CHAPTER XXV
IN WHICH THE UNDERCURRENT BELIES THE SUPERFICIAL CALM
THE snow is gone, and the earth is passing through a process of airing.The sun licks up the moisture like some creature possessed of anunquenchable thirst. Wherever it is sufficiently dry the settlers arealready at work seeding. Some are even breaking virgin soil, or turningover old ploughing. There is an atmosphere of leisurely industry about theplains. Even in these unsettled regions work goes forward with precision.The farmer's life is one of routine with which he permits nothing tointerfere. He lives by the fruits of the earth which ripen in due season.If fortune favors him he reaps the harvest. Whatever his lot he mustaccept it. The elements rule his life. The Indians may or may notdisorganize the process.
The folk on White River Farm are in no way behind their neighbors. Seth'sreturning strength permits him to take his share in the work, and thusRube finds his burden lightened. But only partially, for Seth has muchelse to do, or seems to have, for he has many comings and goings whichtake up time.
Mrs. Rickards is still staying on at the farm. She thoroughly enjoys thisnew, simple life. Besides, in the brief fortnight which has elapsed sinceher coming, she has learnt something of the true worth, the wonderfulkindliness and honesty of these frontier-folk.
Even Seth, whom at first she was less certain about, she has learned tolook upon with favor. His silent, direct fashion of going through hisdaily life has given her an inkling of qualities, which, if not altogethercompanionable, show a manliness she has not always been accustomed to.
Her change of opinion found vent one night at bedtime. Rosebud listened tothe worldly-wise woman's remarks with a glow of pleasure and pride.
"Seth is a queer fellow, Rosie, so darkly reticent and all that," shesaid, with a thoughtful smile. "Do you know I sometimes think if I were ingreat danger--personal danger, you know--he's the sort of man I'd like tohave about. He gives me the impression of a great reserve of strength. Heis what one might--well, what you would call a 'man.'"
Rosebud added her word without the least hesitation.
"He's more than that, auntie; he's the bravest and best man in theworld."
"Just so, my dear; and in consequence you don't want to return toEngland," Mrs. Rickards said slyly.
Rosebud encountered the glance which accompanied the words. She shook herhead with a little despairing gesture.
"But he loves me only as a sort of daughter."
"Does he, my dear?"
Mrs. Rickards' tone was quite incredulous; she was at home in matters oflove and marriage.
The object of all this thought went about blissfully unconscious of theheart stirrings he was causing. Every moment of his life was full--full tothe brim and even overflowing. There was not a settler in the districtwhom he had not visited during the fortnight. And his business was withthe men alone.
The result of his visits would have been visible to the eye of only themost experienced. Work went on the same as before, but there were manyhalf hours which might have been spent in well-earned idleness now devotedby the men to a quiet, undemonstrative overhauling of their armory.
As it was at these outlying farms so it was at White River. In the shorttwilight of evening Rube and Seth would wander round their buildings andthe stockade, noting this defect, suggesting this alteration, or thatrepair. All their ideas were based on the single thought of emergency.Large supplies of cord-wood were brought in and stacked on the inner sideof the stockade, thus adding to its powers of resistance. Every now andthen Ma would receive casually dropped hints on the subject of herstoreroom. A large supply of ammunition arrived from Beacon Crossing. Manycases of tinned provisions came along, and Ma, wondering, took them inwithout question or comment at the time. Later in the day when shehappened to find Seth alone she told him of them, adopting a casual tone,the tone which these people invariably assumed when the signs of the timeswore their most significant aspect.
"There was a heap of canned truck come from the Crossing, Seth," she said."I laid it down in the cellars. Maybe you sent it along?"
And Seth replied--
"Why, yes, Ma. I figgered we'd like a change from fresh meat. You see Ihappened along to Beacon Crossing, an' I guessed I'd save a journeylater."
"I see."
Ma's bright old eyes read all there was underlying her boy's words, andshe, like the rest, continued steadily on with her work.
So the days crept slowly by. Now the snow and ice were gone, and the tawnyhue of the prairie was tinged with that perfect emerald of budding spring.The woodlands of the river and the Reservation had lost their barrenblackness. The earth was opening its eyes and stretching itself after itsmonths of heavy slumber. Life was in the very air of the plains. The wholeworld seemed to be bursting with renewed life.
Seth was now restored to something like his old self. His vigor was athing to marvel at. His regular day's work was only a tithe of what hedid. That which went on after the rest of the household had retired torest was known to only two others. Rube possessed the younger man'sconfidence, and Jimmy Parker was in constant communication with him. Sethand the latter worked hand in hand for the common welfare, but they weresilent. Each knew the character of the dangers which ever surrounded them.Each knew that an absolute silence and apparent indifference were the onlymeans of learning the plans, the meaning of the furtive unrest of thewarlike Sioux. All that they learned was carefully stored and docketed forfuture reference.
Parker's responsibility was official. Seth's was voluntary andhumanitarian. Now he had a double incentive. Rosebud was in danger. Heknew that he alone stood between her and the treacherous machinations ofNevil Steyne, and the lawless passion of an unscrupulous savage. He darednot spare himself. He must know of every movement on the Reservation. Hequite understood the men he was dealing with. He knew the motive of each.All he hoped was that he might prove himself just a shade cleverer, ashade quicker in emergency when the time came for him to act.
It was impossible, however, that Seth should leave the house night afternight and no member of the household be the wiser. Oddly enough it wasMrs. Rickards' maid who discovered his movements. She, with a discretionwhich a confidential servant may always be expected to possess, whisperedher discovery to her mistress, and her mistress was not slow in drawingRosebud's attention. As they were retiring one night she told the girl ofher maid's discovery.
"Janet tells me that Mr. Seth goes out every night and doesn't return tilltwo or three in the morning, Rosie," she said abruptly, as she waspreparing for bed. "You know the girl sleeps over the kitchen, and somenights ago she saw him ride off from the barn in the moonlight. Last nightshe was awake when he got back. It was daylight. I wonder where he goes?"
Rosebud responded in a matter-of-fact tone, but with a quick look at herfriend.
"I wonder."
Mrs. Rickards wondered and speculated on, but Rosebud's manner gave her noencouragement, and she was fain to let the matter drop. There was nomalice in her remarks, but a very profound curiosity.
Her announcement had its effect.
The next night Rosebud did not go to bed after retiring to their room. Shemade no explanation, merely telling her aunt that she was not going to bedyet. And Mrs. Rickards nodded a comprehensive smile at her.
The girl waited a reasonable time till she thought the others were asleep,then she crept softly down-stairs. She went into the kitchen, but it wasdark and empty. The parlor was also in darkness, except for the moonlightpouring in through the window. But as she stood in the doorway, peeringclosely into the remoter corners, she felt a cool draught playing upon herface. Then she saw that the door opening on the verandah was open.
She walked across the room, and, looking out on the moonlit scene, waspromptly greeted by a low growl from General. The next moment she steppedout, and beheld Seth's tall figure leaning against one of the greatgate-posts of the stockade, while General came over to her and rubbed hiskeen nose against her skirts.
Just for a moment s
he hesitated. It suddenly occurred to her that heraction might be construed into spying, and she was possessed by a sense ofshame at the bare thought. She knew that she was not spying in the basersense of the word. She had no doubts of Seth. Instinct told her why he wasout. She had come to find out the facts, but not by spying. She meant toquestion him.
She felt her heart thumping in her chest as she stepped quickly across theverandah. She was nervous, and a strange feeling of shyness made her longto turn back before the man became aware of her presence. But shecontrolled the impulse, and, though feeling herself flush in the cool airof the night, walked bravely on.
She believed she was unobserved. Her slippers gave out no sound, but asshe came within a few yards of the still figure, the man's voice greetedher.
"Thought you was abed, Rosie."
The girl started at the sound. Seth had not moved, had not even turned hishead. Then she answered.
"How did you know I was here?" she said quickly.
"Guess I heard General talkin' to you."
She was at his side now.
"But you never looked round?"
"Ef it was Rube, I'd have heard his feet. Ma ain't wanderin' around o'nights. An' I guess your auntie ain't bustin' fer a moonlight ramble. Itdidn't need a heap o' figgerin'."
Rosebud had no answer ready. The argument was so simple.
A brief silence fell, while both looked out across the moonlit plains atthe dark line of distant woods. There was a slight glow in the sky in twodifferent directions. One was away over the Pine Ridge Reservation, theother was nearer at hand, but on the far side of the Rosebud Reservation.The girl saw these things and they held her silent. Her breathing camequickly. There was a sensation of excitement running through her body. Sheknew these lights were what Seth was staring at.
The man stirred at last.
"Guess you'd best git back to bed, Rosie," he said. "I'm goin' to saddleup my plug. I'm goin' to ride some."
"Where are you going?" The girl's question came with a little nervousenergy.
The man turned upon her gravely.
"I'm meetin' Parker to-night," he said briefly.
"What for?" The violet eyes held the other's with their steady gaze. Thepretty, irregular face was set and determined.
Seth moved. Then he turned away to glance at the lurid reflection in thesky. Presently his eyes came back to her face.
"It's them," he said, indicating the reflected fires.
"And what are they?" Rosebud's voice was quietly commanding. Theirresponsible girl had gone from the woman talking now.
"Sun-dances. They're doin' it at night to cover their tracks. The Injunsare gettin' wise."
"You mean?"
There was no avoiding the sharp, direct questioning.
"We're goin' to git it, and when it comes it'll be--sudden. Sudden an'bad. It's both Reservations. All of 'em."
Rosebud was silent. Her wide open eyes were on the lights, but herthoughts were on other things,--so many other things, that her headwhirled. At last she spoke again, in a tense, nervous manner.
"Tell me about it. Tell me all."
Seth shook his head.
"Ther' ain't a deal."
"Tell me."
"See you, Rosie, ef I go out o' here presently, will you jest close thesegates an' fix 'em? An' will you be up to open 'em for me?"
"Yes. But tell me."
Seth gazed at the horizon again.
"As I said, ther' ain't much," he began presently. "This has been goin' onfer days. Ther's Injuns out most every night, an' they are lyin' this sideo' the fort. They're all about it, an' them soldier-fellers ain't wise toit. What's more we darsen't to put 'em wise. They're li'ble to butt rightin, an' then ther' won't be any stoppin' them pesky redskins. Y' seether's only a handful at the fort, an' the Injuns could eat 'em."
"Yes, you always said it was a mistake to bluff with soldiers so near theReservation. I suppose the Indians resent their presence. Is that it?"
"Mebbe."
"There's another reason?"
"Can't rightly say."
Rosebud knew that the man was prevaricating.
She stood lost in thought for some moments. And as she thought a suddenlight came to her. She drew closer to her companion and laid one hand onhis arm.
"I think I see, Seth," she said, and then became silent.
The man moved, and his action was almost a rebuff. That touch had stirredhim. The gentle pressure of her hand sent the blood coursing through hisveins, and he restrained the hot, passionate words that sprang to hislips only with a great effort. The girl accepted his movement as a rebuffand shrank away. But she spoke vehemently.
"If I'd only thought--oh, if I'd only thought! I should have known. Allthat has gone before should have told me. It is my coming back that hasprecipitated matters." Her voice had sunk to a low tone of humility andself-accusation. "And, Seth, now I understand why you were shot. It wasLittle Black Fox. And I, fool that I was, dared to show myself on theReservation. And he saw me. I might have known, I might have known."
There was a piteous ring in her low tones. Seth stirred again, but shewent on desperately.
"Yes, I see it all. A descent will be made upon us, upon this farm. Youwill be done to death for me. Ma and Pa, and auntie and--and you."
She paused, but went on again at once.
"Yes, and I see further now. I see what you have already grasped. Theyhave these scouts out around the fort to watch. When it comes they mean tocut the soldiers off. There will be no help for us. Only--only thisstockade. Oh, Seth, how can you forgive me! You and Pa have foreseen allthis trouble. And you have prepared for it all you can. Is there no help?Can I do nothing to atone for what I have done? You stand there without aword of blame for me. You never blame me--any of you. I wish I were dead!Seth, why don't you kill me?"
But as the girl's hysterical outburst reached its culminating point, Sethregained perfect mastery of himself. He noted the rush of tears whichfollowed her words with a pang of infinite pity, but he told himself thathe dare not attempt to comfort her. Instead, his calm voice, with itswonderful power of reassurance, fell upon the stillness of the night.
"Little gal, things are jest as they must be. The blame is on me fer notbein' quicker an' handier wi' my gun when I had the chance. But, howsum,Parker's a hefty man. He ken think an' act quick. We're ready, far as weken be."
Rosebud dried her tears. Never in her life had Seth appeared to her as heappeared now. The steady, unruffled purpose of the man exalted him in hereyes to an impossible position. Somehow the feelings he roused in herlifted her out of her womanly weakness. She, too, was capable of great,unswerving devotion, but she did not realize it. She only felt that she,too, must bear her part in whatever fortune had in store for them. Shewould range herself beside this man and share in his success or failure.If it were to be failure she was ready to die at his side. If it weresuccess--a great exultation swept over her at the thought. She went nofurther. Success at his side would be worth--everything.
"Tell me what I can do--anything!" she cried. Her tone was low, but itrang with a note the man had never heard in it before. There was a joy init that startled him. "Seth, I believe--I know--I want to--to fight. Myblood is running like fire. Tell me what I am to do."
It was a few moments before Seth answered her. He was thinking hard. Heknew she could do much. But he was debating with himself. A great pridewas his as he contemplated the small face with its wonderful eyes out ofwhich looked such steadfast courage. He, too, thrilled at the thought offighting at her side, but he tried to tell himself that he had no right toask anything of her. Perhaps Rosebud saw the drift of his thoughts in hisface, for she gave him no chance of denial.
"Yes, the gates. That's all right. I understand. Now, what else? Can't Ireconnoitre, or--or something in the meantime?"
Her enthusiasm carried the day.
"No, I guess not. But----"
"Yes, yes----"
"See, Rosie, we want time. I kind o' t
hink it's to-morrow. Parker thinksso too. So does Hargreaves. We may be wrong. But--see right here, I'm dueback here by two o'clock sure. If I'm not here by ten minutes after ther'sthis you ken do. Go straight back o' the barn 'bout a hundred paces; onthe hill are two bunches of stuff piled up, one's wood, t'other's driedgrass an' stuff. You go right out an' kindle 'em both. They're signals tothe settlers around. Guess ther's eyes watchin' for 'em at every farm.When you see 'em burnin' steady, git right back and rouse Rube an' Ma.I'll git back later--sure. An' ther'll be others with me."
"Yes. Anything more?"
"Nope. I 'lows I'll saddle up."
They walked back to the barn in silence. Seth saddled his horse andbrought him out. Together they walked to the gate of the stockade. Theystill remained silent. At the gate the man mounted. Rosebud, very fraillooking in the moonlight, stood beside him smoothing the horse's silkyneck. Her face was anxious but determined. Suddenly she looked up. Hergreat eyes were full of appeal. There was no wavering in her gaze, nothingbut sincerity and appeal.
"Seth, dear," she said in a steady voice, "be careful of yourself--for mysake." Then, lowering her gaze, and turning to the distant reflection ofthe fires, "Remember, we all depend on you."
"I'll remember, Rosie, gal," the man replied, with a tender inflection hecould not altogether repress. "So long."
The horse moved away with General at its heels.
For a long time Rosebud stood where the parting had left her. Now thatSeth had gone she was a prey to every womanly anxiety. And her anxiety wassolely for him. None of those peacefully slumbering in the house enteredinto her thoughts. Her care was for this one man; his image filled herheart. At that moment hers was the selfishness of a maiden's first greatlove. Even in her anxiety her thoughts were not unhappy ones.
At last she moved away, and with the action came a desire to do. Unknownto her the spirit of her dead father and mother roused within her. She wasa woman, gentle, loving, but strong with an invincible courage which hadbeen handed down to her from those two brave souls of whom she had norecollection. Time would prove if the tragedy of the parents should fallupon the child.
Quietly she stole up-stairs to her bedroom. Her cousin was still sleeping.She opened a chest of drawers and drew out an old leather belt filled withammunition, and bearing two holsters containing a pair of revolvers. Thesehad been a present from Seth in the old days. She loaded both weapons, andthen secured them about her waist. Then she closed the drawer, and creptnoiselessly down-stairs again.
She made her way out into the moonlight. Passing out of the stockade shelocated the exact position of the beacon-fires. The forethought in theirarrangement pleased her. She understood that the wood-fire was for night,and the grass and dung for day. The smoke of the latter would be easilydetected in the brightest sunlight. She came back and barred the gates,and sat out on the verandah with a small metal clock beside her. Thus hervigil began.
The time crept by. Twelve, one, two o'clock. Seth had not returned. Shegave him the exact ten minutes' grace. Then, her face pale and a littledrawn by the unaccustomed strain, she went out and lit the beacons. Sheobeyed implicitly. There was no haste, no fear. Her heart was thumpinghard in her bosom as she came and went, but it was not with fear.
Finally she roused Rube and Ma. Returning to the verandah she was in timeto answer a sharp summons at the gates. To her dismay she discovered thatSeth had not returned. The Agent and Mr. Hargreaves had brought theirwomenfolk. The minister greeted the girl with a quiet announcement whichlost nothing of its significance by the easy manner in which it was made.
"They're out, Rosie," he said. And a moment later the gates were closedbehind the party.
The Watchers of the Plains: A Tale of the Western Prairies Page 25
