True Grit - Charles Portis [23]
Your mother is bearing up well but is much concerned for you and anxious for your speedy return. I join her in that. Fort Smith is no place for a young girl alone, not even a “Mattie.” Little Frank is down with an earache but of course that is no serious matter. Victoria is in fine fettle. It was thought best that she not attend the funeral.
Mr. MacDonald is still away on his deer hunt and Mr. Hardy was pressed into service to preach Frank’s funeral, taking his text from the 16th chapter of John, “I have overcome the world.” I know Mr. Hardy is not much esteemed for his social qualities but he is a good man in his way and no one can say he is not a diligent student of the Scriptures. The Danville lodge had charge of the graveside service. Needless to say, the whole community is shocked and grieved. Frank was a rich man in friends.
Your mother and I shall expect you to take the first train home when you have concluded your business with the colonel. You will wire me immediately with regard to that and we shall look for you in a day or two. I should like to get Frank’s estate through probate without delay and there are important matters to be discussed with you. Your mother will make no decision without you, nor will she sign anything, not even common receipts; hence nothing can move forward until you are here. You are her strong right arm now, Mattie, and you are a pearl of great price to me, but there are times when you are an almighty trial to those who love you. Hurry home! I am
Thine Truly,
Jno. Daggett
If you want anything done right you will have to see to it yourself every time. I do not know to this day why they let a wool-hatted crank like Owen Hardy preach the service. Knowing the Gospel and preaching it are two different things. A Baptist or even a Campbellite would have been better than him. If I had been home I would never have permitted it but I could not be in two places at once.
Stonehill was not in a quarrelsome mood that morning, indeed he was not snorting or blowing at all but rather in a sad, baffled state like that of some elderly lunatics I have known. Let me say quickly that the man was not crazy. My comparison is not a kind one and I would not use it except to emphasize his changed manner.
He wanted to write me a check and I know that it would have been all right but I did not wish to take the affair this far and risk being rooked, so I insisted on cash money. He said he would have it as soon as his bank opened.
I said, “You do not look well.”
He said, “My malaria is making its annual visitation.”
“I have been a little under the weather myself. Have you taken any quinine?”
“Yes, I am stuffed to the gills with the Peruvian bark. My ears are fairly ringing from it. It does not take hold as it once did.”
“I hope you will be feeling better.”
“Thank you. It will pass.”
I returned to the Monarch to get the breakfast I had paid for. LaBoeuf the Texan was at the table, shaved and clean. I supposed he could do nothing with the “cowlick.” It is likely that he cultivated it.
He was a vain and cocky devil. Mrs. Floyd asked me if the letter had come.
I said, “Yes, I have the letter. It came this morning.”
“Then I know you are relieved,” said she. Then to the others, “She has been awaiting that letter for days.” Then back to me, “Have you seen the colonel yet?”
“I have just now come from that place,” I replied.
LaBoeuf said, “What colonel is that?”
“Why, Colonel Stockhill the stone trader,” said Mrs. Floyd.
I broke in to say, “It is a personal matter.”
“Did you get your settlement?” said Mrs. Floyd, who could no more keep her mouth closed than can a yellow catfish.
“What kind of stones?” said LaBoeuf.
“It is Stonehill the stock trader,” said I. “He does not deal in stones but livestock. I sold him some half-starved ponies that came up from Texas. There is nothing more to it.”
“You are powerful