IV
AUGUST
Now the settlers began to long for rain. Day after day vast clouds roseabove the horizon, swift and portentous, domed like aerial mountains,only to pass with a swoop like the flight of silent, great eagles,followed by a trailing garment of dust. Often they lifted in the westwith fine promise, only to go muttering and bellowing by to the north orsouth, leaving the sky and plain as beautiful, as placid, and as dry asbefore. The people grew anxious, and some of them became bitter, but themost of them kept up good courage, feeling certain that this was anunusual season.
One sultry day, while Rivers was on his way out to the store, he fell tostudying the sky and air. On the prairie, as on the sea, one studieslittle else. There was something formidable in every sign. In the west aprodigious dome of blue-black cloud was rising, ragged at the edge, butdense and compact at the horizon.
"That means business," Rivers said to himself, and chirped to his team.
The air was close and hot. The southern wind had died away. There wasscarcely a sound in all the landscape save the regular clucking of thewagon-wheels, the soft, rhythmical tread of the horses' feet, and thesnapping buzz of the grasshoppers rising from the weeds. Far away to thewest lay the blue Coteaux, thirty miles distant, long, low, withoutbreak, like a wall. The sun was hidden by the cloud, and as he passed ashanty Rivers saw the family eating their supper outside the door toescape the smothering heat.
He smiled as he saw the gleam of white dresses about the door of thestore. As he drove up, a swarm of impatient folk came out to meet him.The girls waved their handkerchiefs at him, and the men raised a shout.
"You're late, old man."
"I know it, but that makes me all the more welcome." He heaved themail-bag to Bailey. "There's a letter for every girl in the crowd, Iknow, for I wrote 'em."
"We'll believe that when we see the letters," the girls replied.
He dismounted heavily. "Somebody put my team up. I'm hungry as a wolfand dry as a biscuit."
"The poor thing," said one of the girls. "He means a cracker."
Estelle Clayton came out of the store. "Supper's all ready for you, Mr.Mail-Carrier. Come right in and sit down."
"I'm a-coming--now watch me," he replied, with intent to be funny.
The girls accompanied him into the little living-room.
"Oh, my, don't some folks live genteel? See the canned peaches!"
"And the canned lobster!"
"And the hot biscuit!"
"Sit down, Jim, and we'll pour the tea and dip out the peaches."
Rivers seated himself at the little pine table. "I guess you'd betterwhistle while you're dipping the peaches," he said, pointedly.
Miss Thompson dropped the spoon. "What impudence!"
"Oh, let him go on--don't mind him," said Estelle. "Let's desert him; Iguess that will make him sorry."
Upon the word they all withdrew, and Rivers smiled. "Good riddance,"said he.
Miss Baker presently opened the door, and, shaking a letter, said,"Don't you wish you knew?"
He pretended to hurl a biscuit at her, and she shut the door with ashriek of laughter.
Mrs. Burke slipped in. Her voice was low and timid, her face sombre.
"I cooked the supper, Jim."
"You did? Well, it's good. The biscuits are delicious." He looked at heras only a husband should look--intimate, unwaveringly, secure. "You'relooking fine!"
She flushed with pleasure. As she passed him with the tea, he put hisarm about her waist.
"Be careful, Jim," she said, gently, and with a revealing, familiar, sadcadence in her voice.
He smiled at her boyishly. He was beautiful to her in this mood. "I washoping you'd come over and stew something up for me. Hello, there's thethunder! It's going to rain!"
Another sudden boom, like a cannon-shot, silenced the noise inside foran instant, and then a sudden movement took place, the movement of feetpassing hurriedly about, and at last only one or two persons could beheard. When Rivers re-entered the store Bailey was alone, standing inthe door, intently watching the coming storm. It was growing dusk on theplain, and the lightning was beginning to play rapidly, low down towardthe horizon.
"We're in for it!" Bailey remarked, very quietly. "Cyclone!"
"Think so?" said Rivers, carelessly.
"Sure of it, Jim. That cloud's too wide in the wings to miss us thistime."
A peculiar, branching flash of lightning lay along the sky, like a vastelm-tree, followed by a crashing roar.
Blanche cried out in alarm.
"Now, don't be scared. It's only a shower and will soon be over," saidBailey. "Here's a letter for you."
She took the letter and read it hastily, looking often at the comingstorm. She seemed pale and distraught.
"Do you s'pose I've got time to get home now?" she asked, as shefinished reading.
"No," said Rivers, so decidedly that Bailey looked up in surprise.
"Can't you take me home?"
Rivers looked out of the door. "By the time we get this wagon unloadedand the team hitched up, the storm will be upon us. No. I guess you'resafest right here."
There was a peculiar tone, a note of authority, in his voice whichpuzzled Bailey quite as much as her submission.
They worked silently and swiftly, getting the barrels of pork and oiland flour into the store, and by the time they had emptied the wagon theroom was dark, so dark that the white face of the awed woman could beseen only as a blotch of gray against the shadow.
They lighted the oil lamps, which hung in brackets on the wall, and thenRivers said to Blanche: "Won't you go into the other room? We must stayhere and look after the goods."
"No, no! I'd rather be here with you; it's going to be terrible."
"Hark!" said Bailey, with lifted hands; "there she comes!"
Far away was heard a continuous, steady, low-keyed, advancing hum, likethe rushing of wild horses, their hoofbeats lost in one mighty,throbbing, tumultuous roar; then a deeper darkness fell upon the scene,and swift as the swoop of an eagle the tornado was upon them.
The advancing wall of rain struck the building with terrific force. Thelightning broke forth, savage as the roar of siege-guns. The noise ofthe wind and thunder was deafening. The plain grew black as night, savewhen the lightning flamed in countless streams across the clouds. Thecabin shook like a frightened hound. Bailey looked around.
"We must move the goods!" he shouted above the tumult. "See, the rain isbeating in!"
Rivers, with Blanche encircled by his arm, pressed her to his sidereassuringly. "Don't be afraid. It can't blow down," he repeated.
He then leaped to Bailey's assistance, and, while the thunder crashed intheir ears and the lightning blinded their eyes, they worked likefrantic insects to move the goods away from the western wall, throughwhich the rain was beating. There was a pleasure in this assault whichthe woman could not share. It was battle, absorbing and exalting. Theirshouts were full of joyous excitement.
Once, when the structure trembled and groaned with the shock of afrightful blast, Rivers again put his arm around Blanche, saying: "Itcan't blow over. See those heavy barrels? If this store blows down,there won't be a shanty standing in the county."
She pushed to the window to get a glimpse of the sod when the lightningflamed. She imagined the plain as it would look with every cabinflattened to earth, its inmates scattered, unhoused in the scant,water-weighted grass.
As they all stood staring out, Rivers pointed and shouted to Bailey,"See that flag-pole!"
It was made of hard pine, tough and supple, but it bent in the force ofthe wind like a willow twig. Again and again it bowed, rose with afling, only to be borne down again. At last it broke with a crash; theupper half, whirling down, struck the roof, opening a ragged holethrough which the rain streamed in torrents.
Rivers cried, in battle alarm, "The roof is going!"
"No, it ain't!" trumpeted Bailey, sturdily; "swing a tub up here tocatch the water!"
The woman forgot her fears and aided the two men as they toiled to coverthe more perishable goods with bolts of cotton cloth, while theappalling wind tore at the eaves and lashed the roof with broadsides ofrain and hail, which fell in constantly increasing force, raising theroar of the storm in key, till it crackled viciously. The tempest hadthe voice of a ravenous beast, cheated and angry. Outside the water layin sheets. The whole land was a river, and the shanty was like a boatbeached on a bar in the swash of it.
Nothing more could be done, and so they waited, Bailey watching at thewindow, Blanche and Rivers standing in the centre of the room. Baileycame back once to say: "This beats anything I ever saw. There will beruin to many a shanty out of this," he added, as the roar began todiminish. "Nothing saved us but our ballast of pork and oil."
"As soon as it stops, Bob, I wish you'd hitch up for me. I want to takeMrs. Burke home."
"All right, Jim; it's letting up now. I wonder if the storm was as badover where the Clayton girls are?" His voice betrayed anxiety greaterthan he knew. Rivers looked at him indulgently and smiled at Blanche."You'd better go and see," he said.
As soon as it became possible to carry a light, Bailey went to the barnand brought the team to the door. Rivers helped Blanche to a seat inthe wagon and drove off across the plain, leaving Bailey alone in thewater-soaked store-room. After a half-hour's work he, too, set out on atour of exploration. The moon was shining on the plain as serenely as ifonly a dew had fallen. Water stood in shallow basins here and there, butthe land was unmarked of the passion of lightning and of wind. Baileywalked across the level waste, straining his eyes ahead to see if thehomes of his neighbors were still standing. He saw lights gleaming hereand there like warning lamps of distant schooners, and when theinfrequent, silent lightning flamed over the level waste, he caughtglimpses of familiar shanties standing on the low swells.
He hurried forward, his feet splashing in water, too intent to turnaside. Wherever a lamp burned steadily he knew a roof still remained,and his heart grew lighter. He came at last to the object of his search.It was only a small hut, but it was to him most sacred. He knockedtimidly at the door.
"Who's there?" was the quick and startled reply.
"It's Bailey. I'm here to see how you came through the storm."
"Oh, Mr. Bailey!" replied Estelle. She opened the door. "Come in. We'reall right, but wet. Don't step in the pans."
As he entered, with eyes a little dazzled by the candle, Carrie, wrappedin a shawl, rose from the bed. "Oh, I'm glad to see a man! Wasn't itterrible?" Pans were set about the room to catch the dripping water. Thelittle shanty, usually so orderly and cheerful, looked dishevelled anddesolate.
Estelle laughed and said, "I tried to save the chickens, and I nearlyblew away myself."
Her cheeks were flushed, and her wet hair streamed down her back. Shewas barefooted, a fact which she tried to conceal by leaning forward alittle.
"It was very good of you to come over," she went on, more soberly, inthe pause which followed. "We were scared; no use denying that, but wewere too busy to dwell upon it. The wind took the tarred paper off theroof and let the rain through everywhere. It was the most excitingexperience of our lives."
She was more breathless and girlish than she had ever been in hispresence, and he grew correspondingly secure. A subtle charm came fromher streaming hair and her uncorseted and graceful figure. He offeredassistance, but she sturdily replied:
"Oh no, thank you. There's nothing to do till morning, anyway. We keptthe bed dry, and so we can sleep." She smiled on him with somethinghappy hidden in the tones of her voice. She was embarrassed, but notafraid. She trusted him perfectly, and he was exalted by that trust.
"Well, I'll be over in the morning and see how badly damaged you are. Icouldn't go to bed till I knew you were all right."
"Thank you. You're very kind."
He went out with a feeling that Carrie was trying hard not to laugh athim. He was sure he heard a smothered giggle as he went down the slope.He glowed with admiration for Estelle, so frank, so womanly. Theyseemed to have drawn closer to each other in that fifteen minutes' talkthan in all the preceding months. In the joy of this deepeningfriendship he splashed contentedly back to the store, unheeding thepools beneath his feet.
The Moccasin Ranch: A Story of Dakota Page 4
