That Girl Montana

by Ryan, Marah Ellis

  “Perhaps he is keeping free from bonds that he may marry this ward of his for whom he appears so troubled,” remarked Mr. Haydon.

  Lyster looked anything but pleased at the suggestion.

  “I don’t think he would like to hear that said,” he returned. “’Tana is only a little girl in his eyes—one left in his charge at the death of her own people, and one who appeals to him very strongly just now because of her helplessness.”

  “Well,” said Mr. Haydon, with a slight smile, “I appear to be rather unfortunate in all my surmises over the people of this new country, especially this new camp. I do not know whether it is because I am in a stupid mood, or because I have come among people too peculiar to be judged by ordinary standards. But the thing I am interested in above and beyond our host and his protégée is the gold mine he wrote you to find a buyer for. I think I could appreciate that, at least, at its full value, if I was allowed a sight of the output.”

  The doctor had hurried to the cabin even before Overton and Miss Slocum, so the two gentlemen were left by themselves, to follow at their leisure. Mr. Haydon seemed a trifle resentful at this indifferent reception.

  “One would think this man had been making big deals in gold ore all his life, and was perfectly indifferent as to whether our capital is to be used to develop this find of his,” he remarked, as they approached the cabin. “Did you not tell me he was a poor man?”

  “Oh, yes. Poor in gold or silver of the United States mint,” agreed Lyster, with a strong endeavor to keep down his impatience of this magnate of the speculative world, this wizard of the world of stocks and bonds, whom his partners deferred to, whose nod and beck meant much in a circle of capitalists. “I myself, when back East,” thought Lyster to himself, “considered Haydon a wonderful man, but he seems suddenly to have grown dwarfed and petty in my eyes, and I wonder that I ever paid such reverence to his judgment.”

  He smiled dubiously to himself at the consciousness that the wide spirit of the West must have already changed his own views of things somewhat, since once he had thought this marketer of mines superior.

  “But no one out here would think of calling Dan Overton poor,” he continued, “simply because he is not among the class that weighs a man’s worth by the dollars he owns. He is considered one of the solid men of the district—one of the best men to know. But no one thinks of gauging his right to independence by the amount of his bank account.”

  Mr. Haydon shrugged his shoulders, and tapped his foot with the gold-headed umbrella he carried.

  “Oh, yes. I suppose it seems very fine in young minds and a young country, to cultivate an indifference to wealth; but to older minds and civilization it grows to be a necessity. Is that object over there also one of the solid men of the community?”

  It was Akkomi he had reference to, and the serene manner with which the old fellow glanced over them, and nonchalantly smoked his pipe in the doorway, did give him the appearance of a fixture about the camp, and puzzled Lyster somewhat, for he had never before met the ancient chief.

  He nodded his head, however, saying “How?” in friendly greeting, and the Indian returned the civility in the same way, but gave slight attention to the speaker. All the attention of his little black eyes was given to the stranger, who did not address him, and whose gaze was somewhat critical and altogether contemptuous.

  Then Mrs. Huzzard, without waiting for them to reach the door, hurried out to greet Lyster.

  “I’m as glad as any woman can be to see you back again,” she said heartily, “though it’s more than I hoped for so soon, and—Yes, the doctor says she’s a little better, thank God! And your name has been on her lips more than once—poor dear!—since she has been flighty, and all the thanks I feel to you for bringing Lavina right along I can never tell you; for it seems a month since I saw a woman last. I just can’t count the squaw! And do you want to come in and look at our poor little girl now? She won’t know you; but if you wish—”

  “May I?” asked Lyster, gratefully. Then he turned to the stranger.

  “Your daughter back home is about the same age,” he remarked. “Will you come in?”

  “Oh, certainly,” answered Mr. Haydon, rather willing to go anywhere away from the very annoying old redskin of the pipe and the very—very scrutinizing eyes.

  The doctor and Overton had passed into the room where Harris was, and Mrs. Huzzard halted at the door with her cousin, so that the two men approached the bed alone. The dark form of Akkomi had slipped in after them like a shadow, but a very alert one, for his head was craned forward that his eyes might lose never an expression of the fine stranger’s face.

  ’Tana’s eyes were closed, but her lips moved voicelessly. The light was dim in the little room, and Lyster bent over to look at her, and touched her hot forehead tenderly.

  “Poor little girl! poor ’Tana!” he said, and turned the covering from about her chin where she had pulled it. He had seen her last so saucy, so defiant of all his wishes, and the change to this utter helplessness brought the quick tears to his eyes. He clasped her hand softly and turned away.

  “It is too dark in here to see anything very clearly,” said the stranger, who bent toward her slightly, with his hat in his hand.

  Then Akkomi, who had intercepted the light somewhat, moved from the foot of the bed to the stranger’s side, and a little sunshine rifted through the small doorway and outlined more clearly the girl’s face on the pillow.

  The stranger, who was quite close to her, uttered a sudden gasping cry as he saw her face more clearly, and drew back from the bed.

  The dark hand of the Indian caught his white wrist and held him, while with the other hand he pointed to the curls of reddish brown clustering around the girl’s pale forehead, and from them to the curls on Mr. Haydon’s own bared head. They were not so luxuriant as those of the girl, but they were of the same character, almost the same color, and the vague resemblance to something familiar by which Overton had been impressed was at once located by the old Indian the moment the stranger lifted the hat from his head.

  “Sick, maybe die,” said Akkomi, in a voice that was almost a whisper—“die away from her people, away from the blood that is as her blood,” and he pointed to the blue veins on the white man’s wrist.

  With an exclamation of fear and anger, Mr. Haydon flung off the Indian’s hand.

  Lyster, scarce hearing the words spoken, simply thought the old fellow was drunk, and was about to interfere, when the girl, as though touched by the contest above her, turned mutteringly on the pillow and opened her unconscious eyes on the face of the stranger.

  “See!” said the Indian. “She looks at you.”

  “Ah! Great God!” muttered the other and staggered back out of the range of the wide-open eyes.

  Lyster, puzzled, astonished, came forward to question his Eastern friend, who pushed past him rudely, blindly, and made his way out into the sunshine.

  Akkomi looked after him with a gratified expression on his dark, wrinkled old face, and bending over the girl, he muttered in a soothing way words in the Indian tongue, as though to quiet her restlessness with Indian witchery.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XV.

  SOMETHING WORSE THAN A GOLD CRISIS.

  “What is the matter with your friend?” asked Overton, as Lyster stood staring after Mr. Haydon, who walked alone down the way they had come from the boats. “Is one glimpse of our camp life enough to drive him to the river again?”

  “No, no—that is—well, I don’t just know what ails him,” confessed Lyster, rather lamely. “He went in with me to see ’Tana, and seems all upset by the sight of her. She does look very low, Dan. At home he has a daughter about her age, who really resembles her a little—as he does—a girl he thinks the world of. Maybe that had something to do with his feelings. I don’t know, though; never imagined he was so impressionable to other people’s misfortunes. And that satanic-looking old Indian helped make things uncomfortable for him.”


  “Who—Akkomi?”

  “Oh, that is Akkomi, is it? The old chief who was too indisposed to receive me when I awaited admittance to his royal presence! Humph! Well, he seemed lively enough a minute ago—said something to Haydon that nearly gave him fits; and then, as if satisfied with his deviltry, he collapsed into the folds of his blanket again, and looks bland and innocent as a spring lamb at the present speaking. Is he grand chamberlain of your establishment here? Or is he a medicine man you depend on to cure ’Tana?”

  “Akkomi said something to Mr. Haydon?” asked Overton, incredulously. “Nonsense! It could not have been anything Haydon would understand, anyway, for Akkomi does not speak English.”

  Lyster looked at him from the corner of his eyes, and whistled rather rudely.

  “Now, it is not necessary for any reason whatever, for you to hide the accomplishments of your noble red friend,” he remarked. “You are either trying to gull me, or Akkomi is trying to gull you—which is it?”

  “What do you mean?” demanded Overton, impatiently. “You look as though there may be a grain of sense in the immense amount of fool stuff you are talking. Akkomi, maybe, understands English a little when it is spoken; but, like many another Indian who does the same, he will not speak it. I have known him for two years, in his own camp and on the trail, and I have never yet heard him use English words.”

  “Well, I have not had the felicity of even a two-hour acquaintance with his royal chieftainship,” remarked Lyster, “but during the limited space of time I have been allowed to gaze on him I am confident I heard him use five English words, and use them very naturally.”

  “Can you tell me what they were?”

  “Certainly; and I see I will have to—and maybe bring proof to indorse me before you will quite credit what I tell you,” answered Lyster, with an amused expression. “You can scarcely believe a tenderfoot has learned more of your vagabond reds than you yourself knew, can you? Well, I distinctly heard him say to Mr. Haydon: ‘See! She looks at you.’ But his other mutterings did not reach my ears; they did Haydon’s, however, and drove him out yonder. I tell you, Dan, you ought to chain up your medicine men when capitalists brave the wilds of the Kootenai to lay wealth at your doorstep, for this pet of yours is not very engaging.”

  Overton paid little heed to the chaffing of his friend. His gaze wandered to the old Indian, who, as Lyster said, was at that moment a picture of bland indifference. He was sunning himself again at the door of Harris’ cabin, and his eyes followed sleepily the form of Mr. Haydon, who had stopped at the creek, and with hands clasped back of him, was staring into the swift-flowing mountain stream.

  “Oh, I don’t doubt you, Max,” said Overton, at last. “Don’t speak as if I did. But the idea that old Akkomi really expressed himself in English would suggest to me a vital necessity, or else that he was becoming weak in his old age; for his prejudice against his people using any of the white men’s words has been the most stubborn thing in his whole make-up. And what strong necessity could there be for him to address Mr. Haydon, an utter stranger?”

  “Don’t know, I am sure—unless it is that his interest in ’Tana is very strong. You know she saved the life of his little grandchild—the future chief, you said. And I think you are fond of asserting that an Indian never forgets a favor; so it may be that his satanic majesty over there only wanted to interest a seemingly influential stranger in a poor little sick girl, and was not aware that he took an uncanny way of doing it. Had we better go down and apologize to Haydon?”

  “You can—directly. Who is he?”

  “Well, he is the great moneyed mogul at the back of the company for whom you have been doing some responsible work out here. I guess he is what you call a silent partner; while Mr. Seldon—my relation, you know—has been the active member in the mining deals. They have been friends this long time. I have heard that Seldon was to have married Haydon’s sister years ago. Wedding day set and all, when the charms of a handsome employee of theirs proved stronger than her promise, and she was found missing one morning; also the handsome clerk, as well as a rather heavy sum of money, to which the clerk had access. Of course, they never supposed that the girl knew she was eloping with a thief. But her brother—this one here—never forgave her. An appeal for help came to him once from her—there was a child then—but it was ignored, and they never heard from her again. Haydon was very fond of her, I believe—fond and proud, and never got over the disgrace of it. Seldon never married, and he did what he could to make her family forgive her, and look after her. But it was no use, though their regard for him never lessened. So you see they are partners from away back; and while Haydon is considerable of an expert in mineralogy, this is the first visit he has ever made to their works up in the Northwest. In fact, he had not intended coming so far north just now; he was waiting for Seldon, who was down in Idaho. But when I got your letter, and impressed on his mind the good business policy of having the firm investigate at once, he fell in with the idea, and—here we are! Now, that is about all I can tell you of Haydon, and how he came here.”

  “Less would have been plenty,” said Overton, with a pretended sigh of relief. “I didn’t ask to be told his sister’s love affairs or his brother-in-law’s failings. I was asking about the man himself.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you about him; there doesn’t seem to be anything to say. He is T. J. Haydon, a man who inherited both money and a genius for speculation. Not a plunger, you know; but one of those pursy, far-seeing fellows who always put their money on the right number and wait patiently until it wins. I might tell you that he was sentimental once in his life, and got married; and I might tell you of a pretty daughter he has (and whom he used to be very much afraid I would make love to), but I suppose you would not be interested in those exciting details, so I will refrain. But as to the man himself and his trip here, I can only say, if you have made a strike up here, he is the very best man I know to get interested. Better even than Seldon, for Seldon always defers to Haydon, while Haydon always acts on his own judgment. And say, old fellow, long as we have talked, you have not yet told me one word of the new gold mine. I suspected none of the Ferry folks knew of it, from the general opinion that your trip here was an idiotic affair. Even the doctor said there was no sane reason why you should have dragged Harris and ’Tana into the woods as you did. I kept quiet, remembering the news in your letter, for I was sure you did not decide on this expedition without a good reason. Then the contents of that letter I read the night Harris collapsed—well, it stuck in my mind, and I got to wondering if your bonanza was the one he had found before. Oh, I’ve been doing some surmising about it. Am I right?”

  “Pretty nearly,” assented Overton. “Of course I knew some of the folks would raise a howl because I let ’Tana come along; but it was necessary, and I thought it would be best for her in the end, else you may be sure—be very sure—I would not have had her come. She—was to have gone back—at once—the very next day; but when the next day came, she was not able. I have done what I could, but nothing seems to count. She does not get well, and the gold doesn’t play much of a figure in this camp just now. One-third of the find is hers, and the same for Harris and me; but I’d give my share cheerfully this minute if it would buy back health for her and let me see her laughing and bright again.”

  Lyster reached out his hand and gave Overton’s arm an affectionate pressure.

  “Don’t I know it, Dan?” he asked kindly. “Can’t I see that you have just worked and worried yourself sick over her illness—blaming yourself, perhaps—”

  “Yes, that is it—blaming myself for—many things,” he agreed, brokenly, and then he checked himself as Lyster’s curious glance was turned on him. “So you see I am in no fit condition to talk values with this Mr. Haydon. All my thoughts are somewhere else. Doctor says if she is not better to-night she will not get well. That means she will not live. Tell your friend that something worse than a gold crisis is here just now, and I can’t
talk to him till it is over. Don’t mind if I’m even a bit careless with you, Max. Look after yourselves as well as you can. You are welcome—you know that; but—what’s the use of words? Perhaps ’Tana is dying!”

  And turning his back abruptly on his friend, he walked away, while Lyster looked after him with some surprise.

  “I seem to be dropped by everybody,” he remarked, “first Haydon and now Dan. But I don’t believe there is danger of her dying. I won’t believe it! Dan has worried himself sick and fearful during these terrible days, but I’ll do my share now and let him get some rest and sleep. ’Tana die! I can’t think it. But I care ten times more for Dan, just because of his devotion to her. I wonder what he would think if he knew why I wanted her to go to school, or how much she was in my mind every hour I was gone. I felt like telling him just now, but better not—not yet. He thinks she is only a little child yet. Dear old Dan!”

  He entered the cabin and spoke to Harris, whom he had not seen before, and who looked with pleasure at him, though, as ever, speechless and moveless, but for that nod of his head and the bright, quick glance of his eyes.