The Mistress of Bonaventure

by Harold Bindloss

  CHAPTER IX

  A PRAIRIE STUDY

  So Redmond came home, and we buried him the following night bytorchlight on a desolate ridge of the prairie. It was his daughter whoordered this; and if some of those who held aloft the flaming towguessed his secret they kept it for the sake of the girl who stood witha stony, tearless face beside the open grave. He had doubtless yieldedto strong compulsion when driven into a corner from which, for one ofhis nature, there was no escape, and now that he was dead, I hadtransferred my score against him to the debit of the usurer. As we rodehome after the funeral I said something of the kind to Steel, who agreedwith me.

  "If you concluded to try it, Thorn and Jo and I, taking our affidavitsas to what we saw that night, might make out a case for you; but I don'tknow that we could fix it on Lane, and it strikes me as mean to drag adead man into the fuss for nothing," he said. "Redmond has gone to aplace where he can't testify, but he has left his daughter, and shealready has about all she can stand."

  "Strikes me that way, too; and Lane's too smart to be corraled," addedThorn.

  "We'll get even somehow without Redmond, and to that end you two willhave to run Gaspard's Trail," I said. "I'm going down to Montreal withCarolan's cattle."

  A project had for some little time been shaping itself in my mind. I hada small reversionary interest in some English property, and though itwould be long before a penny of it could accrue to me, it seemed justpossible to raise a little money on it. Considering Western rates ofinterest, nobody in Winnipeg would trouble with such an investment, butI had a distant and prosperous kinsman in Montreal who might find somespeculator willing. Montreal was, however, at least two thousand milesaway, and traveling expensive; but the Carolan brothers had promptlyaccepted my offer to take charge of their cattle destined for Europe,which implied free passes both ways. It was not the mode of travelingone would have expected a prosperous rancher to adopt, but I neededevery available dollar for the approaching struggle, and was wellcontent when, after the untamed stock had nearly wrecked the railroaddepot, we got them on board the cars.

  The only time I ever saw Sergeant Mackay thoroughly disconcerted wasthat morning. We came up out of the empty prairie riding on the flanksof the herd. The beasts had suffered from the scarcity of water and werein an uncertain temper, while, as luck would have it, just as theysurged close-packed between the bare frame houses, Mackay and a troopercame riding down the unpaved street of the little prairie town. Therewas no opening either to right or to left, and the more prudentstorekeepers put up their shutters.

  "Look as if they owned the universe, them police," said the man whocantered up beside me. "Sure, it would take the starch out of them ifanything did start the cattle."

  Mackay pulled up his horse and looked dubiously at the mass of tossinghorns rolling towards him. "'Tis not in accordance with regulations toturn a big draft loose on a peaceful town. Why did ye not split themup?" he said. "Ye could be held responsible if there's damage done."

  "I'm afraid these beasts don't understand regulations, and I had tobring them as best I could," I answered; and my assistant shouted, "Getout of the daylight, sergeant, dear, while your shoes are good."

  Mackay seemed to resent this familiarity, and sat still, with one handon his hip, an incarnation of official dignity, though he kept his eyesupon the fast advancing herd until the big freight locomotive which wasawaiting us set up a discordant shrieking, and backed a row of clangingcars across the switches. That was sufficient for the untamed cattle.With a thunder of pounding hoofs they poured tumultuously down therutted street, and I caught a brief glimpse of the sergeant hurriedlywheeling his horse before everything was blotted out by the stirred-updust. The streets of a prairie town are inches deep in powdered loam allsummer and in bottomless sloughs all spring.

  A wild shout of "Faugh-a-ballagh!" rang out; and I found myself ridingfaster than was prudent along the crazy plank sidewalk to pass and, ifpossible, swing the stampeding herd into the railroad corral. How myhorse gained the three-foot elevation and avoided falling over thedry-goods bales and flour bags which lay littered everywhere, I do notremember; but my chief assistant, Dennis, who, yelling his hardest,charged recklessly down the opposite one, afterwards declared that hisbeast climbed up the steps like a kitten. Then, as I drew a littleahead, Mackay became dimly visible, riding bareheaded, as though for hislife, with the horns, that showed through the tossed-up grit, a fewyards behind him. Fortunately the stockyard gates were open wide, andDennis came up at a gallop in time to head the herd off from a chargeacross the prairie, while a second man and I turned their opposite wing.Mackay did his best to wheel his horse clear of the gates, but the beastwas evidently bent on getting as far as possible from the oncoming mass,and resisted bit and spur. Then there was a great roar of laughter fromloungers and stockyard hands as the dust swept up towards heaven and thedrove thundered through the opening.

  "Where's the sergeant?" I shouted; and Dennis, who chuckled so that hisspeech was thick, made answer: "Sure, he's in the corral. The beastshave run him in, but it's mighty tough beef they'd find him in the oldcountry."

  Dennis was right, for when the haze thinned the sergeant appeared, aswhite as a miller, flattened up against the rails, while a playful steercurveted in the vicinity, as though considering where to charge him. Hewas extricated by pulling down the rails, and accepted my apologiesstiffly.

  "This," he said, disregarding the offer of a lounger to wash him underthe locomotive tank, "is not just what I would have expected of ye,Rancher Ormesby."

  While the stock were being transferred to the cars amid an almostindescribable tumult, I met Miss Redmond on the little sod platform.

  "I am glad I have met you, because I am going to Winnipeg, and may neversee you again," she said. "There is much I do not understand, but I feelyou have been wronged, and want to thank you for your consideration."

  Redmond's daughter had received some training in an Eastern convent, itwas said, and I found it hard to believe that the very pale,quietly-spoken girl was the one who had called down the curses uponFoster Lane. Still, I knew there was a strain of something akin toinsanity in that family, and that, in addition, she was of the changefulnature which accompanies pure Celtic blood.

  "You should not indulge in morbid fancies, and you have very littlecause for gratitude. We were sincerely sorry for you, and tried to dowhat we could," I said.

  Ailin Redmond fixed her black eyes intently upon me, and I grew uneasy,seeing what suggested a smoldering fire in them. "You are not cleverenough to deceive a woman," she said, with a disconcerting composure. "Ido not know all, but perhaps I shall some day, and then, whatever itcosts me, you and another person shall see justice done. It may not befor a long time, but I can wait; and I am going away from the prairie.Still, I should like to ask you one question--how did your cattle getinside the fence?"

  "The fire drove them; but instead of fretting over such things, you musttry to forget the last two months as soon as possible," I answered asstoutly as I could, seeking meanwhile an excuse for flight, which wasnot lacking. "Those beasts will kill somebody if I neglect them anylonger."

  Ailin Redmond held out her hand to me, saying very quietly: "I shallnever forget, and--it is no use protesting--a time will come when Ishall understand it all clearly. Until then may the good saints protectyou from all further evil, Rancher Ormesby."

  As I hurried away a tented wagon lurched into the station, and when Ilast saw Redmond's daughter she stood near the lonely end of theplatform talking earnestly with the traveling photographer.

  Dennis had not recovered from his merriment when, much to thesatisfaction of those we left behind, the long cars rolled out of thestation, while many agents remembered our visit to the stations whichsucceeded. Blinding dust and fragments of ballast whirled about the carsas the huge locomotive hauled them rocking over the limitless levels.From sunrise to sunset the gaunt telegraph poles reeled up from thereceding horizon, growing from the size of matches to towering spars
asthey came, and then slowly diminishing far down the straight-ruled lineagain. For hours we lay on side-tracks waiting until one of the greatinter-ocean expresses, running their portion of the race round half theglobe, thundered past, white with the dust of a fifteen-hundred-milejourney, and then, with cars and cattle complaining, we lurched on ourway again.

  At times we led the beasts out in detachments to water at waysidestations, and there was usually much profanity and destruction ofproperty before we got them back again, and left the agent to assess thedamage to his feelings, besides splintered gangways and broken rails. Itwas at Portage or Brandon, I think, that one showed me a warningreceived by wire. "Through freight full of wild beasts coming along.There'll be nothing left of your station if you let the lunatics incharge of them turn their menagerie out."

  The beasts had, however, grown more subdued before the cars rolledslowly into Winnipeg, and gave us little trouble when, leaving theprairie behind, we sped, eastwards ever, past broad lake and foamingriver, into the muskegs of Ontario; so that I had time for reflectionwhen the great locomotive, panting on the grades, hauled us, poisedgiddily between crag face and deep blue water, along the Superior shore.The Haldanes were in Montreal, and I wondered, in case chance threw mein their way, how they would greet me, and what I should say. I wasapparently a prosperous rancher when they last spoke with me, and atender of other men's cattle now, while it might well happen that intheir eyes a further cloud rested upon me.

  The long and weary journey came to an end at last, and when the bigengines ceased their panting beside the broad St. Lawrence I left Dennisand his companions to divert themselves in Montreal after the fashion oftheir kind, and, arraying myself in civilized fashion, proceeded to myrelative's offices.

  A clerk said that Mr. Leyland, who was absent, desired me to follow himto his autumn retreat, but I first set about the business which hadbrought me, unassisted. Nobody, however, would entertain the species ofinvestment I had to propose, and it was with a heavy heart I boarded thecars again some days later.

  Leyland and his wife appeared unaffectedly glad to see me at theirpretty summer-house, which stood above the smooth white shingle fringinga wide lake, and at sunset that evening I lay smoking among the bouldersof a point, while his son and heir sat close by interrogating me. Partof the lake still reflected the afterglow, and after the monotonouslevels of the prairie it rested my eyes to see the climbing pines towerabove it in shadowy majesty. Their drowsy scent was soothing, andthrough the dusk that crept towards me from their feet, blinking lightscast trembling reflections across the glassy water. Several prosperouscitizens retired at times to spend their leisure in what they termedcamping on the islets of that lake.

  "Air you poor and wicked?" asked the urchin, inspecting me critically.

  "Very poor, and about up to the average for iniquity," I said; and thediminutive questioner rubbed his curly locks as though puzzled.

  "Well, you don't quite look neither," he commented. "Poor men don't wearnew store clothes. The last one I saw had big holes in his pants, andhadn't eaten nothing for three weeks, he said. Pop, he spanked me good'cos I gave him four dollars off'n the bureau to buy some dinner with.Say, how long was it since you had a square meal, anyway? You did mightywell at supper. I was watching you."

  "It is about two months since I had a meal like that and then it wasbecause a friend of mine gave it to me," I answered truthfully; andLeyland junior rubbed his head again.

  "No--you don't look very low down, but you must be," he repeated. "Popwas talking 'bout you, and he said: 'You'll do your best to see the poordevil has a good time, 'Twoinette. From what I gather he needs it prettybad.'"

  I laughed, perhaps somewhat hollowly, for the child commented: "Won'tyou do that again? It's just like a loon. There's one lives over yonder,and he might answer. Ma, she says people should never make a noise whenthey laugh; but when I sent Ted on the roof to get my ball, and he fellinto the rain-butt, she just laughed worse than you, and her teeth cameout."

  "Your mother would probably spank you for telling that to strangers. Butwho is Ted?" I said, remembering that a loon is a water-bird that setsup an unearthly shrieking in the stillness of the night; and the urchinrebuked me with the cheerful disrespect for his seniors whichcharacterizes the Colonial born.

  "Say, was you forgotten when brains were given out? He's just Ted Caryl,and I think he's bad. Pop says his firm's meaner than road agents. Hecomes round evenings and swops business lies with Pop, 'specially whenBee is here, but he can't be clever. Ma says he don't even know enoughto be sure which girl he wants. They is two of them, and I like Loubest."

  "Why?" I asked, because the urchin seemed to expect some comment; andhe proceeded to convince me. "They is both pretty, but Lou is nicest. Ifound it out one day I'd been eating corduroy candy, and Bee she justdropped me when I got up on her knee. She didn't say anything, but shelooked considerable. Then I went to Lou, and she picked me up and gaveme nicer candies out of a gilt-edge box. Ma says she must have been anangel, because her dress was all sticky, and I think she is. There wasone just like her with silver wings in the church at Sault Chaudiere.One night Ma and them was talking 'bout you, and Bee sits quite still asif she didn't care, but she was listening. Lou, she says: 'Poor----' Idon't think it was poor devil."

  "Do you know where little boys who tell all they hear go to?" I asked;and Leyland junior pointed to a dusky sail that showed up behind theisland before he answered wearily: "You make me tired. I've been askedthat one before. Here's Ted and the others coming. I'm off to see whatthey have brought for me."

  He vanished among the boulders, and, filling my pipe again, I keptstill, feeling no great inclination to take part in the casual chatterof people with whose customs I had almost lost touch. I was struck bythe resemblance of the names the child mentioned to those of Haldane'sdaughters, but both were tolerably common, and it did not please me thatMrs. Leyland should make a story of my struggles for the amusement ofstrangers. So some time had passed before I entered the veranda of thelittle wooden house, and, as it was only partially lighted by a shadedlamp, managed to find a place almost unobserved in a corner. Thus I hadtime to recover from my surprise at the sight of Beatrice and LucilleHaldane seated at a little table beneath the lamp. Two men I did notknow leaned against the balustrade close at hand, and several more werepartly distinguishable in the shadows. From where I sat some of thefigures were projected blackly against a field of azure and silver, forthe moon now hung above the lake. Beatrice Haldane was examining whatappeared to be a bound collection of photographic reproductions.

  "Yes. As Mrs. Leyland mentions, I have met the original of this picture,and it is a good one, though it owes something to the retoucher," shesaid; and I saw my hostess smile wickedly at her husband when somebodysaid: "Tell us about him. How interesting!"

  Beatrice Haldane answered lightly: "There is not much to tell. Theallegorical title explains itself, if it refers to the edict that it isby the sweat of his brow man shall earn his bread, which most of ouracquaintances seem to have evaded. The West is a hard, bare country, andits inhabitants, though not wholly uncivilized, hard men. I should liketo send some of our amateur athletes to march or work with them. Thisone is merely a characteristic specimen."

  I wondered what the subject of the picture was, but waited anopportunity to approach the speaker, while, as I did so, a young mansaid: "I should rather like to take up your sister's challenge. Pullingthe big catboat across here inside an hour without an air of wind wasnot exactly play; but can you tell us anything more about these tirelessWesterners, Miss Lucille?"

  The younger girl, who sat quietly, with her hands in her lap, looked up."It is the fashion never to grow enthusiastic; but I am going to tellyou, Ted. Those men were always in real earnest, and that is why theyinterested me; but I shouldn't take up the challenge if I were you. Wecall this camping. They lie down to sleep on many a journey in a snowtrench under the arctic frost, ride as carelessly through blindingblizzard as summer heat, and,
I concluded, generally work all day andhalf the night. They are not hard in any other sense, but very generous,though they sometimes speak, as they live, very plainly."

  Some of the listeners appeared amused, others half-inclined to applaudthe girl, and there was a little laughter when Miss Haldane interposed:"This is my sister's hobby. Some of them, you may remember, seem to liveupon gophers, Lucille."

  Lucille Haldane did not appear pleased at this interruption; but theflush of animation and luster in her eyes wonderfully became her. "I donot know that even gophers would be worse than the canned goose liversand other disgusting things we import for their weight in silver," shesaid. "All I saw in the West pleased me, and, because I am a Canadianfirst and last, I don't mind being smiled at for admitting that I amvery glad I have seen the men who live there at their work. They aredoing a great deal for our country."

  "They could not have a stancher or prettier champion, my dear," said agray-haired man who sat near me. "It would be hard to grow equallyenthusiastic about your profession, Ted."

  "It is Miss Haldane's genius which makes the most of everybody's goodpoints," answered a young man with a frank face and stalwart appearance,turning towards me. "I am afraid the rest of us would see only a tiredand dusty farmer who looked as though twelve hours' sleep would be goodfor him. What's your idea of the West? If I remember Mrs. Leylandcorrectly, you come from the land of promise, don't you?"

  "We certainly work tolerably hard out there, but it is no great creditto us when we have to choose between that and starvation; and the Westis the land of disappointment as well as promise," I answered dryly.

  The rest glanced around in our direction, and Mrs. Leyland laughedmischievously. "If any of you are really interested, my friend here, whocame in so quietly, would, I dare say, answer your questions. Let mepresent you, Rancher Ormesby."

  I bowed as, endeavoring to remember the names that followed, I movedtowards the chair beside her when she beckoned. It lay full in thelight, and I noticed blank surprise in the faces turned towards me.Beatrice Haldane dropped the album, and for some reason the clear rosecolor surged upwards from her sister's neck. I stooped to recover thebook, which lay open, and then stared at it with astonishment andindignation, for the face of the man standing beside a weary team,waist-deep in the tall grass of a slough, was unmistakably my own. Ihad forgotten the click of the camera shutter that hot morning.

  "It was hardly fair of my hostess not to warn me, and this print waspublished without my knowledge or consent," I said. "Still, it shows howwe earn a living in my country, and I can really tell you little more.We resemble most other people in that we chiefly exert ourselves underpressure of necessity--and one would prefer to forget that fact during abrief holiday."

  The listeners either smiled or nodded good-humoredly and it was LucilleHaldane who held out her hand to me, while her elder sister returned mysalutation with a civility which was distinct from cordiality. How Mrs.Leyland changed the situation I do not remember, nor how, when some ofthe party were inspecting fire-flies in the grasses by the lake, I foundmyself beside Beatrice Haldane at the end of the veranda. I had schooledmyself in preparation for a possible meeting, but she looked sobeautiful with the moonlight on her that I spoke rashly.

  "We parted good friends--but no one could have hoped you felt theslightest pleasure at the present meeting."

  "Frankness is sometimes irksome to both speaker and listener," said thegirl, turning her dark eyes upon me steadily. "Can you not be satisfiedwith the possibility of your being mistaken?"

  "No," I answered doggedly, and she smiled. "Then suppose one admittedyou had surmised correctly?"

  "I should ask the cause," and Beatrice Haldane, saying nothing, looked awarning, which, being filled with an insane bitterness, I would nottake. "It would hurt me to conclude that those you honored with yourfriendship on the prairie would be less welcome here."

  She raised her head a little with the Haldane's pride, which, thoughnever paraded, was unmistakable. "You should have learned to know usbetter. Neither your prosperity nor the reverse would have made anydifference."

  "Then is there no explanation?" I asked, forgetting everything under thestrain of the moment; and it was evident that Beatrice Haldane sharedher sister's courage, for, though there was a darker spot in the centerof her cheek she answered steadily: "There is. We are disappointed inyou, Rancher Ormesby."

  Then, without another word, she turned away, and presently the rattle ofoars and a gleam of moonlit canvas told that the catboat was returningacross the lake.

  "I hope you have enjoyed the meeting with your friends," said Mrs.Leyland, presently. "Very much, I assure you," I answered, with aneffort which I hope will be forgiven me.