That Girl Montana

by Ryan, Marah Ellis

  Looking down now at the clouded young face under the hat, he felt remorsefully like a “kill-joy;” for she had been cheery enough until she caught sight of him.

  “And you will never do squaw work for me again, little squaw?” Dan questioned, banteringly. “Not even if I asked you?”

  “You never will ask me,” she answered, promptly.

  “Well, then, not even if I should get sick and need a nurse?”

  “You!” and she surveyed him from head to foot with pronounced unbelief. “You’ll never be sick. You’re strong as a mountain lion, or an old king buffalo.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed, and smiled slightly at the dubious compliment. “But you know even the old king buffaloes die sometime.”

  “Die? Oh, yes, in a fight, or something of that sort; but they don’t need much medicine!”

  “And even if you did,” said Lyster, addressing Overton, “I’m going to give you fair warning you can’t depend on ’Tana, unless you mend your ways. She threatened to-day to leave us, if you allow the shadow of your anger to fall on her again. So take heed, or she will swim back to Akkomi.”

  Overton looked at her sharply, and saw that back of Lyster’s badinage there was something of truth.

  “You did?” he asked, reproachfully. “I did not know I had been so bad a friend to you as that.”

  But no answer was made to him. She was ashamed, and she looked it. She was also angry at Lyster, and he was made aware of it by a withering glance.

  “Now I’m in her bad books,” he complained; “but it was only my fear of losing her that urged me to give you warning. I hope she does not take revenge by refusing me all the dances I am looking forward to to-night. I’d like to get you, as her guardian, on my side, Overton.”

  The girl looked up, expectantly, and rested her slim fingers on the arms of the two men.

  “I could not be of much use, unless I had an invitation myself to the dance,” Dan remarked, dryly; “mine has evidently been delayed in the mail.”

  “You don’t like it?” said the girl, detecting the fact in his slight change of tone. “You don’t want me to go to dances?”

  “What an idea!” exclaimed Lyster. “Of course, he is not going to spoil our good time by objecting—are you, Dan? I never thought of that. You see, you were away; but, of course, I fancied you would like it, too. I’ll write you out a flourishing request for your presence, if that’s all.”

  “It isn’t necessary; I’ll be there, I reckon. But why should you think I mean to keep you from jollifications?” he asked, looking kindly at ’Tana. “Don’t get the idea in your head that I’m a sort of ‘Bad Man from Roaring River,’ who eats a man or so for breakfast every day, and all the little girls he comes across. No, indeed! I’ll whistle for you to dance any time; so get on your war-paint and feathers when it pleases you.”

  The prospect seemed to please her, for she walked closer to him and looked up at him with more content.

  “Anyway, you ain’t like Captain Leek,” she decided. “He’s the worst old baby! Why, he just said all sorts of things about dances. Guess he must be a heavy swell where he comes from, and where all the fandangoes are got up in gilt-edged style. I’d like to spoil the gilt for him a little. I will, too, if he preaches any more of his la-de-da society rules to me. I’ll show him I’m a different boy from Mrs. Huzzard.”

  “Now, what would you do?” asked Lyster. “He wouldn’t trust himself in a boat with you, so you can’t drown him.”

  “Don’t want to. Huh! I wouldn’t want to be lynched for him. All I’d like to hit hard would be his good opinion of himself. I could, too, if Dan wouldn’t object.”

  “If you can, you’re a wonder,” remarked Dan. “And I’ll give you license to do what I confess I can’t. But I think you might take us into your confidence.”

  This she would not do, and escaped all their questions, by taking refuge in Mrs. Huzzard’s best room, and much of her afternoon was spent there under that lady’s surveillance, fashioning a party gown with which to astonish the natives. For Mrs. Huzzard would not consent to her appearing in the savageness of an Indian dress, when the occasion was one of importance—namely, the first dance in the settlement held in the house of a respectable woman.

  And as ’Tana stitched, and gathered, and fashioned the dress, according to Mrs. Huzzard’s orders, she fashioned at the same time a little plan of her own in which the personality of Captain Leek was to figure.

  If Mrs. Huzzard fancied that her silent smiles were in anticipation of the dancing festivities, she was much mistaken.

  * * *

  CHAPTER VII.

  A GAME OF POKER.

  Mr. Max Lyster, in his hasty plans for an innocent village dance, had neglected to make allowance for a certain portion of the inhabitants whose innocence was not of the quality that allowed them to miss anything, no matter who was host. They would shoot the glass out of every window in a house, if the owner of the house should be in their bad books for any trifling slight, and would proceed to “clean out” any establishment where their own peculiar set was ignored.

  There were, perhaps, seven or eight women in the place who were shown all respect by men in general. They were the wives and daughters of the city fathers—the first of the “family folks” to give the stamp of permanency to the little camp by the river. These ladies and their husbands, together with the better class of the “boys,” were the people whom Mr. Lyster expected to meet and to partake of his hospitality in the cheery abode of Mrs. Huzzard.

  But Overton knew there were one or two other people to consider, and felt impatient with Lyster for his impulsive arrangements. Of course, ’Tana could not know and Mrs. Huzzard did not, but Lyster had at least been very thoughtless.

  The fact was that the well-ordered establishment of Mrs. Huzzard was a grievance and a thorn in the side of certain womankind, who dwelt along the main street and kept open drinking saloons seven days in the week. They would have bought ribbons and feathers from her, and as a milliner thought no more about her, or even if she had opened a hotel, with a bar attached, they would have been willing to greet her as a fellow worker, and all would have had even chances. But her effrontery in opening an eating house, where only water—pure or adulterated with tea or coffee—was drunk—Well, her immaculate pretensions, to use the vernacular of one of the disgusted, “made them sick.”

  It may have been their dislike was made more pronounced because of the fact that the more sober-minded men turned gladly to the irreproachable abode of Mrs. Huzzard, and the “bosses” of several “gangs” of workmen had arranged with her for their meals. Besides, the river men directed any strangers to her house; whereas, before, the saloons had been the first point of view from which travelers or miners had seen Sinna Ferry. All these grievances had accumulated through the weeks, until the climax was capped when the report went abroad that a dance was to take place at the sickeningly correct restaurant, and that only the elité of the settlement were expected to attend.

  Thereupon some oaths had been exchanged in a desultory fashion over the bars at Mustang Kate’s and Dutch Lena’s; and derisive comments made as to Mrs. Huzzard and her late charge, the girl in the Indian dress. Some of the boys, who owned musical instruments—a banjo and a mouth organ—were openly approached by bribery to keep away from the all too perfect gathering, so that there might be a dearth of music. But the boys with the musical instruments evaded the bribes, and even hinted aloud their desire to dance once anyway with the new girl of the curly hair and the Indian dress.

  This decision increased somewhat the muttering of the storm brewing; and when Dutch Lena’s own man indiscreetly observed that he would have to drop in line, too, if all the good boys were going, then indeed did the cyclone of woman’s wrath break over that particular branch of Hades. Lena’s man was scratched a little with a knife before quiet was restored, and there had been some articles of furniture flung around promiscuously; also some violent language.

  Over
ton divined somewhat of all this, knowing as he did the material of the neighborhood, though no actual history of events came to his ears. And ’Tana, presenting herself to his notice in all the glory of her party dress, felt her enthusiasm cool as he looked at her moodily. He would have liked to shut her away from all the vulgar gaze and comment he knew her charming face would win for her. His responsibilities as a guardian forced on him so many new phases of thought. He had never before given the social side of Sinna Ferry much consideration; but he thought fast and angrily as he looked down on the slim, girlish, white-draped figure and the lovely appealing face turned upward to him.

  “You don’t like it—you don’t think it is pretty?” she asked, and her mouth was a little tremulous. “I tried so hard. I sewed part of it myself, and Mrs. Huzzard said—”

  Lyster arose from a seat by the window. He had entered the room but a moment before, and now lounged toward her with critical eyes.

  “Mrs. Huzzard said you were enchanting in your new gown—is not that it?” he asked, and then frowned at Overton in a serio-comic way. “And lives there a man with soul so dead that he cannot perceive the manifold beauties arranged for his inspection? Well, you know I told you I appreciate you much more than he will ever do; so—”

  “What nonsense you are talking!” said Overton, irritably. “Of course, the dress is all right. I don’t know much about such things, though; so my opinion is not worth much. But I don’t think little girls should be told so much of their charms, Lyster. They are too likely to be made think that prettiness is the only thing worth living for.”

  He smiled at ’Tana to soften the severity of his speech; but she was not looking at him just then, and so missed the softening accompaniment. She felt it was herself who was taken to task instead of Lyster, and stood with drooped, darkening face until the door closed behind Overton.

  “That is your fault,” she burst out. “He—he might have thought it was nice, if you hadn’t been here with your fool speeches. You just go around laughing at everything, Mr. Max Lyster, and you’re just as empty as that china cat on the mantel, and it’s hollow. I’d like to hit you sometimes when you say your nice, tantalizing words—that’s what I’d like to do; and maybe some day I will.”

  “I shouldn’t be surprised if you did,” he agreed, and stepped back out of range of her clenched brown hands. “Whew! what a trial you’d be to a guardian who had nerves. You are spoiling your pretty face with that satanic expression. Now, why should you make war on me? I’m sure I am one of your most devoted servants.”

  “You are your own devoted servant,” she retorted, “and you’ll never be any other person’s.”

  “Well, now, I’m not so sure of that,” he said, and looked at her smilingly. All her anger did not keep him from seeing what a wondrous difference all that white, billowy lawn made in the girl whom he had taken for a squaw that first day when he saw her swimming the Kootenai.

  She looked taller, slighter, with such lovable curves in the girlish form, and the creamy neck and arms gleaming through the thin material. No ornaments or ribbons broke the whiteness of her garb—nothing but the Indian belt of beads that Overton had given her, and in it were reddish tints and golden brown the color of her hair.

  To be sure, the cheeks were a little tanned by the weather, and the little hand was browner than need be for beauty; but, for all that, he realized, as Overton had seemingly not done, that the girl, when dressed as dainty girlhood should be, was very pretty, indeed.

  “I am willing to sign myself your bond slave from this hour, if that will lessen your anger against me,” he protested. “Just think, I leave Sinna Ferry to-morrow. How shall I do penance until then?”

  “‘It may be for years, and it may be forever,

  Then why art thou silent, O voice of my heart?’”

  She pouted and frowned a little at his warbling, though a smile eventually touched her lips, and speculation shone in her eyes.

  “I will make you do penance,” she declared, “and right now, too. I haven’t any money, but I’ll put up my moccasins against five dollars in a game of poker.”

  “You—play poker?”

  “I’ll try,” she said briefly, and her eyes sparkled; “I’ll play you and ask no favors.”

  “Your moccasins are not worth five.”

  “Maybe not. Call it two-fifty then and promise me two hands at that.”

  “How sure you are to win!” he laughed, well pleased that she was diverted from her quick displeasure. “We’ll call it five against the moccasins. Here are the cards. And what am I to do with those little moccasins, even if I do win them?”

  “Oh, I’ll take care of the moccasins!” she said, easily. “I guess they’ll not trouble you much, Mr. Lyster. Cut for deal?”

  He nodded, and they commenced their game there alone in Mrs. Huzzard’s most respectable café. Mrs. Huzzard herself did not approve of card playing. No one but Captain Leek had, as yet, been allowed that privilege. His playing she had really begun to look upon as almost moral in its effects, since he pursued it as the most innocent of pastimes, never betting more than a few dimes, and since it secluded him effectually from the roaring lion of iniquity to which so many men fell victims in the lively little settlement. But ’Tana, knowing that card playing by a girl would not be a thing within Mrs. Huzzard’s understanding, glanced warily at the door leading to the second floor of the establishment and comforted herself that the mistress of the domain was yet employed by her toilet for the evening.

  ’Tana dealt, and did it so deftly that Lyster looked at her in surprise, even irritation. What business had she touching the bits of pasteboard like that—like some old gambler. Such a slight slip of a thing, with all the beauty of early youth in her face, and all the guilelessness of a vestal in the pure white of her garb. He fancied he would have felt different if he had seen her playing cards in that Indian dress; it would not have brought such a discord with it. And it was not merely that she played, but it was the way she played that brought vexation to him—that careless, assured handling of the cards. It seemed almost professional,—it seemed—

  “I’ll just take that little five,” remarked his opponent easily, and spread out the cards before him. “I know what you’ve got, and it won’t touch this flush, and if you play again I’d advise you to gather your wits and not play so wild—that is, if you want to win.”

  He stared at her in astonishment. It was quite true—while his thoughts had been with her personality and her incongruous occupation, her thoughts had been centered very decidedly on the points of the game. She, at least, had not played “wild.” A doubt even came into his mind, as to whether she played honestly.

  “I don’t think I cared about winning,” he answered, “I’d rather have given you the stakes than to have had you play for them that way—yes, ’Tana, double the stakes.”

  “Oh, would you?” she asked, with saucy indifference. “Well, I ain’t asking favors. I guess I can win all I want.”

  “No doubt you can,” he assented, gravely. “But as young ladies do not generally depend on their skill with cards to earn their pocket money, I’m afraid Overton would have a lecture ready for you, if he learned of your skill.”

  “Let him,” she said, recklessly. “I’ve tried to be good, and tried to be nice, and—and even pretty,” she added, touching the dainty sleeve and skirt of her dress, “but what use is it? He just stands off and stares at me, and even speaks sharp as if he’s sorry he ever brought me down here. I didn’t think he’d be like that. He was nicer in Akkomi’s village; and now—”

  She hesitated, and, seeing that Lyster’s eyes were watching her attentively, she laughed in a careless way, and curled the five-dollar bill around her finger.

  “So I might as well be bad, don’t you see? and I’m going to be, too. I want this five dollars to gamble with, and for nothing else in the world. I’m going to get square with some one.”

  “Which means you are going to worry some one else,
just because Overton has annoyed you,” decided Lyster. “That is a woman’s idea of retaliation, I believe. Am I the selected victim?”

  “Of course you’re not, or I wouldn’t have told you. All I wanted of you was to give me a start.”

  “Exactly; your frankness is not very flattering; but, in spite of it, I’d like to give you a start in a different way—toward a good school, for instance. How would you like that?”

  She looked at him for a moment suspiciously, she was so used to raillery from him; then she answered briefly:

  “But you are not my guardian, Mr. Max Lyster.”

  “Then you prefer card playing?”

  “No, I don’t. I’d like it, but my income can’t cover such luxuries, and I have booked myself to play for a time this evening, if I can get the man I want to play with.”

  “But that is what you must not do,” he said, hastily. “With Overton or myself, of course, a game would not do you any special harm; but you simply must not indulge in such pastime with this promiscuous gathering of people—of men.”

  “But it isn’t men—it’s only one man I want to play—do you see?”

  “I might if I knew who it was; but you don’t know any men here but Dan and me.”

  “Yes, I do, too. I know Captain Alphonso Leek.”

  “Perhaps, but—” Lyster smiled, and shook his head dubiously.

  “But he won’t play with me, because he don’t like me; that’s what you would say, if you were not too polite—isn’t it? He doesn’t approve of me, and can’t understand why I’m on the face of the earth, and especially why Dan should take any responsibility but Captain Leek on his hands. Huh! Can’t I see? Of course I do. I heard him call me ‘that’ this morning. And so, I want to play a game of poker with him.”