CHAPTER 4. FORT SALVATION
She must have fallen asleep there, for when she opened her eyes it wasday. Underneath her was a lot of bedding he had found in the cabin, andtucked about her were the automobile rugs. For a moment her brain,still sodden with sleep, struggled helplessly with her surroundings.She looked at the smoky rafters without understanding, and her eyessearched the cabin wonderingly for her maid. When she remembered, herfirst thought was to look for the man. That he had gone, she saw withinstinctive terror.
But not without leaving a message. She found his penciled note,weighted for security by a dollar, at the edge of the hearth.
"Gone on a foraging expedition. Back in an hour, Little Partner," wasall it said. The other man also had promised to be back in an hour, andhe had not come, but the strong chirography of the note, recalling theresolute strength of this man's face, brought content to her eyes. Hehad said he would come back. She rested secure in that pledge.
She went to the window and looked out over the great white wastes thatrose tier on tier to the dull sky-line. She shuddered at the arcticdesolation of the vast snow-fields. The mountains were sheeted withsilence and purity. It seemed to the untaught child-woman that she wasface to face with the Almighty.
Once during the night she had partially awakened to hear the roaringwind as it buffeted snow-clouds across the range. It had come tearingalong the divide with the black storm in its vanguard, and she hadheard fearfully the shrieks and screams of the battle as it raged upand down the gulches and sifted into them the deep drifts.
Half-asleep as she was, she had been afraid and had cried out withterror at this strange wakening; and he had been beside her in aninstant.
"It's all right, partner. There's nothing to be afraid of," he had saidcheerfully, taking her little hand in his big warm one.
Her fears had slipped away at once. Nestling down into her rug, she hadsmiled sleepily at him and fallen asleep with her cheek on her hand,her other hand still in his.
While she had been asleep the snow-tides had filled the gulch, hadrisen level with the top of the lower pane of the window. Nothing brokethe smoothness of its flow save the one track he had made in breaking away out. That he should have tried to find his way through such anuntracked desolation amazed her. He could never do it. No puny humanatom could fight successfully against the barriers nature had droppedso sullenly to fence them. They were set off from the world by aquarantine of God. There was something awful to her in the knowledge.It emphasized their impotence. Yet, this man had set himself to fightthe inevitable.
With a little shudder she turned from the window to the cheerless room.The floor was dirty; unwashed dishes were piled upon the table. Hereand there were scattered muddy boots and overalls, just as their owner,the prospector, had left them before he had gone to the nearest town torestock his exhausted supply of provisions. Disorder and dirt filledthe rough cabin, or so it seemed to her fastidious eye.
The inspiration of the housewife seized her. She would surprise him onhis return by opening the door to him upon a house swept and garnished.She would show him that she could be of some use even in such aprimitive topsy-turvy world as this into which Fate had thrust herwilly-nilly.
First, she carried red live coals on a shovel from the fireplace to thecook-stove, and piled kindling upon them till it lighted. It was a newexperience to her. She knew nothing of housework; had never lit a firein her life, except once when she had been one of a camping party. Thesmoke choked her before she had the lids back in their places, butdespite her awkwardness, the girl went about her unaccustomed taskswith a light heart. It was for her new-found hero that she played athousekeeping. For his commendation she filled the tea-kettle, envelopedherself in a cloud of dust as she wielded the stub of a broom shediscovered, and washed the greasy dishes after the water was hot. Achildish pleasure suffused her. All her life her least whims had beenministered to; she was reveling in a first attempt at service. As shemoved to and fro with an improvised dust-rag, sunshine filled herbeing. From her lips the joy notes fell in song, shaken from her throatfor sheer happiness. This surely was life, that life from which she hadso carefully been hedged all the years of her young existence.
As he came down the trail he had broken, with a pack on his back, theman heard her birdlike carol in the clear frosty air. He emptied hischest in a deep shout, and she was instantly at the window, waving hima welcome with her dust-rag.
"I thought you were never coming," she cried from the open door as hecame up the path.
Her eyes were starry in their eagerness. Every sensitive feature wasalert with interest, so that the man thought he had never seen somobile and attractive a face.
"Did it seem long?" he asked.
"Oh, weeks and weeks! You must be frozen to an icicle. Come in and getwarm."
"I'm as warm as toast," he assured her.
He was glowing with exercise and the sting of the cold, for he hadtramped two miles through drifts from three to five feet deep, battlingwith them every step of the way, and carrying with him on the returntrip a box of provisions.
"With all that snow on you and the pack on your back, it's like SantaClaus," she cried, clapping her hands.
"Before we're through with the adventure we may think that box a sureenough gift from Santa," he replied.
After he had put it down, he took off his overcoat on the threshold andshook the snow from it. Then, with much feet stamping and scattering ofsnow, he came in. She fluttered about him, dragging a chair up to thefire for him, and taking his hat and gloves. It amused and pleased himthat she should be so solicitous, and he surrendered himself to herministrations.
His quick eye noticed the swept floor and the evanishment of disorder."Hello! What's this clean through a fall house-cleaning? I'm not theonly member of the firm that has been working. Dishes washed, floorswept, bed made, kitchen fire lit. You've certainly been going some,unless the fairies helped you. Aren't you afraid of blistering theselittle hands?" he asked gaily, taking one of them in his and touchingthe soft palm gently with the tip of his finger.
"I should preserve those blisters in alcohol to show that I've reallybeen of some use," she answered, happy in his approval.
"Sho! People are made for different uses. Some are fit only to shoveland dig. Others are here simply to decorate the world. Hard world. Hardwork is for those who can't give society anything else, but beauty isits own excuse for being," he told her breezily.
"Now that's the first compliment you have given me," she poutedprettily. "I can get them in plenty back in the drawing-rooms where Iam supposed to belong. We're to be real comrades here, and complimentsare barred."
"I wasn't complimenting you," he maintained. "I was merely stating aprinciple of art."
"Then you mustn't make your principles of art personal, sir. But sinceyou have, I'm going to refute the application of your principle andshow how useful I've been. Now, sir, do you know what provisions wehave outside of those you have just brought?"
He knew exactly, since he had investigated during the night. That theymight possibly have to endure a siege of some weeks, he was quite wellaware, and his first thought, after she had gone to sleep before thefire, had been to make inventory of such provisions as the prospectorhad left in his cabin. A knuckle of ham, part of a sack of flour, somenavy beans, and some tea siftings at the bottom of a tin can; theseconstituted the contents of the larder which the miner had gone toreplenish. But though the man knew he assumed ignorance, for he sawthat she was bubbling over with the desire to show her forethought.
"Tell me," he begged of her, and after she had done so, he marveledaloud over her wisdom in thinking of it.
"Now tell me about your trip," she commanded, setting herself tailorfashion on the rug to listen.
"There isn't much to tell," he smiled "I should like to make anadventure of it, but I can't. I just went and came back."
"Oh, you just went and came back, did you?" she scoffed. "That won't doat all. I want to know all abou
t it. Did you find the machine allright?"
"I found it where we left it, buried in four feet of snow. You needn'tbe afraid that anybody will run away with it for a day or two. Thepantry was cached pretty deep itself, but I dug it out."
Her shy glance admired the sturdy lines of his powerful frame. "I amafraid it must have been a terrible task to get there through theblizzard."
"Oh, the blizzard is past. You never saw a finer, more bracing morning.It's a day for the gods," he laughed boyishly.
She could have conceived no Olympian more heroic than he, and certainlynone with so compelling a vitality. "Such a warm, kind light in them!"she thought of the eyes others had found hard and calculating.
It was lucky that the lunch the automobilists had brought fromAvalanche was ample and as yet untouched. The hotel waiter, who hadattended to the packing of it, had fortunately been used to reckon withoutdoor Montana appetites instead of cloyed New York ones. Theyunpacked the little hamper with much gaiety. Everything was frozensolid, and the wine had cracked its bottle.
"Shipped right through on our private refrigerator-car. Thatcold-storage chicken looks the finest that ever happened. What's thisrolled up in tissue-paper? Deviled eggs and ham sandwiches AND caviar,not to speak of claret frappe. I'm certainly grateful to the gentlemanfinished in ebony who helped to provision us for this siege. He'llnever know what a tip he missed by not being here to collect."
"Here's jelly, too, and cake," she said, exploring with him.
"Not to mention peaches and pears. Oh, this is luck of a special brand!I was expecting to put up at Starvation Camp. Now we may name it PointPlenty."
"Or Fort Salvation," she suggested shyly. "Because you brought me hereto save my life."
She was such a child, in spite of her charming grown-up airs, that heplayed make-believe with a zest that surprised himself when he came tothink of it. She elected him captain of Fort Salvation, with full powerof life and death over the garrison, and he appointed her second incommand. His first general order was to put the garrison on two meals aday.
She clapped her little hands, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Are wereally snow-bound? Must we go on half-rations?"
"It is the part of wisdom, lieutenant," he answered, smiling at herenthusiasm. "We don't know how long this siege is going to last. If itshould set in to snow, we may be here several days before therelief-party reaches us." But, though he spoke cheerfully, he was awareof sinister possibilities in the situation. "Several weeks" would havebeen nearer his real guess.
They ate breakfast at the shelf-table nailed in place underneath thewestern window. They made a picnic of it, and her spirits skipped uponthe hilltops. For the first time she ate from tin plates, drank from atin cup, and used a tin spoon the worse for rust. What mattered it toher that the teapot was grimy and the fryingpan black with soot! It wasall part of the wonderful new vista that had suddenly opened before hergaze. She had awakened into life and already she was dimly realizingthat many and varied experiences lay waiting for her in that untroddenpath beyond her cloistered world.
A reconnaissance in the shed behind the house showed him no plethora offirewood. But here was ax, shovel, and saw, and he asked no more. Firsthe shoveled out a path along the eaves of the house where she mightwalk in sentry fashion to take the deep breaths of clear sharp air heinsisted upon. He made it wide enough so that her skirt would not sweepagainst the snow-bank, and trod down the trench till the footing washard and solid. Then with ax and saw he climbed the hillside back ofthe house and set himself to get as much fuel as he could. The sky wasstill heavy with unshed snow, and he knew that with the coming of nightthe storm would be renewed.
Came noon, mid-afternoon, the early dusk of a mountain winter, andfound him still hewing and sawing, still piling load after load in theshed. Now and again she came out and watched him, laughing at thefigure he made as he would come plunging through the snow with hisarmful of fuel.
She did not know, as he did, the vital necessity of filling the lean-tobefore winter fell upon them in earnest and buried them deep with hisfrozen blanket, and she was a little piqued that he should spend thewhole day away from her in such unsocial fashion.
"Let me help," she begged so often that he trod down a path, made bootsfor her out of torn gunny-sacks which he tied round her legs, and lether drag wood to the house on a pine branch which served for a sled.She wore her gauntlets to protect her tender hands, and thereafter washappy until, detecting signs of fatigue, he made her go into the houseand rest.
As soon as she dared she was back again, making fun of him and theearnestness with which he worked.
"Robinson Crusoe" was one name she fastened upon him, and she was notsatisfied till she had made him call her "Friday."
Twilight fell austere and sudden upon them with an immediate fall oftemperature that found a thermometer in her blue face.
He recommended the house, but she was of a contrary mood.
"I don't want to," she announced debonairly.
In a stiff military attitude he gave raucous mandate from his throat.
"Commanding officer's orders, lieutenant."
"I think I'm going to mutiny," she informed him, with chin saucily inair.
This would not do at all. The chill wind sweeping down the canon wassearching her insufficient clothing already. He picked her up in hisarms and ran with her toward the house, setting her down in the trenchoutside the door. She caught her startled breath and looked at him inshy, dubious amazement.
"Really you" she was beginning when he cut her short.
"Commanding officer's orders, lieutenant," came briskly from lips thatshowed just a hint of a smile.
At once she clicked her heels together, saluted, and wheeled into thecabin.
From the grimy window she watched his broad-shouldered vigor, wavingher hand whenever his face was turned her way. He worked like a Titan,reveling in the joy of physical labor, but it was long past dark beforehe finished and came striding to the hut.
They made a delightful evening of it, living in the land of Never Was.For one source of her charm lay in the gay, childlike whimsicality ofher imagination. She believed in fairies and heroes with all her heart,which with her was an organ not located in her brain. The deliciousgurgle of gaiety in her laugh was a new find to him in feminineattractions.
There had been many who thought the career of this pirate of industrybeggared fiction, though, few had found his flinty personality aradiaton of romance. But this convent-nurtured child had made adiscovery in men, one out of the rut of the tailor-made,convention-bound society youths to whom her experience for the mostpart had been limited. She delighted in his masterful strength, in theconfidence of his careless dominance. She liked to see that look ofpower in his gray-blue eyes softened to the droll, half-tender,expression with which he played the game of make-believe. There were noto-morrows; to-day marked the limit of time for them. By tacit consentthey lived only in the present, shutting out deliberately from theirknowledge of each other, that past which was not common to both. Eventheir names were unknown to each other, and both of them were glad thatit was so.
The long winter evening had fallen early, and they dined bycandle-light, considering merrily how much they might with safety eatand yet leave enough for the to-morrows that lay before them. Afterwardthey sat before the fire, in the shadow and shine of the flickeringlogs, happy and content in each other's presence. She dreamed, and he,watching her, dreamed, too. The wild, sweet wonder of life surgedthrough them, touching their squalid surroundings to the high mysteryof things unreal.
The strangeness of it was that he was a man of large and not verycreditable experience of women, yet her deep, limpid eyes, her sweetvoice, the immature piquancy of her movements that was the expressionof her, had stirred his imagination more potently than if he had beenthe veriest schoolboy nursing a downy lip. He could not keep his eyesfrom this slender, exquisite girl, so dainty and graceful in her mobilepiquancy. Fire and passion were in his heart and soul, re
straint andrepression in his speech and manner. For the fire and passion in himwere pure and clean as the winds that sweep the hills.
But for the girl--she was so little mistress of her heart that she hadno prescience of the meaning of this sweet content that filled her. Andthe voices that should have warned her were silent, busy behind thepurple hills with lies and love and laughter and tears.
Ridgway of Montana (Story of To-Day, in Which the Hero Is Also the Villain) Page 4