The Heart of the Desert

by Honoré Morrow

  CHAPTER IV

  THE INDIAN WAY

  It was some time before the call of a coyote close beside herpenetrated Rhoda's senses. At its third or fourth repetition, shesighed and opened her eyes. Night had come, the luminous lavendernight of the desert. Her first discovery was that she was seated on ahorse, held firmly by a strong arm across her shoulders. Next shefound that her uneasy breathing was due to the cloth tied round hermouth. With this came realization of her predicament and she tossedher arms in a wild attempt to free herself.

  The arm about her tightened, the horse stopped, and the voice went onrepeating the coyote call, clearly, mournfully. Rhoda ceased herstruggling for a moment and looked at the face so close to her own. Inthe starlight only the eyes and the dim outline of the features werevisible, and the eyes were as dark and menacing to her as the desertnight that shut her in.

  Mad with fear, Rhoda strained at the rigid arm. Kut-le dropped thereins and held her struggling hands, ceased his calling and waited.Off to the left came an answering call and Kut-le started the ponyrapidly toward the sound. In a few moments Rhoda saw a pair ofhorsemen. Utterly exhausted, she sat in terror awaiting her fate.Kut-le gave a low-voiced order. One of the riders immediately rodeforward, leading another horse. Kut-le slipped another blanket fromthis and finished binding Rhoda to her saddle so securely that shescarcely could move a finger. Then he mounted his horse, and he andone of the Indians started off, leading Rhoda's horse between them andleaving the third Indian standing silently behind them.

  Rhoda was astride of the pony, half sitting, half lying along his neck.The Indians put the horses to a trot and immediately the discomfort ofher position was made agony by the rough motion. But the pain clearedher mind.

  Her first thought was that she never would recover from the disgrace ofthis episode. Following this thought came fury at the man who was sooutraging her. It only he would free her hands for a moment she wouldchoke him! Her anger would give her strength for that! Then shefought against her fastenings. They held her all but motionless andthe sense of her helplessness brought back the fear panic. Utterlyhelpless, she thought! Flying through darkness to an end worse thandeath! In the power of a naked savage! Her fear almost robbed her ofher reason.

  After what seemed to her endless hours, the horses were stoppedsuddenly. She felt her fastenings removed. Then Kut-le lifted her tothe ground where she tumbled, helpless, at his feet. He stooped andtook the gag from her mouth. Immediately with what fragment ofstrength remained to her, she screamed again and again. The twoIndians stood stolidly watching her for a time, then Kut-le knelt inthe sand beside her huddled form and laid his hand on her arm.

  "There, Rhoda," he said, "no one can hear you. You will only makeyourself sick."

  Rhoda struck his hand feebly.

  "Don't touch me!" she cried hoarsely. "Don't touch me, you beast! Iloathe you! I am afraid of you! Don't you dare to touch me!"

  At this Kut-le imprisoned both her cold hands in one of his warm palmsand held them despite her struggles, while with the other hand hesmoothed her tumbled hair from her eyes.

  "Poor frightened little girl," he said, in his rich voice. "I wish Imight have done otherwise. But there was no other way. I don't knowthat I believe much in your God but I guess you do. So I tell you,Rhoda, that by your faith in Him, you are absolutely safe in my hands!"

  Rhoda caught her breath in a childlike sob while she sstill struggledto recover her hands.

  "I loathe you!" she panted. "I loathe you! I loathe you!"

  But Kut-le would not free the cold little hands.

  "But do you fear me, too? Answer me! Do you fear me?"

  The moon had risen and Rhoda looked into the face that bent above hers.This was a naked savage with hawk-like face. Yet the eyes were theones that she had come to know so well, half tragic, somber, but clearand, toward her, tender, very, very tender. With a shuddering sigh,Rhoda looked away. But against her own volition she found herselfsaying:

  "I'm not afraid now! But I loathe you, you Apache Indian!"

  Something very like a smile touched the grim mouth of the Apache.

  "I don't hate you, you Caucasian!" he answered quietly.

  He chafed the cold hands for a moment, in silence. Then he lifted herto her saddle. But Rhoda was beyond struggle, beyond even clinging tothe saddle. Kut-le caught her as she reeled.

  "Don't tie me!" she panted. "Don't tie me! I won't fight! I won'teven scream, if you won't tie me!"

  "But you can't sit your saddle alone," replied Kut-le. "I'll have totie you."

  Once more he lifted her to the horse. Once more with the help of hissilent companion he fastened her with blankets. Once more the journeywas begun. For a little while, distraught and uncertain what course topursue, Rhoda endured the misery of position and motion in silence.Then the pain was too much and she cried out in protest. Kut-lebrought the horses to a walk.

  "You certainly have about as much spunk as a chicken with the pip!" hesaid contemptuously. "I should think your loathing would brace you upa little!"

  Stung by the insult to a sudden access of strength, as the Indian hadintended her to be, Rhoda answered, "You beast!" but as the horsesswung into the trot she made no protest for a long hour. Then oncemore her strength failed her and she fell to crying with deep-drawnsobs that shook her entire body. After a few moments of this, Kut-ledrew close to her.

  "Don't!" he said huskily. "Don't!" And again he laid his hand on hershoulder.

  Rhoda shuddered but could not cease her sobs. Kut-le seemed tohesitate for a few moments. Then he reached over, undid Rhoda'sfastenings and lifted her limp body to the saddle before him, holdingher against his broad chest as if he were coddling a child. Then hestarted the horses on. Too exhausted to struggle, Rhoda lay sobbingwhile the young Indian sat with his tragic eyes fastened steadily onthe mysterious distances of the trail. Finally Rhoda sank into astupor and, seeing this, Kut-le doubled the speed of the horses.

  It was daylight when Rhoda opened her eyes. For a time she lay at easelistening to the trill of birds and the trickle of water. Then, with astart, she raised her head. She was lying on a heap of blankets on astone ledge. Above her was the boundless sapphire of the sky. Closebeside her a little spring bubbled from the blank wall of the mountain.Rhoda lay in helpless silence, looking about her, while the appallingnature of her predicament sank into her consciousness.

  Against the wall squatted two Indian women. They were dressed in roughshort skirts, tight-fitting calico waists and high leather moccasins.Their black hair was parted in the middle and hung free. Their swarthyfeatures were well cut but both of the women were dirty and ill kept.The younger, heavier squaw had a kindly face, with good eyes, but herhair was matted with clay and her fingers showed traces of recenttortilla making. The older woman was lean and wiry, with a strangegleam of maliciousness and ferocity in her eyes. Her forehead waselaborately tattooed with symbols and her toothless old jaws werecovered with blue tribal lines.

  Kut-le and his friend of the night lounged on a heap of rock at theedge of the ledge. The strange Indian was well past middle age, talland dignified. He was darker than Kut-le. His face was thin andaquiline. His long hair hung in elf locks over his shoulders. Histoilet was elaborate compared with that of Kut-le, for he wore a pairof overalls and a dilapidated flannel shirt, unbelted and flutteringits ends in the morning breeze. As if conscious of her gaze, Kut-leturned and looked at Rhoda. His magnificent height and proportionsdwarfed the tall Indian beside him.

  "Good-morning, Rhoda!" he said gravely.

  The girl looked at the beautiful naked body and reddened.

  "You beast!" she said clearly.

  Kut-le looked at her with slightly contracted eyes. Then he spoke tothe fat squaw. She rose hastily and lifted a pot from the little firebeside the spring. She dipped a steaming cup of broth from this andbrought it to Rhoda's side. The girl struck it away. Kut-le walkedslowly over
, picked up the empty cup at which the squaw stood staringstupidly and filled it once more at the kettle. Then he held it out toRhoda. His nearness roused the girl to frenzy. With difficulty shebrought her stiffened body to a sitting position. Her beautiful grayeyes were black with her sense of outrage.

  "Take it away, beast!" she panted.

  Kut-le held her gaze.

  "Drink it, Rhoda!" he said quietly.

  The girl returned his look for a moment then, hating herself for herweakness, she took the cup and drained it. Kut-le tossed the cup tothe squaw, pushed Rhoda back to her blankets and covered her verygently. Then he went back to his boulder. The girl lay staring up atthe sky. Utterly merciless it gleamed above her. But before she couldmore than groan she was asleep.

  She slept as she had not slept for months. The slanting rays of thewestering sun wakened her. She sat up stiffly. The squaws wereunpacking a burlap bag. They were greasy and dirty but they were womenand their nearness gave Rhoda a vague sense of protection. They inturn gazed at the tangled glory of her hair, at the hopeless beauty ofher eyes, at the pathos of the drooping mouth, with unfeigned curiosity.

  Kut-le still was watching the desert. The madness of the night beforehad lifted a little, leaving Rhoda with some of her old poise. Afterseveral attempts she rose and made her staggering way to Kut-le's side.

  "Kut-le," she said, "perhaps you will tell me what you mean by thisoutrage?"

  The young Indian, turned to her. White and exhausted, heavy hair inconfusion, Rhoda still was lovely.

  "You seem to have more interest in life," he said, "than you have hadsince I have known you. I thought the experiment would have thateffect!"

  "You brute!" cried Rhoda. "Can't you see how silly you are? You willbe caught and lynched before the day is passed."

  Kut-le smiled.

  "Pshaw! Three Apaches can outwit a hundred white men on the trail!"

  Rhoda caught her breath.

  "Oh, Kut-le, how could you do this thing! How could you! I amdisgraced forever! Let me go, Kut-le! Let me go! I'll not even askyou for a horse. Just let me go by myself!"

  "You are better off with me. You will acknowledge that, yourself,before I am through with you."

  "Better off!" Rhoda's appalled eyes cut the Indian deeper than words."Better off! Why, Kut-le, I am a dying woman! You will just have toleave me dead beside the trail somewhere. Look at me! Look at myhands! See how emaciated I am! See how I tremble! I am a sick wreck,Kut-le. You cannot want me! Let me go! Try, try to remember all thatyou learned of pity from the whites! O Kut-le, let me go!"

  "I haven't forgotten what I learned from the whites," replied the youngman. He looked off at the desert with a quiet smile. "Now I want thewhites to learn from me.

  "But can't you see what a futile game you are playing? John DeWitt andJack must be on your trail now!"

  There was a cruel gleam in the Apache's eyes.

  "Don't be too sure! They are going to spend a few days looking for thefoolish Eastern girl who took a stroll and lost her way in the desert.How can they dream that you are stolen?"

  Rhoda wrung her hands.

  "What shall I do! What shall I do! What an awful, awful thing to cometo me! As if life had not been hard enough! This catastrophe! Thisdisgrace!"

  Kut-le eyed her speculatively.

  "It's all race prejudice, you know. I have the education of the whitewith the intelligence and physical perfection of the Indian; DeWitt isnowhere near my equal."

  Rhoda's eyes blazed.

  "Don't speak of DeWitt! You're not fit to!"

  "Yet," very quietly, "you said the other night that I had as good abrain and was as attractive as any man of your acquaintance!"

  "I was a fool!" exclaimed Rhoda.

  Kut-le rose and took a stride or two up and down the ledge. Then hefolded his arms across his chest and stopped before Rhoda, who leanedweakly against the boulder.

  "I am going to tell you what my ideas are," he said. "You areintelligent and will understand me no matter how bitter my words maymake you at first. Now look here. Lots of white men are in love withyou. Even Billy Porter went off his head. But I guess DeWitt is apretty fair sample of the type of men you drew, well educated, strong,well-bred and Eastern to the backbone. And they love you as you are,delicate, helpless, appealing, thoroughbred, but utterly useless!

  "Except that they hate to see you suffer, they wouldn't want you tochange. Now I love you for the possibilities that I see in you. Iwouldn't think of marrying you as you are. It would be an insult to mygood blood. Your beauty is marred by your illness. You haveabsolutely no sense of responsibility toward life. You think that lifeowes everything to you, that you pay your way with your beauty. If youdidn't die, but married DeWitt, you would go on through life petted andbabied, bridge-playing and going out to lectures, childless,incompetent, self-satisfied--and an utter failure!

  "Now I think that humans owe everything to life and that women owe themost of all because they make the race. The more nature has done forthem, the more they owe. I believe that you are a thousand times worthsaving. I am going to keep you out here in the desert until you waketo your responsibility to yourself and to life. I am going to stripyour veneering of culture from you and make you see yourself as you areand life as it is--life, big and clean and glorious, with its one bigtenet: keep body and soul right and reproduce your kind. I am going tomake you see bigger things in this big country than you ever dreamedof."

  He stopped and Rhoda sat appalled, the Indian watching her. To relieveherself from his eyes Rhoda turned toward the desert. The sun had allbut touched the far horizon. Crimson and gold, purple and black,desert and sky merged in one unspeakable glory. But Rhoda saw onlyemptiness, only life's cruelty and futility and loneliness. And oncemore she wrung her feeble hands.

  Kut-le spoke to Molly, the fat squaw. She again brought Rhoda a cup ofbroth. This time Rhoda drank it mechanically, then sat in abjectwretchedness awaiting the next move of her tormentor. She had not longto wait. Kut-le took a bundle from his saddle and began to unfasten itbefore Rhoda.

  "You must get into some suitable clothes," he said. "Put these on."

  Rhoda stared at the clothing Kut-le was shaking out. Then she gave hima look of disgust. There was a pair of little buckskin breeches,exquisitely tanned, a little blue flannel shirt, a pair of high-lacedhunting boots and a sombrero. She made no motion toward taking theclothes.

  "Can't you see," Kut-le went on, "that, at the least, you will be in mypower for a day or two, that you must ride and that the clothes youhave on are simply silly? Why not be as comfortable as possible, underthe circumstances?"

  The girl, with the conventions of ages speaking in her disgusted face,the savage with his perfect physique bespeaking ages of undistortednature, eyed each other narrowly.

  "I shall keep on my own clothes," said Rhoda distinctly. "Believe me,you alone give the party the primitive air you admire!"

  Kut-le's jaw hardened.

  "Rhoda Tuttle, unless you put these clothes on at once I shall call thesquaws and have them put on you by force."

  Into Rhoda's face came a look of despair. Slowly she put out a shakinghand and took the clothes.

  "I can't argue against a brute," she said. "The men I have known havebeen gentlemen. Tell one of your filthy squaws to come and help me."

  "Molly! _Pronto_!" Like a brown lizard the fat squaw scuttled toRhoda's side.

  In a little dressing-room formed by fallen rock, Rhoda put on the boy'sclothing. Molly helped the girl very gently. When she was done shesmoothed the blue-shirted shoulder complacently.

  "Heap nice!" she said. "Make 'em sick squaw heap warm. You no 'fraid!Kut-le say cut off nose, kill 'em with cactus torture, if Injuns notgood to white squaw."

  The touch was the touch of a woman and Molly, though a squaw, had awoman's understanding. Rhoda gave a little sob.

  "Kut-le, he good!" Molly went on. "He a
big chief's son. He strong,rich. You no be afraid. You look heap pretty."

  Involuntarily Rhoda glanced at herself. The new clothes were verycomfortable. With the loveliness and breeding that neither clothingnor circumstance could mar, Rhoda was a fascinating figure. She wastall for a woman, but now she looked a mere lad. The buckskin clunglike velvet. The high-laced boots came to her knees. The sombreroconcealed all of the golden hair save for short curling locks in front.She would have charmed a painter, Kut-le thought, as she stepped fromher dressing-room; but he kept his voice coolly impersonal.

  "All right, you're in shape to travel, now. Where are your otherclothes? Molly, bring them all here!"

  Rhoda, followed the squaw and together they folded the cast-offclothing. Rhoda saw that her scarf had blown near the canon edge. Aquick thought came to her. Molly was fully occupied with mutteringadoration of the dainty underwear. Rhoda tied a pebble into the scarfand dropped it far out into the depths below. Then she returned toMolly.