Chapter VI More of the Preachers Work Epoch the Third: The Homesteader
JEAN BAPTISTE was thoughtful for a long time
after the other had left him. He had heard before he
married Orlean that the Reverend was the father of
two illegitimate children, but from Speed's story he had
met the whole of it. Not only was he the father of two
illegitimate children, but he had taken another man's wife
to become so and all this while he was one of the most
influential men in the church !

This fact, however, did not cause Baptiste any wonderment. It was something he had become accustomed to. It
seemed that the church contained so many of the same kind
from reports, until it was a common expectation that a
preacher was permitted to do the very worst things things
that nobody else would have the conscience to do. He arose
presently and going to the bar, ordered another bottle of
beer. He looked around the large room while he drank
at the usual class who frequented the place. He knew that
here and there among them were crooks, thieves, " con "
men, gunmen, and gamblers. Many of these men had perhaps even committed murder and that for money. Yet
there was not one he was positive, that would deliberately
separate a man and his wife for spite. And that was the
crime this preacher father-in-law of his had committed.
Always in the mind of this man of the prairie this played.
It followed him everywhere; it slept with him, arose with
him, 'and retired with him. And all through long sleepless nights it flitted about in his dreams like an eternal
spectre, it gave him no peace. Gradually it had brought
him to a feeling that the only justifiable action would be
to follow the beast to his lair and kill him upon sight.
Often this occurred to him, and at such times he allowed
his mind to recall murder cases of various phases, and wondered if such a feeling as he was experiencing, was the kind men had before committing murder. Then if so, what a
relief it must be to the mind to kill. He had a vision of
this arch hypocrite writhing at his feet, with death in his
sinful eyes, and his tongue protruding from his mouth.

He drank the beer and then ordered liquor. Somehow
he wanted to still that mania that was growing within him.
He had struggled for happiness in the world, for success
and contentment, and he did not wish his mind to dwell on
the subject of murder. But he was glad that this man had
left the city. A man might be able to accept a great deal
of rebuke, and endure much; but sometimes the sight of
one who has wronged him might cause him for a moment
to forget all his good intentions and manly resolutions.
Yes, he was glad that Reverend McCarthy had left the city,
and he shuddered a little when he recalled with a grimace
that he had traveled these many miles to see and reckon with
his wife.
" Well, you are here," he heard then, and turned to greet
Glavis.

" Oh, hello, Glavis," he returned with a tired expression
about his eyes from the effect of the strain under which he
had been laboring. " Have a drink."

" An old-time cocktail," Glavis said to the bartender. He
then turned to Baptiste.

" Well, how's everything over home ? " said Baptiste,
coming directly to the point.

" Your wife's sick," said Glavis a little awkwardly.

" And I, her husband, cannot call and see her. I'm compelled to hear it from others and say nothing." He paused
and the expression on his face was unpleasant to behold.
Glavis saw it and looked away. He could not make any an-
swer, and then he heard the other again.

" This is certainly the limit. I married that girl in good
faith, and I'll bet that she has not told you or anybody else
that I mistreated her. But here we are, compelled to be
apart, and by whom ? " His face was still unpleasant, and
Glavis only mumbled.
" That damn preacher ! "

" Oh, Baptiste," cried Glavis, frowningly.

" Yes, I know I understand your situation, Glavis.
But you must appreciate what it is to be thrown into a mess
like this. To have your home and happiness sacrificed to
somebody's vanity. I'm compelled to stand for all this for
the simple crime of not lauding the old man. All because
I didn't tickle his vanity and become the hypocrite he is,
for should I have said what he wanted me to say, then I
would have surely lied. And I hate a liar ! "

" But come, Baptiste," argued Glavis, " we want to figure
out some way that you and your wife can get together
without all this. Now let's have another drink and sit
down."

"Well, alright," said the other disconsolately, "I feel
as if it would do me good to get drunk tonight and kill some-
body, no, no, Glavis," he added quickly, " I'm not going
to kill anybody. So you needn't think I am planning any-
thing like that. I'm too busy to go to jail."

" Now, I'm willing to help you in any way I can, Bap-
tiste," began Glavis, " as long as I can keep my wife out of it.
I've got the darndest woman you ever saw. But she's my wife, and you know a man must try to live. with the one he's
married to, and that's why I am willing to help you."

They discussed plans at some length, and finally decided to settle matters on the morrow.

But when the morrow came, Ethel blocked all the plans.
She refused to be sent away across town and let Baptiste
come into the house and see his wife. She knew what that
would mean, so she stood intrenched like the rock of Gibraltar. Other plans were resorted to, but with the same
result. The days passed and Baptiste became obsessed with
worry. He knew he should be back in the West and to his
work; he began to lose patience with his wife for being so
weak. If he could only see her he was certain that they
would come to some agreement. Sunday came and went,
and still he saw her not. Ethel took confidence ; she smiled
at the success with which she had blocked all efforts of communication. Baptiste wrote his wife notes, but these she
intercepted and learned his plans. She convinced her sister
that she was sick and should be under the care of a physician. This reached Baptiste, and he secured one, a brilliant
young man who was making a reputation. He had known
him while the other was attending the Northwestern Medical College, and admired him; but this too was blocked.
For when he knocked at the door with the doctor at his
side, they were forbade admittance. Thereupon Baptiste
was embarrassed and greatly humiliated at the same time.

Ethel had a good laugh over it when they had left and
cried : " He had his nerve, anyhow. Walking up here with
a nigger doctor, the idea! I wish papa had been home,
he'd have fixed him proper! Papa has never had one of
those in his house, indeed not. No nigger doctor has ever
attended any of us, and never will as long as papa has any-
thing to do with it ! "

Glavis finally succeeded in getting a hearing. By pleading and begging, he finally secured Ethel's consent to allow
him to bring Baptiste to the house and sit near his wife for
just thirty minutes but no more. He did not apprise
Baptiste of this fact nor of the time limit, but caught him
by the arm and led him to the house as though he were a
privileged character. He took notice of the clock when he
entered, because he knew that Ethel, who was upstairs had
done so. And he was very careful during the time to keep
his eyes upon the clock. He knew that Ethel would appear
at the expiration of thirty minutes and start her disagreeableness, so at the end of that time he quietly led Baptiste away after he had been allowed only to look at his wife, who was like a Sphinx from the careful dressing down she had had before and preparatory to his coming.

So, having carried out what he considered a bit of diplomacy, Glavis was relieved. Baptiste could expect no
more of him, and so it ended.

Ethel wrote her father a cheerful letter and stated that
that " hardheaded rascal " had been there from the West ;
but that Orlean had declined to see him but once, and had
refused to go back at all, whereupon her father smiled satisfactorily.

Jean Baptiste returned to the West, defeated and down-
cast. He had for the first time in his life, failed in an undertaking. He had never known such before, he could not
understand. But he was defeated, that was sure. Perhaps it was because he was not trained to engage in that
particular kind of combat. He had been accustomed to
dealing with men in the open, and was not prepared to
counter the cunning and finesse of his newly acquired adversaries.

Over him it cast a gloom ; it cast great, dark shadows, and in the days that followed the real Jean Baptiste died and
another came to live in his place. And that one was a
hollow-cheeked, unhappy, nervous, apprehensive creature.
He regarded life and all that went with it dubiously; he
looked into the elements above him, and said that the
world had reached a time whence it would change. The air
would change, the earth would become hot, and rain would
not fall and that drought would cover all the land, and the
settlers would suffer. And so feeling, it did so become, and
in the following chapter our story will deal with the elements, and with how the world did change, and how drought
came, and what followed.