"None of your business!"
"As the horse happens to belong to me, I should think it was considerable of my business."
"Suppose you prove that it belongs to you," said Ben, coolly.
"There is no need of proving it. You know it as well as I do."
"At any rate, it doesn't belong to you now," said Ben Brayton.
[10]
"I should like to know why not?"
"Because it belongs to me."
"Who gave it to you?"
"My mother."
"It wasn't hers to give."
"You'll find that the whole property belongs to her. Your father left her everything, and she has given the horse to me. Just stand aside there; I'm going to ride."
John Oakley's face flushed with anger, and his eyes flashed. He was a boy of fifteen, not tall, but stout and well-proportioned, and stronger than most boys of his age and size, his strength having been developed by rowing on the river, and playing ball, in both of which he was proficient. Ben Brayton was a year and a half older, and half a head taller; but he was of a slender figure, and, having no taste for vigorous out-of-door amusements, he was not a match in strength for the younger boy. They were not related by blood, but both belonged to the same family, Ben Brayton's mother having three years since married Squire Oakley, with whom she had lived for a year previous as house-keeper. A week since the squire had died, and when, after the funeral, the will had been read, it was a matter of general astonishment that John, the testator's only son, was left entirely unprovided for, while[11] the entire property was left to Mrs. Oakley. John, who was of course present at the reading of the will, was considerably disturbed at his disinheritance; not because he cared for the money so much as because it seemed as if his father had slighted him. Not a word, however, had passed between him and his father's widow on the subject, and things had gone on pretty much as usual, until the day on which our story commences. John had just returned from the village academy, where he was at the head of a class preparing for college, when he saw Ben Brayton, the son of Mrs. Oakley by a former marriage preparing to ride out on a horse which for a year past had been understood to be his exclusive property. Indignant at this, he commenced the conversation recorded at the beginning of this chapter.
"Stand aside there, John Oakley, or I'll ride over you!"
"Will you, though?" said John, seizing the horse by the bridle. "That's easier said than done."
Ben Brayton struck the horse sharply, hoping that John would be frightened and let go; but our hero clung to the bridle, and the horse began to back.
"Let go, I tell you!" exclaimed Ben.
"I won't!" said John, sturdily.
The horse continued to back, until Ben, who was[12] a coward at heart, becoming alarmed, slid off from his back.
"That's right," said John, coolly. "Another time you'd better not meddle with my horse."
"I'll meddle with you, and teach you better manners!" exclaimed Ben, a red spot glowing in each of his pale cheeks.
As he spoke, he struck John smartly over the shoulders with the small riding-whip he carried.
John was not quarrelsome. I am glad to bear this testimony to his character, for I have a very poor opinion of quarrelsome boys; but he had a spirit of his own, and was not disposed to submit tamely to a blow. He turned upon Ben instantly, and, snatching the whip from his hand, struck him two blows in return for the one he had received.
"I generally pay my debts with interest, Ben Brayton," he said, coolly. "You ought to have thought of that before you struck me."
A look of fierce vindictiveness swept over the olive face of his adversary as he advanced for another contest.
"Stand back there!" exclaimed John, flourishing the whip in a threatening manner. "I've paid you up, and I don't want to strike you again."
"I'll make you smart for your impudence!"[13] fumed Ben, trying to get near enough to seize the whip from his hands.
"I didn't strike first," said John, "and I shan't strike again, unless I am obliged to in self-defence."
"Give me that whip!" screamed Ben, livid with passion.
"You can't have it."
"I'll tell my mother."
"Go and do it if you like," said John, a little contemptuously.
"Let go that horse."
"It's my own, and I mean to keep it."
"It is not yours. My mother gave it to me."
"It wasn't hers to give."
John still retained his hold of the saddle, and kept Ben at bay with one hand. He watched his opportunity until Ben had retreated sufficiently far to make it practicable, then, placing his foot in the stirrup, lightly vaulted upon the horse, and, touching him with the whip, he dashed out of the yard. Ben sprang forward to stop him; but he was too late.
"Get off that horse!" he screamed.
"I will when I've had my ride," said John, turning back in his saddle. "Now, Prince, do your best."
This last remark was of course addressed to the horse, who galloped up the street, John sitting on his[14] back, with easy grace, as firmly as if rooted to the saddle; for John was an admirable horseman, having been in the habit of riding ever since he was ten years old.
Ben Brayton looked after him with a face distorted with rage and envy. He would have given a great deal to ride as well as John; but he was but an indifferent horseman, being deficient in courage, and sitting awkwardly in the saddle. He shook his fist after John's retreating form, muttering between his teeth, "You shall pay for this impudence, John Oakley, and that before you are twenty-four hours older! I'll see whether my mother will allow me to be insulted in this way!"
Sure of obtaining sympathy from his mother, he turned his steps towards the house, which he entered.
"Where's my mother?" he inquired of the servant.
"She's upstairs in her own room, Mr. Benjamin," was the answer.
Ben hurried upstairs, and opened the door at the head of the staircase. It was a spacious chamber, covered with a rich carpet, and handsomely furnished. At the time of his mother's marriage to Squire Oakley, she had induced him to discard the old furniture, and refurnish it to suit her taste. There were some[15] who thought that what had been good enough for the first Mrs. Oakley, who was an elegant and refined lady, ought to have been good enough for one, who, until her second marriage, had been a house-keeper. But, by some means,—certainly not her beauty, for she was by no means handsome,—she had acquired an ascendency over the squire, and he went to considerable expense to gratify her whim.
Mrs. Oakley sat at the window, engaged in needlework. She was tall and thin, with a sallow complexion, and pale, colorless lips. Her eyes were gray and cold. There was a strong personal resemblance between Ben and herself, and there was reason to think that he was like her in his character and disposition as well as in outward appearance. She was dressed in black, for the husband who had just died.
"Why have you not gone out to ride, Ben?" she asked, as her son entered the room.
"Because that young brute prevented me."
"Whom do you mean?" asked his mother.
"I mean John Oakley, of course."
"How could he prevent you?"
"He came up just as I was going to start, and told me to get off the horse,—that it was his."
"And you were coward enough to do it?" said his mother, scornfully.
[16]
"No. I told him it was not his any longer; that you had given it to me."
"What did he say then?"
"That you had no business to give it away, as it was his."
"Did he say that?" demanded Mrs. Oakley, her gray eyes flashing angrily.
"Yes, he did."
"Why didn't you ride off without minding him?"
"Because he took the horse by the bridle, and made him contrary; I didn't want to be thrown, so I jumped off."
"Did you have the whip in your hand?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you lay it over his back? That might have taught him better manners."
"So I did."
"You did right," said his mother, with satisfaction; for she had never liked her husband's son. His frank, brave, generous nature differed too much from her own to lead to any affection between them. She felt that he outshone her own son, and far exceeded him in personal gifts and popularity with the young people of the neighborhood, and it made her angry with him. Besides, she had a suspicion that Ben was[17] deficient in courage, and it pleased her to think that he had on this occasion acted manfully.
"Then I don't see why you didn't jump on the horse again and ride away," she continued.
"Because," said Ben, reluctantly, "John got the whip away from me."
"Did he strike you with it?" asked Mrs. Oakley, quickly.
"Yes," said Ben, vindictively. "He struck me twice, the ruffian! But I'll be even with him yet!"
"You shall be even with him," said Mrs. Oakley, pressing her thin lips firmly together. "But I'm ashamed of you for standing still and bearing the insult like a whipped dog."
"I tried to get at him," said Ben; "but he kept flourishing the whip, so that I couldn't get a chance."
"Where is he now?"
"He's gone to ride."
"Gone to ride! You let him do it?"
"I couldn't help it; he was too quick for me. He jumped on the horse before I knew what he was going to do, and dashed out of the yard at full speed."
"He is an impertinent young rebel!" said Mrs. Oakley, angrily. "I am ashamed of you for letting him get the advantage of you; but I am very angry[18] with him. So he said that I had no business to give you the horse, did he?"
"Yes; he has no more respect for you than for a servant," said Ben, artfully, knowing well that nothing would be so likely to make his mother angry as this. Having once been in a subordinate position, she was naturally suspicious, and apprehensive that she would not be treated with a proper amount of respect by those around her. It was Ben's object to incense his mother against John, feeling that in this way he would best promote his own selfish ends.
"So he has no respect for me?" exclaimed Mrs. Oakley, angrily.
"None at all," said Ben, decisively. "He says you have no right here, nor I either."
This last statement was an utter fabrication, as Ben well knew; for John, though he had never liked his father's second wife, had always treated her with the outward respect which propriety required. He was not an impudent nor a disrespectful boy; but he had a proper spirit, and did not choose to be bullied by Ben, whom he would have liked if he had possessed any attractive qualities. It had never entered his mind to grudge him the equal advantages which Squire Oakley, for his mother's sake, had bestowed upon her son. He knew that his father was a man of[19] property, and that there was enough for both. When, however, Ben manifested a disposition to encroach upon his rights, John felt that the time for forbearance had ceased, and he gave him distinctly to understand that there was a limit beyond which he must not pass. Very soon after Ben first entered the family John gave him a thrashing,—in self-defence, however,—of which he complained to his mother. Though very angry, she feared to diminish her influence with his father by moving much in the matter, and therefore contented herself by cautioning Ben to avoid him as much as possible.
"Some time or other he shall be punished," she said; "but at present it is most prudent for us to keep quiet and bide our time."
Now, however, Mrs. Oakley felt that the power was in her own hands. She had no further necessity for veiling her real nature, or refraining from gratifying her resentment. The object for which she had schemed—her husband's property—was hers, and John Oakley was dependent upon her for everything. If she treated him ungenerously, it would create unfavorable comments in the neighborhood; but for this she did not care. The property was hers by her husband's will, and no amount of censure would deprive her of it. She would now be able to enrich[20] Ben at John's expense, and she meant to do it. Henceforth Ben would be elevated to the position of heir, and John must take a subordinate position as a younger son, or, perhaps, to speak still more accurately, as a poor relation with a scanty claim upon her bounty.
"I'll break that boy's proud spirit," she said to herself. "He has been able to triumph over Ben; but he will find that I am rather more difficult to deal with."
There was an expression of resolution upon her face, and a vicious snapping of the eyes, which boded ill to our hero. Mrs. Oakley undoubtedly had the power to make him uncomfortable, and she meant to do it, unless he would submit meekly to her sway. That this was not very likely may be judged from what we have already seen of him.
Mrs. Oakley's first act was to bestow on Ben the horse, Prince, which had been given to John a year before by his father. John had been accustomed to take a daily ride on Prince, whom he had come to love. The spirited horse returned his young master's attachment, and it was hard to tell which enjoyed most the daily gallop, the horse or his rider. To deprive John of Prince was to do him a grievous wrong, since it was, of all his possessions, the one[21] which he most enjoyed. It was the more unjustifiable, since, at the time Prince had been bought for John, Squire Oakley, in a spirit of impartial justice, had offered to buy a horse for Ben also; but Ben, who had long desired to own a gold watch and chain, intimated this desire to his mother, and offered to relinquish the promised horse if the watch and chain might be given him. Squire Oakley had no objection to the substitution, and accordingly the same day that Prince was placed in the stable, subject to John's control, a valuable gold watch and chain, costing precisely the same amount, was placed in Ben's hands. Ben was delighted with his new present, and put on many airs in consequence. Now, however, he coveted the horse as well as the watch, and his mother had told him he might have it. But it seemed evident that John would not give up the horse without a struggle. Ben, however, had enlisted his mother as his ally, and felt pretty confident of ultimate victory.