CHAPTER VI
OUT OF THE STORM
The challenge had gone forth. In those two vivid shafts of light,in the deafening peals of thunder the war of elements had beenproclaimed, and these men of the wilderness understood something oftheir danger.
Thereafter, for some moments, a threatening silence reignedeverywhere. The birds, the insects even, all life seemed to crouch,hushed and expectant. The valley might have been the valley of death,so still, so dark, so threatening was the superheated atmosphere thathung over it.
The men within the shelter of the hut waited, and only Buck and BlueGrass Pete stood near the blanket-covered doorway. There was littleenough confidence in the inefficient shelter of the hut, but it wastheir natural retreat and so they accepted it. Then the moment oftension passed, and Buck, glancing swiftly round the hut, seized ahammer and hastily secured the covering of the doorway.
"She'll be on us right smart," he observed to Pete, who assisted himwhile the others looked on.
"Yes," replied Pete resignedly. "Guess we're goin' to git it good."There was not only resignation, but indifference in his tone.
Buck glanced up at the roof, and the rest followed his gaze curiously.He shook his head.
"It's worse than----"
But he did not finish what he had to say. A strange hissing broke fromthe distance, like the sound of rushing water, and, with each passingmoment, it grew in volume until, out of the heart of it, adeep-throated roar boomed over the hilltops.
It was a great wind-storm leaping down from the everlasting snows ofthe mountains, tearing its way through the lean branches of theforest-tops, the wide-gaping valleys, and rushing up the hillsideswith a violence that tore limbs from the parent trunks and rooted outtrees that had withstood a thousand storms. It was the deep breath ofthe storm fiend launched upon a defenseless earth, carrying wreck anddestruction whithersoever its blast was turned.
"By Jing'!"
It was Montana Ike who voiced the awe crowding every heart.
But his exclamation brought the practical mind of Buck toconsideration of their needs. His eyes turned again to the roof, andPete voiced his thoughts.
"She'll carry away like--like a kite when it hits us," he declared.Several more pairs of eyes were turned helplessly upward. SuddenlyBuck swung round upon the doorway.
"Here she comes," he cried. "Holy----!"
With a rush and a deafening roar the wind hit the building and set itrocking. Buck and Pete flung themselves with arms outspread againstthe ballooning blanket, and it held. Again the wind crashed againstthe sides of the hut. Some one flung himself to the two men'sassistance. Then came a ripping and tearing, and the thatch hissedaway on the breath of the storm like straw caught in a whirlwind. Themen gazed stupidly up at the blackened heavens, which were now likenight. There was nothing to be done. What could they do? They werehelpless. And not even a voice could make itself heard in the howlingof the wind as it shrieked about the angles of the building.
Then came the rain. It fell in great drops whose sheer weight and sizecarried them, at the moment of impact, through the ragged shirts tothe warm flesh beneath. In a second, it seemed, a waterspout was uponthem and was pouring its tide into the roofless hut.
With the deluge, the elemental battle began in desperate earnest. Pealafter peal of thunder crashed directly overhead, and with it came sucha display of heavenly pyrotechnics that in their wildest moments thesemen had never dreamed of. Their eyes were blinded, and their ear-drumswere bursting with the incessant hammering of the thunder.
But the wind had passed on, shrieking and tearing its way into the dimdistance until its voice was utterly drowned in the sternerdetonations of the battle.
Drenched to the skin, knee-deep in water, the men stood herdedtogether like sheep in a pen. Their blankets were awash and floatedabout, tangling their legs in the miniature lake that could not findrapid enough exit through the doorway. They could only stand therestupidly. To go outside was to find no other shelter, and only themore openly to expose themselves to the savage forks of lightningplaying across the heavens in such blinding streaks. Nor could theyhelp the women even if they needed help in the other huts. The roofsand doors would or would not hold, and, in the latter case, until theforce of the storm abated no help could serve them.
The storm showed no signs of abatement. The black sky was the sky ofan unlit night. There was no lightening in any direction, and theblinding flashes amidst the din of thunder only helped to furtherintensify the pitchy vault. The splitting of trees amidst the chaosreached the straining ears, and it was plain that every flash of lightwas finding a billet for its forked tongue in the adjacent forests.
The time dragged on. How long or how short was the period of the stormnone of the men wondered or cared. The rapidity of the thundercrashes, the swift successions of lightning entirely held them, and,strong as they were, these things kept their nerves jumping.
Once in the midst of it all a man suddenly cried out. His cry camewith a more than usually brilliant flash of purplish, steel-blue fire.The intensity of it carried pain to the now supersensitive nerves ofhis vision, and he turned and flung himself with his face buried uponhis arm against the dripping wall. It was Beasley Melford. He stoodthere cowering, a dreadful terror shaking his every nerve.
The others turned stupidly in his direction, but none had thought forhis suffering. Each was hard pressed to face the terror of it allhimself; each was wondering at what moment his own limits would bereached. Buck alone showed no sign of the nervous tension. His deepbrown eyes watched the group about him, automatically blinking withevery flash of light, and with only the slightest possible start asthe thunder crashed into his ears.
He was thinking, too--thinking hard of many things. The Padre was outin the hills with gun and traps. Would he have anticipated the swiftrising storm and regained the shelter of the stout old fort? With theboom of falling trees going on about them, with the fiery crackle ofthe blazing light as it hit the topmost branches of the adjacentforest, he wondered and hoped, and feared for the old man in the samethought.
Then there were those others. The women and children in the otherhuts. How were they faring? But he remembered that the marriedquarters were better built than this hut had been, and he drew comfortfrom the thought. And what of the Kid, and of Caesar?
More than two hours passed before any change came. The deafening pealsof thunder seemed as though they would never lessen in tone. Thenight-like heavens seemed as though no sun could ever hope topenetrate them again. And the streaming rain--was there ever such adeluge since the old Biblical days!
Buck understood now the nature of the storm. Probably twenty yearswould elapse before another cloudburst would occur again, and thethought set him speculating upon the effect this might have upon thelake on Devil's Hill. What might not happen? And then the creek below!He remembered that these huts of the gold-seekers were on thelow-lying banks of the creek. What if it flooded? He stirred uneasily,and, turning to the doorway, opened a loose fold in the blanket andpeered out.
He saw the creek in a sudden blaze of light, and in that momentarybrilliance he saw that the rushing water was rising rapidly. A gravefeeling of uneasiness stirred him and he turned back to hiscompanions. For once in his life he felt utterly helpless.
Another hour passed. The atmospheric heat had passed, and the menstood shivering in the water. The chill was biting into their verybones, but still there was no respite. Twice more Buck turned anxiouseyes upon the creek. And each time his alarm increased as the blindinglight revealed the rapid rise of the water. He dared not voice hisfears yet. He understood the condition of mind prevailing. To warn hiscompanions would be to set them rushing to get their womenfolk out oftheir shelters, and this must not be thought of--yet.
He had just arrived at the conclusion that he would abide by his nextobservation when the long-looked-for change began. It came as suddenlyas the rising of the storm itself. It came in a rapid lightening ofthe sky overhead. From black to
gray it turned almost in a second. Adull, ominous, rolling world of gray rain-clouds. The thunder diedaway and the blinding flashes came no more. It was as though the stormhad been governed by one all-powerful will and the word to "ceasefire" had been hurled across the heavens as the last discharge ofmonstrous artillery had been fired. Then, with the lifting of thedarkness, the rain slackened too, and the deluge eased.
Buck sighed his relief, and Curly Saunders, from near by, audiblyexpressed his.
"She's lettin' up," he growled.
Pete caught at his words.
"It sure is."
Buck was about to speak, but his lips remained open and he stoodlistening.
What was that?
Something was moving beyond the doorway. Something touched theblanket as though seeking support. Then it slid down, its movementvisible in the bulging of the drenched cloth. This was followed by aheavy, squelching flop. The body, whatever it was, had fallen into thestreaming water pouring from within the hut. Then came a long-drawn,piteous moan that held the men gazing silently and stupidly at thesagging blanket.
It was while they stood thus that the rain ceased altogether, and thegreat storm-clouds broke and began to disperse, and a watery sunbeamlit the wreck of the passing storm. As its light poured in upon thewretched interior a second moan, short and weak but distinctlyaudible, reached the astounded ears of the men. There was a moment'spause as it died out, then Buck's arm shot out, and, seizing the edgeof the blanket, he ripped it from its fastenings and let it fall tothe ground. Instantly every neck was set craning, and every eye wasalight with wonder, for there, half-resting upon the sill of thedoorway, and half-lying upon the ground with the water streamingeverywhere about her, lay the huddled, half-drowned figure of a youngwoman.
"It's--it's a--woman," cried Pete stupidly, unable to contain hisastonishment longer.
"It sure is," murmured Curly, with equal brightness.
But while they gave the company the benefit of their keenness ofperception Buck had dropped upon his knees and was bending over thewretched victim of the storm. He raised her, and drew her tenderlyinto his arms.
"'Tain't one of ours," announced Ike over his shoulder.
"No." Buck's monosyllable displayed no great interest in his remark.
Amidst a dead silence Buck suddenly straightened up, with thedripping figure clasped tightly in his strong arms. A great pity shonein his eyes as he gazed down into the fair young face. It was thefirst time in all his life he had held a woman in his arms, and thesensation of it made him forget those others about him.
Suddenly Ike's voice aroused him.
"By Gar!" he cried. "Jest look at that red ha'r. Say, easy, boys,we're treadin' it around in the mud."
It was true. The great masses of the girl's red-gold hair had fallenloose and were trailing in the water as Buck held her. It reached fromthe man's shoulder, where her head was pillowed, and the heavy-footedmen were trampling the ends of it into the mud. Ike stooped andrescued the sodden mass, and laid it gently across Buck's shoulders.
For a moment the sun shone down upon the wondering group. The cloudshad broken completely, and were scattering in every direction asthough eager to escape observation after their recent shamefuldisplay. No one seemed to think of moving out into the rapidly warmingopen. They were content to gather about Buck's tall figure and gapedown at the beautiful face of the girl lying in his arms.
It was Beasley Melford who first became practical.
"She's alive, anyway," he said. "Sort o' stunned. Mebbe it's thelightnin'."
Pete turned, a withering glance upon his foxy face.
"Lightnin' nuthin'," he cried scornfully. "If she'd bin hit she'd ha'bin black an' dead. Why, she--she ain't even brown. She's white aswhite." His voice became softer, and he was no longer addressing theex-Churchman. "Did y' ever see sech skin--so soft an' white? An' thatha'r, my word! I'd gamble a dollar her eyes is blue--ef she'd jestopen 'em."
He reached out a great dirty hand to touch the beautiful whiteness ofthe girl's throat with a caressing movement, but instantly Buck'svoice, sharp and commanding, stayed his action.
"Quit that!" he cried. "Ke'p your durned hands to yourself," he added,with a strange hoarseness.
Pete's eyes lit angrily.
"Eh? What's amiss?" he demanded. "Guess I ain't no disease."
Beasley chuckled across at him, and the sound of his mirth infuriatedBuck. He understood the laugh and the meaning underlying it.
"Buck turned wet nurse," cried the ex-Churchman, as he beheld thesudden flush on the youngster's face.
"You can ke'p your durned talk," Buck cried. "You Beasley--and the lotof you," he went on recklessly. "She's no ord'nary gal; she's--she's alady."
Curly and Ike nodded agreement.
But Beasley, whatever his fears of the storm, understood the men ofhis world. Nor had he any fear of them, and Buck's threat only had theeffect of rousing the worst side of his nature, at all times very nearthe surface.
"Lady? Psha'! Write her down a woman, they're all the same, onlydressed different. Seems to me it's better they're all just women. An'Pete's good enough for any woman, eh, Pete? She's just a nice, dandybit o' soft flesh an' blood, eh, Pete? Guess you like them sort, eh,Pete?"
The man's laugh was a hideous thing to listen to, but Pete was notlistening. Buck heard, and his dark face went ghastly pale, eventhough his eyes were fixed on the beautiful face with its closed,heavily-lashed eyes. Pete's attention was held by the delicatecontours of her perfect figure and the gaping, bedraggled whiteshirt-waist, where the soft flesh of her fair bosom showed through,and the delicate lace and ribbons of her undergarments were left infull view.
No one offered Beasley encouragement and his laugh fell flat. And whenCurly spoke it was to express something of the general thought.
"Wonder how she came here?" he said thoughtfully.
"Seems as though the storm had kind o' dumped her down," Abe Allinsonadmitted.
Again Beasley chuckled.
"Say, was ther' ever such a miracle o' foolishness as you fellers? Youmake me laff--or tired, or something. Wher'd she come from? Ain't thePadre sold his farm?" he demanded, turning on Buck. "Ain't he sold itto a woman? An' ain't he expectin' her along?"
Buck withdrew his eyes from the beautiful face, and looked up inanswer to the challenge.
"Why, yes," he said, his look suddenly hardening as he confrontedBeasley's face. "I had forgotten. This must surely be Miss--Miss Rest.That's the name Mrs. Ransford, the old woman at the farm, said. Rest."He repeated the name as though it were pleasant to his ears.
"Course," cried Curly cheerfully. "That's who it is--sure."
"Rest, eh? Miss--Rest," murmured the preoccupied Pete. Then he added,half to himself, "My, but she's a dandy! Ain't--ain't she a pictur',ain't she----?"
Buck suddenly pushed him aside, and his action was probably rougherthan he knew. But for some reason he did not care. For some reason hehad no thought for any one but the fair creature lying in his arms.His head was throbbing with a strange excitement, and he moved swiftlytoward the door, anxious to leave the inquisitive eyes of hiscompanions behind him.
As he reached the door Beasley's hateful tones arrested him.
"Say, you ain't takin' that pore thing up to the fort, are you?" hejeered.
Buck swung about with the swiftness of a panther. His eyes were ablazewith a cold fire.
"You rotten outlaw parson!" he cried.
He waited for the insult to drive home. Then when he saw the fury inthe other's face, a fury he intended to stir, he went on--
"Another insinuation like that an' I'll shoot you like the dog youare," he cried, and without waiting for an answer he turned to theothers. "Say, fellers," he went on, "I'm takin' this gal wher' shebelongs--down to the farm. I'm goin' to hand her over to the old womanthere. An' if I hear another filthy suggestion from this durned skunkBeasley, what I said goes. It's not a threat. It's a promise, sure,an' I don't ever forgit my promises."
B
easley's face was livid, and he drew a sharp breath.
"I don't know 'bout promises," he said fiercely. "But you won't findme fergittin' much either."
Buck turned to the door again and threw his retort over his shoulder.
"Then you sure won't forgit I've told you what you are."
"I sure won't."
Nor did Buck fail to appreciate the venom the other flung into hiswords. But he was reckless--always reckless. And he hurried throughthe doorway and strode off with his still unconscious burden.
The Golden Woman: A Story of the Montana Hills Page 6
