Salomy Jane

Bret Harte

Description

This charming short story from Bret Harte is set in California during the era of the Gold Rush. Salomy Jane finds herself in trouble at the hands of local hooligan Red Pete. The taciturn but courageous hero Jack Dart comes to her rescue, but soon finds himself in hot water as well. The story was later adapted for the silver screen.

Sujets

• Westerns
• Western (genre)
• Western

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776672950
• Langue: English

Extrait

SALOMY JANE
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BRET HARTE
 
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Salomy Jane First published in 1898 Epub ISBN 978-1-77667-295-0 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77667-296-7 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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I - A Kiss and an Escape II - The Lady's Reflections III - The Kiss Repeated IV - Another Escape
I - A Kiss and an Escape
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Only one shot had been fired. It had gone wide of its mark,—theringleader of the Vigilantes,—and had left Red Pete, who had firedit, covered by their rifles and at their mercy. For his hand had beencramped by hard riding, and his eye distracted by their sudden onset,and so the inevitable end had come. He submitted sullenly to hiscaptors; his companion fugitive and horse-thief gave up the protractedstruggle with a feeling not unlike relief. Even the hot and revengefulvictors were content. They had taken their men alive. At anytime during the long chase they could have brought them down by arifle-shot, but it would have been unsportsmanlike, and have endedin a free fight, instead of an example. And, for the matter of that,their doom was already sealed. Their end, by a rope and a tree,although not sanctified by law, would have at least the deliberationof justice. It was the tribute paid by the Vigilantes to that orderwhich they had themselves disregarded in the pursuit and capture. Yetthis strange logic of the frontier sufficed them, and gave a certaindignity to the climax.
"Ef you've got anything to say to your folks, say it now , and say itquick," said the ringleader.
Red Pete glanced around him. He had been run to earth at his own cabinin the clearing, whence a few relations and friends, mostly women andchildren, non-combatants, had outflowed, gazing vacantly at the twentyVigilantes who surrounded them. All were accustomed to scenes ofviolence, blood-feud, chase, and hardship; it was only the suddennessof the onset and its quick result that had surprised them. They lookedon with dazed curiosity and some disappointment; there had been nofight to speak of—no spectacle! A boy, nephew of Red Pete, got uponthe rain-barrel to view the proceedings more comfortably; a tall,handsome, lazy Kentucky girl, a visiting neighbor, leaned against thedoorpost, chewing gum. Only a yellow hound was actively perplexed.He could not make out if a hunt were just over or beginning, and raneagerly backwards and forwards, leaping alternately upon the captivesand the captors.
The ringleader repeated his challenge. Red Pete gave a reckless laughand looked at his wife.
At which Mrs. Red Pete came forward. It seemed that she had much tosay, incoherently, furiously, vindictively, to the ringleader. Hissoul would roast in hell for that day's work! He called himself a man,skunkin' in the open and afraid to show himself except with a crowdof, other "Kiyi's" around a house of women and children. Heapinginsult upon insult, inveighing against his low blood, his ancestors,his dubious origin, she at last flung out a wild taunt of his invalidwife, the insult of a woman to a woman, until his white face grewrigid, and only that Western-American fetich of the sanctity ofsex kept his twitching fingers from the lock of his rifle. Even herhusband noticed it, and with a half-authoritative "Let up on that,old gal," and a pat of his freed left hand on her back, took his lastparting. The ringleader, still white under the lash of the woman'stongue, turned abruptly to the second captive.