloth, even though he disapproved both of them and their doctrines. “Every one may be an instrument of Providence,” he concluded.

“Well,” said the Virginian, “if that is so, then Providence makes use of instruments I'd not touch with a ten-foot pole. Now if you was me, seh, and not a bishop, would you run away from Trampas?”

“That's not quite fair, either!” exclaimed the bishop, with a smile. “Because you are asking me to take another man's convictions, and yet remain myself.”

“Yes, seh. I am. That's so. That don't get at it. I reckon you and I can't get at it.”

“If the Bible,” said the bishop, “which I believe to be God's word, was anything to you—”

“It is something to me, seh. I have found fine truths in it.”

“'Thou shalt not kill,'” quoted the bishop. “That is plain.”

The Virginian took his turn at smiling. “Mighty plain to me, seh. Make it plain to Trampas, and there'll be no killin'. We can't get at it that way.”

Once more the bishop quoted earnestly. “'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.'”

“How about instruments of Providence, seh? Why, we can't get at it that way. If you start usin' the Bible that way, it will mix you up mighty quick, seh.”

“My friend,” the bishop urged, and all his good, warm heart was in it, “my dear fellow—go away for the one night. He'll change his mind.”

The Virginian shook his head. “He cannot change his word, seh. Or at least I must stay around till he does. Why, I have given him the say-so. He's got the choice. Most men would not have took what I took from him in the saloon. Why don't you ask him to leave town?”

The good bishop was at a standstill. Of all kicking against the pricks none is so hard as this kick of a professing Christian against the whole instinct of human man.

“But you have helped me some,” said the Virginian. “I will go and tell her. At least, if I think it will be good for her, I will tell her.”

The bishop thought that he saw one last chance to move him.

“You're twenty-nine,” he began.

“And a little over,” said the Virginian.

“And you were fourteen when you ran away from your family.”

“Well, I was weary, yu' know, of havin' elder brothers lay down my law night and mawnin'.”

“Yes, I know. So that your life has been your own for fifteen years. But it is not your own now. You have given it to a woman.”

“Yes; I have given it to her. But my life's not the whole of me. I'd give her twice my life—fifty—a thousand of 'em. But I can't give her—her nor anybody in heaven or earth—I can't give my—my—we'll never get at it, seh! There's no good in words. Good-by.” The Virginian wrung the bishop's hand and left him.

“God bless him!” said the bishop. “God bless him!”

The Virginian unlocked the room in the hotel where he kept stored his tent, his blankets, his pack-saddles, and his many accoutrements for the bridal journey in the mountains. Out of the window he saw the mountains blue in shadow, but some cottonwoods distant in the flat between were still bright green in the sun. From among his possessions he took quickly a pistol, wiping and loading it. Then from its holster he removed the pistol which he had tried and made sure of in the morning. This, according to his wont when going into a risk, he shoved between his trousers and his shirt in front. The untried weapon he placed in the holster, letting it hang visibly at his hip.