Read Online House Divided by Ben Ames Williams - Free Book Online Page B

if it will come to anything,” he said, and Matt was appeased.
    Talk turned to crops and weather, and Chelmsford Lowman came over from the Post Office to wait for the mail sack the stage would bring, and at last the thudding of hoofs on the dusty road announced its coming. The four horses drawing the clumsy vehicle turned into the wide street, lumbered nearer, stopped at the tavern steps; and Trav rose to watch for Enid’s mother to descend. She alighted prettily, her gray merino pelisse and soft gray hat somehow managing despite the dusty journey to make her appear immaculate; and even before he stepped forward she recognized him with a quick, welcoming smile.
    He offered his hand, but she kissed him. “It’s good to see you, Trav my dear.” She looked at him in calm appraisal. “You’re handsomer than ever! I always thought you were just about the nicest-looking man I’d ever seen.”
    She said this so simply that it left him unembarrassed. He handed
her into the carriage, called a Negro to fetch her baggage from the boot, and turned the horses homeward. His awkward politenesses she answered pleasantly. Her trip had been a hard one, yes. “But it’s worth it, to be here, and nice of you to meet me.” As they left the town behind she exclaimed with delight at a trumpet flower in full bloom, and then at the laurel which clad every hillside in bright blossoms; and Trav warmed to her praise of the beauty of this region which he loved.
    â€œLots of flowers and flowering trees here,” he assured her. “There’s nothing any prettier than a fringe tree, and the redbuds and the dogwoods just make a garden out of the whole place when they’re in bloom. You see a tulip tree all covered with yellow- and copper-colored blossoms and it will take your breath away; and the smell of the olive blossoms in spring is about the sweetest smell there is. We’ve got a strawberry tree, right by the porch, and we did have some Carolina jessamines, but Enid didn’t like the smell, so I had to root them up.” He added mildly: “She’s not much for flowers.”
    He felt her eyes touch his face, and she led him to talk about Chimneys, to recount what he had done, and to recite the things he planned to do. He expected to increase his acreage in orchards and vineyards, and he explained to her why this region was good fruit country.
    â€œWe seldom get frost after mid-April, or before late October, and we have a lot of slopes that are well above the frosts that hit the bottom lands, and at the same time not high enough to get the freezes in the hills.”
    She asked the right questions. “Isn’t it hard to farm on the steep hillsides?”
    â€œWe plow them crosswise so the rain won’t run down the furrows and wash the soil away. You won’t find any bad gullies on the place anywhere. There were plenty when I came, but we’ve thrown brush in, and planted wild honeysuckle and ground vines to catch the silt.” Under her prompting he told her about the tobacco that was his special pride. “The idea is, you put in just enough guano to give the plant a good growth, but not too much. That way, when it’s grown it begins to starve, and the leaves turn yellow, just like trees in a dry summer, and the flavor gets better at the same time. It needs light, sandy soil; but we’ve got two ridges that are good for it.”

    She asked for Emmy Shandon, but he had not seen these neighbors recently. “We don’t have much in common,” he confessed. “Mr. Shandon’s not my kind. He’s so stirred up about politics that he’s letting his place run down.”
    â€œAren’t you interested in politics? No one thinks of anything else in Richmond.”
    He moved his whip in a wide gesture that embraced the scene before them. “I’m too busy with all this to bother.”
    â€œBut, Trav,” she urged, “if