CHAPTER XIII.
THE HARVESTING.
Kitty had no time to ask further explanation. Already there was an oxteam driving up to the cabin and, scanning the prairies, she sawothers on the way, so merely stopped to cry, eagerly:
"They've come! The folks have come!" before she hastened in with thebutter and to see if she could in any way help Mercy dress for thegreat occasion.
She was just in time, for the plump housewife was vainly struggling tofasten the buttons of a new lilac calico gown which she had made:
"A teeny tiny mite too tight. I didn't know I was gettin' so fat, Ireally didn't."
"Oh! it's all right, dear Mother Mercy. It looked just lovely that dayyou tried it on. I'll help you. You're all trembling and warm. That'sthe reason it bothers."
She was so deft and earnest in her efforts that Mercy submittedwithout protest, and in this manner succeeded in "making herself fitto be seen by folks" about the moment that they arrived to observe.Then everything else was forgotten, amid the greetings and gayetythat followed. For out of what purported to be a task the wholecommunity was making a frolic.
While the men repaired to the golden fields to reap the grain thewomen hurried to the smooth grassy place where the harvest-dinner wasto be enjoyed out-of-doors.
Most of the vehicles--which brought whole families, down to the babein long clothes--were drawn by oxen, though some of the pioneers ownedfine horses and had driven these, groomed with extraordinary care anddestined, later on, to be entered in the races which should concludethe business and fun of the day.
Both horses and oxen were, for the present, led out to graze upon afine pasture and were supposed to be under the care, while there, ofthe young people. These were, however, more deeply engaged in playinggames than in watching, and for once their stern parents ignored thecarelessness.
"Oh, such bright faces!" cried the Sun Maid to Mercy. "And yours isthe happiest of all, even though you did have such a terrible time toget ready. See, they are fixing the tables out of the wagon boards,and every woman has brought her own dishes. They're making fires, too,some of the bigger boys. What for, Mother Mercy?"
"Oh! don't bother me now. It's to boil the coffee on, and to bake thejonny-cakes. 'Journey-cakes,' they used to call them. Mis' Waldron,she's mixin' some this minute. Step acrost to her table an' watch. Agirl a'most ten years old ought to learn all kinds of housekeepin'."
Kitty was nothing loath. It was, indeed, a treat to see with whatskill the comely settler of the wilderness mixed and tossed and pattedher jonny-cake, famous all through that countryside for lightness anddelicacy; and as she finished each batch of dough, and slapped it downupon the board where it was to cook, she would hand it over to Kitty'scharge, with the injunction:
"Carry that to one of the fires, an' stand it up slantin', so 's togive it a good chance to bake even. Watch 'em all, too; an' as soon asthey are a nice brown on one side, either call me to turn 'em to theother, or else do it yourself. As Mercy Smith says, a girl can't begintoo early to housekeep."
"But this is out-door keep, isn't it?" laughed the Sun Maid, as, witha board upon each arm, she bounded away to place the cakes as she hadbeen directed.
In ordinary, Mercy Smith was not a lavish woman; but on such a day asthis she threw thrift to the wind and, brought out the best she couldprocure for the refreshment of her guests; and everybody knows howmuch better food tastes when eaten out-of-doors than in regularfashion beside a table. The dinner was a huge success; and evenGaspar, whom Kitty's loving watchful eyes had noticed was more thanusually serious that day, so far relaxed his indignation as to partakeof the feast with the other visiting lads.
But, when it was over and the women were gathering up the dishes,preparatory to cleansing them for their homeward journey, the childcame to where Mercy stood among a group of women, and asked:
"Shall I wash the dishes, Mother Mercy?"
"No, sissy, you needn't. We grown folks'll fix that. If you wantsomething to do, an' are tired of out-doors, you can set right downyonder an' rock Mis' Waldron's baby to sleep. By and by, Abel's got ajob for you will suit you to a T!"
Kitty was by no means tired of out-doors, but a baby to attend waseven a greater rarity than a holiday; so she sat down beside thecradle, which its mother had brought in her great wagon, and gentlyswayed the little occupant into a quiet slumber. Then she began tolisten to the voices about her, and presently caught a sentence whichpuzzled her.
"Fifty dollars is a pile of money. It's more 'n ary Indian ever wasworth. Let alone a sulky squaw."
"Yes it is. An' I need it. I need it dreadful," assented Mercy,forgetful of the Sun Maid's presence in the room.
"Well, I, for one, should be afraid of her," observed another visitor,clattering the knives she was wiping. "I wouldn't have a squaw livin'so near my door, an' that's a fact."
Kitty now understood that these people were speaking of Wahneenah, andlistened intently.
"Oh! I ain't afraid of her. Not that. But I never did like her, norshe me. She's sullen an' top-lofty. Why, you'd think I wasn't nobetter than the dirt under her feet, to see her sometimes. She wasgood to the childern, I'll 'low, afore me an' Abel took 'em in. Butthat's four years ago, an' I've cared for 'em ever since. Sometimes Ithink she's regular bewitched 'em, they dote on her so. If you believeme, they'll listen to her leastest word sooner 'n a whole hour of mytalk!"
"I shouldn't be surprised," quietly commented one young matron, whowas jogging her own baby to sleep by tipping her chair violently backand forth upon its four legs.
Continued Mercy:
"She wouldn't eat a meal of victuals with me if she was starvin'. YetI've treated her Christian. Only this mornin' I give her leave to frycakes for herself, an' even have some syrup, but she wouldn't touch todo it. Yes; fifty dollars of good government money would be more tome 'n she is, an' she'd be took care of, I hear, along with all therest is caught. It's time the country was rid of the Indians an' whitefolks had a chance. There's all the while some massacrein' an'fightin' goin' on somewhere."
"Oh! I guess the government just puts 'em under lock an' key, in aguard-house, or some such place, till it gets enough to send away offWest somewheres. I'd get the fifty dollars, if I was you, and marchher off. She'll be puttin' notions into the youngsters' heads firstyou see an' makin' trouble."
"I don't know just how to manage it. Abel, he's queer an' sot. He'sgettin' tired, though, of some things, himself."
"Manage it easy enough. Like fallin' off a log. My man could do youthat good turn. She could be took along in our wagon as far as theAgency. Then, next time he comes by with his grist on his road tomill, he could fetch you the money. I'd do it, sure. I only wish I hadan Indian to catch as handy as she is." Having given this advice,Mercy's guest sat down.
There was a rush of small feet and the Sun Maid confronted them. Herblue eyes blazed with indignation, her face was white, and her hair,which the day's activity had loosed from its braid, streamed backwardas if every fibre quivered with life. With heaving breast and clenchedhands, she faced them all.
"Oh, how dare you! How dare you! You are talking of my Wahneenah; ofselling her, of selling her like a pig or a horse. Even you, Mrs.Jordan, though she nursed your little one till it got well, and onlytold you the truth: that if you'd look after it more and visit less itwouldn't have the croup so often. You didn't like to hear her say it,and you do not love her. But she is good, good, good! There is nobodyso good as she is. And no harm shall come to her. I tell you. I sayit. I, the Sun Maid, whom the Great Spirit sent to her out of the sky.I will go and tell her at once. She shall run away. She shall not besold--never, never, never!"
The women remained dumfounded where she left them, watching her skimthe distance between cabin and wigwam, scarcely touching the earthwith her bare feet in her haste to warn her friend of this new dangerwhich threatened her and her race. For it was quite true, this matterthat had been discussed. The Indians had given so much trouble in thesparsely settled country th
at the authorities had offered a price fortheir capture; and it was this price which money-loving Mercy coveted.
Like a flash of a bird's wing, Kitty had darted into the lodge andout again, with an agony of fear upon her features; and then she sawGaspar beckoning.
As she reached him he motioned silence and drew her away into theshadow of the forest, that just there fringed the clearing behind thetepee.
"But--Wahneenah's gone!" she whispered.
"Don't worry. She's safe enough for the present. Listen to me. Do youremember the horse-racing last year?"
"Course. I remember I got so excited over the horses, and so sorry forthe boys that rode and didn't win. But what of that? Other Mother hasgone!"
"I tell you she's safe. Safer than you or me. Listen. Abel says _we_,too, will have to ride a race to-day! On Tempest and Snowbird. Even ifwe win, the money will belong to him; and if we lose--he's going tosell one of our horses to pay his loss. I heard him say it."
"But they are ours!"
"He's kept them all these years, he says. He claims the right to dowith them as he chooses. Bad as that is, it isn't the worst. ThoughWahneenah is safe, still she will not be always. You and I will haveto ride this race--to save her life, or liberty!"
"What do--you--mean?"
"I haven't time to explain. Only--will you do as I say? Exactly?"
"Of course." Kitty looked inquiringly into her foster-brother's face.Didn't he know she loved him better than anybody and would mind himalways?
"When we are on the horses if I say to you: 'Follow me!' will you?"
"Of course. Away to the sky, over yonder, if you want me."
"Even if any grown folks should try to stop you? Even if Abel orMercy?"
"Even"--declared the little girl, sincerely.
"Now go back to the house, or anywhere you please till Abel calls you,or I do. Then come and mount. And then--then--do exactly as I tellyou. Remember."
He went away, back to the group of men about the barn, and Kitty satdown in the shady place to wait. But it was not for long. Presentlyshe heard Mercy calling her, and saw Abel, with Gaspar, leading theblack gelding and pretty Snowbird out of the stable toward a ring ofother horses. She got up and passed toward the cabin very slowly.Oddly enough, she began to feel timid about riding before all thosewatching, strange faces; yet did not understand why. Then she thoughtof Wahneenah, and her returning anger made her indifferent to them.
"Abel wants you, Kit!" cried Mrs. Smith, quite ignoring the child'srecent outbreak, and the girl walked quietly toward him. But it wasGaspar who helped to swing her into her saddle, where she settledherself with an ease learned long ago of the Snake-Who-Leaps. The lad,also, found time to whisper:
"Remember your promise! We are to ride this race for Wahneenah'slife--though nobody knows that save you and me. So ride your best.Ride as you never rode before--and on the road I lead you!"
The sons of the new settler and horse dealer were to ride againstthese two. There were three of these youths, all well mounted, and thecourse was to be a certain number of times around the great wheatfield so freshly reaped. It was a rough route, indeed, but as just forone as another, and in plain sight of all the visitors. The fivehorses ranged in a row with their noses touching a line, held by twomen, that fell as the word was given:
"One--two--three--GO!"
They went. They made the circuit of the field in fair style, with thethree strangers a trifle ahead. On the completion of the second heat,the easterners passed the starting-point alone.
"Why, Gaspar! Why, Kitty!" shouted Abel reprovingly. "How's this?"
"Maybe they don't understand what's meant," suggested somebody.
Seemingly, they did not. For neither at the third round did theyappear in leading. On the contrary, they had started off at a rightangle, straight across the prairie; but now so fast they rode, and sounerringly, that long before their deserted friends had ceased tostare and wonder they had passed out of sight.
The Sun Maid: A Story of Fort Dearborn Page 15