CHAPTER VI
ENTERING THE DESERT KINDERGARTEN
"We'll start now," said Kut-le.
Alchise led out the horses. The squaws each threw an emancipated,sinewy leg across a pony's back and followed Alchise's fluttering shirtup the mountain. Kut-le stood holding the bridle of a sedate littlehorse on which he had fastened a comfortable high-backed saddle.
"Come, Rhoda," he said. "I'll shorten the stirrups after you aremounted."
Rhoda stood with her back to the wall, her blue-veined hands clutchingthe rough out-croppings on either side, horror and fear in her eyes.
"I can't ride cross-saddle!" she exclaimed. "I used to be a goodhorsewoman in the side-saddle. But I'm so weak that even keeping inthe side-saddle is out of the question."
"Anything except cross-saddle is utterly out of the question," repliedthe Indian, "on the sort of trails we have to take. You might as wellbegin to control your nerves now as later. I'm going to have an expertrider in you by the time you have regained your strength. Come, Rhoda."
The girl turned her face to the afterglow. Remote and pitiless lay thedistant crimson ranges. She shuddered and turned back to the youngIndian who stood watching her. For the moment all the agony of hersituation was concentrated in horror of another night in the saddle.
"Kut-le, I _can't_!"
"Shall I pick you up and carry you over here?" asked Kut-le patiently.
In her weakness and misery, Rhoda's cleft chin quivered. There wasonly merciless determination in the Indian's face. Slowly the girlwalked to his side. He swung her to the saddle, adjusted the stirrupscarefully, then fastened her securely to the saddle with a strap abouther waist. Rhoda watched him in the silence of utter fear. Havingsettled the girl to his satisfaction, he mounted his own horse, andRhoda's pony followed him tractably up the trail.
The trail rose steeply. After the first few dizzy moments, Rhoda,clinging to the saddle with hands and knees, was thankful for thesecurity of her new seat. The scenery was uncanny to her terrorizedeyes. To the left were great overhanging walls with cactus growingfrom every crevice; to the right, depth of canon toward which she darednot look but only trusted herself prayerfully to her steady littlehorse.
As the trail led higher and darkness settled, the cold grew intense andRhoda cowered and shivered. Yet through her fear and discomfort wascreeping surprise that her strength had endured even this long. In aspot where the trail widened Kut-le dropped back beside her and shefelt the warm folds of a Navajo blanket about her shoulders. Neithershe nor the Indian spoke. The madness of the night before, the fearand disgust of the afternoon gave way, slowly, to a lethargy ofexhaustion. All thought of her frightful predicament, of her friends'anxiety, of Kut-le's treachery, was dulled by a weariness so great thatshe could only cling to the saddle and pray for the trail to end.
Kut-le, riding just ahead, glanced back constantly at the girl's dimfigure. But Rhoda was beyond pleading or protesting. The trailtwisted and undulated on and on. Each moment Rhoda felt less certainof her seat. Each moment the motion of the horse grew more painful.At last a faint odor of pine-needles roused her sinking senses and sheopened her heavy eyes. They had left the sickening edge of the canonand Alchise was leading them into a beautiful growth of pines where themournful hooting of owls gave a graveyard sadness to the moon-fleckedshadows.
Here, in a long aisle of columnar pines, Kut-le called the first halt.Rhoda reeled in her saddle. Before her horse had stopped, Kut-le wasbeside her, unfastening her waist strap and lifting her to the ground.He pulled the blanket from his own shoulders and Molly stretched it onthe soft pine-needles. Rhoda, half delirious, looked up into the youngIndian's face with the pathetic unconsciousness of a sick child. Helaid her carefully on the blanket. The two squaws hurriedly knelt atRhoda's side and with clever hands rubbed and manipulated the slender,exhausted body until the girl opened her languid eyes.
Kut-le, while this was being done, stood quietly by the blanket, hisfine face stern and intent. When Rhoda opened her eyes, he put asidethe two squaws, knelt and raised the girl's head and held a cup of therich broth to her lips. It was cold, yet it tasted good, and Rhodafinished the cup without protest, then struggled to a sitting position.After a moment Kut-le raised her gently to her feet. Here, however,she pushed him away and walked unsteadily to her horse. Kut-le's handsdropped to his side and he stood in the moonlight watching the frailboyish figure clamber with infinite travail into the saddle.
From the pine wood, the trail led downward. The rubbing and the brothhad put new life into Rhoda, and for a little while she kept a clearbrain. For the first time it occurred to her that instead of followingthe Indians so stupidly she ought to watch her chance and at the firstopportunity make a wild dash off into the darkness. Kut-le was so sureof her weakness and cowardice that she felt that he would be takencompletely by surprise and she might elude him. With a definitepurpose in her mind she was able to fight off again and again the blurof weakness that threatened her.
As the trail widened in the descent, Kut-le rode in beside her.
"Feeling better?" he asked cheerfully.
Rhoda made no reply. Such a passion of hatred for the man shook herthat words failed her. She turned a white face toward him, the eyesblack, the nostrils quivering with passion.
Kut-le laughed softly.
"Hate me, Rhoda! Hate me as much as you wish! That's a heap morehopeful than indifference. I'll bet you aren't thinking of dying ofennui now!"
What fiend, thought Rhoda, ever had induced her to make a friend ofthis savage! She clung to the pommel of her saddle, her eyes fastenedon him. If only he would drop dead as he sat! If only his Indianswould turn on him and kill him!
They were riding through the desert now, desert thick-grown with cactusand sage-brush. Suddenly a far away roar came to Rhoda's ears. Therewas a faint whistle repeated with increasing loudness. Off to thenorth appeared a light that grew till it threw a dazzling beam on thestrange little waiting group. The train passed, a half-dozen dimlylighted Pullmans. The roaring decreased, the whistle sounded lower andlower and the night was silent. Rhoda sat following the last dim lightwith burning eyes. Kut-le led the way from the difficult going of thedesert to the road-bed. As Rhoda saw the long line of rails the panicof the previous night overwhelmed her. Like a mad thing, unmindful ofthe strap about her waist she threw herself from the saddle and hungagainst the stolid pony. Kut-le dismounted and undid the strap. Thegirl dropped to the ties and lay crouched with her face against thesteel rail.
"O John! O John DeWitt!" she sobbed.
"Alchise, go ahead with the horses," said Kut-le. "Wait for me at thepainted rock."
Then as the Indians became indistinguishable along the track he liftedRhoda to her feet.
"Walk for a while," he said. "It will rest you. Poor little girl! Iwish I could have managed differently but this was best for you. Come,don't be afraid of me!"
Some savage instinct stirred in Rhoda. For the first time in her lifeshe felt an insane joy in anger.
"I'm not afraid of you, you Apache Indian!" she said clearly. "Iloathe you! Your touch poisons me! But I'm not afraid of you! Ishall choke myself with my bare hands before you shall harm me! And ifyou keep me long enough I shall try to kill you!"
Kut-le gave a short laugh.
"Listen, Rhoda. Your protests show that you are afraid of me. But youneed not be. Your protection lies in the fact that I love you--loveyou with all the passion of a savage, all the restraint of a Caucasian.I'd rather die than harm you! Why, girl, I'm saving you, notdestroying you! Rhoda! Dear one!" He paused and Rhoda could hear hisquickened breath. Then he added lightly, "Let's get on with our littlestroll!"
Rhoda wrung her hands and groaned. Only to escape--to escape!Suddenly turning, she ran down the track. Kut-le watched her,motionless, until she had run perhaps a hundred yards, then with a fewmighty leaps he overtook her and gathered her to his great chest.Moaning, Rhoda
lay still.
"Dear," said Kut-le, "don't exert yourself foolishly. If you mustescape, lay your plans carefully. Use your brain. Don't act like achild. I love you, Rhoda!"
"I loathe you! I loathe you!" whispered the girl.
"You don't--ah--" He stopped abruptly and set the girl on the ground.They were standing beside a side-track near a desert water-tank. "I'vecaught my foot in a switch-frog," muttered Kut-le, keeping his hold onRhoda with one hand while with the other he tugged at his moccasinedfoot.
Rhoda stood rigid.
"I hear a train!" she cried. "O dear God, I hear a train!" Then, "Theother Indians are too far away to reach you before the train does," sheadded calmly.
"But I'll never loose my grip on you," returned the Indian grimly.
He tore at the imprisoned foot, ripping the moccasin and tearing at theroad bed. The rails began to sing. Far down the track they saw a starof light Rhoda's heart stood still. This, then, was to be the end!After all the months of distant menace, death was to be upon her in amoment! This, then, was to be the solution! And with all the horrorof what life might mean to her, she cried out with a sob:
"Oh, not this way! Not this way!"
Kut-le gave her a quick push.
"Hurry," he said, "and try to remember good things of me!"
With a cry of joy, Rhoda jumped from the track, then stopped. Thereflashed across her inner vision the face of young Cartwell, debonairand dark, with unfathomable eyes; young Cartwell who had saved her lifewhen the scorpion had stung her, who had spent hours trying to lead herback to health. Instantly she turned and staggered back to the Indian.
"I can't let a human being die like a trapped animal!" she panted, andshe threw herself wildly against him.
Kut-le fell at the unexpected impact of her weight and his foot wasfreed! He lifted Rhoda, leaped from the track, and the second sectionof the tourist train thundered into the west.
"You are as fine as I thought you were--" he began. But Rhoda was alimp heap at his feet.
The girl came to her senses partially when Kut-le set her in the saddleand fastened her there with strap and blanket. But happily she waspractically unconscious for the hour or two that remained till dawn.Just as day was breaking the Indians made their way across an arroyoand up a long slope to a group of cottonwoods. Here Rhoda was put tobed on a heap of blankets.
Sometime in the afternoon she woke with a clear head. It was the firsttime in months that she had wakened without a headache. She staredfrom the shade of the cottonwoods to the distant lavender haze of thedesert. There was not a sound in all the world. Mysterious, remote,the desert stared back at her, mocking her little grief. More terribleto her than her danger in Kut-le's hands, more appalling than the deaththreat that had hung over her so long, was this sense of awful space,of barren nothingness with which the desert oppressed her.Instinctively she turned to look for human companionship. Kut-le andAlchise were not to be seen but Molly nodded beside Rhoda's blanketsand the thin hag Cesca was curled in the grass near by, asleep.
"You awake? Heap hungry?" asked Molly suddenly.
Rhoda sat up, groaning at the torturing stiffness of her muscles.
"Where is Kut-le?" she asked.
"Gone get 'em supper. Alchise gone too."
"Molly," Rhoda took the rough brown hand between both her soft coldpalms, "Molly, will you help me to run away?"
Molly looked from the clasping fingers up to Rhoda's sweet face. Mollywas a squaw, dirty and ignorant. Rhoda was the delicate product of ahighly cultivated civilization, egoistic, narrow-viewed, self-centered.And yet Rhoda, looking into Molly's deep brown eyes, saw there thatlimitless patience and fortitude and gentleness which is woman'swithout regard to class or color. And not knowing why, the white girlbowed her head on the squaw's fat shoulder and sobbed a little. Astrange look came into Molly's face. She was childless and had workedfearfully to justify her existence to her tribe. Few hands had touchedhers in tenderness. Few voices had appealed to her for sympathy.Suddenly Molly clasped Rhoda in her strong arms and swayed back andforth with her gently.
"You no cry!" she said. "You no cry, little Sun-head, you no cry!"
"Molly, dear kind Molly, won't you help me to get back to my ownpeople? Suppose it was your daughter that a white man had stolen! OMolly, I want to go home!"
Molly still rocked and spoke in the singsong voice one uses to asobbing child.
"You no run 'way! Kut-le catch right off! Make it all harder for you!"
Rhoda shivered a little.
"If I once get away, Kut-le never will catch me alive!"
Molly chuckled indulgently.
"How you run? No _sabe_ how eat, how drink, how find the trail!Better stay with Molly."
"I would wait till I thought we were near a town. Won't you help me?Dear, kind Molly, won't you help me?"
"Kut-le kill Molly with cactus torture!"
"But you go with me!" The sobs ceased and Rhoda sat back on herblankets as the idea developed. "You go with me and I'll make you--"
Neither noticed the soft thud of moccasined feet. Suddenly Alchiseseized Molly's black hair and with a violent jerk pulled the womanbackward. Rhoda forgot her stiffened muscles, forgot her gentleancestry. She sprang at Alchise with catlike fury and struck hisfingers from Molly's hair.
"You fiend! I wish I could shoot you!" she panted, her fingerstwitching.
Alchise retreated a step.
"She try help 'em run!" he said sullenly.
"She was not! And no matter if she was! Don't you touch a womanbefore me!"
A swift shadow crossed the camp and Alchise was hurled six feet away.
"What's the matter!" cried Kut-le. "Has he laid finger on you, Rhoda?"He strode to her side and looked down at her with eyes in whichstruggled anger and anxiety.
"No!" blazed Rhoda. "But he pulled Molly over backward by her hair!"
"Oh!" in evident relief. "And what was Molly doing?"
"She maybe help 'em run," said Alchise, coming forward.
The relief in Kut-le's voice increased Rhoda's anger.
"No such thing! She was persuading me not to go! Kut-le, you giveAlchise orders not to touch Molly again. I won't have it!"
"Oh, that's not necessary," said Kut-le serenely. "Indians are prettygood to their women as a general thing. They average up with thewhites, I guess. Molly, get up and help Cesca with these!" He flungsome newly killed rabbits at the gaping squaw, who still lay where shehad fallen.
Rhoda, trembling and glowering, walked unsteadily up and down beneaththe cottonwoods. The details of her new existence, the dirt, theroughness, were beginning to sink in on her. She paced back and forth,lips compressed, eyes black. Kut-le stood with his back against acottonwood eying the slender figure with frank delight. Now and againhe chuckled as he rolled a cigarette with his facile finger. His handswere fine as only an Indian's can be: strong and sinewy yet supple withslender fingers and almond-shaped nails.
He smoked contentedly with his eyes on the girl. Inscrutable as washis face at a casual glance, had Rhoda observed keenly she might haveread much in the changing light of his eyes. There was appreciation ofher and love of her and a merciless determination to hold her at allcosts. And still as he gazed there was that tragedy in his look whichis part and portion of the Indian's face.
Silence in the camp had continued for some time when a strange youngIndian strode up the slope, nodded to the group in the camp, anddeliberately rolled himself in a blanket and dropped to sleep. Rhodastared at him questioningly.
"Alchise's and Cesca's son," said Kut-le. "His job is to follow us ata distance and remove all trace of our trail. Not an overturned pebblemisses his eye. I'll need him only for a day or two."
"Kut-le," said Rhoda suddenly, "when are you going to end the farce andlet me go?"
The young man smiled.
"You know the way the farce usually ends! The man always gets the girland they live happily forever
after!"
"What do you suppose Jack and Katherine think of you? They have lovedand trusted you so!"
For the first time the Indian's face showed pain.
"My hope is," he said, "that after they see how happy I am going tomake you they will forgive me."
Rhoda controlled her voice with difficulty.
"Can't you see what you have done? No matter what the outcome, can youbelieve that I or any one that loves me can forgive the outrage to me?"
"After we have married and lived abroad for a year or two people willremember only the romance of it!".
"Heavens!" ejaculated Rhoda. She returned to her angry walking.
Molly was preparing supper. She worked always with one eye on Rhoda,as if she could not see enough of the girl's fragile loveliness. Withher attention thus divided, she stumbled constantly, dropping the potsand spilling the food. She herself was not at all disturbed by hermishaps but, with a grimace and a chuckle, picked up the food. ButCesca was annoyed. She was tending the fire which by a marvel of skillshe kept always clear and all but smokeless. At each of Molly'smishaps, Cesca hurled a stone at her friend's back with a savage"Me-yah!" that disturbed Molly not at all.
Mercifully night was on the camp by the time the rabbits were cookedand Rhoda ate unconscious of the dirt the food had acquired in thecooking. When the silent meal was finished, Kut-le pointed to Rhoda'sblankets.
"We will start in half an hour. You must rest during that time."
Too weary to resent the peremptory tone, Rhoda obeyed. The fire longsince had been extinguished and the camp was dark. The Indians were tobe located only by faint whispers under the trees. The opportunityseemed providential! Rhoda slipped from her blankets and crept throughthe darkness away from the camp.
The Heart of the Desert Page 6