CHAPTER IX.
AFTER TEN YEARS.
Major Dreyer left the next day, with a scout and small detachment, withthe idea of making the journey to Fort Owens and back in two weeks, asmatters were to be discussed requiring prompt action and personalinfluence.
Jack Genessee was left behind--an independent, unenlisted adjunct to thecamp, and holding a more anomalous position there than Major Dreyerdreamed of; for none of the suspicious current of the scout everpenetrated to his tent--the only one in the company who was ignorant ofthem.
"Captain Holt commands, Genesee," he had said before taking leave; "buton you I depend chiefly in negotiations with the reds, should there beany before I get back, for I believe you would rather save lives on bothsides than win a victory through extermination of the hostiles. We needmore men with those opinions; so, remember, I trust you."
The words had been uttered in the presence of others, and strengthenedthe suspicions of the camp that Genesee had been playing some crookedgame. None knew the reason for that hastily decided trip of the Major's,though they all agreed that that "damned skunk of a squaw man" wasposted. Prophecies were rife to the effect that more than likely he wasplaying into the hands of the hostiles by sending away the Major and asmany men as possible on some wild-goose chase; and the decision arrivedat was that observation of his movements was a matter of policy, andreadiness to meet an attack from the hills a probable necessity.
He saw it--had seen it from the day of his arrival--and he kept prettymuch out of the way of all except Kalitan; for in watching Genesee theyfound they would have to include his runner, who was never willingly faraway.
During the first few days their watching was an easy matter, for thesuspected individual appeared well content to hug the camp, only makingdaily visits to Hardy's stable, generally in the evening; but to enterthe house was something he avoided.
"No," he said, in answer to Hardy's invitation; "I reckon I'm more athome with the horses than with your new company. I'll drop in sometimeafter the Kootenai valley is clear of uniforms."
"My wife told me to ask you," said Hardy; "and when you feel likecoming, you'll find the door open."
"Thank you, Hardy; but I reckon not--not for awhile yet."
"I'd like you to get acquainted with Stuart," added the unsuspiciousranchman. "He is a splendid fellow, and has become interested in thispart of the country."
"Oh, he has?"
"Yes," and Hardy settled himself, Mexican fashion, to a seat on hisheels. "You see he's a writer, a novelist, and I guess he's going towrite up this territory. Anyway, this is the second trip he has made.You could give him more points than any man I know."
"Yes--I might."
"Rachel has given him all the knowledge she has about the country--theIndians, and all that--but she owns that all she learned she got fromyou; so, if you had a mind to be more sociable, Genesee--"
The other arose to his feet.
"Obliged to you, Hardy," he said; and only the addition of the namesaved it from curtness. "Some day, perhaps, when things are slack; Ihave no time now."
"Well, he doesn't seem to me to be rushed to death with work,"soliloquized Hardy, who was abruptly left alone. "He used to seem likesuch an all-round good fellow, but he's getting surlier than the devil.May be Tillie was right to hope he wouldn't accept the invitation.Hello, Stuart! Where are you bound for?"
"Nowhere in particular. I thought that Indian, Kalitan, was over here."
"No; Jack Genesee came over himself this morning. That mare of his iscoming up in great shape, and you'd better believe he's proud over it. Ireckon he saw you coming that he took himself away in such a hurry. He'sa queer one."
"I should judge so. Then Kalitan won't be over?"
"Well, he's likely to be before night. Want him?"
"Yes. If you see him, will you send him to the house?"
Hardy promised; and Kalitan presented himself, with the usualinterrogation:
"Rashell Hardy?"
But she, the head of the house in his eyes, was in the dark about hisvisit, and was not enlightened much when Stuart entered, stating that itwas he who had wanted Kalitan.
That personage was at once deaf and dumb. Only by Rachel saying, "He ismy friend; will you not listen?" did he unbend at all; and the girl leftthem on the porch alone, and a little later Stuart went upstairs, whereshe heard him walking up and down the room. She had heard a good deal ofthat since that day the three had called upon the Major, and a changehad come over the spirit of their social world; for where Stuart hadbeen the gayest, they could never depend on him now. Even Rachel foundtheir old pleasant companionship ended suddenly, and she felt, despitehis silence he was unhappy.
"Well, when he finds his tongue he will tell me what's the matter," shedecided, and so dismissed that question.
She rode to camp alone if it was needful, and sometimes caught a glimpseof Genesee if he did not happen to see her first; but he no longer cameforward to speak, as the rest did--only, perhaps, a touch of his hat anda step aside into some tent, and she knew she was avoided. Aconventional young lady of orthodox tendencies would have held her heada little higher next time they met, and not have seen him at all; butthis one was woefully deficient in those self-respecting bulwarks; so,the next time she happened to be at the end of the avenue, she turnedher steed directly across his path, and called a halt.
"Good-morning, Miss Rachel."
"Klahowya, tillikum," she answered, bringing him back to a remembranceof his Chinook. "Jack Genesee, do you intend ever to come to see us--Imean to walk in like your old self, instead of looking through thewindow at night?"
"Looking--"
"Don't lie," she said coolly, "for I saw you, though no one else did.Now tell me what's wrong. Why won't you come in the house?"
"Society is more select in the Kootenai hills than it was a year ago;"he answered with a sort of defiance. "Do you reckon there is any womanin the house who would speak to me if she could get out of it--anyoneexcept you?"
"Oh, I don't count."
"I had an 'invite' this morning," he added grimly--"not because theywanted me, but because your new friend over there wanted someone to givehim points about the country; so I've got him to thank for being wantedat all. Now don't look like that--or think I'm kicking. It's a squareenough deal so far as I'm concerned, and it stands to reason a man of mystamp hasn't many people pining for him in a respectable house. For thematter of that, it won't do you any good to be seen talking to me thislong. I'm going."
"All right; so am I. You can go along."
"With you?"
"Certainly."
"I reckon not."
"Don't be so stubborn. If you didn't feel like coming, you would nothave been at that window last night."
His face flushed at this thrust which he could not parry.
"Well, I reckon I won't go there again."
"No; come inside next time. Come, ride half way to the ranch, and tellme about that trip of yours to the Blackfeet. Major Dreyer gave yougreat praise for your work there."
"He should have praised you;" and her own color deepened at thesignificance of his words.
"I met Kalitan on his way to the ranch, as I came," she said in the mostirrelevant way.
He looked at her very sharply, but didn't speak.
"Well, are you going to escort me home, or must I go alone?"
"It is daylight; you know every foot of the way, and you don't need me,"he said, summing up the case briefly. "When you do, let me know."
"And you won't come?" she added good-naturedly. "All right. Klahowya!"
She moved out of his way, touched Betty with the whip, and startedhomeward. She rather expected to meet Kalitan again, but there was nosign of him on the road; arriving at the house, she found that youthensconced among the pillows of the largest settee with the air of a kingon a throne, and watching with long, unblinking stares Miss Fred, whowas stumbling over the stitches of some crochet-work for the adornmentof Miss Margaret.
"I rather think that's a phase of Indian courtship," Rachel comfortedher by saying; "so you have won a new admirer. What is it Kalitan?"
He signified that his business was with the "Man-who-laughs," the termby which he designated Stuart.
"Mr. Stuart left the house just after you did," said Fred; "I thought,perhaps, to catch you."
"No, he didn't go my way. Well, you look comfortable, Kalitan; and ifyou had the addition of another crazy-patch cushion for your left elbow,you might stand a little longer wait--think so?"
Kalitan thought he could; and there he remained until Stuart arrived,flushed and rather breathless from his ride from somewhere.
"I was out on the road, but did not see you," said Rachel, on hisentrance.
"This is likely enough," he answered. "I didn't want you to--or anyoneelse. I'm not good company of late. I was trying to ride away frommyself." Then he saw Kalitan, propped among the cushions. "Well," hesaid sharply; "what have you brought me?"
Kalitan answered by no word, but thrust his hand inside hishunting-shirt and brought forth an envelope, which he gave into theeager hands reaching for it.
Stuart gave it one quick glance, turning it in his hand to examine bothsides, and then dropped it in his pocket and sat down by the window.Rachel could see it was a thick, well-filled envelope, and that theshape was the same used by Stuart himself, very large and perfectlysquare--a style difficult to duplicate in the Kootenai hills.
"You can go now, if you choose, Kalitan," she said, fearing his easewould induce him to stay all night, and filled with a late alarm at theidea of Tillie getting her eyes on the peaceful "hostile" and hergorgeous cushions; and without any further notice of Stuart, Kalitantook his leave.
When Rachel re-entered the room, a moment later, a letter was crispinginto black curls in the fire-place, and the man sat watching it moodily.
All that evening there was scarcely question or answer to be had fromStuart. He sat by the fire, with Miss Margaret in his arms--her usualplace of an evening; and through the story-telling and jollity he satsilent, looking, Jim said, as if he was "workin' hard at thinkin'."
"To-morrow night you must tell us a story," said Miss Fred, turning tohim. "You have escaped now for--oh, ever so many nights."
"I am afraid my stock is about exhausted."
"Out of the question! The flimsiest of excuses," she decided. "Justimagine a new one, and tell it us instead of writing it; or tell us theone you are writing at now."
"Well, we will see when to-morrow comes;" and with that vague proposalMiss Fred had to be content.
When the morrow came Stuart looked as if there had been no night forhim--at least no sleep; and Rachel, or even MacDougall himself, wouldnot think of calling him Prince Charlie, as of old.
She was no longer so curious about him and that other man who wasantagonistic to him. She had been fearful, but whatever knowledge theyhad of each other she had decided would not mean harm; the quiet daysthat had passed were a sort of guarantee of that.
Yet they seemed to have nerved Stuart up to some purpose, for themorning after the burning of the letter he appeared suddenly at the doorof Genesee's shack, or the one Major Dreyer had turned over to himduring his own absence.
From the inside Kalitan appeared, as if by enchantment, at the sound ofa hand on the latch. Stuart, with a gesture, motioned him aside, andevidently to Kalitan's own surprise, he found himself stepping out whilethe stranger stepped in. For perhaps a minute the Indian stood still,listening, and then, no sounds of hostilities coming to his ears, anexpressive gutteral testified to his final acquiescence, and he movedaway. His hesitation showed that Rachel had not been the only one tonote the bearing of those two toward each other.
Had he listened a minute longer, he might have heard the peace withinbroken by the voices that, at first suppressed and intense, rose withgrowing earnestness.
The serious tones of Stuart sounded through the thin board walls inexpostulation, and again as if urging some point that was granted littlepatience; for above it the voice of Genesee broke in, all the mellownessgone from it, killed by the brutal harshness, the contemptuous derision,with which he answered some plea or proposition.
"Oh, you come to me now, do you?" he said, walking back and forth acrossthe room like some animal fighting to keep back rage with motion, if onecan imagine an animal trying to put restraint on itself; and at everyturn his smoldering, sullen gaze flashed over the still figure insidethe door, and its manner, with a certain calm steadfastness of purpose,not to be upset by anger, seemed to irritate him all the more.
"So you come this time to lay out proposals to me, eh? And think, afterall these years, that I'm to be talked over to what you want by a fewsoft words? Well, I'll see you damned first; so you can strike the backtrail as soon as you've a mind to."
"I shan't go back," said Stuart deliberately, "until I get what I camefor."
The other answered with a short, mirthless laugh.
"Then you're located till doomsday," he retorted, "and doomsday in theafternoon; though I reckon that won't be much punishment, consideringthe attractions you manage to find up here, and the advantages you carrywith you--a handsome face, a gentleman's manners and an honest name.Why, you are begging on a full hand, Mister; and what are you beggingto? A man that's been about as good as dead for years--a man without anyclaim to a name, or to recognition by decent people--an outlaw fromcivilization."
"Not so bad as that, Jack," broke in Stuart, who was watching in a sortof misery the harsh self-condemnation in the restless face and eyes ofGenesee. "Don't be so bitter as that on yourself. You are unjust--don'tI know?"
"The hell you say!" was the withering response to this appeal, as ifwith the aid of profanity to destroy the implied compliment to himself."Your opinion may go for a big pile among your fine friends, but itdoesn't amount to much right here. And you'd better beat a retreat, sir.The reputation of the highly respected Charles Stuart, the talentedwriter, the honorable gentleman, might get some dirty marks across it iffolks knew he paid strictly private visits to Genesee Jack, a renegadesquaw man; and more still if they guessed that he came for afavor--that's what you called it when you struck the shack, I believe. Afavor! It has taken you a good while to find that name for it."
"No, it has not, Jack," and the younger man's earnestness of purposeseemed to rise superior to the taunts and sarcasm of the other. "It wasso from the first, when I realized--after I knew--I didn't seem to havethoughts for anything else. It was a sort of justice, I suppose, thatmade me want them when I had put it out of my power to reach them. Youdon't seem to know what it means, Jack, but I--I am homesick for them; Ihave been for years, and now that things have changed so for me,I--Jack, for God's sake, have some feeling! and realize that other mencan have!"
Jack turned on him like a flash.
"You--you say that to me!" he muttered fiercely.
"You, who took no count of anybody's feelings but your own, and thoughtGod Almighty had put the best things on this earth for you to use anddestroy! Killing lives as sure as if they'd never drawn another breath,and forgetting all about it with the next pretty face you saw! If thatis what having a stock of feeling leads a man to, I reckon we're as welloff without any such extras."
Stuart had sat down on a camp-stool, his face buried in his hands, andthere was a long silence after Genesee's bitter words, as he stoodlooking at the bent head with an inexplicable look in his stormy eyes.Then his visitor arose.
"Jack," he said with the same patience--not a word of retort had comefrom him--"Jack, I've been punished every day since. I have tried toforget it--to kill all memory by every indulgence and distraction in myreach--pursued forgetfulness so eagerly that people have thought mestill chasing pleasure. I turned to work, and worked hard, but thepr
actice brought to my knowledge so many lives made wretchedas--as--well, I could not stand it. The heart-sickness it brought mealmost drove me melancholy mad. The only bright thing in life was--thechildren--"
An oath broke from Genesee's lips.
"And then," continued Stuart, without any notice save a quick closing ofthe eyes as if from a blow, "and then they died--both of them. That wasjustice, too, no doubt, for they stayed just long enough to makethemselves a necessity to me--a solace--and to make me want what I havelost. I am telling you this because I want you to know that I have hadthings to try me since I saw you last, and that I've come through themwith the conviction that there is to be no content in life to me until Imake what amends I can for the folly of the boy you knew. The thoughthas become a monomania with me. I hunted for months for you, and neverfound a trace. Then I wrote--there."
"You did!"
"Yes, I did--say what you please, do what you please. It was my onlyhope, and I took it. I told her I was hunting for you--and my purpose.In return I got only this," and he handed toward Genesee a sheet ofpaper with one line written across it. "You see--your address, nothingmore. But, Jack, can't you see it would not have been sent if she hadnot wished--"
"That's enough!" broke in the other. "I reckon I've given you all thetime I have to spare this morning, Mister. You're likely to strikebetter luck in some different direction than talking sentiment and thestate of your feelings to me. I've been acquainted with thembefore--pretty much--and don't recollect that the effect was healthy."
"Jack, you will do what I ask?"
"Not this morning, sonny," answered the other, still with thataltogether aggressive taunt in his tone. "I would go back to the ranchif I was you, and by this time to-morrow some of them may make youforget the favor you want this morning. So long!"
And with this suggestion to his guest to vacate, he turned his back, satdown by the fire, and began filling a pipe.
"All right; I'll go, and in spite of your stubbornness, with a lighterheart than I carried here, for I've made you understand that I want tomake amends, and that I have not been all a liar; that I want to winback the old faith you all had in me; and, Jack, if my head has gonewrong, something in my heart forbade me to have content, and that hasbeen my only hope for myself. For I have a hope, and a determination,Jack, and as for anyone helping me to forget--well, you are wrong there;one woman might do it--for a while--I acknowledge that, but I am safe inknowing she would rather help me to remember."
Genesee wheeled about quickly.
"Have you dared--"
"No, I have not told her, if that is what you mean; why--why should I?"
His denial weakened a little as he remembered how closely his impulsehad led him to it, and how strong, though reasonless, that impulse hadbeen.
The stem of the pipe snapped in Genesee's fingers as he arose, pushingthe camp-stool aside with his foot, as if clearing space for action.
"Since you own up that there's someone about here that you--you've takena fancy to--damn you!--I'm going to tell you right now that you've gotto stop that! You're no more fit than I am to speak to her, or ask for akind word from her, and I give you a pointer that if you try playingfast and loose with her, there'll be a committee of one to straightenout the case, and do it more completely than that man did who was a foolten years ago. Now, hearken to that--will you?"
And then, without waiting for an answer, he strode out of the shack,slamming the door after him, and leaving his visitor in possession.
"I've got to show him, by staying right in these hills, that I am inearnest," Stuart decided, taking the seat his host had kicked aside, andstretching his feet out to the fire. "No use in arguing or pleading withhim--there never was. But give him his own lead, and he will come aroundto the right point of view, though he may curse me up hill and down dalewhile he is doing it; a queer, queer fellow--God bless him! And howfurious he was about that girl! Those two are a sort of David andJonathan in their defense of each other, and yet never exchange words ifthey can help it--that's queer, too--it would be hard telling which ofthem is the more so. Little need to warn any man away from her, however;she is capable of taking very good care of herself."
There was certainly more than one woman at the ranch; but to hear thespeech of those two men, one would have doubted it; for neither hadthought it necessary even to mention her name.
Told in the Hills: A Novel Page 18