CHAPTER VIII.
"I'LL KILL HIM THIS TIME!"
Rumors were beginning to drift into camp of hostile intents of theBlackfeet; and a general feeling of uneasiness became apparent as noword came from the chief of their scouts, who had not shown up sincelocating the troops.
The Major's interest was decidedly alive in regard to him, since not amessenger entered camp from any direction who was not questioned on thesubject. But from none of them came any word of Genesee.
Other scouts were there--good men, too, and in the southern country ofmuch value; but the Kootenai corner of the State was almost an unknownregion to them. They were all right to work under orders; but in thosehills, where everything was in favor of the native, a man was needed whoknew every gully and every point of vantage, as well as the probablehostile.
While Major Dreyer fretted and fumed over the absentee, there was morethan one of the men in camp to remember that their chief scout was saidto be a squaw man; and as most of them shared his own expressed idea ofthat class, conjectures were set afloat as to the probability of his notcoming back at all, or if it came to a question of fighting with thenorthern Indians, whether he might not be found on the other side.
"You can't bet any money on a squaw man," was the decision of one of thescouts from over in Idaho--one who did not happen to be a squaw manhimself, because the wife of his nearest neighbor at home objected. "No,gentlemen, they're a risky lot. This one is a good man; I allow that--adamned good man, I may say, and a fighter from away back; but the thingwe have to consider is that up this way he's with his own people, as youmay say, having taken a squaw wife and been adopted into the tribe; an'I tell you, sirs, it's jest as reasonable that he will go with them asagainst them--I'm a tellin' you!"
Few of these rumors were heard at the ranch. It was an understood thingamong the men that the young ladies at Hardy's were to hear nothing ofcamp affairs that was likely to beget alarm; but Stuart heard them, asdid the rest of the men; and like them, he tried to question the onlyone in camp who shared suspicion--Kalitan. But Kalitan wasunapproachable in English, and even in Chinook would condescend noinformation. He doubtless had none to give, but the impression ofsuppressed knowledge that he managed to convey made him an object ofclose attention, and any attempt to leave camp would have been hailed asproof positive of many intangible suspicions. He made no such attempt.On the contrary, after his arrival there from the Gros Ventres, heseemed blissfully content to live all winter on Government rations anddo nothing. But he was not blind by any means and understanding English,though he would not speak it, the chances were that he knew more of thethought of the camp than it guessed of his; and his stubborn resentmentshowed itself when three Kootenai braves slouched into camp one day, andKalitan was not allowed to speak to them save in the presence of aninterpreter, and when one offered in the person of a white scout,Kalitan looked at him with unutterable disdain, and turning his back,said not a word.
The Major was not at camp. He had just left to pay his daily visit toHardy's; for, despite all persuasions, he refused to live anywhere butwith his men, and if Fred did not come to see him in the morning, he wasin duty bound to ride over to her quarters in the afternoon.
The officer in command during his absence was a Captain Holt, a man whohad no use for an Indian in any capacity, and whose only idea ofsettling the vexed question of their rights was by total exterminationand grave-room--an opinion that is expressed by many a white man who hashad to deal with them. But he was divided between his impulse to sendthe trio on a double-quick about their business and the doubt as to whateffect it would have on the tribe if they were sent back to it in thesulks. Ordinarily he would not have given their state of mind a moment'sconsideration; but the situation was not exactly ordinary, and hehesitated.
After stowing away enough provender in their stomachs to last anordinary individual two days, and stowing the remainder in convenientreceptacles about their draperies, intercourse was resumed with theirwhite hosts by the suggestive Kalitan.
Just then Stuart and Rachel rode into camp. They had taken to ridingtogether into camp, and out of camp, and in a good many directions oflate; and in the coffee-colored trio she at once recognized the brave ofthe bear-claws whom she had spoken with during that "olallie" seasonin the western hills, and who she had learned since was a great friendof Genesee's. She spoke to him at once--a great deal more intelligiblythan her first attempt--and upon questioning, learned that she was wellremembered. She heard herself called "the squaw who rides" by him,probably from the fact that she was the only white woman met by theirhunters in the hills, though she had not imagined herself so well knownby them as his words implied.
He of the bear-claws--their spokesman--mentioned Kalitan, giving her forthe first time an idea of what had occurred. She turned at once toCaptain Holt--not protesting, but interested--and learned all she wantedto.
"Kalitan does not like your southern scouts, for some reason," she said,"and I rather think it was his dignity rather than his loyalty thatwould suffer from having one of them a listener. Let them speak in mypresence; I can understand them, and not arouse Kalitan's pride,either."
The Captain, nothing loath, accepted her guidance out of the dilemma,though it was only by a good deal of flattery on her part that Kalitancould at all forget his anger enough to speak to anyone.
The conversation was, after all, commonplace enough, as it was mostly arecital of his--Kalitan's--glories; for in the eyes of these provincialshe posed as a warrior of travel and accumulated knowledge. The impassivefaces of his listeners gave no sign as to whether they took him at hisown valuation or not. Rachel now and then added a word, to keep fromhaving too entirely the appearance of a listener, and she asked aboutGenesee.
The answer gave her to understand that weeks ago--five weeks--Geneseehad been in their village; asked for a runner to go south to the Fortwith talking-paper. Had bought pack-horse and provisions, and startedalone to the northeast--may be Blackfoot Agency, they could not say; hadseen him no more. Kalitan made some rapid estimate of probabilities thatfound voice in--
"Blackfoot--one hundred and twenty miles; go slow--Mowitza tired; longwau-wau (talk); come slow--snows high; come soon now, may be."
That was really the only bit of information in the entire "wau-wau"that was of interest to the camp--information that Kalitan would havedisdained to satisfy them with willingly; and even to Rachel, whom heknew was Genesee's friend, and his, he did not hint the distrust thathad grown among the troops through that suspicious absence.
He would talk long and boastfully of his own affairs, but it was a habitthat contrasted strangely with the stubborn silence by which he guardedthe affairs of others.
"What is the matter back there?" asked Rachel, as she and Stuart startedback to the ranch. "Ill-feeling?"
"Oh, I guess not much," he answered; "only they are growing careful ofthe Indians of late--afraid of them imposing on good nature, I suppose."
"A little good nature in Captain Holt would do him no harm with theIndians," she rejoined; "and he should know better than to treat Kalitanin that suspicious way. Major Dreyer would not do it, I feel sure, andGenesee won't like it."
"Will that matter much to the company or the command?"
He spoke thus only to arouse that combative spirit of hers; but she didnot retort as usual--only said quietly:
"Yes, I think it would--they will find no man like him."
They never again referred to that conversation that had been in a way aconfession on his part--the question of the woman at least was neverrenewed, though he told her much of vague plans that he hoped todevelop, "when the time comes."
Three days after the visit of Bear-claws and his brethren, Stuart andRachel were again at the camp; this time accompanying Miss Fred, whothought it was a good-enough day to go and see the "boys."
Surely it was a good-enough day for any use--clear and fresh overhead,white and sparkling underfoot, and just cold enough to make them thinkwith desire of the
cheery wood fires in the camp they were making for.From above, a certain exhilaration was borne to them on the air, siftedthrough the cedars of the guardian hills; even the horses seemedenthused with the spirit of it, and joyously entered into a sort of ago-as-you-please race that brought them all laughing and breathless downthe length of "the avenue," a strip of beaten path about twenty feetwide, along which the tents were pitched in two rows facing eachother--and not very imposing looking rows, either.
There were greetings and calls right and left, as they wenthelter-skelter down the line; but there was no check of speed until theystopped, short, at the Major's domicile, that was only a little moredistinguished on the outside than the rest, by having the colorswhipping themselves into shreds from the flagstaff at the door.
It was too cold for ceremony; and throwing the bridles to an orderly,they made a dash for the door--Miss Fred leading.
"Engaged, is he?" she said good-humoredly to the man who stepped in herpath. "I don't care if he is married. I don't intend to freeze on theplace where his door-step ought to be. You tell him so."
The man on duty touched his cap and disappeared, and from the sound ofthe Major's laughter within, must have repeated the message verbatim,and a moment later returned.
"Major Dreyer says you may enter;" and then, laughing and shivering, theMajor's daughter seized Rachel with one hand, Stuart with the other, andmaking a quick charge, darted into the ruling presence.
"Oh, you bear!" she said, breaking from her comrades and into the bear'sembrace; "to keep us out there--and it so cold! And I came overspecially for--"
And then she stopped. The glitter of the sun on the sun had made aglimmer of everything under a roof, and on her entrance she had notnoticed a figure opposite her father, until a man rose to his feet andtook a step forward as if to go.
"Let me know when you want me, Major," he said; and the voice startledthose two muffled figures in the background, for both, by a commonimpulse, started forward--Rachel throwing back the hood of her jacketand holding out her hand.
"I am glad you have come," she said heartily, and he gripped the offeredmember with a sort of fierceness as he replied:
"Thank you, Miss."
But his eyes were not on her. The man who had come with her--who stillheld her gloves in his hand--was the person who seemed to draw all hisattention.
"You two are old neighbors, are you not?" remarked the Major. "Fred, mydear, you have met Mr. Genesee, our scout? No? Mr. Genesee, this is mydaughter; and this, a friend of ours--Mr. Stuart."
An ugly devil seemed alive in Genesee's eyes, as the younger man camecloser, and with an intense, expressive gesture, put out his hand.
Then, with a bow that might have been an acknowledgment of theintroduction, and might have been only one of adieu to the rest of thegroup, the scout walked to the door without a word, and Stuart's handdropped to his side.
"Come back in an hour, Genesee," said the Major; "I will think over thetrip to the Fort in the meantime."
"I hear. Good-morning, ladies;" and then the door closed behind him, andthe quartette could not but feel the situation awkward.
"Come closer to the fire--sit down," said the Major hospitably, intenton effacing the rudeness of his scout. "Take off your coat, Stuart;you'll appreciate it more when outside. And I'm going to tell you rightnow, that, pleased as I am to have you all come this morning, I intendto turn you out in twenty minutes--that's all the time I can give topleasure this morning."
"Well, you are very uncivil, I must say," remarked Fred. "But we willfind some of the other boys not so unapproachable. I guess," she added,"that we have to thank Mr. Man-with-the-voice for being sent to theright-about in such short order."
"You did not hear him use it much," rejoined her father, and then turnedto the others, neither of whom had spoken. "He is quite a character, andof great value to us in the Indian troubles, but I believe is averse tomeeting strangers; anyway, the men down at the Fort did not take to himmuch--not enough to make him a social success."
"I don't think he would care," said Fred. "He impressed me very much asKalitan did when I first met him. Does living in the woods make peoplefeel like monarchs of all they survey? Does your neighbor ever have anybetter manners, Rachel?"
"I have seen him with better--and with worse."
"Worse? What possibilities there must be in that man! What do you think,Mr. Stuart?"
"Perhaps he lacks none of the metal of a soldier because he does nothappen to possess that of a courtier," hazarded Stuart, showing no signthat the scout's rudeness had aroused the slightest feeling ofresentment; and Rachel scored an opinion in his favor for thatgenerosity, for she, more than either of the others, had noted themeeting, and Genesee's entire disregard of the Stuart's feelings.
Major Dreyer quickly seconded Stuart's statement.
"You are right, sir. He may be as sulky as Satan--and I hear he is attimes--but his work makes amends for it when he gets where work isneeded. He got in here last night, dead-beat, from a trip that I don'tbelieve any other man but an Indian could have made and get back alive.He has his good points--and they happen to be points that are in decideddemand up here."
"I don't care about his good points, if we have to be turned out forhim," said Fred. "Send him word he can sleep the rest of the day, if heis tired out; may be he would wake up more agreeable."
"And you would not be ousted from my attention," added her father,pinching her ear. "Are you jealous of Squaw-man-with-a-voice?"
"Is he that?" asked the girl, with a great deal of contempt in her tone."Well, that is enough to hear of him. I should think he would avoidwhite people. The specimens we have seen of that class would make youashamed you were human," she said, turning to Rachel and Stuart. "I knowpapa says there are exceptions, but papa is imaginative. This one looksrather prosperous, and several degrees cleaner than I've seen them,but--"
"Don't say anything against him until you know you have reason, Fred,"suggested Rachel. "He did me a favor once, and I can't allow people totalk about him on hearsay. I think he is worse than few and better thanmany, and I have known him over a year."
"Mum is the word," said Fred promptly, proceeding to gag herself withtwo little fists; but the experiment was a failure.
"If she takes him under her wing, papa, his social success is an assuredfact, even if he refuses to open his mouth. May I expect to be presentedto his interesting family to-morrow, Rachel?"
Rachel only laughed, and asked the Major some questions about thereports from the northeast; the attitude of the Blackfeet, and thesnow-fall in the mountains.
"The Blackfeet are all right now," he replied, "and the snows in thehills to the east are very heavy--that was what caused our scout'sdelay. But south of us I hear they are not nearly so bad, for a wonder,and am glad to hear it, as I myself may need to make a trip down to FortOwens."
"Why, papa," broke in his commanding officer, "you are not going to turnscout or runner, are you, and leave me behind? I won't stay!"
"You will obey orders, as a soldier should," answered her father. "If Igo instead of sending, it will be because it is necessary, and you willhave to bow to necessity, and wait until I can get back."
"And we've got to thank Mr. Squaw-man for that, too!" burst out Fredwrathfully. "You never thought of going until he came; oh, I know it--Ihate him!"
"He would be heart-broken if he knew it," observed her father dryly. "Bythe way, Miss Rachel, do you know if there is room in the ranch stablesfor another horse?"
"They can make room, if it is necessary. Why?"
"Genesee's mare is used up even worse than her master by the long, hardjourney he has made. Our stock that is in good condition can stand ouraccommodations all right, but that fellow seemed miserable to think thepoor beast had not quarters equal to his own. He is such a queer fellowabout asking a favor that I thought--"
"And the thought does you credit," said the girl with a suspiciousmoisture in her eyes. "Poor, brave Mowitza! I could not sleep ve
rysoundly myself if I knew she was not cared for, and I know just how hefeels. Don't say anything about it to him, but I will have my cousincome over and get her, before evening."
"You are a trump, Miss Rachel!" said the Major emphatically; "and if youcan arrange it, I know you will lift a load off Genesee's mind. I'llwager he is out there in the shed with her at this moment, instead ofbeside a comfortable fire; and this camp owes him too much, if it onlyknew it, to keep from him any comforts for either himself or that pluckybit of horse-flesh."
Then the trio, under guard of the Lieutenant, paid some other callsalong the avenue--were offered more dinners, if they would remain, thanthey could have eaten in a week; but in all their visits they sawnothing more of the scout. Rachel spoke of his return to one of the men,and received the answer that they reckoned he was putting in most of histime out in the shed tying the blankets off his bunk around that mare ofhis.
"Poor Mowitza! she was so beautiful," said the girl, with a memory ofthe silken coat and wise eyes. "I should not like to see her lookingbadly."
"Do you know," said Stuart to her, "that when I heard you speak ofMowitza and her beauty and bravery, I never imagined you meant afour-footed animal?"
"What, then?"
"Well, I am afraid it was a nymph of the dusky tribe--a woman."
"Naturally!" was the one ironical and impatient word he received asanswer, and scarcely noted.
He was talking with the others on multitudinous subjects, laughing, andtrying to appear interested in jests that he scarcely heard, and all thewhile the hand he had offered to Genesee clenched and opened nervouslyin his seal glove.
Rachel watched him closely, for her instincts had anticipated somethingunusual from that meeting; the actual had altered all her preconceivedfancies. More strong than ever was her conviction that those two werenot strangers; but from Stuart's face or manner she could learn nothing.He was a much better actor than Genesee.
They did not see any more of him, yet he saw them; for from the shed,off several rods from the avenue, the trail to Hardy's ranch was inplain sight half its length. And the party, augmented by LieutenantMurray, galloped past in all ignorance of moody eyes watching them fromthe side of a blanketed horse.
Out a half-mile, two of the riders halted a moment, while the othersdashed on. The horses of those two moved close--close together. The armsof the man reached over to the woman, who leaned toward him. At thatdistance it looked like an embrace, though he was really but tying aloose scarf, and then they moved apart and went on over the snow aftertheir comrades. A brutal oath burst from the lips of the man she hadsaid was worse than few.
"If it is--I'll kill him this time! By God!--I'll kill him!"
Told in the Hills: A Novel Page 17