CHAPTER XXIV
ROSEBUD'S FORTUNE
Something of the old spirit seemed to have gone out of Rosebud when Sethrode back to her. A strange fascination held her; and now, as he came up,she had no thought of questioning him, no desire. She was ready to obey.She watched the emaciated figure as it drew near with eyes that told astory which only he could have misinterpreted. She was ready for ascolding, a scolding which she felt she merited. But Seth made no attemptto blame her. And this very fact made her wish that he would.
"Say, Rosie, gal, I guess we'll be gettin' back," he said, in a mannerwhich suggested that they had been out together merely, and that it wastime for returning.
"Yes, Seth."
There was unusual humility in the reply. It may have been that the girlremembered that scene in the woods so many months ago. Perhaps the sceneshe had just witnessed had told her something that no explanations couldhave made so clear. Seth was always the dominating factor in theirintercourse, but this outward submission was quite foreign to the girl.
They rode off together, the man's horse leading slightly. Neither spokefor a while, but Rosebud noticed that almost imperceptibly they hadbranched off and were heading for the bridge by unfrequented by-pathswhich frequently demanded their riding in Indian-file.
Seth displayed no haste and no inclination to talk, and the silence soonbegan to jar on the girl. It was one thing for her to give readyobedience, but to be led like some culprit marching to execution wassomething which roused her out of her docility. At the first opportunityshe ranged her horse alongside her companion's and asserted her presence.
"I want you to answer me a question, Seth," she said quietly. "How did youget wounded?"
The man's face never relaxed a muscle, but there was a dryness in the toneof his reply.
"Guess some bussock of a feller got monkeyin' with a gun an' didn't know aheap."
Rosebud favored him with a little knowing smile. They were still amidstthe broken woodlands, and she was quick to observe her companion'sswift-moving eyes as they flashed this way and that in their ceaselesswatchfulness.
"I'm not to be cheated. Some one shot at you who meant--business."
"Guess I ain't aware jest how he figgered, Rosie." A smile accompaniedSeth's words this time.
"Well, who did it?"
"I never seen him; so I can't rightly say."
"But you guess?"
"I ain't good at guessin'."
The girl laughed.
"Very well, I won't bother you."
Then after a little silence the man spoke again.
"Those letters of yours was mortal fine," he said. "Seems to me I couldmost find my way around London, with its stores an' nigglin' trails. It'sa tol'ble city. A mighty good eddication, travelin'."
"I suppose it is." Rosebud seemed to have lost her desire forconversation.
"Makes you think some," Seth went on, heedless of the girl's abstraction."Makes you feel as the sun don't jest rise and set on your own p'ticklerpatch o' ploughin'. Makes you feel you're kind o' like a grain o' wheat atseedin' time. I allow a man don't amount to a heap noways."
Rosebud turned on him with a bright smile in her wonderful eyes.
"That depends, Seth. I should say a man is as he chooses to make himself.I met a lot of men in England; some of them were much better than others.Some were extremely nice."
"Ah." Seth turned his earnest eyes on the girl's face. He lost thesignificance of the mischievous down-turning of the corners of her mouth."I guess them gilt-edge folk are a dandy lot. Y' see them 'lords' an'such, they've got to be pretty nigh the mark."
"Why, yes, I suppose they have."
There was another brief pause while the man's eyes glanced keenly about.
"Maybe you mixed a deal with them sort o' folk," he went on presently.
"Oh, yes." The violet eyes were again alight.
"Pretty tidy sort o' fellers, eh?"
"Rather. I liked one or two very much--very much indeed. There wasBob--Bob Vinceps, you know--he was a splendid fellow. He was awfully niceto me. Took auntie and me everywhere. I wonder how he's getting on. I mustsee if there's a letter from him at Beacon. He asked me if he might write.And wasn't it nice of him, Seth? He came all the way from London toLiverpool to see me, I mean us, off. It's a long way--a dreadful longway."
"Ah, mebbe when I go into Beacon Crossing I'll fetch that letter out foryou, Rosie."
But Seth's simple-heartedness--Rosebud called it "stupidity,"--was toomuch. The girl's smile vanished in a second and she answered sharply.
"Thanks, I'll get my own letters." Then she went on demurely. "You see ifthere happened to be a letter from Bob I shouldn't like auntie to see it.She is very--very--well, she mightn't like it."
"How?"
Seth looked squarely into the face beside him.
"She thinks--well, you see, she says I'm very young, and--and----"
"Ah, I tho't mebbe ther's suthin' agin him. You see, Rosie, ther' mustn'tbe anythin' agin the man you marry. He's got to be a jo-dandy clear thro'.I----"
"But I'm not going to marry Lord Vinceps, you silly, at least--I don'tthink so. Besides," as an afterthought, "it's nothing to you who Imarry."
"Wal, no. Mebbe that's so, only ef you'd get hitched, as the sayin' is, tosome mule-headed son of a gun that wa'n't squar' by you, I'd git aroundan' drop him in his tracks, ef I had to cross the water to do it."
Rosebud listened with a queer stirring at her heart, yet she could notrepress the impatience she felt at the calm matter-of-fact manner in whichthe threat was made. The one redeeming point about it was that she knewone of Seth's quiet assurances to be far more certain, far more deadly,than anybody's else wildest spoken threats. However, she laughed as sheanswered him.
"Well, you won't have to cross the ocean to find the man I marry. I'm notgoing to England again, except, perhaps, on a business visit. I intend tostay here, unless Pa and Ma turn me out."
Seth caught his breath. For a second his whole face lit up.
"Say, I didn't jest take you right," he said. "You're goin' to stay righthere?"
Rosebud gave a joyous little nod. She had stirred Seth out of his usualcalm. There was no mistaking the light in his hollow eyes. He made nomovement, he spoke as quietly as ever, but the girl saw something in hiseyes that set her heart beating like a steam hammer. The next moment shewas chilled as though she had received a cold douche.
"Wal, I'm sorry," he went on imperturbably. "Real sorry. Which I meanlookin' at it reas'nable. 'Tain't right. You belong ther'. Ther's yourfolk an' your property, an' the dollars. You jest ought to fix up wi' somehigh soundin' feller----"
"Seth, mind your own business!"
Rosebud's exasperation broke all bounds. If a look could have withered himSeth would have shriveled to bare bones. The next moment the girl's lipstrembled and two big tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. She urged herhorse ahead of her companion and kept that lead until they had crossed thebridge. Seth's eyes, busy in every other direction, had failed to witnessher distress, just as he failed to take any heed of her words.
"You see, Rosie, ther's a heap o' trouble comin' along here," he saidpresently, when he had drawn level.
"Yes," the girl replied, without turning her head; "and I'm going to stayfor it. Auntie can go back when she likes, but this is my home, and--Seth,why do you always want to be rid of me?"
Seth remained silent for a moment. Then he spoke in a voice that was alittle unsteady.
"I don't want to be rid of you, Rosie. No; I'm jest thinkin' of you," headded.
The old impulsive Rosebud was uppermost in an instant. She turned on him,and reached out a hand which he took in both of his.
"Seth, you are a dear, and I'm sorry for being so rude to you. It's alwaysbeen like this, hasn't it? You've always thought of me, for me. I wish,sometimes, you wouldn't think--for me."
She withdrew her hand, and, touching her horse with her heel, galloped ontoward the farm, leaving Seth to come on behind. S
he gave him no chance ofovertaking her this time.
Supper-time brought a lively scene with it. Rosebud, for some unexplainedreason, was in a more than usually contradictory mood. Mrs. Rickards hadthoroughly enjoyed her day in spite of the sloppy condition of everythingoutside the house. She was a woman who took a deep interest in life. Shewas worldly and practical in all matters which she considered to be thebusiness of a woman's life, but her mental vision was not bounded by sucha horizon.
Everything interested her, provided her personal comfort was not too muchdisturbed. The farm was strange, new, and as such was welcome, but MaSampson was a study which fascinated her. She was in the best of spiritswhen the little family gathered for the evening meal. This had been muchelaborated by Ma in her visitors' honor.
At this repast came her first real chance of observing Seth. She studiedhim for some time in silence while the others talked. Then she joined inthe conversation herself, and quickly contrived to twist it into thedirection she required.
They were laughing over Rosebud's attempt to scare her cousin with herthreat of the Indians.
"You see, auntie," the girl said roguishly, "you are a 'tenderfoot.' It isalways the privilege of 'old hands' to ridicule newcomers. In your worldthere is little for you to learn. In ours you must be duly initiated."
"In my world?" Mrs. Rickards smiled and raised her eyebrows. She had apleasant smile which lit up her round fat face till she looked the pictureof hearty good-nature. And she was on the whole decidedly good-natured.Only her good-nature never ran away with her. "My dear, why not your worldalso? This is not your world any longer."
Ma smiled down upon the teapot, while the men waited expectantly. With alltheir simplicity, these people understood Rosebud as far as it waspossible to understand her. Without appearing too keen, each watched theviolet eyes as they opened wide and wondering by upon the cousin.
"Why, auntie! I--I don't understand."
"You belong to the same world as I do. Dakota no longer claims you."
"You mean--England." Rosebud laughed; and at least three people understoodthat laugh.
Mrs. Rickards turned to Ma.
"You know, Mrs. Sampson, Rosebud has never yet regarded her positionseriously. She is curiously situated--but pleasantly, if she will onlyenter into the spirit of her father's will. Has she told you about it?"
Ma shook her head. The men went on with their meal in silence. At thispoint the subject of her aunt's talk broke in.
"Go on, auntie, you tell the story. You are the prosecution, I am thedefendant, and these are the judges. I'll have my say last, so fireahead." There was a look of determination in the girl's eyes as shelaughingly challenged her aunt.
Mrs. Rickards smiled indulgently.
"Very well, my dear; but for goodness' sake don't be so slangy. Now Mrs.Sampson and--gentlemen of the jury. Is that right, Rosie?" The girlnodded, and her aunt went on. "You must quite understand I am entirelydisinterested in Rosie's affairs. My only interest is that I have found itpossible to--er--tolerate this madcap, and she has found it possible toput up with me; in fact I am her nominal guardian--by mutual choice."
"You've hit it dead centre, auntie," interrupted the girl mischievously.
"Don't interrupt or--I'll clear the court. Well, the child comes to mefresh from the prairie. She is good as good can be; but she is quitehelpless in her new life. And more than this she is burdened--I say itadvisedly--with great wealth under, what I consider, an extraordinarywill. How the colonel came to make such a will I cannot understand. Theonly thing I can think of is that when that will was made he feared theremight be some person or persons, possibly relatives, into whose hands shemight fall, when she was young, and who might misuse her fortune. This issurmise. Anyway, after providing for her mother he leaves everything toRosebud. But the legacy is not to take effect until the day she marries.
"Further, the property left to her mother devolved upon her at hermother's death. This, of course, she has already inherited; the rest stillremains in trust. Now, of course, as the child's social mother, it is myfirst duty to watch the men with whom she comes into contact. I have givenher every opportunity to meet the most eligible bachelors. Men of titleand wealth. Men who cannot possibly be charged with fortune-hunting. Whatis the result? She sends them all to the right-about. She is positivelyrude to them--little barbarian. And the others--the undesirables--well,she just encourages them outrageously."
"Oh, auntie!"
"Wait a minute. The prosecution has not done yet. Now, Mrs. Sampson, I askyou, what am I to do? The truth is she can marry whom she pleases. I haveno power over her. I feel sure she will throw herself away on somedreadful, undesirable fortune-hunter. She is in such a position that nopoor man can ask her to marry him without becoming a fortune-hunter. Why,out of all the people she has met since she has been with me, who do youthink she encourages? Quite the worst man I know. Lord Vinceps. He's apeer, I know; but he's poor, and up to his neck in debts. She is a greattrial."
She smiled fondly at the girl whose shortcomings were causing her so muchanxiety. But there was no answering smile to meet hers. Rosebud's face wasserious for once, and her beautiful eyes quite cold. Mrs. Rickards hadaddressed herself to Ma, but the girl knew well enough, and resented thefact, that her words were meant for another. Rube and Seth still remainedsilent. But the impeachment was not allowed to pass unchallenged. Rosebudwas up in arms at once.
"About Lord Vinceps, auntie; you know that is all nonsense. I don't careif I never see him again. I understood him within five minutes of ourmeeting. And that understanding would never permit me to think twice abouthim. He is a cheerful companion; but--no, auntie, count him out. As forthe others--no, thanks. The man I marry will have to be a man, some onewho, when I do wrong, can figuratively take me across his knee. The man Imarry must be my master, auntie. Don't be shocked. I mean it. And Ihaven't met such a man under your roof. You see all my ideas are savage,barbarous."
The girl paused. Ma's smile had broadened. Rosebud had not changed. Rubelistened in open-mouthed astonishment. He was out of his depth, butenjoying himself. Seth alone gave no sign of approval or otherwise.
"Now, look here, auntie," Rosebud had gathered herself together for afinal blow. One little hand was clenched, and it rested on the edge of thetable ready to emphasize her words. "I do regard my position seriously.But I have to live my life myself, and will not be trammeled by anyconventions of your social world. I'll marry whom I please, because I wantto, and not because the world says I ought to do so. Rest assured, I won'tmarry any fortune-hunter. The man I marry I shall be able to love, honor,and obey, or I'll not marry at all."
The girl suddenly rose from her seat. Her color heightened. There wassomething in her manner that kept her aunt's eyes fixed upon her inwondering anticipation. She watched her move round the table and lean overand kiss Ma on the crown of the head, and then pass on to Rube, roundwhose neck she gently placed her arms. Thus she stood for a second lookingsmilingly over the great rough head across at Ma, who, like the others,was wondering what was coming.
"Furthermore I am not going back to England any more unless I am turnedout of here. You won't turn me out, Pa, will you?" She bent down andsoftly rubbed her cheek against Rube's bristling face.
There was a dead silence. Then Mrs. Rickards broke in weakly.
"But--but your--property?"
"I arranged that with Mr. Irvine before I came out. It's no use, auntie, Iam quite determined. That is--you won't--you won't turn me out, Pa, willyou? I'll be so good. I'll never do anything wrong, and I'll--I'll evenhoe potatoes if any one wants me to."
The girl's laughing eyes shot a mischievous glance in Seth's direction.Rube raised one great hand and drew her face to his and kissed her.
"Guess this is your home if you've a notion to it, Rosie, gal. Guess Mawants you, jest as we all do."
Ma nodded and beamed through her glasses. Seth smiled in his slowfashion.
"An' I guess I ain't bustin' fer you to hoe p'taters
neither," he said.
For a moment Mrs. Rickards looked about her helplessly; she hardly knewwhat to say. Then, at last, she, too, joined in the spirit which pervadedthe party.
"Well, you are the strangest creature--but there, I said you were a littlesavage, and so did Mr. Seth."
The Watchers of the Plains: A Tale of the Western Prairies Page 24
